#which is fine tbh that's really all you need but it IS funny
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david-box · 1 year ago
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I love how there's knitting patterns that walk you through each step line by line stitchy by individual stitch and then there's things like Selbu style mittens
Image ID: An edit of the "Draw the rest of the fucking owl" meme. The top caption reads, "How to knit a glove," and the first image where the initial foundational shapes of the owl would be has been replaced with a line from a pattern that reads, "Instructions: Alternating black and white, CO (cast on) 116 sts (stitches)." The caption underneath this reads, "1. Cast some stitches on." The second image shows an already completed Selbu mitten with multiple ornate motifs. The second instruction reads, "Knit the rest of the fucking glove." End ID"
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aphel1on · 7 months ago
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the longer i look at this panel the more deranged i feel about it. this is environmental storytelling at its finest.
the eodio stand-in doll in particular makes me crazy. where did it come from? did thistle just pop into the village like "hey ungrateful wretches, one of you needs to make me a life-sized mannequin, For Reasons". did he make it himself? seems quite unlikely, yet the possibility haunts me. i mean, i guess there could've been one just lying around the dungeon somewhere. it's the act of replacement itself that really gets to me. (edit: it's been pointed out to me that the eodio doll also could have been left behind as part of delgal's escape plan. slightly different kind of madness but tbh, just as funny-sad to me if that happened and thistle went Ok, Guess That's Eodio Now.)
both the wives are there too. we know very little about them, which makes me tend to assume thistle wasn't all that close to them, but they're still included. when did they end up here? did he kick their souls out of their bodies at some point, or were they among those who left their bodies voluntarily to try and escape? when did yaad become an effective orphan, delgal an effective widower? women in the margins of the narrative, tell me your stories!
and the fact that they're surrounded with the living paintings, which thistle habitually wanders through to relive the past. this truly is his inner sanctum, his place of utmost comfort... and it may as well be a tomb.
that panel is so creepy when you first see it. just a sense of "ohh jeez, there's a lot to unpack there".
and actually, yeah, it remains creepy from pretty much any angle, but the more you think about it the more it's also tragic.
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this is where many of thistle's happiest moments took place. everything he had in that picture is now gone. first he lost their warm regard, then one-by-one their bodies became hollow shells. before the end, none of the people here needed or enjoyed food anymore. the dinner table, as a center of both family life and nutrition, became obsolete.
a line from someone else's excellent post about thistle has stuck in my head ever since i read it: "to eat is to live, but to eat together is to be loved". to me, this is the sentiment and symbolism at the core of everything that happens in dungeon meshi.
it makes this bit all the sadder and more disturbing.
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there's several things to note here:
thistle has gone from seated and eating with them as part of the family, to a lonely and ominous figure hovering over delgal's shoulder
eodio is conspicuously absent from view, and his body would have been a husk by now, but yaad says parents, which forces me to assume that they are sitting at the table with eodio's soulless body, hidden under yaad's speech bubble
they're not actually eating anything.
those plates are empty. you could assume that they've already finished eating, maybe, but yaad refers to it as sitting around the dinner table. in fact, he compares it to what he's currently doing; sitting at the dinner table watching the touden party eat, not eating anything himself.
it paints a pretty grim picture. for some time even after the fantasy had fallen apart, even after there was no need or desire to eat, they kept gathering around the dinner table. at that point, i'd guess only so as not to provoke thistle's wrath.
but even that last happened a long, long time ago.
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this is a callback to what senshi said in the golden kingdom: the reason the people keep maintaining their fields and silverware and so forth is that they need to do so in order to stay sane.
paradoxically, the dinner table is the most striking evidence of thistle's insanity, and at the same time, it's the only anchor to sanity he has left.
he kept enforcing the ritual of dinner together long after it lost significance. when even that was impossible- because almost everyone's souls were gone- he kept their bodies at the table anyway. it's fine. it's fine! he's protected them, physically, just like he set out to. they're all still breathing. at a glance it looks like they could wake up and resume dinner at any moment. like this, it's easy to pretend.
isn't that what being a dungeon lord is, at the core of it? rejecting reality, staying in the prison of one's impossible desires. it's just one long game of pretend.
thistle did all this to protect his loved ones. no matter how obsessive and twisted he became in pursuit of that over the years, his core motivation never changed. this is all he has left of that dream: his loved ones' bodies gathered around the locus of their happiest memories together. like this, he can tell himself he's succeeded.
when eodio's body vanished with delgal's soul in it- when he couldn't even have that anymore... well.
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i want to reach through the screen and shake him. no, they're not, thistle. THISTLE, NO, THEY'RE NOT! the doll of eodio is the closest thing to him in this panel, underlining the point. when that final illusion was shattered, he became completely unable to cope with reality.
therefore casually forgetting the creepy eodio doll isn't real.
thistle isn't stupid. eodio's body vanished at the same time as delgal's soul. shortly after, more adventurers came pouring in than ever before. deep down, he knows what happened. if he didn't, being confronted with the truth by mithrun wouldn't have made him panic so hard he summoned chimera falin to the first floor.
yet still...
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he absolutely can't admit that to himself. he is clinging to the last scraps of the illusion with everything he has.
this is a dungeon lord at the end of desire. this is a lotus-eater machine left running long after its conclusion. this is mithrun lying listlessly in his bed, his replica lover having given up any pretense of being human. the illusion is all that's left. (an illusion is all it ever was.) thistle and the citizens of the golden kingdom- they're ghosts just as much as the ones who wander the dungeon floors. and if it weren't for thistle sealing the lion away, he would've been eaten by it long ago.
all of this encapsulated by that single panel of the dinner table.
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bitchfitch · 4 months ago
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My mother's bf had a fairly major surgery (he's fine and recovering well DW) and he's going to be housebound for his birthday this year, so I've been enlisted to come up with a fancy birthday meal for the special birthday boy that's primarily fruit and veg, sweeter than savory, and is something he's never had before.
Bc I'm making watermelington. It's beef Wellington, but watermelon. bc my mom only found out recently you can use watermelon as a tuna substitute. And I know that you can substitute most higher quality beef cuts with tuna or salmon.... usually. Anyways the idea fascinates her so I'm hoping to use that for bonus points.
Now he's off his ass on pain killers so I can't like. Ask him if he's ever had something before. so to meet my brief I've decided to just. commit a novel hate crime against the British I guess.
Anyways. I'm writing this because I need to walk myself through this process and think it'll be surreal enough to be worth taking y'all along for.
So, Beef Wellington. In its most basic bitch arrangement is a beef tenderloin wrapped in prosciutto/really thin bacon, with a layer of mushroom and onion mush, that has been further wrapped in mustard slathered puff pastry.
We will be ship of Theseusing this. bc beef Wellington is like. the opposite of what he wants. Which is why it's funny.
Puff pastry-> it's still just puff pastry
this one doesn't have to change (aka I can't be fucked to do pastry prep and I'm just gonna use store bought it's Fine.)
the prosciutto is also just going to be prosciutto.
Thin meat
Beef tenderloin-> watermelon,
Tbh this is a pretty 1 to 1 substitution. I'll bake the slices at like. 250-300 for an hour or so ahead of the rest of prep to dry it out a bit. bc you can't like. Sear watermelon to seal in the water like you can beef. By definition it's a very wet fruit (like me when I fall into the lake). Ill Add salt and chili and lime juice while baking maybe. this is the easy part
The mushroom mush-> salsa done bad style
As the word mush implies, this is meant to be a very soft mix. It adds a lot of nuttiness to the wellington that rounds out all of the salt from the meats. I'm replacing it with white person salsa(the birthday boy can't handle spice). Tomato, lime juice, parsley, avocado, cucumber, feta, and maybe mango so I can have an excuse to have a lil mango treat. I said I wasn't making it spicy. I'm still putting a bit of chili in it. bc it'll be better like that. This is also a ridiculously wet bit of mush, Even the original mushrooms have too much water. I'll figure something out.
Mustard -> jelly
He lives in a big city. those preserve sections are massive. I'll find a weird one. maybe apricot.
Prep:
We're in the mind palace kitchen, I have not attempted any of this. We're just thinking real hard about it and I'll edit as needed on the day and post results.
The watermelon
Preheat oven to eh. 300f? We want low and slow to dry things out without it taking a year. but idk what his oven is like. If it's gentle I'll bump it up another ten-twenty.
Slather some watermelon slices in salt chili powder and lime juice mixture.
bake for 30 min on a wire rack or directly on the oven racks (after cleaning thoroughly) if he doesn't have a wire rack. with a drip try underneath to catch the drippage. check frequently. Have one slice that's for being poked to see if it's approaching being meat. Bake longer if needed.
Salsa bad style
chop everything up and add it to a pan with some oil in it. Tbh I don't think the type of oil you use for cooking matters if you're not like, getting near any smoke points. Most people can't tell the difference unless you made your food bland as hell.
Anyways there's some wildly different moisture contents on the list so there has to be an Order to cook off as much water as possible without getting yucky.
Tomatoes and cucumbers go in together with some salt to get the cucs softening, then the mango chunks and lime juice. Once most of the water is gone the avocado feta and parsley can go in. There is a good amount of water in avocados but they're delicate and don't pan fry well, so we're just going to ignore their water crimes and hope for the best. They just need to be evenly mixed through the rest of the mush.
Putting it together
lay out the puff pastry, cut into sections to wrap each watermelon slice individually with.
Slather in jam
Take the prosciutto and lay it out on half of each section of the pastry,
spoon the salsa onto that
Melon
Another layer of salsa
another layer of thin meat
Fold the pastry over the top and pinch the edges bc watermelon slices are not a rollable shape and I don't want to carve a watermelon into a tube for this because that sounds irritating.
Brush with egg wash and more parsley
Cook in oven following the pastry's preferred temp and time. it's fucking watermelon, you're not getting ecoli from it.
watermelington :)
I'm serving it with baked sweet potatoes and spinach based salad with whatever toppings are left over from making the salsa.
anyways thank you for joing me on this thought experiment. I will post updates once the deed is done. I'm sorry to every British person ever.
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haetrack · 10 months ago
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did i hear mark request…
it’s late, you and mark have been spending the last week studying in the library every night for a big final. ur brain’s exhausted and u’ve been losing focus every now and again for the last hour but these last 15 mins, u’ve spent being distracted at how good mark looks next to u, extremely focused and determined to get through these practice papers. so u wanna see how long he can stay concentrated and quiet with ur hands all over him - he’s not quiet though this man is gonna moan and whine in ur ear like his life depends on it
(tbh i just wanna give this man a handjob in public and watch him finish)(he’s so hot)(i need him so bad)(maybe edge him a little too idk)
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req 5: mark lee x afab!reader
wc: 2.7k
warnings: smut (MDNI!), public sex in a library, handjob, edging (HOORAY)
a/n: THIS WAS SO BEAUTIFUL… HE SO… HES SONSNDMFK
-
you’ve been sitting at the library with mark for hours. the words of the article in front of you begin blurring together, none of it is really clicking, none of it bothering to stick in your head. you could recite the whole study guide and its answers by now. you just keep getting distracted. every time you look over at mark, you lose focus.
you can’t help but let your mind drift, can’t help but think about doing a little more than kissing with him.
you and mark have been together for five months. still a fairly new relationship, and you are happy to call him your boyfriend. he’s sweet, attentive, funny, and cute, but you can’t help but wish for one thing. since you’ve gotten in a relationship, you haven’t really done anything but kiss. which is fine, but it always leaves you on edge.
you can tell he gets needy too, his hands wandering, groping around as he licks into your mouth. you can feel him try not to subtly grind into you, keeping you firmly sat on his thighs as he kisses you. it’s not something you can complain about, but it’s been sitting in your mind for too long.
even now, late at night at your school’s library, your bored mind is not safe from these thoughts. you look at him through the corner of your eyes, his eyebrows furrowed, eyes focused on the practice problems he was given to by his professor. his bites down on his bottom lip, fingers messing with the corner of the page as he tries to remember what to do.
he’s not even doing anything crazy, but here you are lusting over mark while you two are studying. it’s been like this for a whole week, your boyfriend inviting you out to study with him for finals week. are you in the same class he’s in? no, but you will be there for him whenever he asks. you also get a bonus of seeing him like this.
during the first part of the week, you actually did study. you both focused on your own work, took small breaks with each other, then went back to studying. it eventually evolved to you staring at scans of your textbook, eyes occasionally glancing to mark. tonight is worse, you can’t stop staring at him.
you check the time, nearly midnight. you look around and find a few other students, either dozing off or intensely doing their work. none of them are aware of their surroundings, none would see you in the small secluded corner you both are in. you shift a little in your seat, squeezing your thighs together to calm yourself down.
you let out a long groan, which catches mark’s attention. he tears his eyes away from his paper, amusement in his eyes as he presses a kiss to your temple. it takes everything in you to not throw yourself in his lap right there. instead, you place a hand on his thigh as you kiss him back. he lets out a small sigh at the touch, eyes closing from the feeling.
you pull away from him, hand still on his thigh as you look at him. his eyes are still lingering on your lips, pretty and swollen from the kiss. a quiet laugh leaves you, “how much more do you have left?”
“not a lot,” he huffs, “it’s just, i legit don’t think i can do them anymore.”
you smile at him, scooting your chair close to his, leaning your head on his shoulder, “want me to take a look?”
“well, do you know how to do this?” he points to his paper, an equation that shouldn’t make sense to anyone currently being shown to you.
“i’m not as smart as you, but i will be your personal cheerleader.” you press a kiss to his neck, enjoying how he shivers at the contact. you press a few more kisses until you reach his jawline, your hand squeezing around his thigh. he doesn’t try moving, eyes fixed on how your thighs squeeze together.
when you move your hand higher, his hand shoots down to your wrist. you think he might move it away, telling you he doesn’t want to do this here. you’d apologize quickly, choosing to do your work as you hold his hand.
he doesn’t though, he keeps your wrist there, a tight hold around your skin.
you move to put your head on his shoulder again. your fingers trace light patterns over his sweats. his leg begins bobbing up and down, waiting to see what you might do next. you’re almost surprised to see mark letting you go this far. you can feel the heat from his face, and you can see how his chest rises quickly.
you’re not sure if you want to initiate this here, but as you see mark squirm in his seat, you realize you might have to do something. you want him to tell you that he wants this. under the guise of being tired, you shut your eyes, exhaling while your hand continues to warm his thigh. you don’t want to pressure him into this, giving him the option to ignore you if he wants.
he tries. he tries to look at his paper again, trying to recall what he’s supposed to do. maybe he’d be able to figure it out if it weren’t for how close your hand was to his hardening cock. he’s not sure if it’s because of how frustrated he is or it finally dawned on him how pent up he is, but he needs you.
he lets out a shaky breath, your hand not moving from his spot. he shifts a little in his seat, moving your hand a little further up. it’s not where he needs you, but the feeling of your fingers tracing along his sweats has his cock twitching. he’s about to ask you to do something, but you beat him to it.
“do you need help with that, mark?”
he feels your gaze on his now too tight sweats, hard and begging for your touch. he bites back a groan when your fingers trace over the outline of his cock, squeezing at the tip. this the most you’ve ever touched him, and it’s getting to his head too fast. he bites down on his bottom lip, too scared to open his mouth.
there was a reason to all the times he’s pushed you off of him. he was so embarrassed, every time you kissed him on his lap, he couldn’t help but get so close to cumming. you weren’t doing anything intentional, but the feeling of your lips on his, the softs sounds you made, and the feeling of you on top of him sent a rush to his head.
for you to be so close to him, yet not where he needs you is enough for him to buck his hips into your hand. he lets out the smallest gasp. your lips graze his ears, “tell me what you want mark, i’ll give you anything you need.”
“want you to touch me, want you to touch my…” you can hear him swallow, “t-touch my cock, please.”
your hand teases the band of his sweats, messing with the drawstrings, “anything for you, markie.”
your hand finally slips under his sweats and boxers, hand slowly wrapping around his hard cock. this is better than any of your fantasies, feeling how he throbs in your hold. you let him sit with the feeling for a bit, your grip tightening around his length. he lets out a hiss, quickly covering his mouth when he realizes he’s still at the library.
your fingers move to glide over his tip, spreading the precum around, “guess you’ll have to be quiet, right?”
he nods quickly, eyes shaking when he looks down to see your hand in his pants, right where he needs you. he tries not to seem too eager, tries not to look like he’s currently being touched in the middle of the library. his eyes scan the room, everyone else too busy to be looking at them.
when your hand starts moving along his length, he turns to look at his paper, trying to look busy. his hands are gripping onto the table, knuckles turning white as he feels you touch him for the first time. it’s not the most ideal place, but he’s too pent up too care at this point.
your hand feels nice around him. it’s not like he hasn’t gotten a handjob before, but you’re the one touching him this time. 
he’s not sure if it’s because he can see how affected you’re getting by watching him or how good your hand feels wrapped around his cock, but he’s close to cumming. it hasn’t even been that long, he swears that he usually isn’t like this. he bites down hard on his tongue, one of his hands wanting to cover his mouth to stop any moans from coming out.
you noticed how quiet he’s being, and you can’t have that. you know he must be close to cumming, his length throbbing in your hold. you slow your movements, whispering so only he can hear, “mark, won’t you tell me how good it feels? wanna hear how good you feel.”
he shakes his head, cheeks turning pink as he tries to figure out what to do. all he can think about is how close he is, how warm you feel as you lean against him. when he doesn’t answer, you tighten your grip around him, thumb teasing his tip. his whole body shakes, ready to fill his sweatpants with cum.
“mark,” you whine out, “are you close to cumming? aren’t you gonna tell me that you’re close?”
his mouth stays shut, his hips bucking up. his tip is heavily leaking, eyes closed as he fucks into your hand. you can’t believe you get to see him like this, get to see him try and hold back how good you make him feel. it’s when he lets out a small whine of your name when you pull your hand away from him.
he immediately turns to look at you, grabbing your wrist, trying to put together a sentence that makes sense. you let out a small laugh, swatting away his hands that reach for yours. you pout, “you didn’t wanna tell me that i was making you feel good.”
he whisper-shouts at you, “that’s it? i-i could’ve cum… please. just let me- let me try one more time.”
“hm… you still have work to do, right? focus on your work, mark.” you press a kiss to his cheek, leaning back against your chair.
mark stares hard at you, cock still hard in his sweats as he tries to see if you’ll touch him again. in fact, you gesture for him to keep working, eyes watching as he huffs. he turns back to the worksheets, mind too hazy to do any work now. he taps his pencil onto the page, nothing seems to come to mind.
a few minutes pass, mark calming down when he looks at his notes. the problem starts to make sense, slowly writing down the steps to the problem. he tries not to think of you too much, realizing just how quiet you’re being. he knows you can’t stay still for long, waiting for any move you might make.
before he knows it, your hand slithers down into his sweats, fingers lightly moving across his cock. he’s half-hard, beginning to twitch as you make a fist around his length. before he can turn all his attention, you grab him by the shoulder, “keep doing your work, mark. finish your work and i’ll let you cum.”
he nods, but you don’t start moving. you look at him in the eyes, your hand tightening around him, “need to hear you tell me. wanna hear you make some noise.”
he gulps, his whole body feeling hot, “i’ll… i’ll try.”
you make a small noise in excitement, hand finally touching him again. you watch as he puts all his focus on the paper in front of him, not writing anything down. he’s blankly staring at it, licking his lips as his eyes threaten to close. you move your hand faster, tightening your fist when you reach his tip. he’s losing himself quickly, letting out small noises at the feeling.
you push into his side, “do your work, mark. don’t want anyone looking over here and finding that mark lee is currently getting jerked off in the library.”
he lets out a gasp, hands shakily picking up his pencil. he can’t control himself, hips moving on their own as he tries to stop himself from making too much noise. he can feel your expectant stare, just waiting for him to make a sound. it’s when you tighten your fist around his base, slowly sliding up to his tip that he lets out a quiet moan of your name.
you sit up a little further, now fully watching his face as he tries to hide from you. his face is scrunched up, his hips now fucking your hand. he doesn’t care anymore, not when you’re making him feel so good, not when he can feel his orgasm quickly building up.
“f-fuck, your hand feels good. just-” he lets out a small whimper, “keep going, baby.”
happy with his response, your hand moves faster. you can hear the slight squelch of it, his precum helping you glide against his cock. mark looks fucked out, face red as he keeps moving. he can’t help but pretend he’s fucking your pussy, can’t help but wonder if this is how it feels to have you wrapped around him. once finals are over, he will definitely be having sex with you.
you can’t help but let out a whimper yourself, enjoying watching mark fall apart way too much. you bite down on his earlobe, “wanna feel you cum all over my hand. wanna make you feel good, mark.”
he leans back, whining in your ear, “y-yeah, gonna cum all over you. wanna- wanna show you how good you’re doing.”
one of his hands makes it to your thigh, squeezing it for support. he’s losing control, low groans leaving his mouth as you jerk him off. his hips lift off the chair, choosing to full-on fuck your hand. he looks so good right now, and you think he might finally deserve what he wants. you let out a whisper, “cum for me, mark. wanna see you cum.”
mark doesn’t need to be told twice. his hips buck into your hand, his hand around your thigh tightening as he lets out a fuck, a low groan filling the air around you. he feels so gross as he lets go in his sweats, cum shooting out into your hold.
when you feel his cum spurt into his hand, you wrap an arm around him, letting him lean into your touch. he shoves his head into your shoulder, not caring about the loud whines he lets out as he cums in your hand. there’s a lot, his thighs beginning to shake as you help him ride out his orgasm. 
he pushes your hand away at the feeling of overstimulation, you laugh as you slide your hand out. your hand is covered in his cum, and you bring it up to your mouth. mark watches with heavy eyes as you suck your cum-stained fingers, watches how you practically moan out at the taste of his cum. he almost gets hard again, his cock begging for your attention. 
you laugh at him, quite loud in the quiet space of the library. someone shoots you an ugly look before sticking their nose back to their laptop. you and mark giggle together, hushed in the secluded corner you’ve been in.
“out of all the noises you were making, they decided to get mad at me for laughing?”
mark has to slap a hand around his mouth to stop anymore laughs, “i wasn’t even being that loud! you looked like you were enjoying it more than i was!”
you shove at his shoulder in embarrassment, “that’s what happens when you run away from me when we make out!”
“i’ll make sure it won’t happen again.” he goes to hold your clean hand, “now, can i, uh- can you teach me how to…”
he makes some weird gestures, and by the looks of it, he wants to try to eat you out. you smile at him, “of course, mark.”
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m1ckeyb3rry · 4 months ago
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Series Synopsis: A series of (mostly) unrelated one shots, featuring Oliver Aiku somehow getting involved with the love lives of various Blue Lock characters — whether he wants to or not.
Chapter Synopsis: Oliver Aiku isn’t sure which entity he’s wronged to earn this kind of treatment, but somehow, in the days before the match against Blue Lock, he’s stuck watching over the team’s newest addition: Sae Itoshi, a rude midfielder who’d rather be in Spain (or in hell) than hanging out with him. Things get a little more complicated, though, when a cup of shitty coffee leads to a crush and Aiku is forced to intervene.
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Series Masterlist
Pairing: Sae x Reader
Chapter Word Count: 7.9k
Content Warnings: crack fic, sae my awkward goat, love at first sight, oliver aiku is such a bitch but he’s funny so it’s kind of okay, reader has to work in customer service 😓, this is really dumb please don’t judge my writing off of it, sae is 100% ooc don’t come at me i KNOWWW, split perspectives (it makes sense in the story), sae slander (from aiku), reader is a fan girl but she keeps it 𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖙, reader’s dad has cameos but he’s just chilling tbh
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A/N: the people wanted sae’s version to be posted first so uhhh here we are!! LMAO it kind of got a bit long (as usual) but it’s very silly and goofy!! anyways so this is the first entry in “oliver aiku’s guide to getting girls” i hope you all stick around for the rest 🤩‼️
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Oliver Aiku likes to think he’s a fairly nice guy. He visits his grandmother every weekend, he rescues kittens from gutters (okay, it only happened once, but he still did it, so it counts), and he’s good enough at being captain of the Japanese U-20s that none of his teammates really hate him, so all in all, he can’t be doing that bad of a job. Yeah, he’s pretty sure he’s a great person, a stand-up fellow, an upstanding member of society — so why the fuck is Sae Itoshi glaring at him like that?
“What?” he says, because it was fine for the first, say, twenty minutes or so, but now it’s gone from annoying to just plain concerning. “Something going on with you?”
Sae stares at him for a moment longer, and Aiku wonders if he’s trying to communicate via telepathy. That’s a skill he’s never picked up, though, so he can only wait for Sae to speak up, which, thankfully, he eventually does.
“This coffee is shit,” he says. The way he speaks is dull and blank, his lips pinched together and his brows low over his eyes. It’s kind of a shame, in Aiku’s highly professional opinion. He’d be handsome if he smiled more; or, if not handsome, at least approachable enough to not scare away every single girl that dared to even glance at him.
“It’s not my fault,” Aiku says. “Take it up with the barista or something.”
“You’re the one who brought me here, so it is your fault,” Sae says. Aiku crosses his arms, because isn’t Sae younger than him? This feels like a level of disrespect he shouldn’t tolerate, prodigy or not.
“Nuh-uh,” he says. In hindsight, it’s not the most mature response he could’ve come up with, and Sae seems to agree, snorting derisively before using a napkin to dab at a drip of coffee running down the side of his cup.
“What a captain,” he says with a sigh. “No wonder you guys need me to play for you against those Blue Lock idiots.”
Aiku should be offended, he really should be — and he is! He is, and he’s just about to muster up some scathing retort that’ll definitely leave Sae Itoshi trembling, but then Sae’s standing up with purpose, so now he’s just intrigued instead of insulted. He follows after him as Sae holds the coffee in one hand and marches towards the counter, and when he realizes what’s about to happen, he preemptively cringes.
“Don’t yell at service workers!” Aiku says. It would’ve been heroic if he had said it loud enough for Sae to hear him, but unfortunately, it’s more of a whisper than the brave shout he had intended for it to be, so he just looks kind of stupid, as if he regularly talks to himself or something.
“Hey,” Sae says to the boy at the counter. He’s young, probably no more than fifteen or sixteen, and Aiku prays that he’s not the target of Sae’s ire. “Who made this?”
The boy squints at Sae’s cup, reading the receipt, and then he smiles innocently. “That was Y/N. Did you want to talk to her?”
“Yes,” Sae says bluntly. Aiku is about to thank whichever deity was watching over him and that boy alike, but he pauses when the rest of the kid’s statement registers. Her? Her? Is Sae seriously about to yell at a girl for making bad coffee? If she’s hot, he’ll kill Sae, no doubt about it. “And tell her to make it quick. We don’t have all day, and she’s already wasted enough of our time.”
Yeah, he’s definitely going to kill him. 
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“Y/N,” a voice whispers. You’re untying your apron — your shift is just about over, and you’re ready to clock out, but for some reason your young coworker is peering into the kitchen nervously and gesturing for you to come with him. Normally, you’d tell him to handle things himself, but he’s new, so you decide to be responsible for once and follow after him, muttering curses to yourself as you retie your apron.
“What’s the matter? Did you spill something?” you say. He shakes his head, raising his hand and pointing at the counter, where two customers are waiting. You frown, because you’re pretty sure you already gave them their drinks, so there’s no reason for them to be standing there, unless maybe they want to reorder. “Wait. Did you call me to take their order? No way! My shift is over in thirty seconds!”
“No, no, I didn’t,” your coworker says. “They want to talk to you.”
“Me? Like me, specifically?” you say. He nods.
“Yeah, they asked for you by name and everything,” he says earnestly. “I think they’re mad, though.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose, because the last thing you want to do is deal with a couple of prissy customers, especially not when you’re supposed to be heading home already. However, your coworker seems to be on the verge of tears, and some kind of sisterly affection tugs at your heartstrings, so you pat him on the shoulder and take his spot at the counter.
“Hi, this is Y/N. My coworker told me you needed to see me. How can I help you?” you say. Your voice is chipper and your smile is false, but they don’t need to know that. You’ve been working at the coffee shop for long enough that you’re practiced at pretending, and you know for a fact that your coworker is standing shyly at your side, probably astonished by the quality of your performance.
For a moment, neither man speaks, so you get to stare at them and make your own assumptions about who they are and what their backstories might be. It’s kind of like a hobby, a pastime for when things are slow or you’re generally annoyed about your job. You’ve developed it over the years, and luckily, these two are prime candidates for the game.
The one on the left is tall and broad, with dark hair and mysterious eyes. Curiously, one is a bright green, while the other is a softer violet, and there’s a few-days-old stubble growing on his square face, like a shadow running along his jaw. It gives him a rough appearance, like he owns a motorcycle and frequently wears leather jackets, but you want to believe that he’s gentle at heart. Maybe he has a fondness for baby animals or he likes to bake cookies or something along those lines.
The one on the right is shorter than his counterpart, and his hair is red like a sunset, pushed carelessly out of his haughty face. He’s wearing a sweater that matches his eyes, though the teal of the knitted fabric is much more muted, and you’re about to come up with some kind of fantastical explanation for who he might be when you realize that you know him.
He clears his throat, and you scramble to stand up straighter, internally screaming, because what are the odds that you’ve somehow managed to piss off the star player of your favorite soccer club’s youth team? You wonder what your father will think of you now. You wonder what you think of yourself now. What should you do? Should you tell him you recognize him? Ask for an autograph? Or should you play it cool and pretend like you don’t know him? What if he yells at you?
Actually, you wouldn’t mind it as much as normally do. When everyday customers start screaming at you for some perceived wrong that you’ve supposedly committed, you typically tune them out, and then you make fun of them with your coworkers in the back, but if it’s Sae Itoshi…well. you’ll certainly listen to every word he says, and when you return to the kitchen, you’ll write them down somewhere so you can remember the moment forever.
“He didn’t like his drink,” he says, pointing at the dark haired man.
“What?” the man shrieks. The pitch is higher than you would’ve expected from someone of his size, but it appears he realizes that, too, because then he’s coughing. “I mean, what? What are you talking about?”
“You were just complaining, Aiku,” Sae says. “You even made me come up here and get mad at this girl for you.”
The other man, who you guess is named Aiku, is turning a strange shade between magenta and beet-red, and you’re surprised there isn’t steam coming out of his ears. Given that you don’t really care about him that much, you’re instantly irritated again, because why would it matter if he didn’t like his drink? Still, you have to keep up appearances.
“My apologies, sir. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” you say. 
“No!” Aiku says. “No, it’s — hey, Sae, you were the one who was all upset, so why are you putting it on me?”
“Hm?” Sae says, obviously uninterested in the conversation already. “I dunno. Maybe it happened like that, or maybe not.”
“I’m sorry,” you say again, more than a little bewildered. “Ah, I’m new here, so I’m still learning.”
Aiku, who has returned to a more normal and human color, smiles at you kindly, and he’s about to respond, ostensibly to reassure you, but then your damned coworker pipes up: “No, she’s not.”
“Ah, sorry?” Aiku says.
“She’s not new,” your coworker says again.
“‘New’ is a subjective term,” you say mechanically, wishing that it was acceptable for you to turn around and hit him in public whenever you wanted.
“I don’t think anyone would consider you to be new when you’ve been working here for three years,” your coworker says. You can imagine the innocent, guileless expression on his face right now. You want to do something violent to it.
“Ha, ha,” you say. You think your eye might twitch, too, but if Aiku or Sae notice, then neither of them point it out. “What a knowledgeable fellow we have back here.”
“It’s alright,” Aiku says. “I didn’t mind the drink. Sae’s the one who threw a fit about it.”
“I liked it,” Sae says stubbornly. “It was fine.”
You step in before Aiku can turn magenta again, because that’s probably unhealthy for him, and you don’t want to be held liable for a customer dying on your watch when you’re not even being paid for it.
“Anyways, is that all? I’m actually done with my shift, so if you guys don’t need anything else…” you trail off, though inside you’re screaming something along the lines of Sae Itoshi, please notice me and give me your autograph and oh, if you could fall in love with me, too, that would be amazing!
Of course, you can’t verbalize anything like that, so you just smile and wave until the door slams shut behind them. Then you’re yanking your apron off and balling it up before chucking it at your coworker’s face. It hits him in the nose and slides to the ground; he gives you an offended look before picking it up.
“You’re lucky it was only an apron,” you say. “You owe me big time, you little shit.”
“Huh?” he says.
“I won’t forget this!” you warn him, stomping towards the small locker room, where your precious phone is waiting for you. “You’re a major-league jerk, okay? Don’t ever ask me to cover another shift for you again!”
“Huh?” 
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“What the hell was that?” Aiku snaps as soon as they’ve left the cafe, because this is totally not what he was expecting when his coach told him that he had to treat Sae nicely and make him feel welcome. 
“What was what?” Sae says. He’s sipping on his coffee sedately now, even though he was complaining about it only minutes earlier.
“Since when was I the one who was upset about my coffee?” Aiku says.
“I have a bad memory,” Sae deadpans. “I guess it could’ve been either of us.”
“That was not believable in the slightest,” Aiku feels the need to inform him. Judging by Sae’s expression, it wasn’t meant to be believable, though, and Aiku sighs. “Seriously, what’s your deal? You were just going crazy and glaring at me because you thought the coffee sucked, and now you think it’s good?”
“I should’ve waited for it to cool,” Sae says. “It’s better now. I was being hasty.”
“Uh-huh,” Aiku says. “Sure. Let’s do something else tomorrow. I don’t ever want to go back there. I don’t think I can face that girl again. She was so hot, too, and now she probably thinks I’m some ungrateful asshole…”
“I want to go back,” Sae says immediately, throwing the now-empty cup into the nearest trash can. Aiku furrows his brow at him, trying to puzzle out this latest contradiction and finding himself utterly unable to. “Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” Aiku repeats dubiously. Tomorrow he has practice, and technically so does Sae. However, they both know that Sae doesn’t need anything as ridiculous as practice in order to win against a team of eleven high-school forwards, and he’s fairly confident that his coach will tell him to accompany the bratty Itoshi instead of showing up, since the JFU is pulling out all of the stops if it means getting Sae to stay in Japan for good.
“Tomorrow,” Sae reaffirms.
I’m a nice guy, Aiku tries to remind himself. This is what nice guys do. I’m boosting team morale. Yeah. That’s all. Captain’s duties.
Still, as he chases after Sae, who apparently doesn’t know what the word ‘stroll’ means and prefers to do everything at a brisk pace more akin to a jog, he thinks that this entire ridiculous assignment feels more like a babysitter’s duties than anything. 
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“Are you serious?” your father says. In the background, the TV is playing a game between Re Al and Barcha, which is rather fitting.
“Deadly,” you say, untying the laces of your sneakers and putting them with the rest of your shoes. “It was actually him.”
“Sae Itoshi,” he says, shaking his head. “He’s back from Spain?”
“Seems like it,” you say, though now that he mentions it, you’re as confused as he is. Why is Sae Itoshi here instead of Madrid? You glance at the TV — Barcha has just scored, and the cameras are sweeping through the crowds, showing the excited fans cheering — and wonder if maybe he was fired or something. You doubt that that’s what happened; after all, he’s a consistent player, and the last time he was in a match, he even managed to outmaneuver that freaky striker who plays for Bastard München, so it would make zero sense for Re Al to let him go. Besides, even if they did, you’re sure there’s dozens of clubs that would be willing to take him, so there must be another reason for his presence in Japan.
“Huh,” your father says. “Well. Good for him.” 
“I guess so,” you say. “If I ever see him again, I’ll ask him what he’s doing in town.”
Your father chuckles, taking a sip of his beer and giving you a thumbs up. “Yeah, you do that. Let me know what he says.”
You laugh, too, sitting down at the counter and eating a plate of reheated leftovers, because you know as well as your father that the idea of you ever seeing Sae Itoshi again is more than a little far-fetched. But it’s a nice thought, and anyways the chances are never zero, so for the moment, you allow yourself to imagine. 
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Aiku is seriously questioning if Sae Itoshi was sent to this earth — or at least to this country — as some kind of punishment for him. He’s not really sure what’s done that would invite such cosmic retribution, but maybe it’s one of those…what did that girl call them? Karmic debts? She had said something about the sins of his past life and all, though he can’t recall the specifics.
Wait. That’s wrong. He just never learnt them in the first place, so how could he remember them in the first place? He had broken up with her before she could explain her theories to him. This prompts a wince from him, which is further fueled by the way his t-shirt sticks to his back with sweat. It’s a distinctively uncomfortable feeling, and he’s contemplating complaining, even though it probably won’t do much.
“Shut up,” Sae says.
“I didn’t say anything!” Aiku protests, more than a little spooked, since he actually had been about to say something before Sae had cut him off.
“I can see you making faces at me,” Sae says. Considering Sae is walking ahead of him and to the side, Aiku’s not quite sure how he could tell anything about what sorts of faces Aiku is making, but unfortunately, he’s uncannily correct as always, so Aiku schools his expression into a smooth, neutral one that won’t beget reprimand from his companion.
“I can’t believe you insisted on going here straight after practice,” he says.
“This is the same time we went yesterday,” Sae says. He’s kind of an insufferable smart-ass, Aiku thinks to himself, though he’d never say as much to Sae’s face. After all, unlike his counterpart, he’s considerate like that, and he always has been.
“So? We didn’t have practice yesterday,” Aiku says. “You couldn’t even let me shower?”
“You take forever in the showers,” Sae says. This is rich, for Sae is notoriously obsessive with his skincare, and of the entire team, he takes far and away the longest to get ready. But, then again, Aiku supposes that idiocy is one of those illnesses which spreads further and further until all of one’s perspectives are tainted with the virus.
“I could’ve been quick,” he says. “It would’ve been better if I could’ve at least rinsed off so I didn’t look so gross. I want to impress that Y/N girl if she’s there again today.”
“You’re not her type,” Sae says dismissively. “So why bother?”
“How do you know? Are the two of you childhood buddies or something?” Aiku says. Sae glances at him, and of course he’s way too holier-than-thou to properly sneer, but the corners of his lips turn downwards to the same effect.
“Not too hard to figure out,” he says. 
“Well, hold on just a moment! I got the vibe that she was totally into me yesterday!” Aiku says. He actually did not get any such vibes from the barista; the only thing she seemed into was clocking out, but he’s Oliver Aiku. If he can’t get a girl, he can’t do anything. Besides, it’s not like Sae would be able to tell one way or another — Aiku and his teammate Sendou have a theory that Sae was created in a lab as some kind of experiment to make the world’s best midfielder, because the guy really doesn’t have any knowledge or concern for anything that’s unrelated to soccer.
True to form, Sae blinks unsurely. “Really?”
“Yeah, one hundred percent,” Aiku boasts, although then he’s narrowing his eyes, because such a question is so out of Sae’s character that for a moment, he wonders if there’s been a mistake and he’s actually taken some other team member of his along for this ridiculous errand.
Messy red hair. Teal eyes. Forehead creased with a frown. No, it’s definitely Sae Itoshi, that’s for sure. Just Sae Itoshi in a mood that he’s never seen before. If they were a little closer, he’d ask him what’s the big deal now, but as it is, the question would probably go unappreciated.
“Hm,” Sae says. “Whatever. We’ll see.”
“Sure,” Aiku says slowly, reaching out to hold open the door of the cafe so he can enter behind Sae, since his lovely, amazing, wonderful, kindhearted teammate so generously left it to slam shut in his face. 
What a total dick. He makes a mental note to ask the JFU for a raise, because whatever they’re giving him at the moment is definitely not enough. 
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“They’re back again!” your coworker says. You’re still mad at him for yesterday, so you’ve been giving him the silent treatment the entire shift. It hasn’t gone unnoticed, but his pitiful attempts at reconciliation never include an apology, so you haven’t budged yet.
He waits for you to respond, but you’re pretty sure he’s making stuff up to get you to pay attention to him, and anyways they could be in reference to anyone, so you continue to pour milk into a cup, acting like it’s an all-consuming task which you cannot possibly complete without the utmost of concentration.
“I’m being serious! Y/N, it’s Sae Itoshi and, uh, that other dude!” he says. Your hand wobbles for the briefest moment, but you conclude that he’s most likely lying, so you steady yourself and continue pouring the milk. “Fine, be that way! I’ll serve them myself!”
You can’t even say something snarky in response, because that’ll still be a win on his part, so you huff particularly loudly to no one in particular and leave it at that.
A few minutes later, he’s back, looking so contrite that if you weren’t upset with him, you’d actually be worried. Unfortunately, you very much are upset with him, so you find it on the whole to be rather hilarious and have to suppress a laugh. 
He must take your amusement as a signal to talk, because he speaks eagerly and quickly, stumbling over his words and clasping his hands together in front of him.
“Y/N, Y/N, they’re insisting on seeing you, I told them you’re working right now — I’m sorry, I’m not supposed to do that, right? But I did, and now they really want to see you!” he says.
You’re still not entirely convinced, but if this is an act, then it’s a dedicated one, and you don’t think that he possesses that much dedication in all of his body, so maybe he’s actually telling the truth.
“Fine,” you say. “But if you’re lying, I swear I’m telling our manager to fire you.”
“I’m not!” he squeaks, darting back to the counter, rocking back and forth on his heels as he waits for you to catch up to him.
When you reach the front, you’re surprised to see that it is in fact Sae Itoshi and…whoever that other guy is. Aiku? Yes, that sounds right. It’s Sae and Aiku, and one looks supremely inconvenienced — this would be Sae, of course — while his friend is running a hand through his sweaty hair, flashing you a grin.
You smile back at him, because that’s what you’re trained to do, and you don’t want your coworker to tattle to your manager that you’re not abiding by the cafe’s standards of customer service. Then you stare at them until one of them starts speaking, because that’s what your entire job is, and no matter how badly you want to start gushing to Sae Itoshi about how big of a fan you are, you have to remain professional.
“Is there anything I can do for you two?” you finally say. This prompts Aiku to nod, nudging Sae in the side, which earns him a dark glare.
“I want the number two, and he’ll take the number five,” Aiku says when Sae does not speak up. You want to tell him that nobody orders like that, but you’re not supposed to and it’s really not that big of a deal either way, so you just ring up the order.
“Sounds good. Would you like to pay with cash or credit?” you say.
“Credit,” Sae says, pulling out a card that probably has a monthly spending limit higher than what you make in a year. “And we’re splitting the bill, just so you know.”
What you want to say is Wow, Sae, you’re somehow even cooler in real-life! Who’s your favorite soccer player? What’s your favorite food? Do you like Spain better, or here? What you actually say is: “No problem. I’ll have those right out for you.”
“Thanks,” Aiku says. He’s kind of charming, in a sense; you can think of several friends you have that would probably swoon at the way his smile stretches across his face, but you don’t really see the appeal. Or, maybe you would normally, but at the moment, he’s standing next to Sae Itoshi, so it’s a little hard to focus on him at all.
“Yeah,” Sae says. “Thank you. Y/N.”
He’s probably just reading off of your name tag in an effort to seem more friendly and relatable and humble and all. It’s a classic PR move that he was probably taught as soon as he joined Re Al. You know about it, though, so it shouldn’t work on you. It won’t work on you. He’s just doing what he’s trained to, the same as you are.
It works on you. You run to the back and hide your face in your hands and squeal, because Sae fucking Itoshi just said your name. 
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“Holy fucking shit,” Aiku says.
“Are we just listing curse words now?” Sae says dryly. “Bitch, cunt, hell. There’s three more for you.”
“You like the barista!” Aiku accuses. If Sae was drinking something, he would’ve spit it out just then, but he’s not, so he just chokes on his saliva. 
“No way,” he says.
“Yes, you do! How else can you explain this?” Aiku says, pitching his voice up in an imitation of Sae’s. “Yeah. Thank you. Y/N. Since when do you say thank you to people?”
“Since always? I have manners,” Sae says.
“I’ve never heard you say it,” Aiku says.
“Maybe that’s more telling about you than me,” Sae suggests. Aiku scowls at him.
“You definitely like her,” he says. “No judgment here, man. She’s pretty.”
“Whatever,” Sae says. “Even if I did like her — mind you, I don’t — she’s clearly into you.”
“Me?” Aiku says. “I was just messing with you earlier, you know. Anyways, yeah, I think she’s hot, but, like, you’ve never liked a girl before, right? So I wouldn’t get in the way of that. This is a big step.”
“You’re not getting in the way of anything. Do what you want,” Sae says. 
Aiku’s already pulling out his phone and texting Sendou: big news. Lab experiment just evolved. Feels attraction and jealousy now.
“Uh-huh,” he responds absentmindedly. Sendou texts back with about fifty mind-blown emojis, and he snickers to himself, liking the message.
“Anyways, who told you I’ve never liked anyone before?” Sae says defensively. Aiku just about drops his phone, leaning forwards in interest. Could it be? Are he and Sae actually bonding? Is Sae about to tell him about his first love — who apparently is not this barista?
“I just guessed. Was I wrong?” Aiku says. He’s already trying to come up with who Sae might’ve liked — a childhood neighbor or friend? A women’s soccer player he admired? A girl he saw once in Spain but never again? Oh, that last one is particularly romantic…he’s just about accepted it as fact when Sae glares at him.
“No,” he says. Aiku’s dreams are shattered in an instant, but he can only shake his head while chuckling, both because Sae has inadvertently admitted that he actually does like that Y/N girl, and because he was an idiot for believing that ‘Sae Itoshi’ and ‘romantic’ could ever belong together in one sentence.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” 
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“What do I do?” you say. You and your coworker are back on speaking terms, mostly because you have no one else to talk to and are so desperate that you’re willing to temporarily forgive him. 
“Make their drinks?” he says. You give him a dirty look as you begin mixing up their orders. 
“Not about that. I’m such a huge fan of Sae’s, and this is the second time I’m making a drink for him. It’s kind of like fate, don’t you think? Should I try to talk to him or something?” you say.
“Do you want to?” your coworker says. It’s a slower time of day, so he has nothing to do but sit and watch you — at least, nothing immediate. There’s certainly things he could be doing, but you’re not about to chide him when you’re the reason he’s slacking off.
“Obviously! But what am I supposed to even say? I’ll sound like a creep if I just start acting like a fan-girl!” you say.
“That’s true,” your coworker says. “You kind of sound like one even now…”
“Ugh, if you’re not going to be helpful, then go organize the storeroom or something!”
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“What about her makes you like her?” Aiku presses.
“Are we still on this?” Sae says, as if they’ve been talking about it for hours. “I don’t like her.”
“It’s not like you talked to her for a while…was it really just her looks?” Aiku says. “Damn. Didn’t think you were the shallow type.”
“I am not the shallow type!” Sae says.
“That sounds like something that a shallow person would say,” Aiku teases.
“Shut up,” Sae says. Aiku doesn’t have enough fingers or toes to count how many times Sae’s said that particular phrase to him. Maybe if he counted all of the fingers and all of the toes of every single person in the world, he would get kind of close to what that number might be. “I’m not shallow, I don’t like her, and she’s obviously way more interested in talking to you than me, so get off my back.”
Aiku whistles. “Someone’s jealous.”
“I’m telling the JFU that you were the one who sent me back to Spain,” Sae informs him bluntly. Aiku isn’t sure if that’s a joke or a legitimate threat. It’s hard to tell with Sae sometimes.
“Are you serious?” Aiku says.
“Deadly,” Sae says.
Yep, Aiku decides. He’s serious. 
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“If only that Aiku dude wasn’t there,” you lament, setting the first drink in the pick-up area and calling out Aiku’s name before returning to finish Sae’s drink. “It’d be way easier to talk to Sae without someone there to judge everything I’m saying.”
“Do you think he’d even care?” your coworker says. You shrug.
“No idea. It’s intimidating to talk to guys around their friends, though. You’re a guy yourself, so you wouldn’t get it,” you say.
“Are they even friends?” your coworker says. “Doesn’t seem like they get along that well.”
In unison, the two of you turn so you can look at the duo, who are sitting at a table right within your line of sight. As your coworker said, they don’t look like they’re friends in the slightest. Aiku is sipping on his drink with a smirk, and Sae looks like he’d rather be anywhere else, doing anything else, than be sitting there with his not-friend.
“The point still stands,” you say. 
“Guess so,” your coworker says. Just then, Sae Itoshi happens to glance over, making direct eye contact with you. Your eyebrows raise, and your face warms as you realize you’ve been caught. Aiku turns to follow Sae’s line of sight as you weigh your options. Should you pretend like you weren’t doing anything? Should you wave?
You decide to just smile again before returning to the drink you were supposed to be working on. Your coworker, who saw the entire exchange, cannot stop laughing.
“It’s over for you,” he says. “He definitely thinks you’re a creepy fan-girl now. You can kiss that autograph goodbye.”
“You’re lucky I’m too lazy to remake this drink,” you say. “Because otherwise, I’d spill it on you.”
“That’s against company policy,” he says.
“By accident, of course,” you say with a malicious grin.
“That’s against company policy, too!” 
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“Look, she just smiled at you. I bet she was looking at you the entire time,” Sae says coolly. “You should ask for her number. You already said you think she’s beautiful.”
“I said she’s hot. I’m not all poetic and shit like that,” Aiku says. “And I wouldn’t do that. It’s against the bro code.”
“We’re not ‘bros’, so you can put that out of your head,” Sae says.
“What if I help you get her number?” Aiku says. Sae tries very hard to maintain his nonchalant look, but Aiku can tell that his curiosity has been piqued. “Will you consider me a bro then? At the minimum, will you tell the JFU that I’ve done a great job at showing you around and making you feel welcome?”
Please please please please please I really need a fucking raise Sae I’m broke please please please — 
“Sure,” Sae says.
“Sure?” Aiku says. “Yes! Okay, this will be easy.”
Sae scoffs. “Yeah, okay. If that’s what you think.”
“Believe me,” Aiku says. “You’re in the presence of a master.”
Sae doesn’t even dignify that with a response beyond the most disgusted look Aiku has ever seen on anyone, Sae or not. He’d say something, but he’s pretty sure he deserves it at least a little, and anyways a possible raise is way more important to him than being right, so he keeps his mouth shut, simply giving Sae a double-thumbs-up. He’s going to ace this new assignment, and then maybe he’ll actually be paid what he’s worth instead of pennies on the dime.
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You’re about to call out Sae’s name when you realize that for some reason, both Aiku and Sae are standing there and waiting for you. You furrow your brow, because it’s both a menacing and a comical sight — the hulking Aiku, who looks like he’s about to go punch a criminal on television before flipping his hair and telling the ladies that there’s enough of him to go around, and the slender Sae Itoshi, who you can’t imagine doing anything but slamming a winning pass to one of his teammates, invariably leading to a soccer ball in his opponent’s net.
“Uh, hello,” you say.
“Hello,” Aiku says.
“Hi,” Sae says.
“I have your drink,” you say to Sae.
“I know,” he says, taking it from your hand. Of course — why else would they be here? They must’ve seen you finishing up the drink and rightly assumed that it was theirs.
“Right,” you say. Neither of them go to leave, and now you wonder if they just don’t understand social cues or something like that. “Did you guys want to order something else? My coworker would be happy to take you at the counter.”
“No,” Sae says.
“Okay,” you say slowly. “Well, I hope you enjoy your drinks.”
“We will,” Sae says with the utmost of confidence. Aiku groans and then thumps him on the back. You have a feeling you probably don’t want to know what the significance of the gesture is, but then you realize that this is probably the only chance you’ll get to have a proper conversation with Sae Itoshi, so you shove your concerns aside.
“Wait! If it doesn’t bother you too much, can I ask you a question?” you say. It’s an incredibly awkward way of going about it, but given how awkward this entire interaction has been, you don’t think it’s a huge deal. 
“Go ahead,” Aiku says. You weren’t asking him, but you guess the permission covers them both, so you square your shoulders and face Sae Itoshi, who seems entirely confused that you’re looking at him instead of Aiku. You’re not sure why he would be, since between the two of them he’s the celebrity, but maybe there’s some weird dynamic going on that you’re unaware of.
It doesn’t matter to you, though. You only have one thing to ask. You’ll never cross paths with Sae again, will you? So it’s fine. You can act a little embarrassing, and anyways, you barely make above minimum wage, so if your manager gets too upset and fires you for ‘unprofessional conduct’ or something, it won’t be a huge loss. It’ll be worth it, even, considering this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance and your coworker is busy reorganizing the storeroom like you told him to, so he’s not around to spy on you and report back to your stodgy old manager.
Taking a deep breath, you open your mouth and begin to speak. 
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Aiku hadn’t dared to even dream of the possibility that the barista might already like Sae, too. Why would she? Sae had just been all weird and rude to her in the couple of times that they had spoken, so all in all she’d have to be somewhat of a masochist, or a Re Al fan (which was essentially the same thing, given the losing streak that Re Al had been on for the last month or so), to be into him. But sometimes miracles did happen and baristas were masochists, because the girl was turning to Sae with shimmering eyes and a hopeful expression and it was all going to go so well—
“What are you even doing in Japan in the first place?”
Did he hear her right? Sae is bewildered as well, but Y/N isn’t acting like she’s just asked the most ridiculous question she could’ve possibly asked. What is Sae doing in Japan? Well, he happens to be a citizen of the nation, so there’s one explanation…Aiku wants to facepalm, because now his plans have been ruined and Sae’s confidence has probably been crushed.
“Pardon?” Sae says. Aiku had told him not to act so cranky and old-man-ish when he approaches the girl, but honestly, at this point, there’s no helping him, so he doesn’t even bother with a correction.
“Why are you in Japan?” she says again, all bright and innocent and cheery. It somehow feels like she’s been faking things so far, and that this is the real her, which she’s been holding back up until this point. Aiku isn’t so sure if that’s a good thing; privately, he believes it would’ve been better if she kept holding back just a little bit longer. Long enough for her to reject Sae — who still claims he’s not into her and is just trying to ‘be friendly’, as if friendliness is something he’s well known for — and then move on with her day.
“My passport expired?” Sae says, phrasing it more like a question. “So I had to come back and get it renewed?”
His voice ticks up at the end of every sentence unsurely. It’s almost cute, like he’s a little baby chick. Aiku’s fond of chicks, so he decides he’ll step in. Just this once.
“He’s visiting from Spain to play for the Japanese U-20 team in an upcoming exhibition match,” he explains.
“Oh, wow,” she says. “But I thought you said you would rather give up on soccer or play with German college kids than ever play soccer for Japan?”
Aiku raises an eyebrow. He wasn’t aware of such sentiments, and though he’s not exactly shocked, he can’t help feeling a bit miffed. When he glances over at Sae, there’s not a trace of remorse on his face, and so he wrinkles his nose.
Forget the raise and the baby-chick-esque mannerisms alike. He’s done helping this ungrateful, no-good, lame-as-hell, girl-repelling loser for free. If Sae wants any further assistance, he’ll have to beg for it. 
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“How did you know I said that?” Sae says. You clap your hand over your mouth when you realize you’ve exposed yourself.
“I, um, I was just guessing!” you say.
“Guessing?” he repeats. You swear, because that’s actually a worse explanation than the original one, and then you hang your head, because if the cat’s out of the bag, then there’s no way you can put it back in.
“It’s a quote from one of your interviews,” you mumble.
“What?” It’s Aiku, who immediately frowns when he realizes he’s butted in. Sae gives him an odd look out of the corner of his eye.
“I’m a big fan of yours,” you say. “The last game you played in, when you stole the ball from that Bastard München striker, was amazing! To tell you the truth, I’ve been trying to figure out why you’re in the area instead of back in Madrid. It’s a little unbelievable, you see.”
“Ah,” Sae says, and for some reason he looks uncomfortable. “Well. Yeah. It was just the issues with my passport and all. I decided to play for the U-20s because I was offered a good deal, but it’s right back to Madrid for me after that.”
“That makes sense,” you say. It’s awkward again, but in a different way. You don’t know what to say. You don’t think he does either. His drink is probably cold now, and you’re surprised that Aiku’s eyes aren’t stuck in the back of his head, given how frequently he’s been rolling them. “Can I have your autograph?”
“No,” Sae says immediately. You’re a little taken aback, and to be honest, he looks kind of horrified himself, but you know better than to nag, so you only nod at him.
“No worries—” you begin before you’re cut off by a grumbling Aiku.
“He’ll give you his number instead. Here,” Aiku says, listing off a series of digits too rapidly for you to remember. “He’ll write it down, for you, right, Sae?”
And then, to your utter disbelief, Sae Itoshi is pulling out a pen and a piece of paper from who knows where, and he’s humming in agreement.
“Right,” he says, and then he’s handing you a note with his phone number written on it in neat print and his signature in flowing cursive. “You can call me later. If you want. Y/N.”
The way he speaks is stilted and low, but you don’t mind it. Tucking the piece of paper into your apron pocket, you beam at him.
“Alright,” you say. “I’ll call you. I still have more things to ask you, so it’s good that you gave me this.”
“Yes,” Sae says. “Yes, you can do that if you’d like.”
Then he and Aiku are leaving the coffee shop, their drinks in hand, and you’re standing there in awe, wondering if that actually just happened or if it was nothing but a particularly vivid flight of fancy. 
If it’s the latter, then you almost hope it’s one you don’t ever escape from. 
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“You’re welcome,” Aiku says as they leave the cafe. 
“I didn’t say thank you, you lukewarm oaf,” Sae says. Aiku shrugs. He’s hard to ruffle, after all. It’s the reason why he stepped in and rescued Sae from that little mistake of his. He just couldn’t bear the thought of his dear junior losing the girl of his dreams because of a slip of his tongue, even if aforementioned junior is the insufferable smart-ass type.
Well, the thought of the money he’ll make if Sae speaks of him highly to the JFU doesn’t hurt, either, but that’s less altruistic, so he prefers to stick to the first explanation.
“I bet you feel it, though,” Aiku says.
“Shut up,” Sae says. 
It’s a good thing babies are born every minute. Otherwise, given how frequently Sae says that particular phrase, Aiku really might run out of things to count on. 
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You’ve typed the number on the piece of paper into your phone, and now you’re staring at it blankly, wondering if you should press the green call button. What if it was a prank? What if it wasn’t? Because then you’ll have to actually talk to Sae Itoshi, and you’re not so sure you can do that.
In a fit of inspiration, you slam your index finger against your screen and hold your phone up to your ear. It rings a couple of times, each subsequent one worsening the pit in your stomach, but then it stops ringing entirely, which can only mean one thing: Sae, if this really is his number, has answered.
“Hello?” you say.
“Hello?” he responds. “Y/N?”
“Yes!” you say. “It’s me. Y/N. Like you said.”
“Cool,” he says. “It’s Sae. Which I guess you knew, since you called me.”
“The confirmation was nice,” you say, internally sighing in relief. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” he says. It’s mannerly but also a little sarcastic, albeit not in a mean way. You don’t mind it much. “You said you had to ask me some things?”
The two of you spend the next few minutes in a setting kind of like an interview, in that you drill him with questions and he answers them all patiently. He’s kind about it, humoring you even though he doesn’t have to, and he never threatens to hang up, which you do appreciate.
“Would you mind if I ask a question, too?” he says when you’ve taken a break to drink some water.
“Go ahead! Although I’m not as interesting as you are,” you say.
“I think you’re probably way more interesting,” he admits. “Anyways. Are you free next weekend?”
“Uh, I think I have a shift on Saturday, but to be honest, my coworker owes me, so he can cover it. Why?” you say.
“The exhibition game that I’m playing with the U-20s for. You should come watch,” he says.
“Oh! Sure, where should I get tickets? I’d have gotten them already if I knew you were playing,” you say.
“I’m allowed to invite someone,” he says. “Friends or family. So I’m inviting you.”
“Don’t you have actual friends that you can invite?” you say before gasping. “Sorry! Sorry, that was super insensitive and rude of me. Of course I’m honored to come, I’m just confused about why I’m the one you’re inviting. Me. I’ve literally made coffee for you twice, and that’s about it.”
“Yeah, that’s true,” he says before pausing. “Um, look, Aiku told me to say this, so if it’s uncomfortable, then blame him…but I think you’re, er, beautiful?”
Your mind short-circuits. “Huh?”
“I don’t know! He’s the one who has experience, I’m just taking his advice!” Sae says, his tone souring immediately afterwards. “Trust me, it’s not like I want to. There’s many things I’d rather do than follow Oliver Aiku’s advice, but at the moment, it’s the best I can do.”
“Beautiful,” you repeat. It’s such an elegant adjective. You’ve been called pretty before, and there’s been a fair share of guys who have considered you to be hot, but beautiful…it’s nice. It’s really nice.
“Yeah,” Sae finally says. “Basically.”
“I’ll be there,” you say. There’s something like a scream bubbling in your throat, but you fight it back, knowing that it’s of the utmost importance that you maintain a relaxed demeanor.
“Great,” Sae says. “See you.”
“See you,” you say, and then you hang up before he can say anything further, because you’re already on the verge of combustion and you don’t think you can handle anything more.
Throwing your phone across the room, you give in and scream. There’s thundering footsteps, and then your father is throwing the door to your bedroom open, whipping his head around wildly.
“Is everything alright? Why are you screaming?” he says, heaving for breath, probably because he just sprinted from his spot on the couch to your bedroom in record time.
“Sae Itoshi!” you say.
“Yes?” he says, the rate of his inhales and exhales lowering as he realizes there’s no active threat to your life or property. “What about him?”
“He told me I’m beautiful and invited me to watch his game next weekend,” you say, knowing that this is going to make your father — a fellow Re Al fan — freak out.
You wait, counting down as he processes the news, unable to contain your exuberant grin, knowing exactly what’s coming. Three, two, one—
“What?”
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tinytennisskirt · 3 months ago
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easy
summary: little blurb about fwb!reader coming to tell fwb!patrick zweig that she’s pregnant and that she’s not keeping the baby. he’s there. and that theme carries over to the fact he’s always there. and so are you. and so are your real feelings. you should probably start dating after this one tbh
warnings: mentions of pregnancy and abortion, kissing, mentions of sex, fluff/comfort
“i’m pregnant,” you sighed, palms downturned and shaking just a little. “and i’ve only had sex with you, so it has to be yours. and i’m sorry.”
you hadn’t seen patrick in two weeks. you needed time to think about this, overthink, stress, cry about, and call up your best friend to bring you pregnancy tests. you took three and they were all positive. you’d been having sex with patrick for about nine months, strictly friends with benefits, heavy on the friends part because you really truly were meant for each other.
it was whenever it felt right. and you were careful just not careful enough. three tests and $67 later, you knew you were pregnant. it was hard to ignore those feelings that crept up about having his baby, really having it. it was a weird feeling. but you tried to silence those emotions- friends with benefits was good. was semi-solid. was casual. but it never really was casual, not from the very beginning. dating, but not dating at the same time was a messy thing, but this made things feel so much more cut and dry. pristine.
you hadn’t been to his apartment in two weeks and four days.
patrick rubbed his left eye and looked at you standing outside his apartment door. you had to tell him. you couldn’t sleep if you didn’t tell him. that’s why you were there. “you’re funny,” he hummed tiredly. “are you sleeping here tonight?”
“patrick.”
“i heard what you said but it’s 4 in the morning and i’ve missed you so are you sleeping here?” he couldn’t help but mumble. his hair was a mess, his shirt was wrinkled and half-raised to the left, over the v of his pelvis. he was walking porn. no wonder you were fucking pregnant. he missed you? he missed you.
“okay,” you nodded, a little taken aback by how cool he was with this. you worked up the nerve to tell him, you worked up the nerve to even get here to his building. his body turned, his arm stayed outstretched beckoning you into his dark apartment. the second the door was shut behind you, his big hand gently pulled you along by the crook of your waist. your voice lowered, “patrick…”
“mmm- shut up,” he said quietly in return. he pulled you to his bed, the bed you hadn’t been in for two weeks now. you missed his bed. you missed him too. his hands pulled your jacket off and it hit the floor with a small thud. along with your purse. and your shoes were gone along the way. he pulled you over the bed, into bed with him, pulling you under the covers, even.
you sighed something of relief, which felt like a breath but really, it was a sob. his arm snaked around your waist as it happened so he felt your body shake. his lips pressed to the exposed skin at the base of your neck, his arm tightened around you. he didn’t react fully but this act, not speaking for two weeks and suddenly pulling you to bed, it felt okay. it felt good. like nothing was wrong. nothing had to be wrong.
“i’m sorry,” you said quietly. but he pulled you closer again.
“it’s okay,” he answered with a whisper. he held you tight, held you away from crying fully, though two tears did roll down your cheek. “promise.”
you sniffed gently and hushed. your hands clasped over his and you after a few sleepless nights you found it easy to fall asleep in his arms. he smelled good. like himself, cologne and a little bit of smoke. you missed this, you missed him. this whole whirlwind of finding out you were pregnant, it was a lot. and you couldn’t bring yourself to see him. and that was fine. he made sure you felt it as he pressed his lips to the back of your neck again and his thumb caressed your hand. he didn’t let up once, or not once that you noticed as you fell asleep with him like it was the easiest thing in the world.
the morning crept in and he was still intertwined with your body. thin streams of light across his floor unable to peek through the dark curtains over his windows. he held you through the night, giving you no room to be alone or cold. he was warm, cradling you slightly, his lips now pressed to the top of your head. you could hear his breathing soft, slow. it was quiet. peaceful. and you felt the best you had in weeks. safe.
you didn’t stay awake much longer, falling back into sleep, much needed sleep. you woke again and he wasn’t there. you stirred, a little disappointed to find he wasn’t still right next to you, but curious to know why. you sighed, rubbing your eye and sitting up. the alarm clock read 10:47 am. you slept in.
with soft feet on the carpeted floor, you stood and walked slowly out to the bedroom door, opening it and being met with his apartment, windows unblocked by curtains. you braced against the brightness and looked around the moment you had the eyes to. patrick wasn’t anywhere. you gently looked into the bathroom, but he wasn’t there either.
you wandered to the kitchen and rubbed your eye as you looked in the fridge. on the milk, eye level, was a yellow sticky note.
getting lunch. don’t eat my food.
- p
you grinned and pressed your hand to your forehead. you still felt like crying. he wasn’t angry. he wasn’t upset. you really thought he would be… but he wasn’t. you sat on the couch, knees to your chest. you’d spend nights overthinking and everything was okay. you took a good few deep breaths. things were okay.
you watched something on his tv while you waited. he was back within ten minutes, carrying two bags. breakfast sandwiches and a few pastries he knew you loved from the one place around the corner. that and the best decaf mocha you would ever have. he sat on the couch, putting the food on his coffee table.
“i’m sorry i showed up at 4am,” you said, biting into your food. you saw the corner of patrick’s mouth twitch just a little. “and that i slept in.”
“i’ve never cared about that. i’m worse.” he smiled at you. he liked his food, taking a big bite of his sandwich. it was very like him. you missed him. you smiled, swallowing.
“thank you for letting me stay over. i know the last two weeks i’ve been MIA, but i was scared and figuring things out… i feel awful.” you confessed. he finished chewing, nodding at you, trying to swallow enough to say the words.
he shook his head when he was free of the food in his mouth, looking at you a little sideways. he cleared his throat, “what? no, i get it.”
“you get it.”
“don’t be sorry.”
you smiled, “okay,” and you nodded. you looked at your food, a beat passed, “i really thought we were careful.” you said.
“me too,” he agreed. he gestured with his food in his hand, “but whatever choice you’re… making. i just want to know.”
“i know,” you nodded. “i wasn’t… i’m not sure.”
he nodded, “i did miss you.”
“i missed you too.” you told him. he took a bite of his sandwich. “if i get an abortion, are you still going to miss me?” he swallowed his bite.
“i always miss you.” he told you, deadpan. you couldn’t help the smile that spread up your face. the conversation paused as you bit into the strawberry pastry. he fought a smile, lip continuing to twitch upward. you held it to his mouth and he shook his head at you, smile slightly seeping out as he took a bite. you nodded, fighting your own smile. he cleared his throat again, “it’s okay if you do. and if you don’t, i’ll be okay.”
“patrick, i don’t want to keep it.”
he paused, then nodded, smiling. “okay, good. that’s good. thank god.”
you grinned back at him. and you started laughing. it was a giggle at first, but it caught him. he chuckled, and it turned into a laugh matching yours. you leaned into his shoulder, hand resting on his knee. his laughter was full and loud and blended with yours. his hand rested on the side of your head, holding, steadying as his hand slid down to the side of your face. and he closed that space between you, kissing you the way he always did. you missed this. so much.
you melted easily into it. it was everything you needed. for now, anxiety was miles away. booking an appointment would be miles away too. it was just him here and now. “mm-“ he kissed you again. “patrick-“
“yeah?” he hardly left your lips.
“you’ll come with me when i-“
“yeah.”
“that’s not asking too much?”
“no,” he shook his head. “you’re going to make me say something you and i are both going to hate if you ask shit like that. i said i missed you, i meant i missed you. don’t make me say more than that.” he wasn’t serious.
“no, i won’t, i promise,” you sighed. relief, true, nearly full relief filled your lungs. air seemed clearer. “i just… patrick.”
“yeah?” he pushed your hair behind your ear.
“thank you.”
the process wasn’t bad. it was uncomfortable but patrick was there before and after. kept you on your feet. he laid down next to you in bed, arms folded over his chest, back against the pillows, legs crossed at the ankle. “what’s it feel like?”
“like a stitch and a cramp and a stomachache all at the same time,” you replied. “but it’s good to know.”
“it is good to know,” he nodded, looking over at you. “no kids.”
“no kids,” you smiled. silence, comfortable, filled the space between. patrick’s eyes stayed trained on you. you looked over, met his eyes. he had such gorgeous eyelashes, if you’d have kept the baby you’d always hope the baby would have his eyelashes. you smiled just the slightest bit. this whole thing had softened patrick, you noticed it. you saw it in those eyes he looked back at you with. a vulnerability you hadn’t known from him.
he blinked, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek. “if you hadn’t found that out- if it didn’t happen, would you have come back?” he asked. “here.”
“to you?” you asked. his eyes were strong. he nodded. you pressed your lips together, only taking a second to respond. “i think so.” you nodded affirmatively.
“i’ll take that.” he smiled. “after this, though. you’re still going to miss me, right?”
“am i going somewhere?”
“i’m hoping not,” he smirked a little. “i was meaning to ask if you’d be my girlfriend, don’t let me forget to ask before you go, though.”
you shook your head, “patrick zweig having a girlfriend is crazy.”
“you’re just lucky,” patrick replied. it hurt to laugh. the unspoken ‘yes’ hung in the air. you knew it, he knew it. a year of being casual, a year of repressed feelings made this an easy thing to know. you’d been through so much. it seemed easy. “first one in forever.”
“you sleep around too much,” you teased back. he kissed you to muffle your laugh. it was strong, but somehow gentle at the same time. “okay, okay, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean it.”
he shook his head at you, dimples in his perfect smile crawling up his face. the banter went on for a while, that perfect matched energy and a little too much laughter. it hurt every time, but you couldn’t help it. not with him. after a while, you got closer to him and he only got up to get you water, getting back into bed to pull the covers up. his arms wrapped around you the way they always did, slinking around your waist, resting comfortably and cautiously away from any part of you that was sore. but he still held you, having his face rest perfectly in the crook of your neck. it was good to rest easy, entirely. there was nothing to worry about.
your fingers intertwined with his. and knowing the worst has passed, feeling the hum of the medications you were on, and the overall stress of the day, falling asleep next to him was the easiest thing to do.
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simonisferal · 2 months ago
Text
somebody’s watching me — ghostface scaramouche x gn reader
warnings: stalking, nothing really happens ^^, small cliffhanger, mainly just dialogue tbh,
notes: i’ve never watched scream so im just going off of my dick and youtube summarys😭
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the thirty-first of october was never a big deal to you. it just meant that more people would be wearing masks and others slutty cat costumes that showed more skin that you’d like.
kids would ring your door bell and even occasionally ding-dong-ditch your property, thinking it was funny.
as much as you’d enjoy the holiday in the comfort of your own home, your roommate was rather keen of going to a costume party that won’t be over till five in the morning—meaning: you’ll be home alone for the whole night.
that’s not a bad idea, right?
they left earlier than you’d like, around four in the afternoon to help set up some things. you didn’t really care—it just gave you more freedom, even thought you’ll probably just coop yourself in your room.
downstairs, in the kitchen, you had the liberty of foraging through the fridge to make yourself something. it hadn’t even been a few hours but you felt a little bit sceptic.
what type of party needs to be prepared for at four? maybe a big one, you reason, but the aching feeling didn’t leave. you’re going crazy.
you sigh, closing the fridge. there’s nothing good in there—let alone still fresh. the snacks in the pantry sound so good right now…
but before you could even glance over to the snacks, the phone rang. it wasn’t yours; it was a house-phone, built with the wires of your shared home.
you usually ignored calls but with the growing suspicion in your mind, you cautiously picked it up.
on the other line, at first, was only heavy breathing. it made you cringe just a tad bit. it was low and disturbing and you had the urge to just hang up right then, right there.
but you didn’t and then, “hey, y/n.”
you pause. you didn’t know the person but they knew you. it was… offputting, to say the least.
”hey….” ignoring the voice crack, you continue. “do i know you?”
there was an awkward silence and you subconsciously leaned in closer to hear better. the voice spoke once more, “maybe you do, maybe you don’t.” that’s so helpful.
you roll your eyes. ”that’s not creepy at all.” you considered hanging up, but what else did you have left to do in the house? you would’ve just been stuck there, alone.
the person on the phone spoke again, their voice hitching a bit—they might be using a voice-changer. “wanna take a guess?”
"do i want to take a guess at a rando calling me on halloween?" you lean on the wall, your boredom tempting you to play with the phone string.
there was another silence over the phone before a small laugh come out. it sounded slightly forced, like it was awkward.
"you didn't answer my question. come on—guess." their voice was eager, like a small child who just asked you 'guess what' with the biggest grin on their faces.
"i don't know—why don't you give me a hint?"
"but where's the fun in that? come on," they edged you on, "i'll give you three tries."
they wasn't taking no for an answer.
it was truly a dumb idea to stay on the line with them—they weren't even telling you their name. "fine," you submit to the 'game' they were playing.
"are you a certain ginger?"
"ajax? oh please... guess again." they knew one of your close friends, which now that you think about it, isn't a really hard thing to know.
"yelan?" it could be, but then again would she really waster her time with this? the answer wasn't definite, so it'd be best to get it out of the way.
"pulling out the big guns, huh?" they teased. their voice grew a tiny bit louder, as if they were pulling the phone closer to themselves, and it rang with a small echo as they spoke. "one try left, sweetie. make it count."
you scoff, a slight feeling of perception getting to you. the house felt cold and the phone felt like a bright fire, burning you but you couldn't pull away. "can you give me a hint? i'm working with nothing."
there was a pause over the phone. their breath stopped before it was wheezed out into a laugh.
"you can't figure it out? you're pulling my leg here..!"
you shouldn't be too stressed out over this. the mere conversation barely had lasted minutes but it had felt likes hours by now. you gulp and, with sweaty hands, grab the phone tighter against your ear. the feeling your being watched only increases and your eyes start darting places you'd never really consider suspicious.
the windows were faintly open but you could still see out of them. the front door didn't have a blind or curtain drooped over it so the view was certain. even the small gap in your floorboards felt nauseating.
"come on. give me a hint or i'll hang up." you threaten.
they were quick. "don't hang up."
"why not?"
an eerie silence came. not a slight hitch, no heavy breathing, no wheezed out voices.
the wind began to breeze, as if it knew you were terrified. the bushes shook and the trees grew faintly touched by it.
"what's your favorite scary movie?" as if you weren't scared enough, they had to ask that.
you shuddered. you pressed your back against the wall, hesitantly responding in a rushed whisper. "why do you ask?"
"it feels like i should ask." they chimed. "this probably feels like a horrir movie to you, eh?" there was a tiny chuckle at the end of their sentence which only made you scoff.
the voice over the phone continued. "you get a phone call from an unknown number, you pick up and it turns out to be a random person asking you questions. they start getting a little too personal and—well, you can see where i'm going with this."
you scoff, trying to maintain a look of confidence like you're not scared shitless. "that only happens in movies."
a pause was quick to come, again, before they talked. the playful and eager tone was gone, now just a taint of irritation and boredom. "does it, now?
look to the right."
your breath hitches. your back subconsciously tried to push your further against the wooden walls, trying to sink and hide from whatever was there. "i don't want to."
"i'm not asking."
"m-make me." you stutter out. it was definitely a bad idea to say that, but you didn't dwell on it for too long as they—or he, now spoke.
the voice changer was off, no—it wasn't coming from the phone. it was from your porch. the door was locked but he still had the decency to knock.
he seemed to ignore your indecent comment. "i'm gonna ask you again. you wanna take a guess at who i am before—eh, that'll spoil things..." he scoffed shortly after, a small shadow showing his motion from the late sun's set.
his voice was clear now and it was terrifying. how couldn't you have guessed was beyond your biggest problem.
"...scara. that's...you, isn't it."
"took you long enough, but i'm not one to hold grudges. just open the door and we'll talk." his tone was shallow. the words echoed in your ears like he was everywhere yet nowhere at the same time. just how crazy is he?
"leave me alone, scara. i don't want to talk." your hands slipped away from the phone, letting it sway in the air and taking a small step back. you might've forgotten he could see you—"y/n. where do you think you're going?
surely you're not running from me. come on, we're such old friends! you can't leave me hanging now."
his voice grew more impatient at your ignorance.
"y/n, come on! you can't run or hide from me. i know where to look. open the damn door or i'll force myself in there."
he scoffs, loud enough for you, wherever you are, to hear.
"shit—y/n, you bitch. i'm finding you one way or a-fucking-nother." he fiddles with the front door's doorknob. it was scrambled by the aggressive pounding on your door.
it was loud but you doubted your neighbors, gone for trick or treating in the richer neighborhoods, heard it. you were alone.
the voice didn't stop, only seemingly getting louder and louder. the knocks turned into bashes of force you would assume came from slamming his head against the wood. too much was happening and your heart didn't stop racing.
questions filled your mind as to why he was there.
why?!
surely what you did wasn't that bad! it was a prank, a silly old prank.
anyone could've pulled it—everyone else did do it, so why were you so different?!
why were you, maybe even, first?!
it startled you, every pulse, every kick, every scream, every echo, every slam, every fucking little sound he made unti it stopped.
it finally stopped.
you were okay.
he was gone.
he gave up.
he quit.
you're not in danger anymore.
you're safe to come out now. he won't hurt you.
the faint footsteps you heard back away from the carpeted floors only fueled your thinking. the floorboards creaked as you slightly shifted, even more as he walked off.
your breath was unnecessarily heavier now, even though you'd managed to calm down. the faint voices in your mind, repeating his words, only grew stronger.
the footsteps from the carpeted floor grew louder and louder, so had the breathing you figured out wasn't even your own, and the voices in your head weren't from your head.
they stopped soon enough, only leaving an echo from where you were hiding.
"you should've chosen a better hiding spot. remember those words?
you thought it was hilarious to watch me suffer, didn't you?"
the creaking and the silence stomps grew louder. the breathing was quieter as if trying to scare you more than you were already.
"too bad, you're as easy to stalk as you are easy to read. maybe we could've talk if you had answered the door."
108 notes · View notes
stovetoast · 6 months ago
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pillow tpot headcanons (long ramble expanding on the ocd part under the cut)
ok so first warning: i am not a psychiatrist. this isnt a super educated essay on ocd, just me projecting my lived experience onto an object show character. this is just an observation. if i get something wrong feel free to correct me, ill add it here. (its also worth noting i am self diagnosed. not "quick google search" self dx though, ive gone over it with a therapist and everything)
and that leads into the second warning: this ramble will get a tad bit personal sorryyyy
and finally the third warning: i put she/it on the ref but im just using she/her for simplicity (+ i forgot LOL(
anyway so yeah i think that pillow has ocd and is basically the embodiment of "letting intrusive thoughts win" except like. actually. this headcanon didnt stem from the killing or the strange impulses though, i think she has it because of her fixation on good and bad luck in tpot 10.
for me it manifests in a few different ways. my main one is counting—i have good luck numbers and bad luck numbers. i need to take a specific number of snacks every time i have a bowl of them. i have to shake medicine bottles a certain amount of times before taking them. i am always counting the "syllables" of whatever im doing, and it always has to land on a multiple/factor of my lucky number. and if i break any of this, i (generally, if i cant convince myself its fine or if i dont notice) have to count to my lucky number otherwise something bad will happen. hell, i added more flags to this ref because the number of them was my unlucky number.
i have a few other things that affect it that are completely unrelated to counting, though. like a particularly bad one is that i straight up cant wear certain articles or clothing anymore because theyre bad luck. or my ungodly long night routine (which is probably more of an autism thing tbh. but certain parts of it are absolutely influenced by the ocd, like having to say goodnight to my dog).
that ^^ is what i saw in pillow. she was distraught that her team lost in 9, because not only did she think she was doing the challenge right, but killing people (bringing death) was good luck for her.
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i think her killing people was a compulsion, and her whole thing in 10 was her scrambling to find a new one after that stopped working.
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and before anyone tries to be all like "oh thats fucked up why would they portray ocd like that," one: i dont think this was on purpose this was just an observation, two: i mean..... fuck dude if i lived in a world where revival was incredibly accessible and one of my compulsions were to kill people, id do the same thing. death is fairly normal in bfdi, to the point everyone literally has a kill count on the fandom wiki (hers is 13 as of tpot 11 btw, a commonly unlucky number ironically enough. if she gets eliminated in 12 with an unlucky kill count thatd be so funny). once they get past the pain, its. really just an inconvenience to them.
when it comes to ocd, you. HAVE to do these things. its not a choice until you can get some outside help with it, and oftentimes its an inconvenience to those around you. i dont think its right for her to be going around killing her team, but when i get past the fact that is literally what made her my favorite, i get where shes coming from. shes trying to help in a way she "knows" will work.
or maybe shes just silly idk
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ghostpebble · 18 days ago
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SONIC MOVIE 3 SPOILERS AND RANT BELOW :)
SOBBING. SOBBING. SOBBING. WATCHED IT YESTERDAY AND I WAS CRYING THE WHOLE MOVIE BECAUSE THEY USED IT. THEY USED LIVE AND LEARN. AND NOT JUST ONCE. A MOTIF. THEY GAVE SHADOW A LIVE AND LEARN MOTIF. I AM EXTREMELY INDESCRIBABLY HAPPY. LET'S FUCKING GO
PLUS: EGGMAN'S MOTIF!!! IT WAS HERE!! THEY USED IT!! AND IT WAS ORCHESTRAL. BEAUTIFUL.
SONIC'S ESCAPE FROM THE CITY PLAYED, TOO, BUT NOT AS CONSISTENTLY. BUT ALSO, WHOEVER WROTE IN HAVING SONIC SAY "FOLLOW ME" UH HUH. I SAW YOU. YOU DID THAT ON PURPOSE AND I LOVED IT
I WANT THE DONUT LORD SWEATER. THAT NEEDS TO BE MERCH. I DONT CARE HOW MUCH IT IS. IF SOMEONE MAKES IT DM ME I WANT ONE THANK YOU
SPEAKING OF DONUT LORD. I KNEW THEY WOULDN'T KILL HIM OUTRIGHT BUT OH MY GOD WAS I CONFLICTED. BECAUSE ON ONE HAND, OH MY GOD. SHADOW JUST BROKE LIKE ALL OF TOM'S RIBS. NO PLEASE NO. BUT ON THE OTHER HAND... OH MY GOD. YES. THIS WILL BE PERFECT FOR SONIC AND SHADOW'S PARALLEL.
AGAIN, SPEAKING OF: PARALLELS, SPECIFICALLY THE TIME HOPS IN SHADOW'S MEMORIES OF MARIA. BRUTAL. CRIED THE WHOLE TIME. THAT RECORD PLAYER ONE REALLY GOT ME. GOD DAMN. PLUS, THE PARALLELS FROM TOM'S HEART TALK THE ENTIRE MOVIE AND ESPECIALLY THE MOON SCENE. CRYING. I KNEW IT THE WHOLE TIME BUT STILL. CRYING.
ALSO, OPEN YOUR HEART. SPEAK WITH YOUR HEART. WE'RE WINNING
DAMN: WHY DID EGGMAN GET TO SAY DAMN BUT NOT SHADOW
AND ALSO, NO FAKER! THERE WAS THE CONVO ABOUT WHY DO YOU LOOK LIKE ME, BUT NO FAKER :(( MAYBE NEXT TIME
I MIGHT BE REMEMBERING WRONG, IT MIGHTVE BEEN FROM THE KNUCKLES SERIES I WATCHED BEFORE, BUT OH MY GOD. THE WACHOWSKI KIDS' BEDS. KNUCKLES AND SONIC IN THEIR CARS ARE CUTE, BUT OH MY GOD TAILS AND HIS AIRPLANE.
OSSIE!! MORE OSSIE!! LOVE OSSIE. THANK YOU
CHAO GARDEN! AGENT STONE BEING A BADASS CONSISTENTLY. I LOVED AGENT STONE THIS WHOLE MOVIE. HE REALLY GOT A LOT OF DEVELOPMENT. LOVE HIM. ALSO A LITTLE SAD SONIC DIDN'T END UP WEARING A SPEED OR DARK CHAO MASK TO LOOK LIKE HIMSELF OR SHADOW, MISSED POTENTIAL :( STILL FUNNY
WALTERS' DEATH WAS UNEXPECTED TO ME NGL, JUST BECAUSE IT WAS SO ABRUPT. LIKE... OKAY. I GUESS. COOL. MAN'S DEAD.
THE MARIA BEING PULLED BY SHADOW ON SKATES. EVERYTHING MARIA. EVEN WITHOUT THE ILLNESS, THAT WAS THE PERFECT MARIA AND SHADOW DUO. YES
TBH, I LIKED THE GERALD AND IVO DUO. IT WAS SILLY. THEY WERE THE COMEDY IN AN OTHERWISE VERY HEAVY MOVIE STILL SOMEWHAT AIMED AT KIDS. SOME THINGS HAD ME LAUGHING BECAUSE IT WAS SO WRONG, LIKE THE SPANKING AND HOW GERALD JUST GOT ZAPPED LIKE A FLY IN AN ELECTRIC SWATTER. ALSO, EASY TO EXPLAIN GERALD'S AGE, HE KEPT LICKING SHADOW'S QUILL, WHICH IS LIKELY WHAT KEPT HIM ALIVE SO LONG. SO YEAH. I DIDNT THINK IT WAS BAD, MAYBE A LITTLE WEIRD, BUT THATS THE ROBOTNIK FAMILY'S THING
SHADOW'S "BOO." ENOUGH SAID
DID SHADOW REALLY HAVE TO SLAM SONIC'S FACE INTO THE GLASS LIKE THAT LMAO
ALSO SHADOW KICKED TAILS!!! THE STREAK CONTINUES
IT IS NOT LOST ON ME THAT SONIC'S POV BEGINS AT HIS B-EARTH-DAY PARTY. FUN REFERENCE TO GENERATIONS
LIVE AND LEARN. STILL HAPPY. JUST WANTED TO SAY IT AGAIN. THE WHOLE DOUBLE SUPER SCENE AND THEIR OWN FIGHT AND THE FIGHT AGAINST THE BOTS. EVERYTHING. PERFECTION. SOBBED. THE SUN RISE AND LOVE STILL EXISTING EVEN AFTER THE SOURCE IS GONE LIKE THE LIGHT. STILL SOBBING
THE WAY THEY HAD ROBOTNIK LEFT ON THE STATION LEAVES ME TO BELIEVE THEY LEFT IT OPEN ENDED ON IF HE LIVED SO THAT JIM CARREY HAD THE OPTION TO COME BACK, AND THATS FINE BY ME :)
PISSED ON THE MOON AND THE BROADCAST?? AND IT WAS A BROADCAST FOR STONE SPECIFICALLY??? WE ARE SO FUCKING BACK
SHADOW'S INHIBITORS. YES. HIM FALLING TO EARTH, ALTHOUGH DIFFERENT FROM THE GAME. YES. YES. YES.
1ST POST CREDIT OF METAL SONIC AND THE MISS AMY ROSE. HELL YEAH. IM SO HYPED. METAL LOOKS ABSOLUTELY AMAZING AND AMY IS SO CUTE. WONDERING HOW THAT'LL LEAD INTO THE NEXT MOVIE THOUGH?? WHO KNOWS
2ND POST CREDIT WITH PARALLELS?? WITH SHADOW LANDING ON EARTH IN A FIELD ALL ALONE FOR A SECOND TIME, THIS TIME MAYBE AMNESIAC AND HAVING TO ADJUST TO EARTH AGAIN?? OH MY GOD?? I WAS SO HAPPY THEY DIDN'T END UP JUST KILLING HIM OFF, ALTHOUGH IT WOULDVE BEEN REALLY GOOD. IF HE HAD DIED THOUGH, HE PROBABLY WOULDVE GOTTEN A LAST WORD IN TO MARIA ANYWAY, BUT STILL GLAD HE'S IN IT TO WIN IT
PLUS SHADOW SPIN OFF SERIES!! AND NEXT MOVIE IN 2027. THANK YOU KEANU FOR MAKING OUR FIRST MOVIE DREAMS COME TRUE, THANK YOU SONIC MOVIE TEAM, THANK YOU ALL CAST
THIS WAS MY TED TALK THANK YOU FOR READING
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panthrology · 9 months ago
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ok first off love the geto fic!!!!! but i was thinking geto checking readers attitude. shes been on one all day and he just is finally over it. (maybe pussy slapping if comfortable with)
hii ‼️ thank you so much, appreciate the love from everyone 🙈☺️ MWAH
context
cw : pussy slapping & brat taming. that's it tbh.
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but yeah anon I hear ya. though since suguru's generally on the more chill side, I don't feel like he'd brat tame you in a way that's more hands on..at first.
in fact I think his way of brat taming you is simply doing nothing in your favor until you cave.
I doubt he'd mind at first, simply taking the unnecessary arguments, eyerolls, and snide comments all day. maybe even return your energy back a little.
but as time goes on his patience would thin, and your bad attitude would gradually start to piss him off. love takes patience, he knows that much; but when you bug him about this, or that in an argumentative manner with no valid reason, he finds you difficult to put up with.
especially after that little stunt you pulled last night.
“hey.” suguru interrupts your meaningless rant about him buying almond milk instead of regular milk and blah blah blah. if you really gave a fuck, you would've joined him on the grocery shopping.
“is this what we're doin’ right now?”
the ambiguity of his question makes you falter, meeting his gaze which..seems to be unusually intense.
“what?” your face scrunches up in confusion, “what are you even talkin’ about?”
oh, okay. he tongues the inside of his cheek slightly, it's milk for christ's sake.
“don't be like that. you know damn well that you need to fix that attitude and calm down.”
you scoff, not believing that your attitude is the most irksome.
“yeah, ‘cause my attitude is the biggest problem right now. don't piss me off suguru—you can't avoid and evade with your nonchalance out of this one.”
oh.
okay.
“it's like I gotta discipline you like a little girl, d'you even think about that?”
suguru asks, voice breathless as he watches you from above. arm slung over the back of the couch and you—kneeling between his spread knees and gagging with his cock stretching your mouth. “but I bet you didn't even do that. can't think with dick down your throat, can you?”
he sees the dip in your brow and grins, taking pleasure in the current power imbalance between you both. he could get used to this.
but as you raise your head to argue again, he simply keeps a firm hand atop your head, forcing you to take him down deeper. “..it'd be in your best interest not to argue with me, sweetheart.”
fine, you sharply inhale through your nostrils. if you ignore the sodden panties sticking to your skin—pussy calling for his name in morse code, you think you can soften him up a bit.
you suck him, slowly but surely while your hands stroke where your lips can't reach, your challenging gaze meeting suguru's own.
he keeps his hand firm on your head, lips parted and head tilted back against the sofa, making sure he keeps your mouth fully occupied. his toes curl inwards under his socks when you begin to bob your head, pleasure liquifying his legs.
you make a gargled noise when his bulbous tip nudges the back of your throat, reaching another hand further down—right down to give his balls a gentle squeeze.
“fuuckk—mhmm..you know what I like,” he moans in appreciation before closing his fist around your hair in a makeshift ponytail and yanks you off of him. “alright, enough. get up here.”
that didn't take very long, you think.
wiping your mouth from the spit and his pre, you rise with wobbly knees and plop next to him on the couch. he spreads your thighs in no time at all, kneeling between them. you sigh, sinking into the couch while your lids slip shut. waiting for his touch.
but nothing comes.
when you reopen your eyes, a smug suguru stares back at you and even lets a little chuckle slip. “funny how you just assumed that i’d give you what you want after your poor attitude.” suguru's eyes twinkle with amusement, tracing light touches against the gentle curve of your abdomen. gentle, soft, nowhere near enough.
“god, suguru, please! i said i was sorry.” frustration creeps into your tone, and you toss your head back onto the armrest.
“did you?” that simple question and the look he gives you makes you question yourself, the realisation that you in fact did not hit you like a truck.
shamefully, you avert your gaze. “..sorry.”
yet all you get is a head shake from suguru, lips pursed in a thin line, trace, trace, trace.
“the nerve. all that rudeness ‘n for what? i’m nothing but good to you..”
he trails off, observing the way your skin rises when his feather-like touch grazes your belly button, dipping his fingers lower to tug your underwear all the way down, flicking it off your ankle. “i still don't know where you get the audacity.” he smirks.
your pulse quickens, watching the way his knuckles brush against your inner thigh, going up, up.
you feel it before you hear it—a swift ‘smack!’ against your bare cunt has you whimpering and seizing up. the pain knocks you off your guard, before it bleeds into pleasure, the new feeling making you completely disoriented.
once suguru sees your shocked, wide-eyed gaze, his ego swells and he folds his arms, staring you down as if he were daring you to say anything—to backtalk him again.
beats of silence pass and the weight of what suguru just did barely has time to sink in before he does it again. it's wetter this time and has more momentum. the collision you makes your hips jolt violently, and your legs hike up to your chest as you flinch and cry out his name. hot tears slip from their confines and roll down your cheeks.
suguru, however, is having a time. he brings his hand up to the dim lighting of the room, watching your glistening slick coat his fingertips and palm before he speaks, his tone almost scrutinising.
“of course, you'd get wet from me rightfully putting you in your place. nasty girl,” he purrs before popping two fingers into his mouth, the familiar taste of you flooding his senses.
“sugu—” you choke on a little sob, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. you can still feel the sting right on your clit.
“i'm sorry, i'm so so sorry. won't happen again.”
“yeah, it will. you're not foolin’ anybody here.” suguru rolls his eyes, swiping his forefinger against your swollen nub and your legs jitter at the contact. “y'know this is what happens to brats who can't check themselves, right?” he asks rhetorically.
he meets your gaze. “and I like to think that I have a good girl, who can behave in a way that doesn't have to make me do things like this.”
you nod weakly.
“thats what I know.” he nods once and pulls away. “i'll think about accepting your apology, but that depends on how well you can make me cum.” you hate to hear it. it takes everything in you not to groan or roll your eyes..but your heart jumps at the chance of redemption.
“c'mon then, on your knees pretty.”
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© NEPTNSZN 2024 ★ please do NOT copy, repost or modify my pieces, apply credit when necessary.
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raccoonsface · 5 months ago
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“T-Tara?” Pt.2
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____________——————————____________
Words- About 750
Warnings- angst or fluff, idk tbh. Swearing, idk what else
Just to say some stuff, I lost my other emails’ password and that email was connected to my other account so I’m on this one now. Sorry for being gone for so long too!
Summary- Y/n and Tara have a crush on each other and go to great lengths to make sure they have them all to themselves.
————————______________———————-
Part 1
______________————————_____________
“Jeez the suns out early”
Tara has just woken up from her sleep, she was tired from all the running around yesterday.
She almost falls back asleep because of it but then she turns over and takes a look at her clock
“SHIT! ITS 10:30 AM IM LATE FOR SCHOOL”
She rushes to get all of her stuff packed so she can make it to school before lunch, which is at 11:30, so it shouldn’t be that hard… right?
“Okay I’m fucked… I can’t find my keys.”
Oh Well she’s fucked
————————______________———————-
______________————————_____________
Tara’s POV
“I’m gonna fucking die”
I’m not gonna make it there in time, come on Tara run faster. Damn it’s hot out
Fuck I didn’t bring my inhaler, again?!What the fuck Tara, you’re gonna die on the side of the street. I’ve gotta sit down, yeah the sidewalk under this tree looks fine.
“Damn two days in a row”
Is this heaven? Ugh it’s too bright here.
“Hah, no this isn’t heaven Tara” oh it’s Y/n
“Well if it isn’t then what am I doing looking at a goddess” damn what’s going on right now
“Geez don’t you got the pick up lines when you’re literally gasping for air”
She’s funny, and really pretty
“Okay, Tara here you go” Her and that extra inhaler
I mean it definitely feels way better when I can breathe that’s for sure, but every time I look at her I loose my breath anyways so I don’t really see the point in it.
“You good Tara?” So kind
“Huh, oh yeah” me and my dumbass self
“Okay good… what are you doing running out here with a backpack on anyways?” Looking for a princess like you
“Oh- uhm I’m running late for school”
“Huh, I didn’t know there was school on Saturdays” shit of course it’s Saturday, that’s why my alarm didn’t go off.
“Oh… I forgot it was Saturday” oh my god you sound like an idiot Tara!
“Huh, well you need a ride to get home?” I think I’m gonna faint
“Uhm I mean if you’re willing to” Oh. My. God.
“I mean if you want me to” of course I do beautiful.
“Uh I mean yeah sure”
“Okay, yeah, alright uhm my cars over there”
“Right! Right, I gotta get up” oh my god she’s reaching out her hand towards me, oh I’m gonna die when I get home
“Thanks”
“Yeah, no problem” She seems kinda shy.. it’s probably nothing I’m over analyzing
“Damn this car seat is comfy” no like holy shit this is comfy
“Yeah, I know, they’re custom seats.” Of course they are
“Anyways where do you live?” Oh right!
“Oh uhm it’s uhh” me and my damn it stuttering
“You wanna go eat instead? I mean you must be hungry from all that running, and I don’t mean to-“ aww she’s so cute I can’t believe I survived without her before
“I’d love to go out with you- I mean yeah I’m down to go eat with you” what the hell Tara
“Huh, right, anyways where should we go?” Shit I don’t know
“Uhm, let’s go tooooooo…” I have no idea where to go eat
“How about we drive around and figure out where to eat..?” Phew!
“Yeah I think that’s probably the better idea” she’s really smart… she could be my wife..
OKAY NO Tara get yourself together. You cannot do this. But she’s so perfect.. maybe just maybe. I can’t even fight it anymore.. I need her. I need Y/n.
————————______________———————-
Oh my god. A lot has happened in the past two months. The meaning behind this new account is between the warnings and the summary at the top.
Sorry for the short post! They’ll be way more sooner!
I have a three part series for Astrid Deetz, the last two parts will probably come out after the movie is released because I can’t really get much off of her character just from the trailer
Anyways hope you guys have had a nice day!
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envyenvys · 3 months ago
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svsss | one-shot | T | 2.4k | ao3
This is. unreasonably long for what it is. I wrote this whole thing in a day bc I couldn’t stop thinking abt it and it’s so stupid but I hope it’s also as funny as I think it is??? So here, have some post-canon bingqiu nonsense from an outsider pov
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What’s His Fucking Deal
#cucumber-spotting
dick jokes
[screenshot of a text from Peerless Cucumber that reads “Do you still take commissions?”]
passionate ranting
no fucking way
he’s still alive???
binghe obsession
of course this is how we find out
homoerotic undertones
maybe he really was dead and he just rose from the grave to commission art of lbh one last time
in a totally hetero way ofc
binghe obsession
ofc
passionate ranting
after a year?
homoerotic undertones
anything’s possible
binghe obsession
@ dick jokes what did he want anyway
?
homoerotic undertones
@ dick jokes
dick jokes
gimme a minute he’s still explaining
homoerotic undertones
still???
passionate ranting
ooo point for me
homoerotic undertones
no it’s not, that’s just how he talks
it needs to be pidw comment level ranting or it doesn’t count
binghe obsession
probably still a point for me though
homoerotic undertones
shut the fuck up
basically everything he says counts as a point for you
some of us actually need to put effort into our point collecting
binghe obsession
skill issue
your fault for picking one of the harder ones
dick jokes
how do you think I feel
binghe obsession
yeah you really fucked that one up
he’s only ever made like one dick joke
passionate ranting
famously
binghe obsession
famously
dick jokes
what the actual fuck
THERES NO WAY
he’s serious?????????
homoerotic undertones
context??
binghe obsession
what did he do now
dick jokes
he wants me to
how the fuck do I phrase this so it makes sense
he wants me to go to his stupidly expensive apartment to paint a portrait of him and his husband(???????) in sqq x lbh cosplay
📌 [passionate ranting pinned a message to this channel. See all pinned messages.]
homoerotic undertones
how gullible do you think we are
dick jokes
IM NOT FUCKING JOKING
[screenshot of a text from Peerless Cucumber that reads “Would it be possible for you to paint at least part of it in person? My husband would prefer the authenticity of a live portrait, though it can still be digital.”]
[screenshot of a text from Peerless Cucumber that reads “My apartment would be best, our cosplay will likely attract too much attention anywhere else.”]
passionate ranting
WHAT
HUSBAND??????????????????
homoerotic undertones
oh my fucking god
binghe obsession
did he marry a lbh cosplayer
please say yes
passionate ranting
SHEN QINGQIU??????????
what the fuck HAPPENED to him while he was gone????
homoerotic undertones
maybe he got fucking
binghe obsession
lmfao he wishes
homoerotic undertones
transmigrated
let me finish??
passionate ranting
I mean……
he did get married, so
it’s likely
binghe obsession
can we go back to the part where under suggested he got fucking transmigrated
homoerotic undertones
think about it
binghe obsession
oh don’t worry I’m definitely thinking about it
passionate ranting
wait no I kinda get it
PC is kind of perfect for a transmigration romance tbh
homoerotic undertones
he’d be so good at it
passionate ranting
like imagine he ended up in pidw, he probably knows that world better than the author at this point
classic op otome isekai protag
homoerotic undertones
exactlyyyy
binghe obsession
what if we had a normal conversation for once
passionate ranting
in the peerless cucumber discord server?
binghe obsession
yeah okay point taken
then can either of you two geniuses explain the lbh x sqq shipping
homoerotic undertones
see that’s where the transmigration theory comes in
otome isekai never has the protag end up with their character’s canon love interest, but in pidw that cuts out like every woman
binghe obsession
wait hold on
homoerotic undertones
which is fine bc we’re 99% sure he isn’t into women anyway, but I digress
binghe obsession
you think he got transmigrated into fucking LUO BINGHE????
passionate ranting
wait they’re onto something here
let them cook
homoerotic undertones
what’s more of an otome isekai plotline than the protag falling in love with a character they used to hate after actually getting to know them?
PC would be basically immune to all the bullshit sqq pulls in the early chapters, and with his encyclopedic knowledge of pidw he’d notice pretty quick if there was anything different about sqq
like the brothel theory and how he treats nyy
plus with the way he writes comments he’d be able to keep up with sqq’s snark pretty easily
passionate ranting
wait why is this kinda…… 😳
binghe obsession
we are NOT shipping peerless cucumber x shen qingqiu
dick jokes
what the fuck happened while I was gone
passionate ranting
don’t worry about it
what did he say?
dick jokes
well the good news is he’s paying enough to cover my rent for the next six months
homoerotic undertones
you’re fucking joking
dick jokes
the bad news is they want me to start tomorrow
binghe obsession
LMFAOOO GOOD FUCKING LUCK
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What’s His Fucking Deal
#general
homoerotic undertones
@ dick jokes you have to tell us everything, we need to know if the transmigration theory is real
passionate ranting
it’s real to me
and honestly kind of compelling ngl
[passionate ranting created a poll.]
would you read the peerless cucumber transmigration romance?
☐ yes I need to know how his brain works [25%]
☐ fuck no he’d be insufferable [75%]
4 votes • 23h left
dick jokes
what happened to hello? how are you? good morning?
homoerotic undertones
good morning, how’s the commission going
dick jokes
bad
homoerotic undertones
didn’t you only get there like 10 minutes ago
dick jokes
yeah
┌ passionate ranting would you read the peerless cu…
passionate ranting
why are you all voting no
wait what’s happening with dj?
dick jokes
well first of all you’re both wrong, he didn’t transmigrate into lbh
passionate ranting
damn
dick jokes
second of all if I stop replying call the police immediately because the lbh cosplayer murdered me for looking at PC too long
it’s not like I’m a fucking artist who needs references or anything
passionate ranting
HES SQQ????
homoerotic undertones
villainess isekai……
passionate ranting
I can’t believe they sank scumcum in less than 24h
wait hold on
binghe obsession
where the fuck are you coming up with these names
also good morning
[passionate ranting created a poll.]
best PC ship
☐ peerless cucumber x shen qingqiu [100%]
☐ peerless cucumber x luo binghe [0%]
1 vote • 23h left
binghe obsession
there’s something wrong with you clinically
dick jokes
guys idk if I’m gonna survive this
homoerotic undertones
is the lbh cosplayer actually threatening you? bc I’m 100% willing to call the police right now
or book a didi to pick you up
actually what’s his address I’m coming to get you
dick jokes
fucking chill
(but ty I appreciate it <3)
I was talking abt the mountains of dog food they’re shovelling down my throat rn
binghe obsession
lmfaooo
dick jokes
I don’t think the lbh cosplayer has stopped touching PC since I got here
they’re like
nauseating
homoerotic undertones
honestly still a pretty good reason to just leave
I have the didi app open just say the word
dick jokes
six months of rent
homoerotic undertones
right
binghe obsession
I can’t decide if this is ooc behaviour for lbh or not
passionate ranting
the exhibitionism is accurate at least
dick jokes
ugh don’t say that
homoerotic undertones
bingge isn’t clingy though
passionate ranting
hm good point
binghe obsession
I’m just thinking, if the transmigration theory was true and PC became sqq, it would affect lbh’s behaviour
passionate ranting
omg we converted you
homoerotic undertones
oh that’s true, PC’s obsessed with lbh and he hates sqq… if he turned into sqq he wouldn’t be able to keep the plot on track to save his life
binghe obsession
actually nvm I don’t want to think about this anymore
homoerotic undertones
noooo come on, think of it as a character study!!
passionate ranting
yeah!! even bingge was obsessed with sqq for years, there’s no way a lbh with PC for a shizun could be normal about him
binghe obsession
ugh fine
passionate ranting
!!!
binghe obsession
well to start, it would depend entirely on what part of the novel PC transmigrated into, how much freedom he has to fuck around, and how hard he’s trying to act like original!sqq
canon lbh is an obsessive, horny perfectionist incapable of self reflection in any meaningful way bc he can’t accept that his life sucks and he’s miserable. He has mommy issues, daddy issues, abandonment issues, probably an inferiority complex and a superiority complex at the same time, and who knows what else. Basically anything airplane thought would be depressing enough to introduce in the first arc but then never resolved later on
homoerotic undertones
OK Peerless Cucumber
binghe obsession
YOU ASKED????
passionate ranting
under shut up I wanna hear the rest of the analysis 😭
binghe obsession
what I was GOING to say is that if the shizun lbh was always trying to get the approval of just turned around one day and started doting on him the way we KNOW pc would, he’d direct all his issues toward pc and then it’d probably dissolve into some endless feedback loop of obsessive behaviour
so yeah, the clinginess makes sense
passionate ranting
ohh you’re so right
hopefully a bingge with pc!sqq would have a happier ending…
this sucks, now I wish the transmigration theory was real :(
homoerotic undertones
probably better that it isn’t, since, yk, PC would have to die first
passionate ranting
only a little bit
dick jokes
thank fucking god I thought I’d be trapped in there with them forever
homoerotic undertones
are you already done??
dick jokes
lmfao god no
lunch break, I’m hiding on the balcony
there’s SO MUCH shit I need to tell you guys, you don’t even know
binghe obsession
they actually gave you a lunch break?
dick jokes
tbh actually I think the only reason I get a break is bc lbh wanted the time alone to feed pc
these two are literally insane
I’m eating off a takeout plate bc they don’t have enough dishes. they didn’t even offer me anything to drink bc there’s only one cup in the entire apartment and they share it
homoerotic undertones
what the fuck
dick jokes
RIGHT?
binghe obsession
thought you’d be full from all that dog food lmfao
dick jokes
ugh don’t remind me you’re gonna make me lose my appetite
which is saying something bc this is literally unironically the best food I’ve ever tasted in my life
lbh made it and I thought he was genuinely gonna kill me when pc told him to give me some
like I’m sorry bro you’re the one who hired me?? take it up with your wife
passionate ranting
what’s his problem 😭
you don’t need to method act for cosplay
dick jokes
I don’t think he’s acting though?? like this is 100% home grown issues
he calls pc ‘shizun’ unironically and refers to himself as his disciple
homoerotic undertones
wtf
dick jokes
AND they’ve been wearing the most beautiful, intricate, clearly handmade xianxia style hanfu I’ve ever seen the entire time, didn’t even take it off to eat which is CRAZY to me
like what if you dropped soy sauce on it and it stained??? I’d kms
passionate ranting
oh they weren’t kidding abt the cosplay attracting attention then huh
dick jokes
THEY WERE NOT KIDDING, NO
homoerotic undertones
we’ve got to get you outta there
dick jokes
six months of rent
homoerotic undertones
right
well. good luck I guess
at least the food’s good
dick jokes
at least the food’s good
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What’s His Fucking Deal
#general
dick jokes
hey guys?
this is gonna sound insane but
I think this might be the real luo binghe
homoerotic undertones
what
dick jokes
I think we were right about the transmigration thing
I think peerless cucumber really did die and transmigrate last year, and he brought the real lbh back with him
it’s just… something about the way they’re talking? PC keeps having to explain things to lbh but it’s only the sort of stuff you wouldn’t know about if you, say, lived in a fictional xianxia world without modern technology
also I saw his huadian glowing, like LED bright glowing
you can’t do that with practical effects
passionate ranting
are you doing okay, dj?
binghe obsession
blink twice if you need help
dick jokes
I’m serious!!! there’s something really weird about them!!!
passionate ranting
that doesn’t mean they’re transmigrators??? they’re probably just hardcore larping or something
dick jokes
see that’s what I thought at first too, but then
HOLY FUCK
homoerotic undertones
???
dick jokes
[10 seconds of shaky footage of an icy portal opening in the centre of an upper-class apartment living room. A man in xianxia style hanfu stumbles out of it, followed by a much taller man with long, dark hair, and skin tinged faintly blue.]
passionate ranting
MOBEI JUN???????????
binghe obsession
is that fucking shang qinghua
homoerotic undertones
WHAT
passionate ranting
MOBEI JUN???? FROM PIDW?????
what the fuck. what the Fuck
homoerotic undertones
what the FUCK
this is so
passionate ranting
oh my god. you weren’t kidding. that’s the real luo binghe
oh FUCK peerless cucumber died last year and no one even knew
AND HE GOT TRANSMIGRATED?????????
homoerotic undertones
THEYRE REAL???????????????
wait why are they in OUR world?????
binghe obsession
I think I need to lie down for a minute
passionate ranting
why is shang qinghua there???? isn’t he supposed to be dead??????
dick jokes
PC just called him airplane
passionate ranting
AIRPLANE SHOOTING TOWARDS THE SKY????????????????????????????
homoerotic undertones
imagine getting transmigrated into your own novel and your biggest hater is there too and he’s fucking your protagonist
villainess isekai protag peerless cucumber is real and I don’t know how to feel about this
binghe obsession
I just know this is your fault somehow
all three of you
dick jokes
ME???
WHAT DID I DO??
homoerotic undertones
wait oh fuck this means airplane died too and no one noticed
how did it happen twice???????
dick jokes
……….. shang qinghua and mobei jun want me to paint a portrait of them too
passionate ranting
omg….. moshang is real……..
homoerotic undertones
DJ GO HOME??
JUST LEAVE
dick jokes
they’re doubling my pay
one year of rent is worth so much more than my sanity
binghe obsession
I just remembered when like two years ago PC said something stupid on weibo
and it was one of his “lbh deserves better than this shitty novel” rants so I commented something like “luo binghe isn’t gonna fuck you, dude”
he was so pissed at me
but like
homoerotic undertones
LMFAO
binghe obsession
he really did it. luo binghe really fucked him
65 notes · View notes
outmakingmoonshine · 6 months ago
Text
I was just writing a post about the Carmy/Faks scene & how it's really just Carmy talking to himself. For this scene the two Faks represent his inner voices/subconscious (which might only apply to this scene idk), but then I decided to see what all these scenes looked like together and wow am I glad I did!! Seeing these 4 scenes side by side is very interesting.
The first two scenes in 3x05 & 3x07 mirror each other, the last two scenes in 3x09 mirror each other and all 4 of them tell their own story together. The first scene is Carmy's talking to himself but shouting & aiming it at anyone who's listening. The 2nd is Syd talking to herself but mostly mumbling so only she can hear. In the Faks scene Carmy's having an "imaginary" conversation out loud with two people, just like Syd's doing in the last scene rehearsing what she might say to both Adam Shapiro and Carmy.
And if you rearrange these scenes & put the first 2 after the Faks scene, if we saw/heard those sarcastic "that makes sense" comments after we saw the "Claire is peace" scene in that exact same location, it would've been a lot easier to figure out what they're really referring to!
There are lots of layers to unpack here but I'm gonna talk about the main things that jump out at me. This is probably gonna be a bit chaotic with different ideas and breakdowns of what things could mean so I hope it's not too confusing. Anyone else feel free to jump in with your thoughts.
Below the cut
Notice how in all these scenes, except one, Carmy and Syd are alone talking out loud to themselves, vocalizing their inner thoughts. Mute the video and just read the subtitles if you need to. The scene with the Faks reads like a conversation with imaginary friends or like the two funny inner voices of a character in a comedy movie. All these scenes are like they're from a comedy movie tbh.
In the first two scenes Carmy & Syd act the same way they both deal with their problems (Carmy shouting about it to anyone who'll listen and Syd pissed but mostly keeping it quiet/to herself). They're the only ones actually inside the dumpster in all the scenes which makes me think it represents their minds and the boxes are the mental chaos & thoughts they're trying to sort through. The Faks are technically outside Carmy's mind/the dumpster so they don't speak from the mind or for the mind but they're close to it, communicating with it & "helping" sort through the chaos. Maybe the dumpster represents the conscious mind and the Faks are Carmy's subconscious. It sounds like The Faks are encouraging Carmy to fall back into his base programming, which people often tend to do when they're lost and don't know what to do. They're trying to convince him to call Claire bc Carmy's base programming from his family is "Claire is good". That's what safe to him bc it's a "truth" he's always known & believed. Idk there's many possibilities. It's also Interesting how later this episode The Faks go to Claire and speak directly for Carmy like they know for sure what he's thinking & feeling.
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Lets get into the dialogue of the first two scenes:
"[Carmy] That makes sense. [box clatters] Boxes full of bullshit. Put it on the f*cking list. Oh, it's good. I'll do it. I got it. I got it."
Just a side note: The next line in the script is "I don't know wha-what I'm supposed to do with all this stuff" from Marcus in the next scene where he's clearing out all his mum's stuff with Syd.
"[Syd] 'Cause why would you do it? I mean, you're supposed to do it. This is-- This is fine. This is good. This makes sense. This is f*cking… F*ck. F*ck. [pants] [muttering] F*ck. [growls] fcking-- Where are the fcking Faks? F*ck!"
I don't even know where to start, there's so many ways to read this!
Carmy said one specific thing in the Faks scene that very clearly "didn't make sense"...Claire is peace. He knows that's not true but I think the point is he's been avoiding thinking about who his peace actually is all S3*. Carmy & Syd are both sarcastically saying "that makes sense" like it's subtly referring to that scene later in the same place. Was the panic attack scene by the same dumpsters? Idk someone let me know please.
*Carmy said in 3x07 he tries to avoid thinking about legacy. The only legacy we know of is the one he's trying to build with Syd both professionally and personally. His realization that Syd's brings him peace in the panic attack in 2x09 is the reality of his legacy that he's been trying to avoid all S3. He's working to get her his star and creating dishes inspired by her so Syd's cearly on his mind but the one thing he should be thinking about and talking to her about, he's avoiding.
There are many different layers of possible meaning and/or foreshadowing in this dialogue, but one layer it can be read is how they're both thinking/feeling about the Claire situation bc even tho Syd didn't mention it all season it's still there between them. Maybe none of this is about Claire, but if it was:
Carmy: "[sarcastically] that makes sense"...claire is "peace". "Boxes full of bullsh*t"...he's full of bullshit that Claire's his peace?!! Or maybe Claire is in the boxes of bullshit aka his baggage and past trauma he needs to sort through? "Put it on the "f*cking list"...put Claire on the list of his stress & baggage? And a very sarcastic "Oh it's good. I'll do it. I got it. I got it." He'll do what he's "supposed to do" with Claire & call her/apologize/maybe even be with her even tho it clearly sounds like he doesn't want to..?? He's "got it"...even though he clearly doesn't. "It's good" but she's clearly not The Good Thing™.
Syd: "Cause why wouldn't you do it? I mean you're supposed to do it"...why won't carmy just sort himself out? why wont he just call claire/be with claire since Syd thinks that's what he wants & she acts in front of him like "it's not her place to be [beside him on a personal level]" almost direct quote from her in 3x09. She's probabaly confused why Carm just wont be with Claire. From Syd's perspective he changed his mind about her and chose Claire in S2, so the next logical step is he'd be with Claire. "This is fine. This is good. This makes sense."...carmy saying claire is peace & also probably how she'll react out loud if carmy/claire get back together. "This is f*cking… F*ck. F*ck. [pants] [muttering] F*ck. [growls] fcking--"...this is how she really feels about the whole Claire situation & Carmy just ditching her & "changing shit" (that came up a lot this season), which ultimately led to him not treating her like a partner in their professional relationship. "Where are the fcking Faks? F*ck!"...a direct lead in to Carmy's scene in the exact same place 2 episodes later.
Sydney's dialogue in 3x07 scene also reads like a run-on of Carmy's dialogue in 3x05, continuing his thoughts trying to convince himself of what he should do with Claire but he's panicking so he calls for the Fak's, his imaginary friends/inner voices, who are there with him the next time we see him in that spot. From the dialogue it makes sense but idk if we've ever seen the show do that with Syd before so idk. Sydney is clearly definied as her own character but she is definied as a mirror of Carmy too so it's a possibility.
Of course this is all interpretation, some or none of this could be directly about Claire but idk. The location (esp if it's in the same place he had the 2x09 panic attack), all the "coincidental" dialogue, the way all these scenes tie together...and with the panic attack scene and the opposing realizations Carmy comes to about Syd & Claire in 2x09 & 3x09. It wasn't a "realization" about Claire in 3x09, he didn't even look like he believed what he was saying tbh. It looked like he just made it up on the spot.
It's also interesting that these scenes by the dumpsters are the quivalent of S1 & 2's walk in scenes where both Syd & Carmy go for a moment of peace to clear their thoughts and "cool off". We don't see those this season but we do get these which is more like them sorting out all the chaotic thoughts & feelings inside them, separating the "trash" from the good stuff, "the bad from the good" like Carmy said he wanted/needed to do to achieve his legacy in 3x07.
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In the Faks scene listen to all the "we" and "us" talk;
"If we did it when it was scheduled. We do though. We do it, Carm. All we do is break down boxes. We break 'em down and we have to do it again. Who would wanna haunt us? Who's pissed at us? Sammy's pissed at us."
Until Claire is mentioned (a sobering thought for Carmy) and it's suddenly "Not us. Just you. Not us." Reality hit for a moment and the imaginary friends want to separate themselves from him because they're not "real" & they didn't upset Claire so she can't be mad at them. I think Carmy is the only "real" one in this scene. The Faks are the imaginary friends/inner voices that seem like they're helping the main character but they're really just causing more chaos and leading him down the wrong path because they're misunderstanding what he wants based on what he's forcing himself to think about; Claire. (I lowkey think Carmy's forcing memories of Claire to stop himself from thinking about Sydney.)
The transition of Carmy talking to himself with The Fak's representing two parts of his mind aka "two minds" going straight into Syd talking to herself & voicing out loud what she'd say to both Shapiro and Carmy like she's having a mental conversation with two different people and that she's in "two minds". "I wanted to start off by saying I'm grateful" sounds formal and directed at Adam Shapiro. "Ok so I wanted to talk to you..." sounds more personal and directed at Carmy. It's a similar concept of being in two minds used in a slightly different context but in this show and the writing specifically, context is all over the place anyway.
Also the transition into the Syd scene is to drive home the point that Carmy was just having a conversation with himself, trying to convince himself that Claire is peace, she's "good" etc. For this scene (and possibly this scene only) Theodore is the stubborn part of Carmy that doesn't like to be pushed around who thinks stuff like "Yeah but I'd see his ass" about Sammy Fak. And you know there's a part of Carmy that would have that attitude but the conscious part of him is smarter than that. Neil is the more sweet, anxious side of Carmy that is kind of "away with the fairies" a little bit, in his own head a lot. Carmy is the regular, conscious, "real" Carmy trying to figure out the mental mess he's in.
I think transitioning into that Syd scene was also to callback to the only other times Syd or Carmy spoke aloud to themselves. I might be forgetting something but I think all these scenes are the only times we see either of them have full conversations with themselves out loud in S3..? Someone let me know if that's wrong please.
Side note- From one perscpective: Carmy's reaction to Theodore calling Claire "a piece of ass" was so...unaffected??! Could you imagine if someone said that about Syd?? He bit Richie's head off for calling her "sweetheart" in 1x01 and physically put himself between them so I can't imagine he'd take it that lightly if it was about Syd...From another perpective, if this scene is all about Carmy's inner thoughts, is he asking himself if that's how he sees Claire? I don't think he does intentionally but it's a valid question considering the show seems to use physical intimacy as a substitute for any real connection between them. If Claire & Carmy never kissed or had sex, would anyone see that relationship as a romance?? I really don't think so tbh, the physical initmacy is the only thing about their scenes that confirms it's supposed to be seen as a romance. Meanwhile SydCarmy are drowning in real connection before any physical intimacy.
Anyone please feel free to jump in and add your thoughts, I'd love to know your perspectives on seeing all these scenes together @thoughtfulchaos773 @sydcarmyfan @yannaryartside @currymanganese @vacationship @afrofairysblog @greekyogurttragedy @tvfantic87 @moodyeucalyptus @gingergofastboatsmojito @ambeauty @whenmemorydies @brokenwinebox and anyone else who wants to jump in is welcome to.
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cupcakeslushie · 3 months ago
Note
Hi there, I love your stuff, I hope you don't mind but I wanted to do an ask the artist
Where are you from?
What's your favorite color?
How long have you been creating art for?
What drives you to make art?
What is your favorite piece of artwork of yours?
What is your favorite fan artwork that was done for you?
What character of yours is your favorite?
If you could go to any fictional world which one would it be?
Do you consider what will please your audience or do you just do your own thing?
What made you want to start your AU?
1. American! Southern girl, specifically.
2. You’d think it would be green with how it’s been my hair color for three years, and I’ve made it my signature on here, but it’s actually yellow! Like the really saturated, sunny kind! 💛
3. Oh lord. Um, since like 1st or 2nd grade.
4. I never really thought about it. I think I’m just a visual person. So if I have an idea, I need to get it on paper to really see it. I’m the same with movies, especially adaptations. I could never picture characters by reading them in books very well, but seeing them in movies I’m like, “oh okay, now I see what they were going for!” It’s also just fun. It’s my own story-telling method.
5. Fav piece of anything I’ve ever made would be one of my stained glass pieces, like my lemon one, that took me three weeks, and was one of my first bigger pieces. Digitally it would probably be my most recent dtiys cause I just don’t like looking at my older stuff.
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6. Noooo!! I have so many, especially recently, that I’ve been gifted! I can’t choose just one!!! Seriously! I love everything I’ve ever been sent! I will say, I’ve been gifted a few fan fictions by now, that have had me like, mind blown—just because writing is such a thing that I’ve always admired and never really been able to fully grasp. If you’ve sent me art, it’s more than likely been my phone or iPad wallpaper, and if you’ve sent me fanfiction, I’ve probably read it no less than five times, and will continue to go back to it.
7. I mean, it’s Donnie. It’s pretty clearly Donnie. I try and be fair and love all the boys equally, but I’m not gonna lie, you all know it. It’s obvious. Just know, I’ll never ignore the others story wise 😜. But Donnie gets the most of my attention and my evil creative plots 😈.
8. Any world ever? Probably Fullmetal Alchemist—if I could actually be an alchemist. I mean, like come on—how cool is that? And like, yeah, you’ve got Father and the homucuous running around, but for the most part, the world is pretty chill and has the coolest rules.
9. The main chunks of my stories are really just what I want to see, but sometimes I can hear a suggestion and think about changing the trajectory of things. I’m always open to ideas, especially if I’m stumped on how it should go. I even change my opinions on the things I’ve established myself, I’m very open to changing a story if a better idea comes to me. I don’t think I’ve ever been like, scared to tell something because I think someone wouldn’t like it. If they don’t, that’s fine, not everything is for everyone, and some things only click with a few people. If I really want to tell a story, then I’m going to tell it.
10. It’s really so funny, because at the time, I was working on this short, post-movie aftermath comic about Leo learning to find a healthy middle ground between being the silly guy and a serious leader. But I was having trouble with the next part, so I decided to watch Arcane and doodle. I posted that little concept sheet, and it feels like…within days my inbox was full with people wanting to know more, and the more I answered, the more I was like, wait I wanna actually explore this. Tbh pretty much all my AUs have started this way. With just an idea jotted down, and then turning into something I couldn’t stop developing.
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f1-stuff · 2 months ago
Note
You mentioned omegaverse in the surreal DC reblog where he’s commenting far too much on Charles’s smell lol and it made me wonder if you’ve ever considered writing omegaverse Charlos? Do you have any interest or not so much your thing?
Love your work <33333
Hello! ❤️ I didn't used to be into omegaverse very much tbh, but something clicked in the last couple years and I started to vibe with it a lot more. I actually did start to write an abo charlos fic, that's also a Victorian-era royalty arranged marriage situation (woo that's a mouthful 😂), but I haven't added much to it in a while...
The funny thing is that I find myself forgetting it's abo while writing bc there's so much else going on, and then I have to throw in a line about someone's scent asghfjlslsdk. But anyway, I'm gonna share a little more of it now just because I feel like it's been a while since I posted a fic or a snippet...
“Charles.”
Impatience has crept into his mother’s voice by the second utterance of his name, and yet Charles still takes the time to finish the page he’s reading before clapping the (dreadfully boring) book shut and looking up at her expectantly. As usual, she doesn’t look particularly amused by his stubbornness.
“Charles, I was thinking that perhaps you and I should stay away from the palace for an additional month or so.”
“What?” he frowns. “Why?”
“To rest,” she suggests. “It’s been a very tough week, and you still don’t look well-”
“Maman,” he sighs, rubbing his temple where a headache is starting to form. Of course, he won’t tell her that. “I feel fine. And I’m ready to go home. We already missed Uncle’s birthday. We are not missing Papa’s.”
His mother doesn’t reply. It’s not the first time she’s brought it up, and it won’t be the last, but Charles isn’t losing this particular argument. Not even if he has to escape back to the palace himself. A week away from his father in his poor condition is already too much to bear, let alone the prospect of more time apart.
Charles and his mother’s retreat to their country residence had been unavoidable. The ‘very tough week’ in question is Charles’ heat, which had been brought on early due to the stress he's been under, caused by his numerous advisors' renewed efforts as of late to convince him to sign the regency order. No doubt they’ll be hoping that now, weakened by five days of fever and delirium, he’ll feel further compelled to relinquish his power to a regent in the event of his father’s death before he’s come of age.
It’s never going to happen, and his mother doesn’t need to try to protect him by hiding him away for a month either. She, along with everyone in that damned palace, treats him delicately enough as it is. Ever since he’d presented around eleven years old, he’s been wrapped in cotton wool. But just because he’s an omega doesn’t mean he isn’t perfectly capable of standing up for himself. In fact, he can’t wait to be free of the silly protective measures that were put in place almost seven years ago. The moment he’s crowned, he’s doing away with all of it.
“Really, Charles. I hope you’re not upset we had to come here. You know that it’s for your own safety-”
“Yes, maman, I know,” he interrupts, then sighs and aims a small smile her way to soften his exasperated tone. “I’m not arguing that. But I don’t need any more time to recover. It isn’t as though I do much more than this in the palace, anyway.”
Reading books, painting, playing piano and chess - there isn’t much more that he’s allowed to do. The other activities that his brothers partake in, like horse riding and archery, aren’t permitted for him, nevermind that he performed them just fine before he’d presented. That argument has never worked to convince anyone to grant him allowances because it’s not really about whether he’s capable.
“Well...if you’re certain.”
“I am,” he says, firmly. His mother nods.
Good. That’s settled, then. She speaks again before he has a chance to reopen his book.
“The other thing I’ve been meaning to discuss with you - your uncle has invited the Sainz siblings to come and stay at the palace. You met their two eldest when you were very young, but I’m sure you don’t remember.”
“No,” Charles confirms, intrigued. “Who are they?”
“Their father is a Spanish duke, and his son, Prince Carlos, is just a few years older than you. Unlikely that he will ever inherit the throne, but it is a distant possibility.”
Ah. So a marriage prospect, then. Charles bites back a sigh. From one prison to another.
“You should get to know him better,” his mother says, reading his expression.
“Why?” he asks, just to be difficult. He knows very well why.
“Because. Your Uncle Thierry thinks it’s a good idea.”
Well, if his uncle thinks it, then so it shall be.
Charles sinks further into his chair, grabbing the book he’d set aside and reopening it pointedly. His mother takes the hint. (The book may be a dull one, but at least it serves its purpose as a conversation ender superbly.)
****
“Monaco could be a very important chess piece in future conflicts,” Caco explains, leaning against the table to address his young cousin. “It is under the military protection of France, and having the force of France at our disposal could be instrumental in quelling potential unrest.”
Carlos Junior looks up at him from his seat at the desk, notes of skepticism in his expression. He doesn’t make an objection just yet - his cousin would not be telling him this unless it had come from his father directly.
Caco sets down a piece of paper in front of him. It’s a drawing of a young man who can’t be more than eighteen, his boyish features evident even in sketch form. The other thing that is undeniable is his beauty, a sense of mischief and innocence dancing in his eyes that has Carlos wondering if it’s a faithful representation.
“Is he this pretty in person?”
Caco simply gives him a look, not dignifying that with a response. “That is Prince Charles, heir apparent to the Monegasco throne, seventeen years old. In the next few weeks, you will study everything there is to know about him - his favorite novels, plays, composers. You will brush up on your French-”
“Wait, wait, cousin,” Carlos interjects, blinking in confusion. “What does a prince have to do with me?”
“That omega...” Carlos’ gaze shoots up to his cousin, brows raising. “...has everything to do with you.”
Ah. That changes things, indeed.
“As I was saying,” Caco continues, sighing. “In order to keep the prince safe, he’s been kept sheltered from his father’s court for years, ever since he was a boy. Thus, when he does make a rare public appearance, such as at the opera or ballet, his mere presence causes quite a stir.”
Carlos’ eyes return to the paper in front of him, his gaze tracing a path over the prince’s nose and settling at the elegant curve of his lips.
“You must win his favor before anyone else has the chance,” his cousin says. “The first visit in a few weeks’ time will be vital. We can afford no mistakes. But always remember, you are first and foremost a Sainz. Do not forget the reason behind all of this, no matter how ‘pretty’ his face.”
Carlos tries to bite back his smirk, but likely fails from the look his cousin sends him.
“Charm him, Carlos. Make him smile. God knows you are good at that. The rest will be up to fate.”
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boydepartment · 1 year ago
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still into you- nishimura riki x reader
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a/n: THIS WAS REQUESTED BY ONE OF MY ANONS HERE!
request: now months later reader's in the practice room, late at night on the floor, catching their breath while the music plays in the background softly. it was then when Ni-Ki slams open the door not expecting anyone to be there and their eyes meet through the reflection of the mirror dance rooms have
warnings- none tbh :3 just both of them being goofy
wc- 300-400
MASTERLIST
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sprawling out on the practice room floor was like clockwork to you. especially after a long day of dancing and cardio.
it helped to keep you distracted too, your work was everything to you. it helped fill a void that you didn’t even want to think about right now.
you stretched out hearing a couple pops, laughing to yourself before flipping on your stomach to go on your phone.
frowning when you turned it on it was a wallpaper of you and your ex. you really need to delete it, it was still in the wallpaper album that changes it every hour.
it was just a reminder of the void, you weren’t even mad at him anymore. you missed him and wished you had communicated with him more. it’s one of your biggest regrets…
sighing you opened tiktok so you could have your break. your music from your ipad connected to the speakers playing softly in the background. ironically enough still into you by paramore was playing.
you were about to like a video when the door slammed open, scaring you so bad you jumped back.
“GO AWAY IM ABOUT TO PRACTICE!” the boy laughed before walking in, not even taking in your presence as he was looking down at his phone.
for a split second you took in his appearance now. it changed a lot, he looked like he bulked up, his hair was cut shorter, WAS THAT A TATTOO ON HIS FOREARM?
you blinked and he finally looked up at you, “oh.”
oh? that’s all he was gonna say to you? OH? after months of not talking… OH???
“um.” you quickly got up, grabbing your ipad, phone, and hoodie, “you can have the room haha it’s fine anyways-“
“wait no…” riki quickly ran to the door and blocked it, as you were making a beeline to the exit.
you looked up at him, your stuff pooling out of your hands, “get out of my way!”
“no!”
“what the hell!” you started to laugh, “you can have the practice room! let me go!”
“no!” riki said again, now using his arms and legs to block the door, “please don’t leave i really- i just-“
you set your stuff down by your feet, “you need to what? finally explain yourself, apologize for being a dick?”
riki was about to talk, “i-“ he put his hand up, “yeah…”
“little late for that.” you went to pick up your stuff again and you saw him trying to look through his brain for anything. his body slumping against the door now.
part of you felt kinda bad. the breakup was a little messy, him being busy, him not being able to tell you that he loves you, you both being a little short tempered. it just wasn’t the right time for either of you. you didn’t hold bad blood or anything. it was just awkward
you grabbed your stuff properly this time, “okay, move. it’s not funny or cute anymore.”
“anymore? you thought it was funny and cute before?” he put his hands and legs almost in a starfish position again against the door. grinning with that all too familiar mischievous smile of his.
“riki! i’m serious! i’ve been practicing forever, i smell bad and i need to get food!” you tried to move past him. you couldn’t help the small giggles escaping you.
“no! i can’t! i need to tell you that im in love with you still and im sorry i didn’t say it before because i was scared to!” at this point he was word vomiting.
you looked up at him, “you are?”
riki’s eyes were still closed, he nodded rapidly, the last nod he hit his head against the door. which left you falling over laughing.
riki looked horrified, did he just embarrass himself? what if you had another boyfriend already? or girlfriend? it’s been months.
“you’re so cute.”
oh…
his ears turned bright red as he watched you laughing on the floor. you looked up at him with that same sweet smile you had previous to your breakup. he sat down on the floor in front of you.
“i meant what i said…” he said as your laughter died down and you were left staring at eachother.
you smiled at him again, “i still love you.”
his eyes widened and he smiled back, “you do?”
“yes i do.”
he jumped up and did a little dance before grabbing your hands and lifting you up. hugging you and swinging you around.
“i love you so much i’m sorry i didn’t say it before. i really do love you.” he set you down, “even if you smell bad after practicing.”
you shoved his shoulder and riki laughed, “i’m kidding i’m kidding!”
you hugged him again, your arms shaking around his waist.
“can i come with you to eat dinner then?”
“as my boyfriend or my ex?” you mumbled. you felt his arms hold you back, his chin on your head.
“as your boyfriend obviously… if that’s okay…”
you smiled up at him, “yeah that’s okay, if you’re okay with me being stinky?”
he sighs dramatically and raises his eyebrows, “guess thats okay.”
you both start laughing before getting into a debate on what to eat together.
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