#life instead of directing it as he personally sees fit

[eccentricwritingbaby]

funny wife, happy life

carlos sainz x wife!reader

summary - the grids beloved couple have begun a prank war, subjecting the drivers and fans to their hilarious antics

masterlist

request by anonnie :) thank you love! - hey you could write about carlos that he and Y/N his wife that they are the funniest couple in the paddock that Y/N has the same personality as carlos that they often play pranks on each other on tiktok

-

your knees were cramping, on the verge of giving out, as you held your hidden position in your husband’s drivers room. charles had told you he’d be back in a few minutes. a few minutes. ha! you’ve been sitting here for ages and you’re about to collapse. until finally you hear the sweet, sweet sounds of your husband's laugh approaching you quickly. you give a quick scramble to collect yourself and pull up your tik tok account in order to record the heart attack soon to be inflicted upon carlos. the door handle jiggles and opens, alerting you of his presence. his footsteps become closer to your hidden position behind a few large items and abruptly stop. you take it as your queue to jump but before you can-

“BOO!” your husband screeches at you with his phone in your face as you let out a mirroring yell and fall backwards on your ass. 

“AYE DIOS MIO!” you hold your hand over your racing heart and carlos crumples to the floor in a fit of hysterics. you can’t help but join in soon, but not without playfully swatting at him in a joking matter of pretending to be angry. 

“mi-mi amor,” carlos tries his hardest to get out in between laughs as he begins to sit up, “you’re too easy!” he falls again, most likely due him replaying the scenario again in his head.

“aye! easy? i believe i remember you begging for a date with me, señor,” you continue to chuckle at his phrasing, teasing him relentlessly felt like a duty to you. 

“whatever,” he brushes off the playful comment and turns his attention to the video he recorded of you on his phone, “y/n, this is too funny,” 

“si, bueno. i wish i got that video of you instead, though” you act out a solemn expression and carlos sees right through your jokes.

“well you didn’t, loser. i’m posting this,”

-

you and carlos had opted for a night in after the race due to his fatigue and your absolute need for a shower. after lando had pleaded with you both for a minute to rethink your decision as you were walking back to the hotel, he ultimately gave up trying and muttered a slight ‘old married couple’ at you and carlos while the both of you just laughed at his mini tantrum. 

once inside your hotel room, carlos headed for the shower, but stopped and turned when he noticed you weren’t following.

“i thought you wanted to shower, amor?” he asked in your direction.

“i do, but i kind of want to shower alone tonight, lo siento,” you respond while biting your lower lip to not give away your amusement. see - you had a plan. while carlos was in the shower you were going to get to the vanity and paint on a fake hickey. set up your phone. and get him back for ruining your prank earlier. 

carlos stands looking at you with a bit of skepticism. you rarely shower separately, only when upset with each other and he was beginning to worry, “aye, are you mad about earlier? me scaring you?”

“love, the only thing that is scaring me right now is how stinky you are. i’m not mad i just don’t need a smelly shower with you,” you shrug off his accusation with a laugh in order to lighten the mood and your husband catches on, chuckling with you.

“okay, you don’t need to tell me twice,” he begins to make his way over to you with his arms out wide, “you do want a stinky hug before i hop in, no?” calling your bluff he tries to latch his arms around you as you scream and try to run away.

“sto-stop!” you giggle as he grabs you in his arms, “eww! carlos!” the whine slips from your lips as he starts planting kisses all over your neck and face, tickling you causing you to let out more laughter. his grip loosens and he backs away towards the bathroom, grabbing his change of clothes off the dresser as he does so. one arm raised and a finger pointed at you he lets go of a very loose warning, “this isn’t over, cariño,”

“oh no!” you gasp in dramatics, “the tickle monster! what am i five?” carlos just laughs and releases a ‘loca’ under his breath as he shuts the bathroom door and turns on the shower. you then quickly get to work with your makeup, planting the perfect looking hickey in a place he hasn’t seen all day, but will very soon. once it was done, you discreetly hide your phone and patiently wait on the bed for carlos to leave the bathroom. 

fresh out of the shower, your husband steps into your room with just a pair of sweatpants on as he continues to run the towel over his damp hair. you take that as your sign to begin your prank and tie your hair up into a bun - giving carlos the perfect view of your neck. walking over to him, you plant a kiss on his lips and step back from him as he turns his attention towards his wife. looking you up and down for a second, making eye contact with the hickey, you feign confusion and innocence by proceeding to ask, “que, mi amor? is there something on my face?” you attempt to turn and ‘check’ yourself in the mirror, but carlos pulls on your arm, spinning you around to face back at him. he quickly discards the towel in his hand, throwing it to the floor, as he looks closer at your neck. 

“did you hurt yourself, cariño?” he asks softly, “maybe with one of your hair tools or something,” he finishes as if he’s almost assuring himself. 

“no? what is this carlos?” you question, trying your damnedest not to let out a smile.

“tienes algo en el cuello,” you have something on your neck uh oh. carlos only spoke direct spanish with you when he was deep in a feeling - lust, happiness, anger. “parece un…” it looks like a… 

“que?” you ask softly.

“a hickey, y/n. it looks like a hickey. y sé muy bien que no fui yo quien te dio esto,” and i know very well it was not me that gave you this

“oh, oh that? ya, um, actually that might be from my curling iron, you were right!” responding lightly only made carlos narrow his eyes at you further. 

“y/n, qué hice mal,” what did i do wrong?

“oh no, carlos, baby, nothing- you did nothing wrong,” you panic at his sadness and hold his face in your hands, “it’s just a prank, los, te lo prometo,” i promise you

he looks down at you, widening his eyes in hope before he says anything, then you hear - so quietly you almost miss it, ‘take it off’. 

“i will, i will baby. come here, come with me,” you lead him into the bathroom, grabbing your makeup wipes in haste and rubbing the fake hickey right off your neck. you hear your husband let out a long and deep exhale before he gives your sides a squeeze. 

“you just took ten years off my life with that stress, amor,”

“lo siento, carlos. i’ll even show you the video where i put it on if that makes you feel better,” you turn around in his hold and give him not one, not two, but three quick pecks to the lips as you drag him back into the room to retrieve your phone. as of that moment, carlos begins plotting his revenge. 

-

the next week, your husband and you arrive early at the paddock for race day due to his necessary media duties. with your hands intertwined, you begin making your way to the ferrari garage - passing a few reporters and fans on the way. while making your way, a few fans had called out to the both of you. carlos always joked that his fans loved you more than him, but every joke has a bit of truth to it. 

“y/n! carlos! over here! can we get a picture?”

your husband - ever the gentleman - turns his attention to the young group of girls at the barricade and leads you both over to them. once carlos had signed a few things and taken a few pictures, you both turn to leave but are prevented by the girls. 

“y/n! can we get a picture with you too!” carlos checks you over, asking you non-verbally if you’re okay with it and you slightly nod in his direction to signify the answer. bending down and over slightly, the girls grab a few selfies with you and speak to you about their love for your tik toks, tweets, and overall personality. with your light ego boost, you turn and chuckle to your husband. 

“isn’t it great that your fans love me more?” you give him a sly smile and a poke to his stomach as he laughs along with you.

“aye, they’re just saying that to make you feel better, amor,” he shoots back quickly.

“nuh-uh,” you scoff back, “they love me so much more, i think i better be the one to race today,” at this point the girls are recording your interaction while giggling at the banter your husband and you have provided. 

“in your dreams, cariño,” he bites back with a smile.

with that comment, you whip around to face the group, “do you hear how he speaks to me? my own husband! he hates me!” you sigh dramatically as carlos pulls you into his arms. the crowd before you erupts in laughter at your antics and your husband bids polite goodbyes, leading you away. you’re both leaving in cackles as you continue to jab each other back and forth.

as you round the corner to the ferrari garage, you both run into fernando walking towards aston martin. 

“hola, nando!” you call out with a wave. he stops curtly and leans in your direction, arms parting for a hug. you receive it kindly, swaying lightly back and forth all while exchanging pleasantries. 

“aye, he oído felicitaciones están en orden,” i hear congratulations are in order fernando presses with a smile.

“porque felicitaciones?” why congratulations? you ask back to him. 

“oh! lo siento, ¿se supone que nadie debe saberlo?” i’m sorry, is no one supposed to know?

your confusion ends when you turn to your now - dying laughing - husband at your left, “¿le dijiste a todo el mundo que estaba embarazada?” did you tell everyone i was pregnant?

carlos can’t even shake out words at this point due to laughter as he just begins to vigorously nod his head yes. fernando takes this as his sign to head back in his previous direction, chuckling under his breath something about ‘these damn kids again’. 

“you’re dead, carlos sainz,” you state matter-of-factly at him. 

“i’m sorry, me or my fathe-”

“YOU KNOW WHO!” you yell back, cutting off his smart ass comment, “does the whole grid really think im fucking pregnant, you ass?” this time carlos’ laughter is cut short and he just slowly shakes his head yes, nervousness now overwhelming his features instead of amusement. 

“do you now realize how stupid that was?” you ask him again. again he slowly nods his head yes, his eyes only meeting his shoes. out of your peripheral, you can see lando approaching the both of you and he holds out his arms in glee.

“there are my favorite soon-to-be parent-”

“SHUT IT!” you snap in his direction, “the only child i will be raising for the foreseeable future is the one in front of me,” you nod your head towards carlos, and his eyes - again - never leave his shoes. lando begins to laugh even louder than your husband did before at his friend being scolded like a child.

“oh i am so tweeting about this,” he lets out between laughs. 

you take a glance over at your husband and whisper a light ‘karma’ into his ear before you kiss his cheek and head off to find his family in the garage. 

-

after the race, carlos is doing interviews and you are searching to find him. not being in the media pen, but instead just along the gates talking to reporters, you easily walk up to your husband and wait over to the side for him to finish. the reporter speaking to him notices your presence and begins to wave you over. you shake it off quickly, wanting your husband to have his shining moment, but instead he also joins in waving you over - causing you to reluctantly head in their direction. 

“hi!” you squeak out to the reporter, carlos pulling you into his side and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. 

“hi, y/n! thank you for joining us for the interview!” the young woman starts. 

“thank you for letting me crash!” you reply back with a giggle. 

“not crashing, you’re here by invitation,” your husband speaks up, kissing your forehead after doing so.

“i’m sorry if we were too forward to invite you,” the reporter chimes in fast.

“no, no!” you assure back, “i just didn’t want to outshine ‘ole carlos over here, you know how it is,” you joke, giving the reporter and your husband a laugh. 

“for sure,” the young woman gives you, “we love you two as a couple, you both have been informally deemed the grids funniest couple with all your banter and tik tok pranks, how do you both feel about that title?”

“it’s a heavy weight to carry,” you dramatically sigh, “i have to keep the people on their toes and give them what they want,” the reporter laughs once again at your comments as you shrug before your husband chimes in, “funny wife, happy life - right?” you all share one more laugh before the reporter lets you two depart. 

as you’re walking out of the paddock, hand in hand, you reach up on your toes to plant a kiss to carlos’ lips. he hums back in approval, stopping you, with his hold moving to your waist and pressing deeper. you smile into the kiss and can feel him doing the same. once pulling apart, your husband stares into your eyes, the contact moving from eye to eye to lips. you almost crumble watching him shamelessly adore you. 

“what are you thinking about, amor?” you gently ask, attempting not to ruin the soft moment with loud diction.

“just how much i love you, cariño,” his reply is simple, yet means so much. even though you both are playful with your antics and pranks, your love is something that never falters with seriousness. and you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

[glammiketrash]

Monty didn’t attack Bonnie. Freddy did.

This post is not a joke: Ruin gives us enough clues to know that Bonnie was attacked by Freddy the day he disappeared, and Monty saw the attack.

Word count: 2457 words.

Yup, I wrote an entire essay with pictures to take the blame from a fictional gator that became my comfort character. If someone from Steel Wool is reading this: Yes, I’m ok, thanks for asking. If you want to send a cute Monty picture to my inbox, it is open and I’ll be all over the place if you do it.

Now, let me take you with me on this wild ride, because this theory fits the narrative of both Security Breach and Ruin so well that I have to clap at Steel Wool if it is actually correct and not me playing with the puzzle pieces incorrectly. So, here we go!

Bonnie, judging by the golden eyes and his travel pattern, was protecting someone like Freddy did with Gregory. Important damage was directed to the stomach hatch, where a kid could hide.

He has claw marks there, but Monty didn’t got his until the first was decommissioned and was then modified to play his bass.

The scratches in his hatch are green, but also the cracks over it. It looks like it is his base color instead of paint left by the attacker. The next video is from FazFriends, where they look at every single detail in the Ruin animatronic models. Their analysis are totally worth your attention if you like SB!

Monty has black nails, even before he was modified to play Bonnie’s bass. They also are kinda blunt, and the marks the attacker left seem more clean and sharp in the ends.

Now, there aren’t lots of animatronics that have claws. We have Roxy (and I’m guessing Foxy, if he ever existed as an animatronic different to her), The mimic/Burntrap, who doesn’t really seem an option because he’s slow and in life support in SB and sealed in Ruin, and… there’s Freddy. But, and here’s the twist, not normal Freddy, who couldn’t get through gates like Monty until he got his claws.

I’m talking about this thing.

Not only do we have environmental clues that confirm this attack, but also a key clue that wouldn’t make any sense otherwise.

Let’s start with the Prototype itself!

Check those claws. They are sturdy enough to survive all the damage this model has received, and extremely sharp at the end. Now compare Bonnie and its hand together…

It’s a perfect fit. The metal is a bit bent in the left, but if you could lower it, the finger length, the palm, even the distance and shape between the thumb and index are the same than the hole in Bonnie’s chest.

If that detail is true, all pieces of the narrative fit together. Here’s what happened, which I will explain further adding sources:

Monty saw Freddy’s prototype attacking Bonnie (who was in safe mode) in Gator Golf’s catwalks. The hurricane hole-in-one was activated, causing them both to fall. He could see the prototype losing its head and taking damage to its leg, but Bonnie was nowhere: he was either able to go back to Bonnie Bowl by himself using the distraction or the fall knocked him out and was dragged there, where he was heavily damaged.

This next part is not so clear, so I’ll give you my version of what I think happened that night: Bonnie alerted police that a kid was in danger. They show up, but Vanessa sent them away, claiming she was the only person there and it was a prank call (False Alarm message in SB). Vanny uses Bonnie’s trust on Freddy against him: she sends the prototype to go after the kid and him. He makes it to Monty’s, where the hurricane causes damage to the prototype, and is then finally attacked and disassembled behind his attraction to silence him and bury any clue or what happened (his parts are all over the place, one of his arms has weel marks, and Ruin follows the PQ ending where Freddy is disassembled. In SB, endos come out from the lines to attack us, and in Ruin we see the zone where his vanity is infested with STAFF robots, both in its normal version and in VR, where a giant STAFF robot is seen being dragged to a door while it leaves scratch marks on the floor).

Fazbear Entertainment pretended they actually looked for Bonnie and found nothing at all. As a final punishment for his disobedience he was actively being erased from existence: most of his art was removed, and some ask for a re-theme of his attraction (Re-theme SB message). They make Monty the main bassist, giving him his green room too.

These changes are being quickly pushed after his decommission: Bonnie still has power when we find him, Monty falls from the catwalks “a month ago” and snaps in half, a place where he goes every time he skips a performance (Monty Mischief SB message), people constantly ask for Bonnie and there isn’t an approved answer to give, the bowling alley still wasn’t given a re-theme after taking out most of Bonnie’s images.

Despite FazEnt efforts, Bonnie is remembered, specially by a depressed Monty.

His body was modified, he was given his bass, his glasses, his room, his role. The higher ups clapped thinking about the possibility of him being even more popular than Bonnie, his disappearance becoming yet another opportunity to make money.

And it was Freddy’s prototype’s fault. His normal life, the person he admired the most, his own body, were taken from him because of him.

From that day, and after getting new claws, his attitude becomes obsessive, endlessly searching for what was left of Bonnie after the rest gave up: destroying fences to explore the undergrounds, constantly missing shows and always being found in the catwalks, even after being snapped in half by the hole-in-one bucket, trying to guess where his body was. His last known location was his attraction, so he should still be there somewhere, isn’t it?

Let me repeat this: he prefers looking for Bonnie in the catwalks even at risk of his own integrity than performing.

There are more details that show us he does care for him: there are four official images left of Glamrock Bonnie in the PizzaPlex, three of them in Monty’s ride, the last one at the entrance of his own attraction, where some animations can still be seen. These cutouts are in perfect shape, while Freddy’s is light off.

There is also a headless Freddy statue that once you go to FazerBlast screams “prototype”.

It looks like it’s been decapitated by a hurricane, some “cables” coming out of its head like the prototype, which has cables coming out of its neck.

This damage couldn’t have been caused by the earthquake: the head should had fallen to the ground instead of being pinned on the hurricane. Plus, it doesn’t match the theme of the ride, based on cutouts, and while the rest of the elements are placed in scenarios and their composition is clearly studied, this statue breaks the symmetry of the hurricane’s eye element, that is supposed to give you the illusion that you are entering its eye and being pushed out to the main attraction.

What’s more, in a story exclusively about Monty’s past and how he became a solo bassist in the PizzaPlex thanks to Bonnie, attracting the same amount of people than the Glamrocks themselves, a Freddy statue at the end doesn’t make any sense sense at all… Unless it was put there with a very particular purpose.

I like to think it’s part of an environmental story telling from Steel Wool, specially when you read the rest of clues together.

There’s more to say about this statue than the lack of a head: look at its leg damage, and how it matches the prototype’s heavily damaged one, and how the hand that is visible reflects the light making it look like it has long claws despite Freddy having short ones like the rest of the band.

It also has two blue long lines through his chest that resemble the ones in Bonnie’s.

If you still have doubt about how it is part of a scene representing the night of the attack, then you should know there is an easter egg here: if you follow the part of the tornado that goes up, you can see a Bonnie cutout at the very top of it. He’s far away from the rest of the scene and he looks like if he was being knocked by the tornado. If you zoom to look at his face, you can see he has a worried expression.

Monty didn’t destroy any of the images of Bonnie or his previous iterations, not the cutouts, not this poster, not the bass that belonged to him, even after causing damage to his room.

There is a detail in Gator Golf that is easy to miss: An intact poster of the original Bonnie near a log he uses as a hideout in Ruin (we see him quickly going out of it when we approach it).

He looks similar to the illustration at the entrance of Bonnie Bowl, but this image is not very charming. He looks half dead, yeah...? If you then go to Bonnie’s, some big screens are still on and advertising pizza. When you wear the mask, they change to a glitched version of the Bonnie animation, where his eyes go blank in a similar way to this poster.

This spot couldn’t have been used by Vanny: it is decorated exactly like the rest of Gator Golf in the base game, which ends with us saving Vanessa and exiting the PizzaPlex together.

The poster also has a drawing of Freddy stuck on it. In this chapter you can also find the Bonnie’s piñata collectible, the first time we can see his Glamrock design and the first clue of him having suffered an attack (it has a big gash in his chest).

He could have easily taken it down if he wanted, specially when it is so close to his hideout and he’s in such a volatile state, but he keeps it right beside it.

But the real Freddy (or, at least, things that resemble him) seems to cause some kind of reaction even in the base game, yes?

The most common example in Security Breach is the arcade version of Monty’s Gator Golf. There are two possible readings for it, depending on if you think it represents Monty’s mind or if you think it has been hacked to change his behavior.

Hole 1 depicts Freddy separated from the group, a big distance between them. Hole 9 shows him in a dumpster, and Chica, Roxy and Monty playing together. He’s never part of the group, so either Monty hates him or he was hacked so he would hate him, right?

But the main show were he looks happily at him while playing, the fact that he never attacks him even after being hacked, the presence of images of him on other holes all perfectly light and ok like this balloon, and the eye color difference between Hole 1 and 9, make me think Steel Wool is trying to tell us a way different story.

The Freddy in the dumpster is the only one with golden eyes. Hole 9 represents what is happening the night we play as Gregory, the AR part of the AR-cade, and of the main reasons the Monty taking down theory was so popular.

That night, Roxy, Chica and him are working on finding the kid to the point that their cases crack and get dirty, while Freddy not only glitched at the start of the show hours before, but is now also walking around the PizzaPlex doing NOTHING instead of helping (apparently).

It’s the animatronic equivalent of a group project were one of the members does nothing, so you have to do their part and then they show up and are praised. It makes sense he would be angry at the situation and think he’s trash, but even so, there are no real confrontations between them.

But what about Hole 1, then? The answer is the fireflies. There are some fireflies at the left part, but the right, where Freddy is looking, has other set of lights. If you calculate the distance from Chica to him, the center is almost where the hole is, the part of the arcade that is supposed to drag your attention. Having an empty space there feels uncomfortable and a very questionable decision from whomever designed the scene, but if this one is a reflection from reality or Monty’s current mind state, why aren’t Freddy’s eyes gold?

Well, I don’t think he is separated from his band.

I think someone is missing from the picture instead.

Bonnie was erased from the Arcade.

As it was said, these changes were quick and non-planned: they deleted his model from the arcade, but had no time to move and reprogram the positions of the rest of the characters so the space between them was filled. As a consequence, when you play this level, your attention is taken from the hole to the distance between them.

It is void, awkward, it makes you uncomfortable. You know something is missing, but you can’t quite tell what it is yet. It makes you wish there was one more character there even before you knew there actually was.

Once you learn what happened, how his story ties to the place this scenario represents, the void he left in Freddy and Monty specifically, Hole 1 gains a new meaning, and it hits you. When you go back to the PizzaPlex as Cassie and play the arcade, there’s no joy left there. No fireflies, no Glamrocks, just ruins. Two pairs of red eyes and a pile of Nightmare STAFF bots. That’s all that’s left.

But if you still need one more clue to convince you that the prototype was the one that attacked Bonnie, then let me tell you there is a final one that wouldn’t make sense otherwise:

The AR collectibles dialogue.

Cassie always makes a commentary about the things she finds: Monty’s AR plushie being very glitchy, how she wants to add Roxy’s one to her collection, how the her father wouldn’t tell her why they replaced Bonnie and how he was his dad’s favorite…

But she also asks him what happened to him, and gets an answer when she gets the last collectible.

The AR Golden Bonnie is hidden in Bonnie Bowl, next to a Wet Floor Sign bot.

She hasn’t been to Fazer Blast yet.

But the description answers the question that she asked him: a prototype.

Bonnie was decommissioned by Freddy’s prototype.

And the only ones that know are a kid lead to her death that can hear his agony through the Wet Floor Bots and unreal collectibles, and an animatronic blamed for his death and told he’ll never be him, obsessed with his loss and with finding whatever is left of the person that he admired the most and helped him become the star he once was.

[dunmesh]

laios and shuro's relationship is so important to me it's not funny anymore... the fact shuro kept believing in laios during the latter part of the manga, then searched for him after laios became a monster and defeated the winged lion- although it was unclear what exactly had become of him- is haunting me because of how it contrasts with him choosing to give up on saving falin after he saw her as a chimera. like, laios was so sure that their fight in chapter 38 was the end of their friendship while in reality it was the beginning of it in shuro's eyes. laios kept agonizing over losing the one friend he cared for the most but it's because he didn't understand the significance of that little thing he kept carrying with him in every step until the very end of the series: the bell.

shuro gave him that bell as a token of his trust in him and his love: "we grew apart and i'm no longer fit for the position by your side, but no matter how far you go, i'll be there for you when you need me". their conflict over how to deal with falin forced them to go in different directions, but despite accepting leaving falin behind, shuro couldn't bring himself to abandon laios as well. and it's no coincidence that the bell shuro gave him was the proof that laios was still alive after all that happened, or that it's what pushed mithrun and kabru to go deeper into the dungeon instead of returning to the surface (which quite literally changed the entire chain of events afterwards).

yes, shuro decided to stop pursuing falin and report her condition to the governor so she could be stopped, even at the cost of her life. he gave up on her. but the same man also defied the canaries and fought for laios without knowing how messed up things had gotten because he chose to believe in laios above all else. and that, in my opinion, solidified just how important laios became to him- more than falin's, more than his own life, it's laios's he didn't give up on.

at the very end, when he met laios again after the latter defeated the winged lion, he gave him a hug filled with the pure, unrestrained joy of seeing his first and best friend on the island alive and well. hell, i mean, it's easy to forget that shuro didn't really have anyone close to him too- and laios might very well be the first person he was this disgustingly direct and truthful with since he was a child. and when he goes back home, there won't be anyone else like laios there; his home is still the same. it's him that changed. and later on when he will recall all those years he spent on the island, he will realize how surprising it is that all the crazy stuff he witnessed don't hold a candle to the impact those few people he befriended there had on him.

of course, laios didn't realize it until then- shuro's reaction was indeed the one that surprised him the most- but at that moment he could absolutely feel how foolish he was to be so sure he will be hated and rejected after everything they went through. it's so important that it was shuro who greeted him so affectionately, after we saw laios brooding over their fight so much: it's shuro's acceptance that he was longing for the most.

with all that being said, the one last thing that drives me crazy is that the bell laios was given to use when he needed assistance most was still with him even after turning back into his human form. that tiny item he was shown to be quite careless with and yet never let go of until he wanted to be completely alone, thinking he should run away from everyone he loved; but it was too late, his friend already heard his cry for help.

and they all answered.

[takami-takami]

Like Animals.

kinktober day 4: sex pollen.

includes— hawks x reader. minors dni. smut

warnings— afab!reader. dubcon (sex pollen/heats, but both have been pining like idiots). breeding if you squint.

keigo's beloved crush sidekick gets hit with the unluckiest quirk possible. he quickly discovers his rut suppressants ain't shit.

Through all the horrors and adverse life events Keigo has endured in this line of work— brutal near-assassinations, negotiations with international crime syndicates, purchasing sugar-free canned coffee with Splenda substitute by mistake before his morning shift— he has always been able to find a silver lining in the darkest of moments. 

Which makes it infinitely more concerning that for the first time in his life, he nearly whines through his teeth the words, "why me?" 

A palm drags once down his face, thumb and index finger pulling down his darkened eye bags. His hand collects the beads of sweat and stops to rest over his mouth. 

He supposes this must be his penance for taking a risk and trusting faulty intel. 

Keigo's informant told him the villain he and his darling sidekick were meeting would have a limited-ranged fire quirk, so the diligent hero stuffed ointment and cold packs in his pockets before leaving just in case. 

If he had known the villain was a plant heteromorph and possessed a heat-inducing mist quirk instead, and that the person he was hopelessly in love with had a bit of a crush on would be caught in the direct line of fire? 

He would have brought a paper bag to hyperventilate into instead. And some prayer beads. The god to which the prayer is delivered doesn't necessarily matter, he thinks. He'd simply pick one and drop to his knees in a bid for mercy.

"I'm taking you to a medic," Keigo puts his foot down for the fourth time this evening. 

"Fuck no," you groan from the couch, shifting to squeeze your thighs together. It offers not even a modicum of relief from the incessant throb. "Do you want my cause of death to be humiliation? Is that your plan, genius? 'S bad enough as it is that you're here." 

The subtext is unspoken, but clear to him through your adorable pout: I only trust you to see me like this.

It's unlucky that the man you've had the most innapropriate-for-work crush on for the better part of two years happened to be the one beside you that day. And it's just your sorry luck, you lament, that Keigo would also be the one to catch you, to fly you home cradled in his painfully capable arms, to refuse to leave your side and insist on making his favorite chicken soup for you in a desperate flail of support. 

He'd respect your decision and leave, should you ask him to. You know that. And yet the humbling truth gnaws at your pride: doing so wouldn't do much to save your image at this point. He’s already seen you like this, you grumble. The proverbial cat has long since escaped the bag, waltzing its way over to rub its purring body against Keigo’s leg to your abject horror.

If you close your eyes, you can attempt to trick your brain into thinking this affliction is a flu of some kind. 

Yes, this is just some common cold. You're wearing nothing but your work partner's shirt (your clothes were contaminated by the quirk's dust, Keigo explained, speaking in that strict work mode voice that makes you picture your mouth stuffed and drooling somewhere beneath his desk and between his spread legs). You pull the damned fabric down over your core as you try your hardest to not writhe in fits of pleasure underneath the blankets, rubbing your thighs together for any friction against your swollen clit.

All symptoms of an affliction of the flu, of course. 

You don't need to reach down and touch to know the slick would string those thighs together, should you attempt to pull them apart. 

Keigo knows that, too. But he doesn't say anything about it. 

You would be mortified if you were aware of the truth. 

That he knows everything.

Keigo knows exactly how you ache; like you're constantly on the precipice of an orgasm, perpetually ablaze from the heavy heat scorching your body from its surface to the boiling core. 

You try to suppress your glee as he spoon feeds you the broth, reminding yourself that this is just what good friends do for each other.

Friends coo praises at each other when they swallow, friends tilt each other's chins up with one finger and mutter things like that’s a good dove and you can take another as they watch their throat bob in tandem. 

Friends shiver from their wingtips down their spine when they pull the spoon back. They let their gaze linger for just a second on those lips that open wide, aching to touch with their own.

Ever the gentleman, Keigo stays lowered to his haunches and places one hand over your forehead to check for a fever, redirecting his focus toward taking inventory of your vitals. He doesn't wince when he hears your moan at the contact, even though the pitiful sound pings at his weak points. His avian instincts remind him he needs to protect you, please you, take care of you; to make it go away, to fix that feeling he knows better than anyone is aching like a bruise between your thighs. 

He doesn't allow his eyes to wander astray or trail their way downwards, especially when you're in such a vulnerable state; but his professional assessment is that if he could only wet his appetite, the flat of his tongue alone could— 

He shakes his head and blows a puff to cool the soup, raising another spoonful to your lips. 

"Here. Another. You need to keep your energy up," he reminds you, voice stern. It's nearly clinical and achieves the opposite of its desired effect.

Your heart rate picks up to thump at a steady, thrumming beat at the innocuous gesture of domesticity. 

How have you never noticed how capable of a mate Keigo would be…? He’s all musculature and sincerity, sharp ridges at his knuckles and soft curves at the small of his waist where he only trusts you to touch.

You huff an involuntary moan. 

He picks another god to praise that the couch you're laying on obscures his lower half. 

Today, Keigo discovers his suppressants are only designed to reduce the chance of a rut being triggered. It brings the possibility of it starting in the first place to a comfortable near-zero, allowing him to carry out the spring and fall seasons as if he were entirely quirkless.

But if that rut passes through the blockers' biochemistry in, say, the event Keigo's luck rears its ugly head, for example… It does fuck all to reduce the actual symptoms. 

More importantly than his own anguish, however, is this: his mate work partner got hurt because of him— hurt being a stretch, he'd know if he weren't overthinking so much, given the blissed out panting just two feet away from him; but you’re probably suffering and it's all his fault. It’s all because of an unlucky, once in a lifetime slip up from Keigo Takami himself, and he can't detangle himself from the guilt.

If drowning in the unexpected whirlpool that is his first rut in half a decade is his penance for the crime, then Keigo will hang his head and take it.

The huff he lets out is your last straw.

"I'm going to my room," you state, moving to leave like you left the stove on and are trying to avoid an upcoming house fire.

When his hand darts out to stop you, the touch against your shoulder sends shockwaves down your stomach.

He's touching you. He's taking such good care of you, feeding you, providing for you in his nest and now he's touching you?

It sends your hormones into overdrive. 

You'd do well to conceal it, if his heightened instincts couldn't smell your desperation. 

"I'm afraid it ain't that easy, dove," Keigo warns, eye contact averted. "I'd avoid doing that, if I were you." 

He schools his expression, but not before you catch a flash of something hungry. 

There's no chance in hell he's letting you out of his sight. Not like this. You're confined to the couch while he keeps an eye on you. Attempting to fix it yourself will only make the feeling unfathomably worse, something he tries to communicate to you with a look that only ends up making him look like a kicked puppy.

You squint right back when you process the implication of his words, eyes raking down his form in suspicion. 

"How do you know all this, anyway," you ask.

Keigo goes silent, hand concealing his mouth. 

Ah, it hits you. 

Bird things.

Your head falls back against one of the numerous pillows your partner propped up behind you.

"The couch is soft," you murmur, situating yourself against the cushions and throw blankets he so carefully arranged. You trail your fingertips along a silk pillow. Keigo slams his eyes shut.

"Please don't say it like that." 

"Why not?" Your lids droop, heat overtaking your better judgement. Tentatively, you play along the bounds. You allow your hands to run along the soft divots of the blanket covering your body, squeezing your chest and pinching the peaks. "It's like a little nest, isn't it?" 

His hand drags down his face before pinching his nose bridge, suppressing a whine. "Baby, please—" 

"You don't wanna join me?"

"You don't know what you're talking about. It's just the heat," Keigo tells himself more than you. "For the love of God, dove, stop talking—"

"But it hurts, Kei'." It’s a low blow, judging by the protective coo that escapes his lips. 

Fed up, he leans forward and swings his right leg over your hip, crawling atop you as if his body has a mind of its own, utterly bogged by desire and yanked like puppet strings.

With Keigo kneeling tall above you, the bodysuit of his hero costume hides absolutely nothing. The musculature is quite impressive, actually. Proof of his viability as a mate— all dominant and masculine and gorgeous.

And at this angle, you can see the most painful erection straining against his pants. 

"I need you, Kei'. I need— mmph!" 

A palm silences you; slapped down, hot, imposing, and heavy like a weight against your mouth. 

The authority of the action makes your cunt clench; and Keigo would die before he lets that feeling go to waste, so his hips drop down to grind once against it. 

Your eyes go wide, doughy and stunned, darting down in haste, following the trail of his thick bicep up toward the disciplinary scowl on his face. 

His nostrils flare with the heaving in his chest, eyes screwed shut with his last slivers of patience holding its grip on his psyche.

"One more word," he says, pulling his hand away. "One more word and I'm ripping this blanket off and fucking you raw." 

After a moment of silence, you speak.

"Please." 

Keigo is wordless when he unbuckles his belt and lets it— and his inhibitions— drop with a satisfying clink.

The reality of what you've gotten yourself into comes crashing down as it hits you how utterly fucked you are. The scaffolding of years of sexual tension comes crumbling down like bricks to rubble, a city of restraint reduced to pure, animalistic desire. 

Years of Keigo's eyes darting away when you nonchalantly change into your uniform in front of him, even though he never seemed bothered by any of his other peers doing the same; years of you both curling in on yourselves at the furthest edges of the bed you had to share, cramped close in those under-the-radar motels on stealth missions; years of the words "idiot, can I kiss you," held back by your lips as you watch Keigo moan when he sinks his teeth into his comfort restaurant's chicken teriyaki every stupid Friday night, sitting cross-legged and at home on the carpet of your apartment floor. 

Not a single word is exchanged as he pulls his cock free from its confines, nearly too thick for his fingers to meet when they wrap around it. He tosses the blanket to the side with haste, dragging your shirt (his shirt) up to your collar, exposing your chest when he lines his cock with your entrance. 

"Please, Kei'," you sniffle. "Hurts." 

"Oh, I know, baby... I know." His lips are pursed when he shushes you, tracing your cheek with his palm. "I'll make it go away."

When your lips meet, it's like static electricity; and it's entirely remorseless.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he groans against your mouth, dragging his length along your sticky thighs before plopping the thick of it atop your soaked cunt. 

"You're so wet for me," he reveres in awe, dragging the plump tip through your mess to get it slick enough to rub against your clit. 

Your rutting hips buck with impatience in an attempt to glide his length against your swollen pussy, but that only serves to fuel his desire; and those desperate little whines only feed into his insatiable need to fuck, to breed you until you're silent. 

Until you shut the fuck up.��

Those pathetic little sounds are music to his ears, a siren's song that used to play only in his most shameful fantasies; the ones that kept his fist tight around his cock the moment he returned home after missions, the sight of you panting and spitting blood after battle with a smile on your face still fresh in his memory. 

Keigo wants to hear you moan. 

But his rut needs to fuck you wordless with satisfaction. 

"Oh, fuck," he hitches, shifting his hips back and forth to the tune of the audible shlicks below. Unable to stay upright any longer, his chest falls flush into yours in a rut-afflicted haze, rutting against you like animals. 

When he slips his cock inside, it's with a kiss to muffle his voice.

And he wastes no time setting a punishing pace, aided nicely by the slickness that coats the sides of his cock. The legs of the couch surely must be scraping indents into the floorboards, judging by the creaks that mingle with the sounds of his belt buckle at every thrust. You'd notice if either of you were lucid enough to care. 

It's a brief consideration of a possibility of an afterthought, like a sheepish voice behind a roaring crowd. 

Pulling out, that is. 

Yeah, if he were a stronger man, he could probably will his hips to stall. There's a chance someone far stronger than him would hiss when he does it. His cock would weep in denial of that sweet, velvet entanglement, dripping out in the cold when he fists himself to completion mere inches away from what might as well be the center of his goddamn universe.

But when it comes to you, when it comes to his rut, Keigo is not a strong man.

He allows his cock to throb in the vice of your cunt, instead.

"God, baby," he moans into your neck, wings flapping once, twice with each thrust, shedding a few feathers before straightening out and grazing the ceiling behind his back. "Baby. Oh, baby. You're so tight. You're so— fuck!"

He's babbling, but so are you. Legs hooked across the small of his back, you bump your hips as best you can to aid in his efforts; and with your last shreds of lucidity, you decide for the both of you how things will end. 

With watery lashes, you open your eyes enough to blink away some tears and clear your vision just enough. Your gaze crawls up his legs that are still clothed to the thighs, peeking over the curvature of his ass and up his shuddering spine— all to mark onto your scarlet red prize.

When you entangle your fingers into the downy feathers at the base of his wings, it shoots straight to his cock and he spills.

With eyes wide open and a strangled choke at the back of his throat, Keigo's hips stutter when he empties himself. With every throb comes another rope from the tip, sticky and excessive from the rut, mixing with your wetness as you crash over the edge soon after.

When the ringing in your ears ceases and you finally come to, it's to the sight of your now probably-more-than-a-work-partner pulling out and staring between your legs as if under a trance, eyes glimmering.

"Kei', you okay?"

"Uh huh," he answers absentmindedly, utterly transfixed on the mess he made. 

It's strange, he thinks. Whatever urges his rut transcribed into cravings, every instinct that tugged at the avian etched in his DNA and called him to fill you pales in comparison to the satisfaction of having indulged himself at last.

His eyes flick back to meet yours.

"Does this mean I can kiss you at work now?" 

You snort. So that's where his mind goes in the end.

"It means a whole lot more than that," you say, rolling you both over so he lands square on his back.

[miryum]

☆ 18+ minors dni ☆ (ish. Not descriptive at all)

So I’ve done Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd, right? Well, what about Best Friend’s Brother!Jason Todd?

Best Friend’s Brother!Jason Todd would have a totally different vibe and I will die on this hill

Best Friend’s Brother!Jason Todd who, instead of playing the long game like Brother’s Best Friend!Jason Todd, would think to himself, right when he met you, “that’s who I’m gonna marry”

Best Friend’s Brother!Jason Todd who, from the moment you entered his home, would have his eyes set on you because holy shit you were so innocent and lovely and had no idea what you were walking into 

Best Friend’s Brother!Jason Todd who would be envious of his little sister, Stephanie, for being friends with you, but also extremely thankful that you two were friends because it’s how he met you

Best Friend’s Brother!Jason Todd who would hang around Wayne Manor more and more often just for the chance of seeing you. Of course, Alfred was the first to catch on. Then Steph, then Bruce, and slowly the rest of the family

Best Friend’s Brother!Jason Todd who didn’t care that you were only in college and he was nearing thirty – you were his

Best Friend’s Brother!Jason Todd who would stare at you when you and Stephanie were studying together in the Wayne library. He would literally just stand in the doorway, arms crossed and staring in your direction, a deadly smirk on his lips. How else was he supposed to flirt with you? Ever since the Lazarus Pit, his perception of… social awareness was off

Best Friend’s Brother!Jason Todd who would contemplate whether or not he should ask you out because you were Steph’s best friend and he didn’t want to insert himself into your friendship

Best Friend’s Brother!Jason Todd who would take his contemplations out on one of the punching bags in the gym. Dick eventually had to come in and check on Jason after he had broken two punching bags

Best Friend’s Brother!Jason Todd who hung around Steph for days on end, gaining up courage to ask her if she was okay with him asking you out. Steph was definitely suspicious and finally just bluntly asked him what was wrong

Best Friend’s Brother!Jason Todd who breathed out a sigh of relief when Steph squealed happily and cried out, “of course! Oh, you two will be perfect together!”

Best Friend’s Brother!Jason Todd who then waited two and a half more weeks to ask you out because he was too nervous. He would send you winks and even drove Steph back to Gotham University after break just on the off chance of seeing you. He did and he had never smiled more widely in his life

Best Friend’s Brother!Jason Todd who groans and burrows his head in his hood whenever Steph teases him about you or when Dami asks, “I do not see the problem. If you cannot ask a girl out, Todd, then perhaps you are not fit to fight villains”

Best Friend’s Brother!Jason Todd who finally asks you out after you and Steph had a sleepover at Wayne Manor. He got up extra early that morning and began stress-making pancakes, as any rational person does

Best Friend’s Brother!Jason Todd who, after sliding you a plate full of pancakes, stutters over his words and scratches his neck and heat fills his cheeks, is relieved when you’re the one to ask him out

Best Friend’s Brother!Jason Todd who, later, would insist that he wasn’t nervous and would tell everyone, even your grandkids, that he was the one to ask you out

Best Friend’s Brother!Jason Todd who caved under your smirking glare and eventually admitted to your grandkids that he didn’t have the courage to ask out the love of his life

Best Friend’s Brother!Jason Todd who takes you wherever you want with Bruce’s money – even if you only ask to go browsing at the bookstore, he would buy you any book you looked at

Best Friend’s Brother!Jason Todd who, as I’ve said earlier, doesn’t really know how to act at first and doesn’t know how to show his affection. So, he buys you gifts and gives you the key to his apartment two months in

Best Friend’s Brother!Jason Todd who, after spending the first (non-sexual) night with you, suddenly realised how touch starved he was

Best Friend’s Brother!Jason Todd who then did not spend another second not touching you. Whether it’s an arm over your shoulder, holding your hand, or pulling your feet up onto his lap when you two are sitting on the couch

Best Friend’s Brother!Jason Todd who would slowly move you in without you even knowing. At first it was a couple clothes, and then a book or two, and then a couple picture frames here or there, and then oh well, it just makes sense that you move in

Best Friend’s Brother!Jason Todd who would decorate your skin with open mouthed kisses after your first (sexual) night with you, whispering over and over again how much he loves you

Best Friend’s Brother!Jason Todd who wouldn’t have to introduce you to his family because luckily, you already knew them all! 

Best Friend’s Brother!Jason Todd who would join you and Steph for girls night and paint his toes and gossip and let you run your hands through his hair (and maybe braid it)

Best Friend’s Brother!Jason Todd who would be the epitome of a gentleman and open doors for you, stare down other guys who looked at you, and gave you his leather jacket when he took you out riding on his motorcycle (and if you got a little handsy, he wouldn’t mind)

Best Friend’s Brother!Jason Todd who didn’t dare get you into the Red Hood/vigilante business and god forbid a villain got ahold of you

Best Friend’s Brother!Jason Todd who wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone who threatened your safety and then afterward hold you close, whispering sweet nothings as he lets Tim and Cass take care of it

Best Friend’s Brother!Jason Todd who, even after years of being together, would still kiss you like there’s no tomorrow and remind you that he loves you every five minutes

[peachsukii]

₊✩‧₊◜ a kiribaku x reader scenario that’s lived in my head for awhile now! it’s not really a formalized…anything. just fleeting thoughts. ♡ ✿ tangled hearts modern au masterlist ✿ ｡‧˚ʚ wc; ~2.6k ɞ˚‧｡ next entry: delicate (isn’t it?)

Thinking about a modern day AU with Kirishima and Bakugo settling down in the countryside for a quiet life away from the hustle of the city. They’re in their early 30s, married and happily tucked away in their own little paradise - until they meet you.

Bakugo works with his parent’s fashion agency as the director of the design department, and is a designer himself. He went to the highest credible fashion institute in Tokyo and graduated top of his class - as expected.

Kirishima is a personal trainer and owner of the local gym. He took a few business classes after high school and general fitness courses to learn all about it. He loves getting to help people and knows almost every single person in town. He also volunteers with the local fire company.

It was the ideal place for them, not too big and not too cramped. Bakugo had his own garden that he cherished while Kirishima loved the backyard for home exercising. Their home was spaced out from their neighbors and gave them the perfect amount of privacy.

The town is only an hour and change outside the city, still remaining close for friends and family by train. Bakugo mostly worked from home and only went into the city office for important meetings and press conferences. He preferred to work in his own space while designing instead of in a buzzing office where anyone could bother him - especially his parents.

Their morning routine was simple: Bakugo would wake up anytime between 6 and 6:30am, rolling out of bed to start breakfast and coffee. By the time he’s done cooking, Kirishima stumbles into the kitchen with his eyes half closed, sleepily making his way over to kiss his husband good morning. They’d sit at the table together and casually talk about their plans for the day or in silence as they enjoyed each others company.

That was all disrupted the morning Kirishima spotted you outside the gym, waiting for it to open. He didn’t recognize you like he did everyone else in town - that immediately caught his attention. Once inside, you introduced yourself and told him how you moved from the city for a new job. The two of you got to talking longer than anticipated and ended up bonding over you being new to town. Kirishima signs you up for his yoga classes the following week, excited to see you mesh with his regulars.

Bakugo’s on his lunch break later in the day at the local market to pick up his usual fresh vegetables and fruits when he spots you browsing the aisle behind him. He peeks over his glasses to see his design logo on the small tag at the hem of your tshirt. He simply smiles to himself, proud to see a garment of his in the wild, and finishes his own shopping.

───

A few weeks go by of getting to know Kirishima as you attend his classes. You’d stop and talk with him afterwards each time, slowly developing a friendship. One day after class, he casually mentions to you that his husband is a great cook and how his food rivals any five star restaurant from the city. On a whim, he invites you to dinner with him and Bakugo at their home - you agree happily. You didn’t have any friends in the area, what’s the harm in meeting people?

You arrive at their cozy home and are greeted heartily by Kirishima at the door as he puts a hand on your back and welcomes you inside. Bakugo turns his attention from the stove to the door, nodding in your direction as he continues cooking. You can’t help but think he looks…familiar.

Their place is gorgeous, tidy and clean, yet homey. There were pictures of their family and friends hung up all over alongside some simple art pieces and knick knacks. You could already tell who decorated versus who didn’t - Kirishima is definitely not the type to decorate so eloquently.

You’re gazing at one of the pictures when the realization smacks you in the face.

He’s responsible for half the clothes in your closet.

Kirishima is married to the Katsuki Bakugo of the fashion world? And you’re in his house for dinner that he’s serving to you?!

The thought makes you dizzy as your face flushes, desperately trying to hide your sudden excitement. And you chose to wear one of the dresses he designed for a collaboration years ago. What are the chances? Kirishima never told you what his husband’s name was, just that he was married.

“Y/N, I want you to meet my husband, Katsuki!” Kirishima excitedly says as he’s walking you to the kitchen. “Kat, this is Y/N. She’s the one I told ya about from my yoga class!”

The two of you lock eyes for a moment before Bakugo looks you up and down, calculating his first impression of you. He wasn’t about to tell you that he’s seen you around town before, he had to play it cool and not make it seem like he already knew you existed.

“Nice ta meet ya,” he greets before returning his attention to the stove. “Dinners just about ready. Ei, can you set the table?”

You all sit down for dinner, and it’s absolutely delicious. Kirishima was not joking about Bakugo’s cooking, every single thing you ate was delightful. You honestly don’t know if you’ve had a better meal than his.

“This is absolutely amazing, Ba-”

“Jus’ call me Katsuki.”

Him cutting you off to correct his name before you even finished saying it made your heart skip a beat.

“Oh, sure. Katsuki, this is honestly one of the best meals I’ve ever had,” you repeat, picking at that last of your vegetables on your plate. “I saw a garden outside. Do you grow them yourself?”

Bakugo grins, glowing at your compliments. “Yep. Anythin’ not in season I grab from market.”

Kirishima watches the two of you interact, happy that he was right about the three of you getting along seamlessly.

You shuffle in your seat at the next pause in your conversation before deciding to ask the burning question on your mind.

“So, Katsuki…what do you do for work?”

He laughs, motioning to your sundress. “Ya don’t have to beat around the bush about it. I can spot my work from a mile away.”

That broke the ice and allowed you to relax, knowing he didn't think you were trying to impress him by wearing his own design. The night went on, way past dinner, where the three of you talked about any and everything. It felt as if they’d already known you their whole lives, the conversation never feeling forced and flowing naturally.

“Shit, I’m sorry for staying so late!” You exclaim while looking at your phone. “Didn’t mean to keep you guys up.”

“Don’t apologize, y/n! You’re welcome here anytime,” Kirishima assured, slinging his arm around Bakugo on the couch. “We’d love to have ya over for dinner again soon!”

You’re about to head out the door when Bakugo gets up from the couch and stops you. “It’s dark, lemme walk you back to your place.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you insist, but he wasn’t having it. He was already changing out of his slippers and into a pair of sneakers. He held the door open for you as you waved to Kirishima, thanking him again for having you over and that you’ll see him for class in the morning.

You and Bakugo are walking down the dimly lit street toward your apartment complex, hands in his pockets, when he strikes up another conversation about your dress.

“You didn’t need to act so shy about the dress,” he comments. “Looks good on ya.”

You can feel your cheeks get hot again, praying he can't see your reaction in the street lights. "T-thanks! I love your work. I actually have a lot of the clothes you’ve designed…what are the odds?” You trail off at the end out of nervousness, playing with the fabric of the dress.

“Yeah? Good to know.”

The two of you approach your building and he says a simple ‘good night’ as he waves, turning to head home.

There’s a weird feeling in your chest, one that you haven’t felt in a long time. A warmth that floods your body with…you can’t pinpoint it. It makes you sweat, but comforts you at the same time.

Little did you know that the boys were feeling the exact same way.

───

Months go by as the three of you become inseparable - dinners, movie nights, shopping at the market, going into the city together, meeting their friends, walking around town at sunset, picnics in the park, you name it. Kirishima and Bakugo never knew they could feel so comfortable with someone so quickly - it was as if the three of you were meant to find each other.

While the two of them are lying in bed one night, Kirishima decides to open up about his feelings. He rolls over to face Bakugo, his usual pointy hair fluffed around his face against the pillow.

“Kats, I got a question for ya. It’s kinda…weird?” He starts, fiddling with the hem of the comforter. “Do you…uhh, shit. Do you have any feelings toward Y/N?”

Bakugo flips to his side to face him. “What do y’mean?”

“Oh don’t be like that. I think she’s…really cute,” he admits, his cheeks turning rosy. “I enjoy having her around.”

Bakugo grumbles in embarrassment, pulling the comforter up to cover his face. He feels like a high school boy all over again - he just didn’t want to admit it.

They’d both fallen for you simultaneously without even saying a word. Neither of them knew why, they’ve been together for over a decade now - since their college days. No one has ever made their hearts race in sync like you do.

“I’ll take that reaction as an agreement,” Kirishima teases, poking Bakugo’s forehead through the covers. He groans again as he throws the blanket off his face.

“It’s been confusin’ the shit outta me. I love you, Ei and that doesn’t change shit, but goddamn. She’s fuckin’ gorgeous,” Bakugo admits, face and ears burning hot.

“Aw, you’re so cute when you have a crush!” He scoots closer to Bakugo and kisses him on the forehead. “Haven’t seen that side of ya since college.”

Bakugo bats at him playfully, pushing him away as he whines, “Shut the fuck up!”

“So…what do we do about it?” Kirishima’s question hangs in the air between them, heavy…but alluring.

───

The next few times you hang out with the boys, you can tell that things feel a little more…intense? If that was the right word, the feeling was foreign. You found yourself becoming more physical with the two of them, and each time gave you butterflies. You weren’t quite sure what was going on until that fateful night.

It was a dreary night, the remnants of the storm passing through the town. The rain was no longer a torrential downpour and had tapered off into a sprinkle, enough to allow you to walk home safely. You’re heading for the door as Bakugo catches up to you, umbrella in hand.

“Y’know the drill, I’m not lettin’ ya walk home alone. Especially when it’s still raining.”

“Kat, you hate the rain, it’s fine,” you argue, but know it’s pointless. Bakugo waves at Kirishima and you notice Kirishima’s smile is extra wide tonight…and did he wink?

He closes the door behind the two of you and opens the umbrella on the porch, slinging an arm around your shoulders to huddle you under its protection.

The walk to your apartment is silent, an unknown tension lingering in the air. The subtle flexing of Bakugo’s fingers on your shoulder is driving you wild, a simple touch was enough to ignite the fire in your gut. Reaching your apartment complex, you stop to thank him for walking you home like always, but something else spills from your lips instead.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Bakugo’s taken aback by your question, confused where this has come from. “What? No, not at all. Why?”

“I…just don’t wanna make you two uncomfortable,” you whisper, eyes cast to the ground. “I really like you two…and don’t want to come between y-”

The umbrella clatters to the ground as Bakugo throws it to the side, letting the rain pelt against the both of you as one hand pulls you into him by the waist and the other under your chin.

“That’s right where we want ya,” he speaks against your lips. He hesitates, tilting his head back and looking directly in your eyes. “Tell me to back off, and I will. We can act like-”

This time, you cut him off by putting a hand on the back of his head and one on his chest, pulling him to meet your lips. The world stops around you as the rain trickles down your faces and vaguely into your kiss. You tangle your arms around each other’s bodies, illuminated by the soft street lights as your clothes become heavier with rainwater. After what feels like ages, you part, catching the breath you’ve stolen from each other’s lungs.

No words are spoken as Bakugo takes your hand, tugging you back down the road toward their place. You giggle and begin to run with excitement, skipping through the rain with him all the way back. Throwing open the front door, you both take a step inside, soaking wet from the rain. Kirishima glances over from the couch, shocked to see you return with Bakugo.

“Woah! What happened to you two?” he asks, concerned yet intrigued. He then notices you’re holding hands, and it clicks.

You’re stripping the wet clothes from your body faster than you can chicken out of doing so, letting them plop on the floor of the foyer until you’re left in your bra and underwear. Bakugo follows suit and trails behind you as you make your way over to Kirishima on the couch. You take a deep breath before placing a hand on each of his shoulders, sliding into his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. He places his hands on your waist anxiously, scared you’ll shatter under his touch.

“It’s okay, Eiji,” you coo, leaning down to his ear. “You can touch me.”

You turn back to Bakugo as he’s sitting next the two of you on the couch, reaching a hand out to stroke his cheek. “Katsuki can, too.”

That’s all the permission they need to devour you all night long - over and over again like a drug they couldn’t get enough of. Brief naps in between, each time better than the last. Hands tangled in hair, lips kissing skin in sinful places, and noises only the three of you could orchestrate together.

That was the night their lives changed forever, thanks to you. Things were easy and simple between the three of you - you blended into their routines perfectly as the weeks progressed. Waking up between the two of them each morning was heavenly, especially when they fought over who got to cuddle you through the night. Bakugo usually won that fight until he would go make breakfast, then Kirishima would tuck you under his arm and hold you close.

Everything was so easy between you three, you were the missing puzzle piece in their lives that they didn’t know was absent.

You were theirs, and they were yours - simple as that. They wouldn’t trade their newfound goddess for the world.

i immediately think of @pastelbakugou & @kweenkatsuki-fics when it comes to kiribaku x reader, thank you for being my inspirations! 💜

[heartofbusan]

Best laid plans of stomach bugs and men.

The chemistry is the point.

Some people underestimate the effort and toll it takes on ones body and schedule to fly 14 hours to visit another person. 14 hours to spend 72 hours together means commitment. It means bro's before ho's and I am frankly HERE FOR IT.

The discourse I am seeing is extremely telling of how fickle people are about their support for jikook. People watch too much scripted reality tv 🙄 bcs they really expected this relationship, this reunion if you will, to play out in multiple angle close ups and medium shots and several wide angle shots with dramatic zooms and heavily directed post-moment recaps with dramatic silences or eye rolls to play up the drama? The lack of moments, the MUNDANITY if you will IS THE POINT. They are so real to me, so life like, so domestic goals!

Being quiet with each other. No uncomfortable silences, but comfortable togetherness.

That's what leads to horny bed fighting, which in my eyes could lead to more if not for the cameras 👀 just me?

When they said unscripted, this is what they meant. When they said unplanned, this is what they referred to. Not directed, not scripted, not fanservice 🙄 to fit a planned narrative. This is how their relationship plays out. I'd go so far as to call it a documentary instead of a reality series. While documentaries have tons of genres within itself, this genre is one where there's a broad range of planned activities, but where the narrative is constructed in post production: editing. Id know, since im an editor. This tells me that they counted on the natural chemistry between 'JeonJi' (SO CUTE) to 'lead the way' instead of a multitude of directed interactions that they (the producers) would have needed to tick a dramatic narrative box.

So what does that lead to? In my professional opinion as a director/editor the first two episodes lacked a dramatic arc. There was little directing going on to force one

the chemistry is the point

The flirting, the lulls in conversation, them being together, seeing them have fun, and reconnecting is the point. Instead of what they're doing or what they're talking about. The episodes, therefore, are kinda boring in the sense of entertainment, but wildly exiting in the sense of what we get to see play out. And it's incredibly nuanced. And nuance often flies over people's heads..again, the crowd that expects to be held by the hand when it comes to drama: reality tv.

It's a huge risk to take as a production. Let's not underestimate that! 'Are You Sure' was so unscripted that they didn’t even have a title until halfway into the second or third day. Again: they were banking on JeonJi to build upon their chaos to lead to a narrative and a title, etc. That is so telling to me. That them being together is the raison d'etre of this show. Jimin 'sacrificing' his time to fly to the US, Jeonkook making space in his busy schedule time to spend time unwinding, JeonJi making good on their need to finally spend time together after the booked and busy year they've had.

Jimin enjoying the hell out of Jungkook having fun.

Because that is who Jimin has always been: his adventurous spirit takes him places because he loves exploring and being in tue moment. He'll willingly travel to have those moments. Jungkook on the other hand doesn’t. He dislikes leaving the comfort of his surroundings because he doesn’t see the pot of gold that being adventurous brings him while he's comfortable in his home. I relate 😩 so much. Just planning trips alone makes me enter a comatose state, so I'd rather not go than sacrifice my rest to plan an adventure. I don't even know I'll get anything out of. That is, until Im actually on that planned trip and having the time of my life! They've always been like that. Jimin had to be the incentive to get Jungkook out on that trip. Take.him.by the hand if you will 😭😭

And then there's the stomach bug. YOU DAMMNED CURSED THING. It threw a HUGE wrench into their plans, and if anyone doesn’t take that into consideration, then you haven't had a stomachbug EVER while still having to face up to your commitments. Park Jimin will NEVER back down from his commitments, his promises *pinky promises* are sacred to him, and this bug took away the catalyst of this duo. Jungkook suddenly had to be the extrovert of the two, and boy, does he struggle in that role. He was to me his usuall baby elf self. So adorable and cute with his nose focused on food and Jimin’s care. But my man loves to rely on Jimin to lead the way in shenanigans and to make any moment entertaining, and you could just tell Jimin wasn't in his feels enough to overcome his lack of energy. Poor baby. Really, he's the best of us because I would have straight up refused to be filmed in that moment. A whole night of diarrhea and still showing up to film the next day?! NO MA'M NOT ME.

If you've read up to this point, I commend you. It was just supposed to be a short rant, but it became an entire essay because I can not with the overly reactionary nature some people show. Drawing entire conclusions based on two hour long episodes. I know, I might be contradicting myself here but extenuating circumstances and all. Jimin wasn’t on his game, and Jungkook was also recovering. When a show is banking on the chemistry between two people to shoulder the brunt of this show and said people are extremely sick, well then what can I tell you?

We need to sit back and enjoy the fact that we are getting such access to them, so unfiltered. Jikook enjoying each other, come rain or shine, in sickness and in health, whatever the mood brings, because that to me is more valuable than DRAMA or NARRATIVE. We'll probably get a bit more of that once they're going to Jeju, and they're both hopefully healthy. We're even getting a new element for them to play off of: Tete shows up! Like a jack in the box, and Jungkook seems to not be having it, lmao...see..unscripted and natural. I love that for them!

Idols are people first, and we need to celebrate that, not demand more.

[dovesdreaming]

The quiet moments

Wolverine x shy(ish) reader

Logan finds himself drawn to the quietest person in the mansion, someone who doesn’t like the spotlight and instead prefers the background. They don’t know it yet but they’ve caught the eye of the wolverine.

Warnings: none

I love writing for a shy reader!

-

The sun was setting over the X-Mansion, casting long shadows through the hallways as the day wound down. The usual noise and bustle of the school were fading, students retreating to their rooms after a long day of training and classes. But one person wasn’t ready to retire just yet. You sat on a bench in the garden, a book in your hands and a soft breeze rustling the pages. This was your favorite time of day, when the mansion was quiet, and you could disappear into the world of your stories, undisturbed. Being shy in a place like the X-Mansion had its challenges. There were so many strong personalities. Brave, outspoken, confident. It wasn’t easy to carve out a place for yourself when everyone else seemed larger than life. You had your friends, of course, but you often found yourself retreating into the background, content to observe rather than participate. And that was just fine with you. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

But then there was him. Logan, the Wolverine. He was everything you weren’t- gruff, tough, and undeniably intimidating. He had this aura about him, a presence that made people think twice before crossing him. Yet, despite all that, you’d noticed something about him that didn’t quite fit the image he projected. Logan seemingly had a soft spot for you, or so that’s what everyone said to you.

It had started small. A nod in your direction when you passed each other in the halls. A gruff “good morning” when you crossed paths at breakfast. And, on more than one occasion, you’d caught him lingering nearby when you were reading in the garden, his presence somehow comforting rather than intimidating. You tried not to think too much about it. After all, Logan was kind to everyone in his own way, at least those he liked. But lately, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to his actions. The way his gaze would linger on you just a bit longer than necessary, or how he’d find excuses to be near you during training sessions, even though you knew he could be working with anyone else. And so, as you sat there in the garden, the last rays of sunlight fading into twilight, you weren’t surprised when you heard the familiar sound of boots on gravel. You didn’t have to look up to know it was him.

“Hey” Logan’s gruff voice broke the silence and you glanced up to find him standing a few feet away, his hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket. “Hi” you replied, your voice soft as always. You quickly looked back down at your book, feeling the familiar flutter of nerves in your stomach. Logan had that effect on you. He didn’t say anything for a moment, just stood there, as if considering his next move. Finally, he took a seat on the bench beside you, his presence solid and comforting in the quiet of the garden. “What’re you reading?” he asked, nodding toward the book in your hands. You held it up so he could see the cover, your fingers fidgeting slightly with the edge of the pages. “It’s, um, a fantasy novel. I like stories with magic and other worlds”. Logan nodded, his gaze flicking to the book before returning to your face. “Seems like you’ve got a thing for escaping reality”. You shrugged, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips “Maybe a little”.

There was a pause, and you could feel the weight of his attention on you, making your heart race just a bit faster. You weren’t used to this, being the center of someone’s focus, especially not someone like Logan. But instead of feeling overwhelmed, you felt something else entirely, safe. As if, in this moment, there was nothing else in the world that mattered except for the two of you sitting here, sharing this quiet space.

“You know” Logan said after a while, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it, “you don’t have to hide all the time”. Your eyes widened slightly at his words, and you turned to look at him, surprised. You didn’t realise he noticed you that much. “I’m not hiding” you said quickly, though you knew it wasn’t entirely true. Logan gave you a knowing look, one eyebrow raised. “Yeah, you are. You keep to yourself, stay outta the way. Not sayin’ there’s anything wrong with that, but… you don’t have to do it so much”. You bit your lip, unsure of how to respond. No one had ever called you out like this before, at least, not in a way that felt so… caring. “I just… I don’t want to be in the way,”you admitted quietly, your gaze dropping to your hands. “There are so many people here, and they’re all so… amazing. I don’t really fit in”.

Logan frowned at that, a spark of something like frustration in his eyes. “Who told you that?”. “No one, it’s just… how I feel sometimes,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. He shook his head, his hand moving to rest on the bench, just inches from yours. “You belong here just as much as anyone else. Hell, maybe more. You’re stronger than you think.” His words made your heart skip a beat, the sincerity in his voice cutting through the doubts that always seemed to plague you. “You really think so?”. “I know so,” Logan said firmly, his gaze never leaving yours. “You’ve got a lot to offer, and it ain’t about being loud or flashy. Sometimes, it’s the quiet ones who see things the rest of us miss”. You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, a feeling you hadn’t experienced in a long time. Logan believed in you, and that meant more than you could ever put into words.

“Thank you, Logan,” you said softly, your voice thick with emotion. “I… I don’t know what to say”. “You don’t have to say anything,” he replied, his voice low and comforting. “Just… don’t sell yourself short, alright?”. You nodded, a shy smile breaking across your face as you finally met his gaze. There was something in his eyes, something that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you were worth more than you gave yourself credit for.

For a while, you both sat in comfortable silence, the last light of day giving way to the cool darkness of night. Logan didn’t press you to talk, didn’t try to make you open up more than you were ready for. He was just there, a solid, reassuring presence by your side. And as you sat there, feeling the gentle brush of the evening breeze against your skin, you realized something. Maybe you didn’t have to be like everyone else to be seen. Maybe, just maybe, someone had already noticed you, just the way you were. When you finally looked over at Logan, you found him watching you, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Your heart fluttered again, and for once, you didn’t feel the need to look away. “Logan,” you began, your voice hesitant but steady, “would you like to… I mean, if you’re not busy… maybe we could read together sometime?” He raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by your suggestion. But then his expression softened, and he nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that”. Your smile widened, and you felt a warmth bloom in your chest, a feeling that maybe, just maybe, you were starting to find your place after all.

[tanzakukun]

Yoojin’s built is scrawny. He doesn’t have a degree. He’s an F-class and a support at that. He wants to be the protagonist, because then, he would be strong. And he would be so strong he can protect everyone and no one else has to suffer but him. Most importantly, as the protagonist, he would always be needed by others.

But he wasn’t made to be in that spotlight. He sees Sung Hyunje, handsome, powerful, experienced, mature and skilled in everything he puts his mind into. Everyone is naturally drawn to him. Everyone finds Sung Hyunje useful. Sung Hyunje will always be needed by others, and he will always appear impeccable while at it.

But the picture-perfect protagonist is tired of the genre he was nurtured by his transcendent step mom god to fit into. He doesn’t want to be a puppet of someone else’s will, of a world and society accepting him only for the roles they have for me. The protagonist is a free spirit who has been killed by being turned into someone who can move others but cannot be moved by the very people who he’s been destined to protect.

The closest to Sung Hyunje’s existence is Han Yoohyun, an incarnate of fire forced to live in the shell of human. Yoohyun is driven by his instinct, no different than Hyunje being controlled by his destiny. In another story, they would have been each other’s nemesis. The protagonist who watches over others because he was chosen by a higher power to do so, and the villain whose nature is to destroy and burn all creations down until his life sizzles out. But the villain doesn’t. He fights his nature. He willingly puts himself through the suffering of rejecting his instincts to stay close to a scrawny F-Class without any notable achievements.

Yoojin loves the attention Hyunje gives him and is taken aback when the ahjussi protagonist isn’t the benevolent protector he was shaped to be. When Hyunje, who was made exactly as the protagonist Yoojin imagined, rebels by craving to be an individual of his own choices. He’s whimsical. He gets bored easily. He peels the crusts off his bread. He’s never had anyone sing him “Happy Birthday.”

Yoojin makes fun of him, and Hyunje goes, “lol fair”. Yoojin sees holes in the protagonist, and he’s thrilled by how he can put down someone whose very role he wants to be. He’s envious of Hyunje. He wished he was Sung Hyunje. Resentment doesn’t grow. Instead, there’s only Yoojin’s self-hatred being fueled by seeing on Hyunje, who has everything, how Yoojin is sorely lacking.

He doesn’t put himself against Hyunje, only against himself. Yoojin is his own worst enemy. When he relishes in criticizing Hyunje, it’s soothing his own ego being constantly bruised by his ideals.

“You’re exactly who I wish I was. But I see you’re not perfect either, which also makes me feel good because it means that maybe, I don’t have to be so hard on myself. If Sung Hyunje, the protagonist, isn’t all that in reality, then my unreachable expectations of myself seems rather foolish now.”

Hyunje makes Yoojin feels more at peace with himself this way. And when Yoojin pities Hyunje for the small wonders of life he’s not known, it’s an act once more that soothes Yoojin’s own ego. The understanding and humanity Yoojin directs to Hyunje are - subconciously - also acts of kindness toward himself.

And we all know how Yoojin is exceptionally struggling with self-love.

Hyunje picks up on the bits and pieces of the person known as Han Yoojin. He is a complicated soul who deserves love and care. He is an ordinary person who is seeking a way to be happy, just like Hyunje. Hyunje, who had always put himself first, having lived lives chained to someone else’s desire, chooses Yoojin’s happiness over his own. This isn’t a form a sacrifice. It doesn’t go against Hyunje’s personality. Hyunje seeks to make decisions of his own, and Yoonjin is simply that choice he proudly decided.

For the plot, the protagonist has accomplished his heroic deed. This was the story Yoojin wanted for himself as a main character. Someone who would give himself up for someone else’s happiness. Hyunje made him realize this was not the story he wanted for himself, nor a story he would want for anyone. If lets Hyunje do exactly what all main characters do, then Yoojin’s demons that he had been coming in terms with would win.

I absolutely love jinjae for being two souls who have not been made for each other, but are encounters at the right time and moment that helped the other grow.

[shouldprobablybereading]

AITA for taking an overseas position without consulting my wife?

Throwaway in case my wife sees it.

I (51m) was recently offered the job of my dreams, it came out of nowhere but fits with everything that I have worked towards for the last 30 years. Really the opportunity of a lifetime and will allow me to actually make a difference. However I would be required to move out of the country very far away, with limited ability to travel back and forth. At first I was ecstatic and said yes pretty much immediately, but when I was speaking with my colleague on zoom he kept telling me that I was getting in over my head. And then my recruiter seemed to think it was weird how quickly I agreed.

My wife (47f) and I have been fighting a lot more lately. She keeps complaining that I am not involving her enough in my life and gets annoyed when I spend time with my friends. I’m starting to get the feeling she resents me for never becoming as successful of an engineer as she wanted to. Which is ridiculous since the truth is that she simply never had what it took, and I don’t think it’s fair for her to be angry at me. She also gets angry with me when I tell her this, for some reason. If I tell her about the job offer I am sure she will go crazy.

Thing is, if I don’t take this position I know they are going to ask my brother (47m) instead which I am certain would be a disaster. He is really successful in our field, but he is reckless and throws himself into things head first. With a skull thick enough that I would not be surprised if he could survive a rockslide. It feels like I have been babysitting him since we were children and I am scared of what he would do without my direct supervision. If they put him in charge I am sure it would burn to the ground. His wife died a while ago and he did not take it well, so he and his boys (13m & 17m) have been staying with us for a while to sort things out. Which is actually a reason why I am not as comfortable leaving, you see I am not comfortable with how much time my wife and he are spending together. They were friends before me and my wife met, it was how we were introduced, and while they never dated I am also not an idiot. You do not keep friends of the opposite gender and bring them to parties without there being some interest. I am afraid that if I leave they might start something.

My children (28f) and (21m) are both adults, so they are no real reason for holding me here. I have paid for both of their college educations as well as my son’s wedding last year. So clearly I have done everything that is expected of me. I would have done the same for my daughter, but she seems hellbent on getting her PhD and seems to get upset whenever I suggest that she should try to settle down. Which is actually really annoying because if I am actually leaving then I need her to have a husband who I can leave the family company to, as my son is the only person I know who is potentially more of a loser than my brother.

I don’t think I have done anything wrong, but my coworkers do not seem to agree. So am I the asshole? I just want to make a difference and be away from all of this mediocrity.

[sim0nril3y]

GIRL I LOVE YOUR WORK. YOU'RE AMAZING.

I love your series ghost x civilian and I wanted to see you writing about Simon getting jealous. Love the way you express words girl, you had me screaming, giggling and kicking my feet the whole series.

Note: You're so cuuuuuuuuuute! Thank you, thank you for your kind words ily and thank you for the wonderful request, I loooooove a jealous bigboy <3<3<3 Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), established relationship, mentions of jealousy, mentions of oral (male receiving), one little spank, canon-typical swearing.

With the little regard and car that you put into your car it shouldn’t have been too much of a surprise when it just stopped working. Simon had tried arguing that the damn thing was a money-pit, just sell it for scrap and get yourself something new and safe, with all the mod-cons. You, on the other hand, argued that it had sentimental value, so off it went to a local mechanic who you awaited a whopping bill from.

In the meantime, Simon was picking up the slack of driving you back and forth to all your appointments, sending back parcels, picking up food shopping or simply waking him up in the dead of night from a deep slumber for the whims of late night food cravings.

One evening in particular you had stepped into the lounge looking absolutely mouth-watering in a pair of form fitting gym leggings, the damn things hugged all of your curves in a way that had Simon gazing a little too intensely. “Si…” Your voice cut through, smirking as his dark eyes flit up from observing your hips and thighs to be gazing into your eyes instead, brows raised in surprise and asking. “What was that, love?” It made you simmer with pride as Simon wasn't typically someone who got distracted like that, but it seemed like you simply standing here had him practically frothing at the mouth.

“I said…” You drew out the words playfully. “Would you mind dropping me off at the gym? I have a session with my personal trainer.” This was something new that you had started, only a few sessions in but Simon was encouraging your interest. He thought that your body was perfect the way it but he liked to support your good habits. “Right…” When you had originally mentioned wanting to go to the gym Simon had thrown his hat into the ring, offering to help you but with the way he reacted to you dressed up in leggings it seemed you made the right choice to go elsewhere, what he had planned wasn’t particularly the workout that you had been thinking about. “Course, just let me get my jacket.”

With a little noise of effort Simon pulled himself up off the sofa, stepping past you and smirking to himself as his eyes lingered on your rear. “Oh and don’t forget-” Turning you caught his eyes flitting up again from his gaze and you smirked, quirking a brow at him. “Were you staring at my bum?” “I was admiring, babe…” He took a couple slow steps towards you, stopping when he was finally mere inches from you. “Y’look fuckin’ good…” Large hands captured your hips, winding down to cup your rear in his hands, gripping at it playfully. “I’ll be late~”

“I’ll be quick.” Simon groaned softly, yanking you up into his arms then, legs tied around his waist as you squeaked in surprise. “Simon~” You giggled uncontrollably as he lead you back towards the sofa, dropping you and watching you bounce against the cushions softly. “I can’t show up at the gym smelling of sex!” You giggled, watching him pushing down his jogging bottoms to his midthigh, smiling down at you, reaching a hand forward to stroke his thumb against your throat. “Pretty girl, they aren’t gonna know if I’ve been down your throat, will they…”

Dropping you outside the gym Simon watched with adoration as you rushed inside, blowing him a multitude of kisses in his direction before finally through the sliding doors. For a few moments Simon lingered, waiting until you were safely inside the building before beginning to drive away. A flash of a phone screen illuminated from the seat beside him and Simon glanced over to see your phone lingering there. “Fuckin’ hell…” He muttered; it wouldn’t be possible to call him later to pick you up if you didn’t have that.

A moment later he pulled into the gym car park, collecting your phone and entering the gym in search of you. It was fancy in there. It all smelt so new and fresh, the floors practically sparkling. All the machines looked barely used and they all seemed to work. This was nothing like the gym that Simon went to across town, that was a run-down old boxing gym, there he felt like he fit in but here Simon really felt like he stood out amongst all the pretty looking gym-goers.

Shrugging off his initial discomfort Simon began to walk onto the main gym floor in search of you. Eyes lingering over all the different people, stepping past all the doors that lead to the class rooms and private areas and finally looking through one window to see you inside, on the ground stretching diligently. There you were on all fours, arms and torso stretched out in front of you, knees spread wide with your bum raised up. Simon felt fury spread through him as he looked behind you and spotted a man knelt between your legs, hands on your hips and talking to you, adjusting your stance to put you into a deeper stretch.

A moment later Simon opened the door loudly and stepped into the room, your trainer looked up in surprise and then you followed. A delighted gasp found your lips as you scrambled to your feet and then wrapped your arms around him a moment later. His arms possessively wrapped around your frame, holding you tight to his strong body and setting a cold pair of eyes on the man who was slowly pulling himself to his feet. “Simon, what are you doing here?”

“Left your phone.” His voice was even as he placed it into your hands as you pulled away from the hug. “Thanks.” You grinned up at him before following his gaze over your shoulder. “Oh, babe… This is Andy, my personal trainer.” You announced, gesturing to the man who was awkwardly standing aside. “This is my boyfriend, Simon.”

Awkwardly the younger man nodded, holding out a hand in his direction for Simon to clasp into his own, using all his strength to shake it and causing Andy to tug away sharply from the pain, though Andy never said a word simply smiled tightly. “Weren’t sure you were real, mate; a lot of my girls tells me they have boyfriends and it turns out not to be true.” Andy shrugged and Simon hummed. “Mmm, probably don’t wanna be leered at whilst they are working out.” Then narrowing his dark eyes.

Sensing some type of tension, you glanced between them and blinked slowly before looking at Simon. “Maybe I’ll just call you when I’m done? Or they have a café... you could get a tea, if you like?” You suggested, rubbing his arm soothingly, trying to get his attention again. This was unusual. It wasn’t like Simon was the jealous type, he was certainly possessive when he wanted to be, but something about Andy must have really set him off because even though Simon didn’t particularly like affection in public his hands stayed tied tight around your waist.

“Maybe I could stay…” Simon shrugged off his hoody then, throwing it aside nearby your stuff. “If you don’t mind, mate?” He looked at Andy who frowned heavily and cleared his throat. “Well, you aren’t a member-” “I actually have some guest passes.” You quipped sweetly and then adding with a shrug. “We could pay for a double session, if it’s trouble having us both…”

Andy didn't seem to like the idea but the money finally made him agree. “Whatever. It’s your session.” Then turning on his heel. “Why don’t you continue your stretches. I’ll get us some equipment.” Stepping from the room and allowing the door to swing closed behind him.

When you two were finally alone you finally spoke. “What do you think you’re doing exactly?” Quirking a brow and resuming your stretches, Simon joined in half-heartedly. “What am I doing? What did he think he was doing? Putting his fuckin’ hands all over you.” Simon grumbled, feeling his shoulders tensing. “Lucky, I didn’t break his fuckin’ hand…” He commented under his breath and you fought a smile before looking over at him.

“You’re not jealous, are you?” Quirking a brow at him causing him to look at you sharply. “Don’t be stupid, of course not.” He grumbled lowly. It cause you to giggle sweetly, sauntering towards him and wrapping your arms around his bulky frame. “There anything to be jealous of?” Then looking down at you intensely. “Of course not.” You giggled. “I’m surprise you even had to ask that question considering I had you cock down my throat an hour ago…”

You watched the way his lips twitched to fight a smile. “Shut up.” He grumbled, which caused a bright giggle to pull from your throat. Turning your back to him was a mistake because not a moment later Simon’s hand sharply found your rear, clapping a hand against your cheek and causing you to squeak and jump away from him. “You just wait until I get you home, good thing you streched considering the positions I'll be putting you in…”

Masterlist | Ask | 24-11-2023

[deliciousangelfestival]

Nothing Has Changed - 2

Summary: Returning home for peace, you're faced with your tormentor, Bucky Barnes, who is now involved in your family's business.

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Words Count: 2,143

Warning: Angst, Tragedy.

Nothing Has Changed - Series Masterlist

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Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

The one person who turned your school life into a nightmare will take over your father's business.

You never had any interest in following in your father's footsteps. Tom had told you from the beginning that you weren't fit for this work. And you hated the business; you wanted to burn it to the ground.

Even though you had never come home for several years, you kept sending your father monthly money. That money was enough for him to move and buy a new house in a big city. Last Christmas, you called your father and told him to sell the house, but he said nothing.

Something never changed: your father would put work before his own happiness.

Now you know why he didn’t want to sell the house. Because he had found someone to continue the business. Bucky Barnes.

Bucky is the popular kid from the wealthiest family in town. Everywhere he went, people followed him. His entourage echoed his every move.

When Bucky said something about you, his followers echoed his sentiments. If Bucky said A, his entourage would cover B to Z, and he never stopped them.

You once thought that he looked down on you because he was rich. But after moving to the city with Ransom and meeting many influential and wealthy people in the business world, you realize that Barnes' fortune was nothing compared to the 0.1%.

Now, you see him as just a regular person.

You sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and resignation. "This is a big mistake. I shouldn't have come back here." You walked past them, not even glancing in Bucky's direction, and headed upstairs to grab your things.

Tom followed after you. “Y/N, please, we can talk about this. I didn’t know how to tell you.” He knew he had been an absent father. After you left for college, your relationship worsened.

You only called him on holiday, and he was afraid to call you first. He didn't know how to start the conversation when he had the chance to talk.

You stayed silent, slinging your bag over your shoulder and holding your laptop.

“Where are you going to stay?” Tom asked, desperation in his voice. “From what you told me, you don’t have much cash.”

He was right. Your bank account was blocked. But you still had some cash and your Rolex, which you could pawn. You glanced at your watch as you headed down the stairs.

Distracted, you missed the last step and started to fall. “Ahh!”

You braced for the impact, but instead, you hit something solid.

“Did you hurt your foot?” Bucky asked, holding you steady. His voice was worried. He had been about to leave, not wanting to cause more conflict between you and your father.

You looked at his face, searching for the smug expression he always wore when he tormented you with his “silly pranks.”

Quickly, you pulled away from his grasp. You didn’t want to be near or share the same air with him.

You walked past him, treating him like he didn’t exist. Before opening the door, you grabbed an umbrella—a habit of always being prepared.

As you opened the door, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You rolled your eyes, turned around, and saw Bucky stopping you.

“Please, listen to your father first,” Bucky said softly, sounding anxious. Your father stood at the top of the stairs, speechless.

At this moment, you felt like an outsider. They seemed more like father and son than you and Tom ever had.

You pushed Bucky's hand off your shoulder. "Keep your hands off of me!" Your voice was filled with years of pent-up anger and pain, each word like a knife stabbing into Bucky.

You slammed the door and stormed off, your heart pounding with a mix of rage and betrayal.

Back at the house, Bucky and Tom stood staring at the closed door.

Tom sighed, his shoulders sagging. "Give her a moment. She's been through a lot."

Bucky, still shaken, asked softly, "What happened to her?"

⌚

At the pawn shop, you tapped your fingers anxiously on the glass counter, awaiting Mr. Rogers' appraisal of your Rolex watch. His gaze met yours, and he inquired, "Do you know how much it's worth?"

You nodded, a sense of unease creeping over you. "I bought it three years ago for around $25,000. With the current market price, and since I didn’t bring the box and certificate, the price will be lower. I would say it’s around $8,000."

Mr. Rogers's eyes widened in surprise at your precise evaluation. Clearing his throat, he mumbled, "Ahem, you're right. And because you’re Tom’s daughter, I will give you that price."

You quietly sighed. You had just arrived at one shop, and he already knew you. But what could you do? This was the only pawn shop open this morning.

"Wait a second, I'll grab the money for you," Mr. Rogers announced before disappearing into the back room.

Taking a seat, you fidgeted with your phone, searching for the nearest hotel or motel.

Just as you began to scroll, your phone rang. It was Maya, your lawyer. You had chosen to work with her because she was your assistant's friend. Money was tight, so you couldn't afford a well-known lawyer.

“Hello?” you answered the call.

“Hi, are you alright? You have arrived in your hometown?” Maya asked.

“Yes, I have. By the way, is there any progress?” you inquired.

“Yes. They already looked through it. I guess you could hear good news in 3 days,” Maya replied.

You sighed in relief. “I’m glad. Thank you.”

After a brief conversation with Maya, you ended the call. Then you heard someone clear their throat.

“Ahem.”

You glanced up to see that the person behind the counter was no longer Mr. Rogers but his son, Steve Rogers, who was also Bucky’s friend.

Back then, Steve didn’t say anything when you were made fun of. But he didn’t do anything to stop the silly pranks either. So his name was also written in your black book.

But now you weren’t the same person anymore. You were a 'female Midas'. You were supposed to be confident. Steve used to look at you as if you were invisible. Now you should do the same.

You got up from your seat and walked towards him. There was a stack of cash, probably $9,000, in front of you. Mr. Rogers was quite a generous man.

You picked up the money and stuffed it into your bag. It was enough to live here for 3 days before you went back to the city.

Steve noticed that you didn’t even look at him. He cleared his throat. “It’s been a while. Are you staying?”

You continued to ignore him. As you exited the door, you clapped your hands, making Steve jump. Then you muttered, “Oh, it’s just a fly,” as you walked away.

🏨

You left the pawn shop and glanced back at your phone to find a cheap hotel or motel nearby. As you walked, sweat poured down your back, making you feel uncomfortably sticky. It was the most strenuous workout you had in a while, just trying to find a place to rest.

Eventually, you stumbled upon an interesting hotel on the booking app. The hotel was located inside a big building that sold outdoor equipment. It was cheap and conveniently close to your location.

Sweat dripping down your forehead, you kept walking until you finally reached the building. You were impressed by the natural surroundings, with shops surrounded by nature. The building was named Bronze Adventure Gear.

Upon entering, you were greeted by an employee.

“Welcome to Bronze Adventure Gear. How can we help you?” they asked.

You were taken aback by their energy; it was still 10 a.m., and they were already bustling with customers.

“I’m here for the hotel,” you replied. “I know it’s early, but I just need a place to rest.”

“No worries. It’s off-season, and there are many empty rooms. We’ll guide you to the receptionist,” they said, leading you further into the building.

Grateful for the hospitality, you thanked them as they left you at the receptionist.

The hotel was called Bronze Lodge.

“We’ll leave you to our friend,” the employee said before departing.

“Thank you,” you replied, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as you tapped the reception table and waited.

“Welcome to the Bronze Lodge. How can I help you?” a friendly female voice greeted you. However, to your ears, it sounded like venom. It was Natasha Romanoff, the popular girl in town.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, a sensation far different from when you had encountered Bucky and Steve again.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Natasha's voice cut through the air.

You tried to compose yourself. “Yup.”

“Goodness. It’s been a long time. And you're so beautiful. Ah, where are my manners? Are you staying at this hotel?” Natasha wore her trademark smile—the same one you hated seeing back in school, where her girl gang would always talk behind your back.

"You know what-?" You were about to say, but then second thoughts about leaving crossed your mind.

That's when you heard the most enormous thunderclap of your life.

“Are you surprised? The weather is quite unpredictable,” Natasha remarked casually.

She glanced at your belongings. “Oh, and you brought your yellow umbrella. Such a nostalgic touch. You never changed,” she continued, her words like needles pricking at your skin.

You clenched your fists, your frustration bubbling up inside you.

“You’re lucky. There’s a room ready for you. Here’s the key. I hope you enjoy staying with us,” Natasha said, offering you the card key with a sweet smile.

You snatched the key from her hand. “I’ll try.”

Turning on your heel, you made your way to the elevator. As you left, Natasha's smile faltered, and she quickly grabbed her phone to make a call. “You won’t believe who checked into the hotel today,” she said eagerly.

*********

The moment you entered the hotel room, you threw yourself onto the bed, exhausted. You turned around and stared at the ceiling.

The rain and thunder outside seemed oblivious to your desire for peace. You starting to regret coming back here.

Closing your eyes, you tried to ease your racing mind. But four hours later, what was meant to be a short nap turned into a longer one.

'Knock. Knock.'

You were jolted awake by the sound of someone knocking at your door. Lazily, you left the bed and peered through the peephole, wondering who it could be since you hadn't requested anything.

You gasped when you saw Bucky standing outside. What on earth did he want? Wasn't it enough that you had already encountered him and his friends earlier today?

Taking a deep breath, you hesitated before opening the door.

When you did, you remained silent, not wanting to converse with him.

Bucky said, "Tom is looking for you."

"I see. Thanks for the info," you replied, moving to close the door, but he stopped it.

"What do you want?" you sighed in frustration.

"You have to talk to him," Bucky insisted.

Closing your eyes, you responded icily, "I'll talk to him when I'm ready. But I don't need you hovering around. I certainly don't want to see your face."

His expression seemed to reflect grief when you said that, though you dismissed it as your own emotions. Why would he feel guilty towards you?

"And how did you manage to find me?" you asked.

"It’s easy," Bucky replied nonchalantly, "since my family owns this business. I can access anything I want, including information about guests staying here."

There it was, the smug face finally making its appearance, accompanied by that cocky explanation.

You gritted your teeth. Somehow, the idea of being in prison didn't seem so bad anymore.

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Author Note: Hey friends,

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[moltengoldveins]

@clingyduoapologist made a really cool “what if DSMP were a stage play” post and basically the instant I saw it I was struck by the muse but I don’t want to just chain reblog the dang thing or make one huge reblog with all my thoughts so instead here are all my thoughts on this concept

i don’t think it’s a musical. I think the tone of the story doesn’t fit. But if it were, it would have a Lot of scenes of unsung dialogue, and that dialoge? Would be rhythmic poetry. It’s Shakespeare Appreciation Time baby.

i do however think there would be a live score and an orchestra. A lot of the music would need to be recorded but there’s at least be a few musicians.

different characters speak in different poetic styles at different times to communicate character and plot development.

to elaborate on that: Characters switch from loose ABBA or ABAB rhyme schemes and vaguely rhythmic meter when chatting back and forth to strict perfect iambic pentameter for tense scenes or political speeches.

Techno speaks exclusively in unrhyming dactylic hexameter, an extremely common poetic form for Greek and Latin poetry. It’s what the Iliad was written in. This has the interesting effect of making Techno sound, at first glance, unpoetic. His speech doesn’t rhyme, and doesn’t follow a common English rhythm scheme, so it wouldn’t immediately register as structured. However, dactylic hexameter is actually significantly harder to write in English than expected because of our syllable stress patterns. Speaking like that would be, objectively, a sign of extreme intelligence, but could easily be overlooked as coarse uncultured behavior.

Techno’s chorus - composed of audience members, background extras, and people (in safety harnesses) sitting in the theater rafters - speak largely in Greek and Classical Chinese, quoting sections of the Art of War and Homer’s work. The major exceptions to this are ‘Blood for the Blood god,’ ‘no,’ and ‘do it.’ They all wear a hat or some form of headband that has a glowing LED eye, hidden, but activated when they speak. The audience plants are all in dark clothes, and when the lights go down they don medical masks/sunglasses. Anything to obscure their faces.

The Chorus, a group of robed masked people who broke the fourth wall and often entered the audience, was a vital part of early Greek theatre. I am an intolerable nerd, and the thought of sitting in a dark theatre only to hear an low distorted voice beside you start to comment on the play as a whole choir of voices echo around you, then turning to see your seat neighbor is a masked person with a glowing red eye in your forehead? Literally incredible.

Dream is the only character dressed in even remotely modern clothes.

Dream is first seen as someone (again, in modern clothes) sneaking around backstage in a black hoodie: most of the audience probably assumes he’s a stagehand and not meant to be seen. Then, at some point, he moves from behind a set piece and enters the scene as an actual character, revealing his mask.

interestingly, this is really similar to what I believe is a bit of myth about why ninjas are dressed in all black in modern media. They wouldn’t have been irl, they would’ve dressed like civilians. But stagehands in Japanese theatre would dress in all-black, and were often completely visible onstage moving sets - it was common courtesy to ignore them. Then one day some playwright had the brilliant idea of having one of the stagehands enter the story as an assassin, and suddenly every actor in all-black was a threat. For the life of me I can’t remember where I read that but it’s a cool thought :D

Dream canonically can interact with set pieces, lighting, and curtains.

Dream actively directs lighting in scenes he is not in, sitting above the stage kicking his feet.

Dream is often used to hand off props to characters instead of having them pull them from a pocket and pretend they were pulled from their ‘inventory.’ This begins to get confusing when Dream is acknowledged later on as the he person giving, say, TNT to Wilbur, or wither skulls to Techno.

characters address the audience as ‘Chat,’ (English’s first fourth-person pronoun my beloved) almost constantly, especially for comedic purposes- most of their monologues are addressed directly to the audience as well. For Wilbur, it’s a sign of instability when he stops addressing ‘Chat’ and start addressing the sides or back of the stage.

philza enters from the lower audience, right by the stage, probably after pooping up from the orchestra pit and taking a reserved seat halfway through so no one sees the wings.

Tommy has by far the least structured or rhyming dialogue - if it weren’t for how carefully crafted it was it would sound like normal prose.

Tommy speaks to the audience by FAR the most. Wilbur only addresses them when soliloquizing. Techno barely addresses them at all: they address him. Ranboo speaks to the audience only when alone, and it’s usually phrased like he’s writing in his memory journal. Tommy speaks to the audience at first like a loud younger brother. As he gets older, it sounds more and more like a plea for help, a prayer for intervention that will never come. Exile is one long string of desperate begging aimed our way.

Tommy stops speaking to the audience so much after Doomsday. He starts again when Dream is imprisoned. He stops for good when he dies in there, beaten, alone.

Sam and the Warden are meant to be played by different actors, ideally siblings or fraternal twins. They wear identical stage makeup and costumes, but the difference is there. None of the characters acknowledge this.

the Stage would need to be absolutely massive and curve almost halfway around the central audience, largely because it should be able to be split at times into two separate stages to show different things happening at the same time. This could possibly also work if there were two stages, but getting people to easily turn from one stage to the other without loosing sight of what was happening would be rough.

Doomsday taking advantage of the scaffolding in the rafters and using them as the ‘grid’ for the tnt droppers.

actual trained dogs for Doomsday my beloved. Would cost a fortune but could you imagine.

the entire revolution arc ripped off Hamilton, we all know that, I think we can afford to have a stagehand step forward in that frozen moment in time when Tommy and Dream have that duel, grab the arrow, and carry it slowly across the stage right into Tommy’s eye. For morale.

throughout the execution scene Techno keeps slipping out of poetic meter, especially when he sees/is worried about Phil. After the totem (which would be freaking amazing as some sort of stage effect with like lights and red and green streamers or smthn dude-) he stops speaking in poetry. The scene with Quackity is entirely spoken dialogue. Chat is silent. It’s only when he gets back and sees evidence that his house has been tampered with that Chat starts up again (kill, blood, death, hunt, hunt, hunt-) and he starts speaking in rhythm again.

Every canon death, Dream marks a tally on something in the background. Maybe it’s in his arm? Like a personal scorecard. Or maybe it’s on the person themselves, a little set of three hearts he marks through with a dry-erase marker or something.

phil and techno have a lot more eastern design elements and musical influences than the rest of the cast, except for Techno’s war theme which is just choir, bagpipes, and some sort of rhythmic ticking or thumping. Phil’s also got a choir sting but it’s a lot harsher, the ladies are higher and them men lower, and the chords are really dissonant (think murder of crows)

Tommy’s theme has a lot of drums, but its core is actually a piano melody. The inverse of Tommy’s theme is Tubbo’s, but Tubbo’s is usually played on a ukulele. Wilbur is guitar, obv, and Niki’s is on viola.

Quackity is a little saxophone lick. He and Schlatt both have a strong big band/jazz influence.

None of the instruments that play dream’s theme play anywhere else in the music. I’m thinking harp, music box, and some kind of low wind instrument.

[headkiss]

hellooo for the summer asks I was wondering about our boy Eddie and going to the beach with him and feeling insecure about our body, but ofc he’s a sweetie so he makes us feel better 🥹 just some hurt/comfort my love 🫶

thank u so so much for ur request baby!!! ily i hope this is okay <3 | 0.8k of fluff, tw for problems with body image

The sun beams harshly on your shoulders from your spot on the sand, a towel serving as the only cushion beneath you, eyes squinted behind your sunglasses.

In a rare instance, the group’s schedules have all lined up and given you the same day off, and immediately, that meant packing up Eddie’s van full to the brim with coolers and towels and more people than seats and driving to the beach.

The drive had been a blast, Steve and Eddie arguing steadily over what music to play, Robin egging them on even though she’d dance along to anything. Eddie’s hand had been a comforting weight on your thigh the entire ride.

Now, hours of sun and swims later, hair messy from the wind and water, cooler much emptier than it had been earlier, you’re watching the gang play volleyball (you say this loosely, because there’s no net nor is there an established court).

It’s fun, to be a part of a group of friends this way, to watch such an uncoordinated game where everyone is smiling and having fun despite there being competition involved.

You’re having fun, too, laughing every time Eddie trips or winks at you and says “this one’s for you” before hitting the ball in a random direction. Then, there’s the way Steve calls “mine!” every time the ball comes anywhere near his side of the ‘court,’ even when Robin was even closer, prompting them to start bickering.

So really, it should be all light and easy. A relaxing day at the beach with your favorite people. And it is, until it isn’t.

One second, you’d been smiling at the game, shifting your sunglasses off of your eyes and using them as some sort of headband instead. The next, your eyes were wandering around the beach and noticing everyone else.

Noticing the way the other people around looked. Girls brilliantly tanned in their triangle bikinis, denim shorts fitting them perfectly. Or the guys in their swim trunks and how carefree they look.

You can’t help but see everything they are that you aren’t. Or, that you don’t believe you are.

Things like this creep up on you in funny ways. Like a chill that just passes through, sudden and unavoidable. A simple thought snowballing into a hundred small ones shaped like arrows aiming towards yourself.

You shift to cross your arms over the soft of your exposed stomach, suddenly wishing you’d brought more than a tank top to cover up with.

Eddie snaps you out of your thoughts with a call of “you sure you don’t wanna join, sweetheart?”

You muster a halfhearted smile as you shake your head. “I’m okay.”

The two words are enough to tell Eddie that you aren’t exactly okay at the moment. Your smile not reaching your eyes the way it should, that line between your eyebrows worried the way it shouldn’t.

When you aren’t looking, he signals Argyle over to take his spot in the game and jogs over to you, sitting down next to you and nudging your shoulder with his. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Eds. You didn’t have to stop playing,” you say, though you can't deny that the warmth of his arm brushing yours feels nice.

“Hey, look at me,” he urges you gently, his knuckles catching your chin to nudge your face up to his. “It’s just me. You can say it.”

“It’s silly,” you shrug. Eddie pins you with a look that says ‘try me,’ and because he’s the sweet boyfriend he is and because you trust him and love him, you do. “I just- I looked around and just noticed all these people and the way they look and I’m not-”

“Sweetheart,” he stops you, his voice painfully soft. His brown eyes even more so, shining in the late afternoon sun. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m not just sayin’ that. I mean, you’ve seen the boners you give me, so…”

“Eddie,” you scrunch your nose and slap his chest lightly, though you’re fighting back a smile.

“I’m serious. Look at me compared to these people, babe. I look different, too. I’m not ripped or anything, and I’m pale as fuck. Like, ghost-level.”

You look at him, the frizzy curls framing his face and the curve of his cupid’s bow, to the tattoos dotting his skin and how his abs are just barely visible beneath the soft of his tummy. The way his cheeks and chest are a little pink from the sun. He’s perfect to you. For you.

“I think you’re pretty, Eds.”

“Well I think you’re fucking pretty, too, sweetheart. That’s my point,” his arm slings itself around your shoulders, tugging you into his side, uncaring of the heat or whether or not you’re sweaty. “Different doesn’t mean bad. It just means different. And I love you and your different, okay?”

You like the way he says it, like it’s a fact, like he’s never once thought otherwise. You like the way he trails his fingertips up and down your arm, too, like it’s an instinct.

And, well, when he dips down to kiss you all sweet and slow and sure, you think it’s the prettiest you’ve ever felt.

[heyimdove]

More on why Persuasion is the real Jane Austen parallel to Aziracrow, and why Pride and Prejudice is not, because I can’t stop dwelling.

There’s a lot here so I’ll try to structure this in a way that makes sense. Wish me luck.

I’ve seen so many people equate Aziraphale to Lizzie and Crowley to Darcy, but these comparisons don’t make sense. Character-wise, they are far more like Anne Elliot and Frederick Wentworth, respectively.

We’ll start with Elizabeth Bennet, who I love with all my heart and is one of those characters I feel like I know (I’m delusional, it’s fine). Elizabeth is wonderfully intelligent, but she isn’t “accomplished” and isn’t a perfect specimen of Regency womanhood. Instead she’s sharp and headstrong. She wants to live how she wants and with someone she loves for a partner. She rejects a match that is, on paper, perfect and would solve all her family’s problems, because she won’t settle for unhappiness. You know who that doesn’t sound like?

Aziraphale, were he a Regency Era woman, would be considered very accomplished for the time; well-read, polite, even a music tutor. But he’s more unlike Elizabeth because he desires to “do what’s best for the family”. In other words, if Elizabeth Bennet was more like Aziraphale, she’d be married to Mr. Collins. She would’ve considered it her duty to marry him because it would protect her loved ones (see Aziraphale accepting the Metatron). For Aziraphale, his duty to protect trumps his personal desire.

So does that make Crowley our Lizzie? No, that doesn’t fit either, and not only because Aziraphale makes a terrible Darcy. Sure, Aziraphale’s status as an angel might be considered comparable to Darcy’s elevated status as a rich person, but Crowley has never hated Aziraphale, never even considered it, and wouldn’t hate him even after the rejection. Lizzie’s hatred is what spurs Darcy to grow. Darcy needed to be completely despised by her to decide to put in the work to be worthy of her.

Okay, so then is Crowley Darcy? Perhaps we could shoehorn that in somewhere because Darcy doesn’t seem good but actually is, or is considered grouchy, but it’s such a loose connection, it barely works-

-Especially when you consider how much better the two fit as the protagonists of Persuasion.

(And yes, shut up, I liked the Dakota Johnson one and I will be using the gifs.)

Where Pride and Prejudice is about two different people gradually seeing the value in the other, Persuasion is the story of two different people seeing the value in the other right from the start, but who then repeatedly make mistakes that keep them separate and in agony.

Aziraphale is *so* much like Anne. First, Anne is the only reasonable (read: likable) member of her high-born family, who believe people in other societal castes to not only be inferior, but disgusting.

Anne sees this is not true, and falls madly in love with the low-born Wentworth- only to be persuaded by outside input not to marry him. Station and familial duty play a part in this decision, and she regrets it for years. She is completely unable to move on.

Like Aziraphale, Anne is certainly more accomplished, for one thing, and she plays by the rules of women of her time and status. BUT her sense of mortality breaks often from that of her family. When she tries to impart her good morals upon them, they are dismissive and insulting, reacting as if Anne is the one who “doesn’t get it”.

She spends eight years with a family she barely belongs to, wondering why she ever thought the company of people like this was worth the loss of Wentworth.

For all of Anne’s kindness, she is a pushover. She’s rarely confident in herself. When she needs to speak up, or just have a direct conversation with Wentworth, she doesn’t. She can’t. She repeatedly makes Wentworth come to her.

Wentworth, meanwhile, is a far better match for Crowley than Darcy is. Wentworth will never be an aristocrat like the Elliots, but he carves out a life he considers valuable using new rules. Sound familiar?

Are Wentworth’s and Crowley’s morals obviously a bit different? Yes, of course. Crowley is a DEMON, after all. But Crowley conducts himself in such a way that he’s literally cast out of Heaven and removed from Hell- in other words, he’s twice been given “the rules” for how to act and has twice decided, nah, that’s not for me. Wentworth was given the rules for what he could have as a low-born man and became a wealthy, high-ranking naval officer. And Wentworth didn’t do that for love, either. He found the consideration of one’s wealth in determining whether they should be loved abhorrent. Wentworth did it for himself initially (bitterly too, maybe), just like Crowley saves the goats and the kids for himself.

And, of course, Crowley’s confession parallels Wentworth’s position in relation to Anne far more than Darcy’s position to Lizzie. Crowley says “if they (two apparent opposites) can do it, so can we,” because he knows he and Aziraphale love each other. At the start of Persuasion, Wentworth asks Anne to be his wife despite their differing societal rank because he knows they love each other. At the end of Persuasion, he asks again because he knows they have both been in agony, that they both love each other as much as they ever did.

Darcy, meanwhile, does not know if Lizzie loves him, but arrogantly believes she will accept on the basis that what he can offer her monetarily is better than what anyone else can, not knowing what she actually values. She demolishes him.

On that note, that’s really the only parallel between Aziracrow and Darcy/Lizzie, only Aziraphale is Darcy. Aziraphale believed Crowley would accept his offer because he believed Crowley would want to be an angel again. Crowley believed Aziraphale would accept his offer because he knew they loved each other.

These are all very different characters, but ultimately, I think we were gunning for Pride and Prejudice and wound up with Persuasion; the slowest, most agonizing burn with the most beautiful reunion. So we didn’t get “you have bewitched me, body and soul,” in S2. We got the events leading up to Persuasion, and will have S3 to watch them play out. Neil knows that Aziraphale and Crowley’s relationship is the most compelling part of the story, so I doubt they’ll be separated for long. But everything is so messy, isn’t it? So it makes sense to keep them, like Anne and Wentworth, in close proximity, in mutual, bitter, unspoken pining, but still not together. It will be absolutely delicious to watch. Isn’t that what we loved the most from S1?

Because we know they love each other. And whatever catalyzing event forces them to say it out loud will be all the better if every moment they don’t say it hurts. I don’t want a “you have bewitched me” moment, I want “I’m half agony, half hope.”

[until-another-one-comes]

Curly originally not having a pre-crash model makes SO much sense to me. When I first watched this game I genuinely thought that that was how it was going to go too and we'll finish the entire game without ever seeing Curly.

While I don't mind that we know what he looks like (and prefer it that way), I also think it would've been very fitting if we never get to see Curly. It matches one of the focus in the game which is the continuation of the objectification and dehumanization of Curly. We only get to see him after the crash, whatever he looked like before that is never focused on, we only see him after he got everything taken away from him. We only get to see Curly through Jimmy's POV after the captain is now 'useless' and a 'burden' meant only to be kept quiet and whose pain is an annoyance to him.

But even before that, us not knowing Curly is already kind of prevalent, because Curly doesn't know who he is either. A big chunk of his character is that he's unsure and confused on what he wants in life and has no clear direction. He's 'on top of the ladder' but he doesn't even want to be on it but he doesn't even know what he actually wants to do outside of working for Pony Express. Us not knowing what he looks like feels very fitting on how Curly sees himself.

And the thing is, Curly hid a lot about himself to everyone else, too. He refused to open up to Anya, instead choosing to do so with Jimmy, who's view on him is way more idolized and deitified thanks to his twisted perception on Curly, and then villainized when he's angry with him. Curly closed himself from everyone else, and the person who knew him longest chose to twist Curly into something he isn't.

Thematically wise it would've made a big impact, the character who continues to haunt the narrative being known only after he's basically unrecognizable and who's face is never truly shown before, Curly only being known through his unsureness of himself and Jimmy's twisted perspective.