#which. the conclusion I came to is that 'it's not for me'

[vettelsvee]

letting oscar take your virginity to celebrate his win

(if this makes you uncomfortable please to deny or only write fluffy before/after!) love ur work sm

V CARDS GOODBYES | Oscar Piastri

Oscar Piastri x Girlfriend!Reader

SUMMARY: Oscar arrives home after winning his first ever Formula 1 race, so you think it’s the perfect time for you to celebrate and, also, to say goodbye to your v card ↳ REQUESTED BY ANON: Hope you like it anon! And sorry it's taken me almost a year I'm a mess 😭

WORD COUNT: 3958

WARNINGS: Smut (virginity loss, female receiving oral sex, fingering, p in v, protected sex, little bit of praising kink), curse words

VEE'S NOTES: Came to the conclusion after the latests Oscar fics I’ve posted that he's the most popular driver on my Tumblr page, so this is for all my Osc people out there! I'm always ashamed of posting smut (but still want to keep writing it) so I hope this is good enough for you to enjoy! Remember that your comments and reblogs are truly appreciated! Thanks for reading <3 (Also, thoughts on the new layout?) ↳ MAKE YOUR REQUESTS | TALK TO ME! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

The door of the apartment you shared in Monaco opened, and before Oscar could step inside, he heard excited screams that made it clear someone was more than happy about his arrival.  

Not only did your cat start rubbing against his leg while purring, but also you, his girlfriend, were hopping towards him, barefoot and wrapped in one of his McLaren hoodies, which turned out to be even bigger on you than you had expected when you decided it would be a great idea to steal it from your boyfriend.  

"You did it, Osc!” you squealed as you threw your arms around his neck. "Osc, oh my God, you won a race! Do you know what that means?"  

Oscar felt his cheeks turn red. Of course, he knew exactly what winning a Grand Prix meant, especially during his second season in Formula 1. However, all he did was shrug, as if his achievement wasn’t that important.  

"Yeah," was all he could say.  

"I’m so, so proud of you," you said in a trembling voice, standing on your tiptoes to cup his face in your hands.  

"I couldn’t have done it without you, even though you were here," Oscar replied sincerely, a hint of regret in his tone. If there was one thing he regretted, it was that you hadn’t been there with him throughout the whole process of stepping onto the podium.  

"I know you would have liked me to be there, and I would’ve loved that too," you replied, making a sad but funny face. "But it’s okay! I screamed at the TV a lot, so I guess I helped in some way… And I’m sure you’ll win more races and I’ll be there to see them all, so it’s not the end of the world!"

Oscar chuckled and pulled you close until there was no space between you. He allowed himself a few moments to hold onto you, gently running his fingers through your hair while you clung tightly to his shirt, pressing your face into his chest as if he might disappear at any second.  

"Hey… I have something for you."

Even though you whispered it, Oscar heard you perfectly. You bit your lip,. a telltale sign of nervousness he knew well, as you pulled away from him. Then, you quickly headed towards the living room, with the Australian following you, and grabbed a small book he had never seen before.  

Carefully, as if it were fragile, you handed it to your boyfriend.  

"Open it… I hope you like it!"

Oscar did as you asked. Gently, he opened what he soon realized was a photo album. It wasn’t just a collection of pictures of you from the past two years since you started dating. It was beautifully decorated. There were messages, and even reflections from your perspective about each memory you had built together.  

"I know it’s not a big deal, but since I was so bored with studying, I have to admit I procrastinated a bit and felt like doing some crafts, so… well, this was the result," you said hesitantly, as if you were confessing a crime, though a small smile crept onto your lips. "Maybe you were expecting something else, I don’t know, but I hope you like it. You could even take it with you whenever you have to travel, so you remember me and also add something else if you feel in the mood," you added softly.  

Oscar felt a lump in his throat, unsure of what to say. Although he was used to you being thoughtful, and he always tried to reciprocate, you somehow kept outdoing yourself.  

"Y/N, this is…" he trailed off, struggling to find the right words. More accurately, he didn’t know how to express them. "It’s incredible. Thank you so much."

You smiled and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips, which, as you both expected, quickly turned into something more desperate, fueled by your hunger for each other.  

Oscar’s hands found your waist beneath the hoodie, his fingers tracing invisible lines along your skin, moving up and down, even toying with the clasp of your bra. The only thing you could do was keep kissing him, tugging at his hair lightly and pressing yourself against his thigh, seeking friction to ease the growing ache within you.  

Then, you suddenly pulled away, more abruptly than Oscar had expected. Your pupils were completely dilated, your lips swollen, and your hair a complete mess.  

"Oscar…" 

"Y/N…"

"I want to do it."

Your voice was barely a whisper. Oscar’s eyes widened, surprised because, even though he perfectly understood what you meant, hearing you say it out loud was an entirely different feeling.  

"Bebe…" 

"I really, really want to do it, Osc," you repeated, more as a confirmation to yourself than to him. "Yesterday, you lost your v-card in Formula 1 with your victory, so… I was thinking maybe I could lose mine too."  

Oscar had known from the very beginning of your relationship that you had never been physically involved with anyone beyond a couple of kisses and teasing. At first, you had been insecure about telling him, worried about feeling ashamed, but Oscar had always made sure you felt safe and comfortable, promising you would only take steps forward when you were truly ready.  

Today, your words made clear that you finally felt like that moment arrived, and that filled Oscar with happiness not because you were about to have sex, but because it meant you were finally comfortable enough with yourself to take that step.  

"Are you… sure?" he asked, even though he already knew the answer. "You know we don’t have to rush anything… I don’t want you to feel like we have to do this just because, you know…" 

"I know, Osc, and I promise I wouldn’t be bringing this up if I weren’t sure," you reassured him, looking into his eyes as you ran your fingers over his hands. "I love you, and most importantly, I trust you. I’ve thought about this for a long time, and well… yeah."

"It’s just… I don’t want to mess anything up, Y/N. This is really important, and it should be perfect,” he confessed with a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.  

You smiled, cupping his face and bringing him closer for a kiss.  

"It doesn’t have to be perfect as long as it’s with you, Osc.”

"Okay, but… if you change your mind at any point, you tell me," Oscar insisted. You laughed, rolling your eyes.  

"I promise, really."

Your lips met again, but this time much slower. Oscar took his time kissing you carefully, wanting to do everything right. He cradled your cheek with one hand to deepen the kiss, while the other wrapped around your back, guiding you gently toward the bedroom you shared.  

Once inside, he forced himself to stop and take a deep breath to avoid panicking, even though there was no reason to.  

You stood in front of him, looking at him with a mix of shyness and adoration that reminded him of your early days, when you just used to go out for coffee or to the movies back in high school.  

Oscar couldn’t help but look at you with an equally shy, yet utterly endearing, expression.  

"Tell me if you want me to stop, alright?"

"I will, yeah."  

You didn’t need to say anything else since kissing spoke for you. You took your time, enough for Oscar to make sure you felt completely comfortable, enough for you to overthink just a little more before deciding if you really wanted to continue…  

*"I love you, Oscar…" you murmured between kisses. You tugged at his shirt, helping him pull it off, running your hands over his bare chest as if you were seeing him for the first time.  

"I love you too, Y/N…" 

With nerves and hands shakier than he would have liked, almost as if he were the inexperienced one, he took hold of the hem of your hoodie and slowly lifted it over your head, leaving you in just your underwear.  

Oscar was surprised to see you in black lace lingerie instead of the usual shorts you wore around the house. He was about to say something, but you didn’t give him the chance. You closed the distance between you, pressing your foreheads together before kissing him once again.  

Neither knew how long you were like this, but you both agreed that it had been long enough to discover that you needed more of each other.

Oscar ended up forcing himself to pull away from you and take a breath. A smile curved between his lips, which caused you, somewhat nervously, to giggle at the situation and hug him around the waist, pulling him closer to you while trying not to shove him away.

“Really, we don't have to do it if you don't want to, Y/N,” the McLaren driver insisted once again.

“I've been looking forward to doing this for a long time, and I've been mentally preparing for it for a while,” she told him, trying not to sound uneasy. “I trust you, Osc, and there's nothing for you to worry about.”

“So...?”

“I want you to make me yours, Oscar. Today, tomorrow or whenever and wherever you want,” you whispered in his ear as sensually as you could.

“Y/N…”

“Oscar: I just want you to fuck me.”

You felt your boyfriend tense up after those words that had caught even you off guard. Instinctively, you brought your hand to the noticeable bulge under Oscar's pants, but when you tried to reach for the button to unbutton them, he pushed your hands away lovingly.

“No, honey, none of that for now. Today is your day, so let me do the work and just enjoy yourself.”

Oscar, without another word, took you by the chin and kissed you again for the umpteenth time that day. Now, your lips moved at a slower speed. You guessed it was because you noticed how one of Oscar's hands began to massage one of your breasts, giving special attention to the nipple. With the other, he lightly brushed your pussy, making you gasp when he decided to play with your clit.

“Do you like it, babe?” he asked in a tone of voice that showed too much excitement.

His fingers now delved a little deeper into your intimacy, those enveloping movements becoming a little faster.

“Yes, Osc...” you barely managed to answer.

That answer was enough for the Australian to stop immediately. You didn't even look him in the face. Oscar pulled away from you, leaving a quick kiss on your lips and starting a trail of kisses all over your body, stopping once he reached your lower stomach area.

“Y/N…”

His hands stood delicately on your thighs, which he was now kissing, closer and closer to your pussy. Your hair stood on end. Your breath was completely held, unable to breathe in case that put an end to it all, as if that would be enough for Oscar to finish whatever he was doing with you. 

“If anything we do tonight makes you uncomfortable and you want to stop, just tell me please,” the Australian declared. “And, before your little head starts thinking nonsense: no, I'm not going to get mad at you because you don't want to have sex, okay? If you don't want to…”

“Oscar, look at me,” you cut him off, and the boy immediately listened to you: “it's you, and I'm not going to feel uncomfortable with you and with anything you do to me.”

“Do you promise me, love?”

“I swear.”

Oscar nodded, grabbing your thighs again and dragging you to the edge of the bed so that his face was in front of your pussy, perfectly aligned with your entrance.

Without warning, he slid his tongue, flat, all over it with a slowness that was completely unbearable and that seemed that, rather than pleasing you, he wanted to kill you little by little. His movements were frantic; constant changes of speed, from faster to slower, and vice versa, that made his nose rub against your clit while his tongue seemed to do wonders with that dance.

When Oscar's tongue began to explore inside you, and his index finger, the one he used to show on camera every time he got a first position just like Sebastian Vettel did in his golden age, started a tortuous tour of your labia majora, you curled up shyly but instinctively. Your hands ended up tangled in his hair, forcing him closer to you at the same time your hips did the same.

“I think you're liking it, aren't you my little girl?” Piastri said, ending his oral contact with you and replacing it with his finger. His gaze was fixed on her, and you thought about why he hadn't done this to you before.

“Don't stop, Osc. For the sake of God, don't even think about stopping...” you gasped, becoming increasingly unable to articulate a word.

He didn't have to say anything else. After those words, Oscar slipped a second finger inside you. You let out a small gasp of surprise and he, without taking his eyes off you, laughed, your cheeks turning red almost instantly. Despite this, he kissed your thighs as he continued the back and forth with his index finger, adding his heart almost soon after while increasing even more the speed.

You felt that everything was going too fast, and the waves of pleasure that were flooding you were making you lose, more and more, the notion of time. You didn't know at what point, but when he decided to add his tongue back into the equation, without leaving the movements of his fingers inside you going straight to that spot that gave you the most pleasure, a strange sensation gripped the lower part of your stomach.

It was getting harder and harder for you to hold back your orgasm. You felt how your eyes were closing little by little, and your leg, too, to which Oscar put a little pressure on them to prevent them from closing.

“Come for me, love,” Oscar let you know. “Come on, Y/N, you've got it babe. Come on…”

And so you did.

Your back curved in such a way that your body, completely sweaty, could hardly keep on writhing as it was doing. You were moaning like you had never moaned before, and your boyfriend seemed to notice. A smirk of satisfaction and success began to break from his lips as he licked at your fluids, his mouth moving slowly now, over-stimulating your clit and making you incessantly.

The Australian rose and carefully positioned himself on top of you.

“I love you, Y/N, you don't know how much,” he said between kisses, making you taste yourself for the first time, but hopefully not the last one. “You are the most beautiful girl in the world... And the best girl in the world. Don't ever doubt it.”

“Oscar, don't…”

“Yes you are, Y/N, and I will not allow you to speak so negatively about yourself.”

After those last words, the driver pulled away from you slightly, trying yo give you some time to recover. Then, you looked at him taking what seemed to be a condom from the bedside table, which he carefully put on and immediately positioned at your entrance. 

You swallowed, while Oscar tried not to think about whether he was really going too fast.

·I don't want to sound weird, but... please, if you want me to stop, just tell me,” Oscar spoke as best he could, trying not to succumb to the nerves he felt about taking this important step with you. “I want you to be pretty sure about this since… Well, since there’s not going back…”

You said nothing. Instead, you gave him a slight nod with your head, still looking at him, which was enough for Oscar to enter you carefully, but without a previous warning.

He decided to stand for a while so you could get used to his length. You felt a little pain. You held back a scream, bit your lips and closed your eyes to do your best to make that feeling go away as soon as possible.

“Y/N…”

“Go on, Oscar. It's all right…”

The boy nodded, and finished entering you with the same care. Little by little, his movements gained speed. You arched your back, moaning incessantly as she started feeling more comfortable with the depth of penetration, and Oscar hitting her in a spot that made her feel a pleasure that you feel in a way you didn’t know how to describe, but that felt good enough to make you never want that sex session to end.

“Does it feel good, honey? Are you enjoying my... cock... for the first time?” Oscar moaned, biting her neck. “Look at you… so desperate for me to keep fucking you…”

“Fuck, Oscar... this is a fantasy,” you gasped. “And you talking so... like… like this... God... Don't stop, please…”

“Never for you, sweetheart.”

Your moans became one, a melody that your neighbors were probably listening to but you didnt give a fuck. Your gazes could hardly be averted, and your words, getting dirtier and dirtier as much as your were embarrassed at first, were sounding louder and louder, as were your pleas.

“Oscar!” you shrieked as you felt Oscar's fingers press against you nervous bundle.”

“Love...” he moaned through his teeth. ”Don't stop moaning my name, please. You don't know how you're making me feel right now.

·And of course I'm going to make you feel so much better when we do this again,” you replied, choking with pleasure. As best you could, you sat up a little and wrapped you arms around you boyfriend's neck. “I want to do it again, Osc,” you made it clear. “I want us to do this every time we get the chance....”

You kept moaning his name, giving him promises you knew he would never break. He kept reassuring you and how good you were doing, speeding up his movements as he couldn’t stop playing with your clit, all of that while he kept telling you that you were his.

You couldn't contain it anymore for the second time that day.

“Fuck, Osc,” he stammered. “I think I'm gonna…”

“Let yourself go, honey,” the brown-haired said. “You can do it, love. Cum for me.”

Your orgasm came before you could say anything else. Oscar came within seconds of you, and as soon as he did he ended, he gave you a short kiss on the lips as he carefully pulled out of heyour and collapsed beside you. 

Oscar's gaze remained fixed on the ceiling. You rested your head on his shoulder, trying to regain your composure with increasingly slower breaths. 

“You ok babe?” Oscar murmured after a few minutes.

“Yes,” you whispered, nodding your head with a smile peeking out. “Better than ever, actually.”

It was then that it dawned on Oscar. Quickly, he sat up a little and saw what was under where you were still positioned. His heart began to race, and a pressure settled in his chest as he realized the light blue bed sheets were stained slightly with blood as was his condom, still on him and which he hadn't paid attention to because he just wanted to be with you cuddling after he'd made you lose your virginity.

“Hey, listen, love…” he started to say in a calm, but concerned tone.

You followed his gaze, and couldn't help but blush and die of embarrassment inside.

“Oh...” you spoke quietly, instinctively covering yourself with the sheets. “This... is normal. Well, I guess so…”

“Does it hurt? Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, denying it, though the look on your face seemed to say otherwise.

“Well… It's just a little... just a little sore. But it's fine, really. It happens when you have sex for the first time with someone.”

Oscar studied your face, and he knew you wanted to stop this conversation. You wanted to let it go and pretend everything was fine so you wouldn't give him any sign that you hadn't liked it, even though your moans and pleas seemed to say otherwise.

“Still, you shouldn't let it go.”

The Australian approached you and gave you a shy kiss on the forehead. Then he got out of bed, still naked.

·Where are you going?” you asked in a voice mixed with curiosity and nervousness.

“I'm going to get a towel with hot water to clean you up.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he was already heading towards the bathroom while taking off his condom. As you heard the faucet turn on, and your boyfriend getting everything ready, you couldn't help but feel bad because, maybe, Oscar deserved better, and your behavior, what was happening to you now, was not what he deserved.

You forced yourself to stop overthinking because if there’s one thing you knew for sure is that Oscar loved you, more than sometimes you were conscious of.

Your boyfriend came back a few minutes later, and found you sitting on the bed, curled up on yourself and clinging to the sheets while still covering with them, as if you were afraid.

“You don't have to…”

“I know,” Oscar cut you off, offering you a small smile, “but I want to. So, please, just let me take care of you.”

Your eyes softened at his proposal, and you forced yourself to calm down as Oscar, with his gaze and his hands coyly on your thighs, asked your permission to spread your legs. You nodded, and he carefully ran the wet towel and hot water over your pussy, giving it little touches because he didn't want to risk it stinging or hurting any more because he really didn't know exactly how the female body worked after losing your virginity.

When he finished, he kissed her knee and sat down next to her again, also covering himself with the sheets so he could hug her and, more than anything else, try to reassure her and make her feel as good as possible.

“There, that's it, all settled. Now, let's stay here and rest.”

“Was it good?”

Oscar let out a small laugh from his mouth at your sudden question as he leaned over to you and snuggled into your shoulder. 

”You've been amazing, love,” he replied, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him. Now you were both lying on your bed, looking at each other. “Are you okay now that… Did I hurt you? I need you to be honest with me... I should have asked you if you liked the pace I decided to take because, well, I’m not going to lie to you, I think I could have gone a little slower...”

You shook your head and didn't give him a chance to keep talking. Instead, you grabbed his face and pressed your lips to his.

“You don't have to worry about anything, Osc. It was far from perfect. So, from now on, I hope you win more races because from today on, winning sex has become a tradition that I hope we keep for a long time.”

Oscar laughed, knowing you were completely serious.

“We can make a tradition of this and anything else you want, love,” he buried his face in yours, and began to tickle your waist gently. “We can even have several rounds if you want, so… thoughts on that? Should we keep ready for a second round today?”

[crashpit]

in 5th grade my friend and I had websites on a site maker thing called yolasite. also we had like major beef on this girl named Aubrey bc she was always snitching on us and getting us in trouble for random things. anyways, one day my friend was at my house and we were in the computer room on our home PC which was windows 2000 in the year 2009 if that adds any flavor to this. my friend suggested we make our own website, one called aubreyhaters .yolasite .com but we had to make it on my account because her parents would be mad if they found out. I thought this was reasonable, as her parents scared the living shit out of me too. we made the site detailing all the little things we hated about her (she lied about befriending Justin Bieber, lied about being related to the Jonas Brothers, was mean, etc.) alongside poorly drawn mspaint imagery (stick figures).

I didn't think about this until the next day at school during lunch, my friend and I were sitting at the table and Aubrey was at the same table too so my friend gets her attention and she's like "hey Aubrey! I found a crazy website you should look up. it's literally called aubreyhaters .yolasite .com. I swear it's real!! look it up!!!" and then my heart sank. I felt so incredibly numb with anxiety like my whole body was liquified into a puddle then and there.

so the next day at lunch Aubrey comes and tells us that she found the website and she's gonna tell EVERYONE in school including the principal. she was determined to find the creators of the site. so anyways I am fucking horrified to go to school for days on end I mean it felt like months but it may have been moreso a week or two of the school trying really hard to figure out wtf this site was and who made it. at the time, there wasn't much knowledge on tracking things down to IP addresses especially in a small school where there wasn't any protocol for this sort of situation yet. when it became known that the school was investigating that was when I went and permanently deleted the site and prayed to myself that nothing would happen.

well, one day they came to our classroom, deciding it had to be one of us as this was the same class Aubrey was in. they gave a long lecture on cyberbulling, which they had described as a crazy and new, never before seen phenomenon where kids could, omg, bully each other online. who knew that could happen. so what happens next in this situation is that they come to the conclusion my friend might have made this account, considering history between her and Aubrey. they take her out to the hall to have a conversation. she comes back crying. the principal comes up to me with this look like "you're in huge trouble" and pulls me immediately to the principals office. hes like "you friend told me YOU came up with this website and it was all YOUR idea and your friend there? you were trying to frame this on her and you're lucky you have no history of being in trouble for anything otherwise you would be in much worse trouble." basically I clammed up couldn't say a word just sobbing profusely for the whole thing and he felt bad probably so gave me a slap on the wrist at most. still, this is one of my most traumatic memories of my childhood I can remember.

in retrospect, I don't feel bad about making aubreyhaters bc Aubrey in the year 2025 is uh... well at one point she was a security guard or something and acted like she was a fully fledged police officer online to the point where I genuinely thought she was a cop until someone told me she wasn't even a real cop just a security guard who's pretending to be a cop online. before that she joined the military and then got dishonorably discharged and lied about that whole situation saying she left bc she hurt herself but that's not what happened. well that isn't exactly the most recent fuckery on her part she's also like.. got Israeli citizenship and fullheartedly is supporting Israel and yea I do not feel bad about cyberbulling her in 2009. it was not even real cyberbulling we were spitting straight facts about how she was a lier in regards to Justin Bieber and The Jonas Brothers. reasonably I avoid her and a lot of people I went to school with like the plague :/

what's the most demented thing you guys got in trouble for in school mine was when an english boy in my class made fun of my name and called my mum a (derogatory word for irish travellers) so i told him my ira uncle was in town and was coming to blow him up after school

[overtaken-stream]

Sweet Mornings

Kang Dae-ho x Gn!Reader

I did try to keep the reader gender neutral, but if you spot anything that's not GN please tell me so that I can fix it!

Summary: Dae-ho never fails to notice the beauty in something he has seen hundreds of times.

Warnings: No squid game, no debt, just bliss and mostly fluff, but watch out for a tiny explicit portion at the end.

Dae-ho is the kind of partner who calls you beautiful no matter how you look. To him, your appearance doesn’t matter—what truly matters is that he sees your beauty in every shape, outfit, style, and moment. Due to his inability to see you as anything but perfect, Dae-ho is considered unreliable to ask if something you're wearing looks good on you.

Every time he wakes up in your apartment, he can get drunk off the sheets that carry your perfume. The lingering body heat under the soft covers, even if one of you started the day early, lulls him back to sleep. Despite regaining consciousness just moments ago, his eyelids always feel heavier when left alone in bed. The sleeping spell can only be broken if his quiet mornings are interrupted—say, by you trying to put your clothes on in the dark, waking him up for a hot breakfast, or reminding him to lock the door when you leave for work.

His favorite, however, has to be when the blinds aren’t pulled all the way, leaving a long vertical gap for sunlight to peek through. On those mornings, he’s wide awake, feeling like a child too excited to sleep before a long-awaited school trip. And can he really be blamed? Can he be judged for staying awake to witness the domesticity of waking up by your side and watching you slowly come to your senses with the help of an alarm?

He can’t help but feel desperate when you sit upright in bed, yawning and stretching before getting up, half-naked, to put on your clothes. Your fingers firmly grasp the waistband of your trousers as you slide your legs in—completely oblivious to the view you've given him. Or perhaps you do it on purpose, just to tease him afterward (He patiently awaits the day you're bold enough to do it).

In any case, he thinks of himself as better than your average man who might gawk at a strangers bum, since it is your body and movements that always leave Dae-ho mesmerized, you, his one and only.

Sometimes, he can't help but smirk and bite down on his bottom lip, all to just to stop himself from jumping on you and taking you to a certain town, which both of you visit often.

He loves every part of you. The long and soft, the battered and sensitive ones.

It was on one of those golden mornings when Dae-ho's mind came to a conclusion.

No matter how often he gets to see you, it will never be enough. His eyes trace every movement, memorizing the curve of your body, the way the morning light kisses your skin, giving it a shine like no other, the sleepy sway of your hips as you stretch. It’s almost unfair—how effortlessly you captivate him, how easily you turn an ordinary morning into something intoxicating.

And if the way his dick pulses every morning at the sight of your ass isn’t proof enough, then maybe it’s the way his breath catches when you bend over to grab your shirt. Or the way his fingers twitch with the urge to pull you back into bed, to make you forget whatever plans you had for the day and softly caress you to your most vulnerable of places.

Because no matter how many times he gets to have you, watch you, wake up next to you—it will never, ever be enough.

He’ll wake up even when he’s old and wrinkled, watching you sleep beside him, and he’ll always be grateful for the chance to witness the same beauty he’s admired his entire life. Hundreds, if not thousands, of times, he’s seen you like this—peaceful, serene, effortlessly captivating. And yet, not once has he failed to notice. Not once has he taken it for granted.

[organic-bloodbath]

hello! could I request literally anything w chishiya x pregnant!reader? maybe how he (and the rest of the group) would take care of reader during and in between games? thank you sm!

Child of Hearts

Chishiya x Pregnant!Reader

Summary: Chishiya takes care of you after you two have been separated from the rest of your friends.

A/N: Please request me more Chishiya i need this man so bad. I hope this is alright 🫶🏻 (mind you, i have never been pregnant myself so i might not know what the hell i'm talking about)

♤♡♧◇

Running away from a man shooting every person in sight with a huge rifle was a big challenge when you were 7 months pregnant. You didn't know what the gun was called, but when the bullet hit its target, it would basically cut your body in half. Hiding behind a car would be useless, as the car would be in pieces as well.

Running fast enough was already difficult, almost impossible, but your heavy stomach, bearing another human being, was making it a lot harder. It didn't take long to be out of breath and your legs were going to betray you any moment. Chishiya's hand was pulling you forward and you could barely keep up. He would soon have to drag your body against the ground, and then you'd both be dead.

This was it. You had played several games, somehow been able to beat them all with the help of your friends, which was a miracle itself. Especially without Arisu, Usagi, Kuina and Chishiya you would have died ages ago.

Before your pregnancy, you had been quite a fast runner and could run fast for a long period of time. Now? The total opposite.

Finally, you could sit down on the ground, leaning against a car. You had to only hope that the shooter had passed you and wasn't going to blow it up.

"You doing okay?" Chishiya looked at you with concern when you closed your eyes and threw your head back, breathing loudly.

"Yeah, yeah, i'm fine," you nodded, barely being able to talk. "Just can't run anymore."

Seeing a massive airship floating in the sky almost right above you, a large playing card hanging from it, you finally came into a conclusion what was going on.

"Well, he must be the King of Spades," Chishiya said next to you, leaning against the car.

Absolutely amazing - now the entire Tokyo was a game arena?

The shooting had stopped for a moment, but the shooter – or more specifically the King, should you call him – could come out from any corner at any second, surprising you completely.

Ann arrived with a car, telling all of you to hop in. However, Chishiya was left behind, because of a grenade that had been thrown between him and the car.

As were you with him.

♤♡♧◇

The others were gone now, driven away with the car. You and Chishiya were left alone to find a way to survive on your own. You were relieved to have Chishiya with you, he was extremely smart and knew how to survive different situations.

Previously many of your teammates had helped you, but now it was just the two of you. For a second you were slightly afraid that taking care of you alone would become too much to Chishiya if the King of Spades found you out of all people and started chasing you. You could tell that running with you was challenging to him.

You were starving, not remembering when was the last time you got proper food, and eventually found a small grocery store which windows had been shattered.

Chishiya started browsing for food while you waited, leaning against the counter. Soon, he came back with the most suitable and edible food he could find in this situation.

"Cash or credit?"

"Aren't you a little too pregnant to be working?"

"Don't underestimate me, Doctor Shuntaro," you teased him.

You pretended to scan each item like you had worked here for years.

"Thank you for shopping with us, please come again," you said with your best customer service voice.

"You definitely deserve the best worker of the month award," he praised you, almost impressed, and clapped his hands a few times.

"Finally someone gives my work credit," you said, hand on your chest.

There was a small table and two chairs by the window. You and Chishiya dragged them away from the window, so you could sit down in the back of the room and not be seen to anyone possibly walking past the store.

"Here you go," Chishiya said and offered you food and a plastic fork, along with a bottle of water, as you sat down. "It's not much but it's the best i got now without any electricity to heat it up."

"Thank you," you said quietly.

You ate in comfortable silence. You hadn't realized how dizzy you had started to feel after all the running and having not eaten or drank water in hours.

"Are you sure you're feeling alright?" Chishiya asked when he was finished with his meal and put his hand gently on yours, looking concerned.

"Yeah, i'm fine," you mumbled and stretched a little. "My back just hurts."

"Let's take a break and lay down for a while, okay?"

"But shouldn't we stay on the move? The King of Spades might come back and-"

"We'll be safe enough here for a while. Take a short nap, i'll keep an eye on the surroundings," he insisted. "You need more rest than me."

You were sleepy, so you weren't going to resist too much. You hadn't slept properly in a while.

Chishiya watched you sleep on your left side, your head on his lap to use as a pillow. You clinged on his leg with both of your arms, and he gently brushed your hair with his fingers to soothe you to sleep.

You were so beautiful, and he knew that he didn't say it to you often enough - as often as you would have deserved.

Chishiya was terrified every second of being in this world, having to play the games with you on his side. He wasn't afraid of many things, but you? If he lost you, he'd also lose your baby. His unborn child. And that was easily his biggest fear.

You had been in a relationship together for the past three years, and the pregnancy hadn't been planned, at all. Chishiya wasn't sure if he would ever want children, and when you told him that you were pregnant, he didn't know what to think. But it didn't take him too long to get used to the idea of becoming a father. And having you as the mother was everything he could have wished for.

You, however, hadn't considered becoming a mother at this age and had cried in the bathroom for an hour after seeing the two lines on the pregnancy test. Now, as the months had passed, you had gotten used to the idea of having a child and were more ready with Chishiya's constant support, who you loved and trusted with all your heart.

You just had to finish the rest of the games and hopefully, you could then return home - before you'd start delivering the baby.

♤♡♧◇

You entered a new game with Chishiya inside an old prison.

Jack of Hearts - Solitary confinement.

This was absolutely the ideal game for you, since all you could do was just chill and sit around until it was time to go into your little prison cell to announce the correct symbol on the back of your collar. And for that, you had Chishiya revealing it for you. As long as Chishiya was there for you, you had nothing to worry about.

People formed groups, telling each other everyone's symbols, so other people could confirm they were telling the truth.

"Hi," a girl in a blue dress greeted with an eager smile, approaching you. "Want to join our group?"

You glanced at Chishiya, unsure, but nodded your head.

"Sure, why not," you shrugged. Mom always told you to try and be more social.

Slowly, as the rounds went by, people started to lie and betray each other, which ended up more and more people being eliminated. This was a Heart's game, after all, it was supposed to mess with both your head and heart.

"Listen, let me worry about the game, you just remember your symbol and rest, okay?" Chishiya had said earlier, giving your hand a squeeze.

Chishiya had been eyeing the other people and trying to study any hints that could lead him to reveal someone as the Jack of Hearts. He hadn't told you much about his thoughts, probably still trying to decide his opinions on the players.

Right now, you sat at the table, looking towards the group which was sharing their symbols with each other. It was like watching a high school drama all over again, except now people were getting killed.

"Here," Chishiya said, sitting next you, and laid food on the table in front of you. "You need to eat."

He had grabbed two different kinds of crackers, a bottle of water, some orange juice, and a can of soup.

"I just did, i'm fine," you tried to refuse, even though you knew you could have eaten a little bit more. Chishiya just stared at you with no expression on his face.

"Yes, but you need to eat more, since you're eating for two," he insisted and wasn't having a 'no' for an answer.

You rolled your eyes, and he noticed it, giving you a look.

"Fine, fine, Doctor Shuntaro," you smirked.

After you had finished eating, you went to the bathroom again - you were sure you'd have to pee every hour. Washing your hands and your face, you heard someone arriving to the bathroom.

"Hello," a young girl greeted you nervously, taking careful steps towards you. "Sorry to bother you, but could you tell me the symbol on my collar? I don't really trust my group anymore and, well, you seem nice."

"Um, sure," you mumbled and looked at the girl's symbol. "It's a diamond."

"You sure?"

"I have fully functional eyes."

"Thank you so much," the girl said, giving you an excited smile.

You didn't bother to include yourself in that drama club and lie for no proper reason, you had decided to keep your distance to them since you didn't need help with your symbol. You doubted any of them would be the Jack, but who knew - the Jack could be a girl too, after all. If they started manipulating and lying to each other, that was on them.

A few more rounds passed, and you were starting to become really sleepy. By now you had been at the prison for 8 hours and you had no idea how much longer all this would take. Chishiya had been feeding you crackers and other snacks almost every hour, now that you had food available a lot easier.

You wondered if your friends were alright, though you knew all of them were strong and if they had survived this far, they must be able to handle anything. Still, of course you couldn't help but to worry.

You walked around the place and tried to search for a corner to take a quick nap, there was 36 minutes left until you had to go back to your cell.

Then, you had to stop walking when you felt sudden pain and pressure on your stomach. You let out a loud gasp, startling any few people nearby and make them look at you. You leaned against the nearest wall, so you wouldn't fall on the floor.

No, no, no, no. You weren't going to start delivering your baby a month or two early. Especially in the middle of the game where there was a time limit and a chance to be killed. Of course they wouldn't stop the game for a moment if there was a woman on labour.

Chishiya had heard you and instantly ran towards you. His eyes widened when you were holding your stomach in pain.

"Y/N? What's happening?" Chishiya asked, trying to hide his panic so you wouldn't start to freak out even more.

"I-I don't know," you mumbled and truly started to panic. "It just hurts. I don't know. Oh my god, Chishiya, I-"

"Okay, calm down. You're having contractions, it doesn't necessarily mean the baby's coming, okay?" he tried to reassure you, his hand on your cheek. "Look at me. Just breathe, take a deep breath."

You did as he told, taking deep breaths and squeezing Chishiya's hand every time the waves of pain took hold of your stomach. If this hurt, you didn't want to know how much it hurt to push the baby out of you - your pain tolerance was extremely poor.

"I can't do this, any of this, i'm-"

"Yes, you can, darling," Chishiya said softly.

After some time, it stopped. You sat on the floor, back against the wall, for the next twenty minutes, Chishiya holding your hand the entire time and gently rubbing your back.

"See? Everything's fine," he said calmly and put his arm around you, keeping you close against him.

"You know," you started, eyes starting to water. "I haven't felt any movements from the baby in a few days. What if something's wrong?"

"Listen," Chishiya said. "Contractions are normal, even when the baby won't come yet. The baby might not move every day, it's normal. You'll just have to stay calm and try to avoid too much stress. And i know that's a lot to ask for in our current situation."

You nodded, unsure, but trying to believe his words as well as possible. He was a doctor after all, right?

"Next round, we'll get you a place to sleep for a moment," Chishiya promised. There was 9 minutes left to announce your symbols.

"You know, when the baby will be born, we'll have a lot more different story on how the pregnancy went than other expecting mothers," you chuckled. "Like, not many moms can say that they've run away from a shooter while being on their third trimester of their pregnancy."

Chishiya smiled. "Or spent a day in a prison with no actual guards around."

An older man walked past you, still sitting on the floor, leaning against Chishiya.

"My God. Are you okay? How on earth have you survived this far being pregnant like that?" he asked in shock, surely seen the scene just a moment ago.

"Well, i've had a lot of help," you shrugged.

You had been used to people commenting on your pregnancy. Every time you met someone knew, they just stared at your stomach for too long, feeling bad for you and considering you the weakest player of the group. You stood out from the rest of the people around, it was understandable. At first it had bothered you, but now you were so tired of it you just felt numb.

Arriving to the Beach for the first time, the entire pool party had quieted down for a moment when people saw you.

"Here, it is required to only wear a swimsuit," they had announced, but looking at you, they let you wear more clothes. Thank god for that. You weren't exactly very fond of showing off your stretch marks and everything. You had been given shorts and an oversized t-shirt - it was the same shirt you still had on.

In the end of the current game, only four people came out from the cells alive, after the Jack had guessed the wrong symbol, and left the prison, two of them you and Chishiya. It had been the first game where you could have actually relaxed and sat back for a while.

If there had been a proper bed, you wouldn't have minded to stay a bit longer too.

"So, what now?" you asked.

"We'll try to find a place to spend the night."

It was becoming the night and you had been walking almost half an hour on the streets, trying to find a good place to hide and sleep.

You found a small hostel, completely abandoned and empty, and found your way into one of the rooms. The door was locked, but Chishiya could easily pick the lock open. You were able to sleep on a real bed again, you could have started crying from even the thought of it. The sheets weren't fresh at all and the blanket was really thin, but you couldn't complain.

You laid yourself on the bed, it felt so good to feel an actual mattress and a pillow under you, you felt like your body could melt there like a cotton candy in water. Chishiya came to lay down next to you after removing his shirt, warming you better with his bare skin. He cupped your cheek and pulled you in a sweet kiss.

Suddenly, you winced when you felt a kick inside your stomach. Chishiya immediately sat up, concerned.

"What's wrong? Did the contractions start again?"

You grabbed his hand and put it on your stomach, trying the correct spot to find any movements, and when he felt a kick right against his hand, he flinched and a smile spread on his lips.

You started laughing, with a few tears of relief and happiness, and he laughed a little too.

"We'll be alright," Chishiya whispered. He hugged you and kissed your forehead.

"I hope so," you said quietly.

"I love you," he whispered and looked you deep into your eyes. "You know that, right?"

"Are you saying that in case the King of Spades comes to shoot us in our sleep?" you teased. "Honestly, that would definitely be cheating."

"I doubt he's going to find us here," he assured you and pressed a kiss on your hair. "Good night."

"Good night," you answered and turned on your side. Chishiya's arm wrapped around your stomach, pulling you against his chest.

[snowluvvie]

₊˚⊹ ♡ . EASILY CONVINCED.

₊˚⊹ ♡ . RED K!CLARK X READER

₊˚⊹ ♡ . you want to leave him, but there's one thing keeping you there

₊˚⊹ ♡ . MDNI 18+ | word count — 2.8k | warnings — established toxic relationship, Clark does not care about your feelings at any point at all, manipulation, crying, oral (m. recieving), finger sucking, unprotected p in v, name-calling, hair-pulling

When Clark strolled into your shared Metropolis apartment, it was already after dark. The moonlight streaming in through the window glinted off the smooth marble countertop and illuminated you, already waiting in the shared kitchen for him to arrive home. Your arms were folded over your chest, eyebrows furrowed lightly. You were finally going to have the conversation you’d been needing to have with him for the past few months.

You thought if you came to Metropolis with him, stayed by his side rather than letting him run off on his own, things would get better. That isolation wouldn’t be good for him, and your presence would sway him to take off the ring and return to Smallville. It hadn’t. Sometimes it seemed like it worsened with the passing days—the going out and staying out for hours, sometimes overnight, being mouthy and rude, or just downright insulting. And you saw the way he looked at women passing on the street sometimes. It felt like being stabbed, though you’d given up on reprimanding him a while back. Now, though?

You’d come to the long overdue conclusion that this simply wasn’t the same Clark anymore, wasn’t your Clark. He wasn’t the guy that insisted on fixing your car when it made him late for school that day, or the guy that practically ran to your parents’ house to fix their fence when it broke, or the guy that kissed you like your face was something precious between his hands and fucked you like you actually meant something to him.

As Clark closed the front door behind him, your eyes caught on the obnoxiously large crimson ring still nestled on his giant hand. That old Clark was gone. Maybe one day he’d come back on his own, but for now? You wanted to go home. You wanted your life back.

You cleared your throat, and Clark raised his eyebrows as he regarded you standing there, waiting for him. “It’s late.”

He gives a halfway nod, lips quirking up into a smile, “It gets busier the later it gets. I should’ve stayed, really.”

By it he means that stupid club on the corner downtown. All pulsing blue lights and girls in the tiniest skirts you’ve ever seen. You’ve always tried to push its very existence out of your brain, and an involuntary shiver wracks your arms as you’re afflicted by thoughts of what he gets up to there.

“Well, I ate already.” Your arms tightened around you, silently cursing yourself for always fumbling when it came to things like this.

Clark hums in response, barely paying attention as he tugs his jacket off and tosses it onto the back of the chair. His keys clatter against the counter with a metallic clang, and he’s visibly already thinking about something else entirely.

You take a deep breath, “I wanna talk to you.”

“Y'are talking to me. Right now.” He flashes his pearly teeth, the little points peeking over his perfect bottom lip.

You shake your head, your eyes flicking away from him and instead focusing on the wall, or maybe the fridge. That was always how he got you—it was the same smile, the same twinkle in those blue eyes. It took all your willpower to stay grounded and remind yourself that no matter how bad you wished he was, he wasn’t your Clark. Your resolve trembled every time you looked at him.

“No, I mean talk to you about us.”

He rolls his eyes, “Not this again.” There he was. Dismissive and careless, which was all he’d been the last few months when he wasn’t just being blatantly mean.

“Listen! Yes, this again, you never let me finish!”

“I let you finish plenty. Wasn’t it…three times, last weekend?” He wanders over to the fridge, tugging the door open placidly. He looks over to you for a few moments, only long enough to see the way your jaw tightens as your face warms despite yourself.

“That’s not—I was trying to—” You huff, throwing your hands half-heartedly in the air as you struggle to articulate yourself. Like you always did, which Clark knew. “You know what I meant.”

Just as the last word left your lips, he slammed the fridge door. So hard the wall behind it rattled. "Can't this wait til' after I get somethin' to eat? 'M starved after tonight." He huffed out a laugh cause he knew what he was doing, leaving your imagination to run wild about what he'd got up to.

Though your bottom lip quivered a little bit, you shook your head. "No, you're a selfish dick. If I waited for you to want to talk to me, I'd be waiting forever."

Clark was across the kitchen and in your personal space in less than half a second, making you gasp. You tried to back up as he towered over you, but you bumped into the corner—he had you caged up against it. You avoided his eyes, though you couldn't escape his smell with how close he was. Delicious despite his bad behavior—oak barrels and gentle shampoo and sunlight. Your head swam as you took it in, you couldn't fight it when he grabbed your face, forcing it upwards. He craned your neck back to look at him, and his gaze was amused, lips tilted slightly upwards.

"My dick is a lot of things. Selfish is not one. You'd know, huh? There's only one greedy bitch here."

You were shaking like a leaf, and the squeak you let out was pathetic. "You know how I feel about the b-word."

Clark laughed loudly. "How you feel, and how you feel," his tone of voice lilted suggestively as his hand dipped down to the front of your shorts. "Are two very different things."

He paused for a half second, so you'd have time to say no, but it was mocking—he knew you wouldn't stop him. That made the seconds that stretched between you taunting, a total mockery of what you'd been trying to do, the corpse of your dead resolve practically half-buried already as you stood with baited breath, waiting for him to slip his hand where you wanted it.

As his hand went between your thighs, he grinned. “You’re real predictable, y’know that?” His fingers slid through your folds easily from how drenched they were. When he pulled his fingers from your panties, a glistening strand of your arousal clung onto them, and he shoved it in your face. Raising his eyebrows, “and you keep trying to act like you want me to be different. Liar.”

Your lip quivered from the misconstrued truth in his words, the way he could always use that against you. It wasn’t your fucking fault your boyfriend’s voice got you all hot, he was literally the most perfect man in the world, even when he was like this—that didn’t mean you wanted him to stay this way. The late-night whispers between the two of you as you laid on his barn couch back in Smallville, about a house and a family, were more important to you than the sex you seemingly couldn’t stop having. But why couldn’t you stop having it?

Clark shoved his fingers in your mouth, making you clean your own wetness off of them, and he intentionally shoved them back far enough to make you gag lightly. You hated the disappointment that bloomed in your belly when you realized he wasn’t going to relieve you further with his hand, he was just making a point. Your eyes burned.

"You owe me! I was ready to have a perfectly nice night an' settle in—you're the one who had to start somethin'." He rolled his eyes. "You're always doing this, y'know. Not very fair to me, is it?"

Your eyes watered and, though you were fighting furiously to keep it in, a little sniffle escaped you. The sound made Clark's eyes snap to you, just in time to watch the first tear slip down your cheek. The grin that spread across his face was sickening.

"C'mon. On your knees."

You hesitated for a moment, just long enough to make him punctate it with, "now."

The last of your resolve was officially gone and buried as you sunk to your knees, which met the cold tile underneath you, and looked up at him. Clark raised his eyebrows, prompting you with a nod, and your fingers found his belt and began undoing it. You fumbled with it a little, hands shaky through your crying.

When you raised a hand to wipe the tears from your face, Clark swatted it away. “Makes it extra wet, y’know that.” He reasoned with a charming smile.

You ignored him and finally got his belt undone, and his cock sprung out of the confines of his boxers already stiff. That only rubbed it in more—every insult and mockery he threw your way only made him harder, and your tears were just the nail in the coffin.

No matter how upset you were, it was muscle memory to take him as far back into your throat as you could, though you struggled. You gagged around it, saliva bubbling from the corners of your mouth. He was right, and the longer you went, your tears from both Clark’s mocking and how harshly you were gagging mixed with your spit and left his cock slick, your mouth sliding around it too easily. Your hand wrapped around the base so you could cover more of it, and his head fell back a little as you twisted your fist around his shaft at the same time your tongue swirled over his tip. The sigh he let out was contented, and he ran his fingers through your hair at the nape of your neck.

For a half second, you pretended it was Clark—your Clark. The guy who had held your hair back for you and rubbed your scalp soothingly when you had his dick in your mouth, doing his best to reward you for every good feeling you ‘gifted’ him, which was how he saw it.

The illusion was shattered when the fingers in your hair tightened sharply, making you yelp at the sudden pain. Clark groaned as your pained sounds vibrated around his cock, and he held your head in place as he started sliding in and out quicker, fucking your face at a more demanding pace than you’d been able to handle yourself. You gagged every time his tip hit the back of your throat, and Clark was letting the grunts and moans fall from his lips freely as you gagged, whined, and swallowed desperately around him.

“I like your mouth so much better when I do this. Not all that other shit.” He groaned. “Ah, fuck, ‘m gonna—”

Before he could finish his sentence, or cum down your throat, Clark was yanking you off of him by your hair. You let out a surprised yelp, but he was already snatching you up and tossing you over his shoulder like you were weightless. His shiny, throbbing cock still hung out of his blue jeans as he carried you to the back of the apartment and to your shared bedroom. He bumped your head on the doorframe as he brought you inside and ignored the noise you made, before tossing you down on the bed.

You sat there numbly, defeated, face streaked with tears and drool and precum, as Clark shrugged off his clothes and bared his inhumanly defined body to you. The moonlight coming in through the massive bedroom window—which wasn’t covered by the curtains, so you were sure some news helicopter would get a real eyeful of the habit Clark had developed to avoid a break-up—hit his chest in a way that made his tanned skin glow. Your mouth watered a little at the sight of him, something you’d truly never get used to, as if you needed more spit on your fucking face.

Clark wordlessly snapped his fingers at you as he knelt on the bed, and you moved obediently to hook your fingers in the waistband of your shorts and tug them and your panties down in one motion. Clark finished the job when he got impatient and made quick work of your thin sleep shirt, leaving it in two pieces by the foot of the bed.

He moved you like a doll, on all fours in front of him, fingers digging into your skin as he positioned you the way he wanted. The scream you let out when he sheathed inside you in one smooth motion—too big to fully bottom out, instead abusing your cervix immediately and giving you zero time to adjust—was muffled by his giant hand shoving your face into his pillow. That scent invaded your nose again, familiar and musky and clean, and you focused on it to distract yourself from the sting, gritting your teeth as you waited to adjust. Whines and yelps fell from your lips and were swallowed by the plush cotton, Clark still palming the back of your head to keep it there.

His pace was selfish and unforgiving, and though he was sliding in and out of you with no rhythm and no regard for how you felt, that didn’t stop the way your body began going limp, your pained squeaks turning into desperate moans and whimpers. “Nghh—ah, ah,” and you were sure Clark could hear it, no matter how drowned out it was by the wet, explicit skin-on-skin noises that filled the room.

He let your face up for a minute, and you gasped for breath.

“Feelin’ better now that you’re all full? Y’know—you’re always goin’ on and on—y’say you’re ‘not happy’” he did a high-pitched voice, mocking you, and you keened in response as he kept pumping inside of you, “I think what you mean to say is empty. Cause you’re all smiles when you're like this—real happy, right?”

Your only response was a low whine, and he smacked your ass hard. You jolted and yelped from the pain, but couldn’t move away from the second loud slap he landed against your cheek. He was holding you too tightly in place.

“Answer me.” Clark prompted, though his amused tone concealed an underlying threat as his hand still hovered over the globe of your ass, which was already blooming with red.

“Nngh—yes.” You cried out, but he clucked his tongue at you, ramming into you particularly hard to punctuate it. Your eyes rolled back.

“Yes what?”

“H-happy—‘m happy, thank you.” Fresh tears rolled down your cheeks from the way he was punishing your cunt.

You could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “there ya go!” Though, of course, nothing nice. He never fucking said anything nice. Said you hadn’t earned it, no matter what you did.

“Aah, shit—” His hips stuttered a little bit, and he let out a breath through gritted teeth. You clenched around him harshly and he groaned in response, your own release was creeping up on you.

“I dunno if you—argh—deserve my cum. Not today. Y’just cause problems.”

The pleading whine you let out was high-pitched and pathetic, the pillow wet with your still-flowing tears and the idea of him pulling out right now was torturous to you. He could’ve threatened to kill you and it would’ve been a less horrific idea.

“Please… please, Clark, please.” You babbled like a broken record, borderline incoherent through the snot and tears and broken moans. He was drilling your pussy, which was still squeezing him like a vice, and he laughed at your begging.

“One day I’ll stop bein' so nice, y’know?” Was the last thing Clark said before he came inside of you with a low, delicious groan, hips slamming into yours harshly as he fucked you through his orgasm. Your whole body shook with the force of it, limp and spasming, though he held you up easily. Your own release washed over you, and you finally let out a desperate, ecstatic cry as you were rewarded with the white-hot pleasure. The two of you were one, actually together for a few moments as you both reveled in the pleasure, something you didn't get from him anymore. Something you desperately missed, and your face screwed up at the familiar feeling.

It was over as quickly as it happened.

After Clark pulled out, he had the decency to arrange your limbs into some semblance of a laying position for you, since you were far too gone to do it. Your whole body felt like syrup. He laid your head on your own pillow, which made you miss the familiar smell of his, and tugged the covers over you. You didn't think you could speak if you wanted to, or remember your own name—or think of anything but him.

Clark rolled back over, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He was perfectly composed, though your chest still heaved as you tried to catch your breath. Shakily, you took a few slow, deep ones. There was a fuzzy warmth tugging at the edges of your brain and your chest. Like there always was after he was done with you.

“I love you.” You mumbled as your eyes drifted shut.

Clark’s answer was matter-of-fact, so close to being neutral if it wasn’t for the smugness that crept in.

“I know.”

[tired-demonspawn]

seen a few plp on my timeline sharing their language's dub stobotnik moments

so! because i recently did watch all 3 movies in the czech dub while making extensive notes, here are a few stand outs :D!:

starting off strong with the mouthgrab scene. first of all i would like to establish that agent stone generally uses very formal and grammatically correct language.

however! while saying "everyone else is stupid" he uses very informal versions of the words, which are employed by robotnik constantly throughout the movie. it makes it crystal fucking clear that they have, in-fact, had this conversation before and he is just quoting him verbatim.

also everyone else is stupid is replaced with "snýst že ostatní sou blbý"(endure that everyone else is stupid) which idk why but it sounds more fruitier to me.

moving on, instead of “i love the way you make them!” he yells “i [adore/love] your lattes” (zbožňuju tvý latté!)

"do some rock-onnaissance" - "vyšutři to"(šutr - word for stone, vyšetřit - investigate) whoever came up with that is a legend and i love them.

guy that calls stone a freak, calls him "vole" which is a swear. straight up. pg movie btw. (there are worse swears out there but it still took me off guard)

while playing makeover, stone says "dokonalá nová imidž, sekáč." meaning "perfect new look, [slang for someone being particularly handsome]" which is INSANE.

while citing the manual, he cites the exact page number ("návod strana 50"), bro really memorised everything in that thang including the page numbers

instead of an HR complaint robotnik basically says they(TM) will send OSHA after him 💀("no skvěle, ještě na mě kvůli vám přijde inspekce bezpečnosti práce") weirdly enough it seems hes addressing team sonic, not stone. because if it was stone he was talking to, he would be using the formal you for him, which he never does throughout this entire movie series.

that leads me to the conclusion he’s using "vám" as a plural you instead of a formal you and is blaming team sonic for making the robot shake in a way that hurt stone. do with this information what you will.

moving onto movie 3, instead of "egg-sact my revenge" he says "snesu na něj pomstu jak slepice vejce"(i’ll lay revenge on him like a hen lays an egg) and then stone smiles :) he doesn’t have to go "see what I did there.", he just laughs at his jokes unprompted, hes so in love :)

“tady je”(here it is) instead of “found some” followed by “je mazaný”(“he’s sly” HELLO?????? WDYM BY THAT?????) as “resourceful” is doing things to me and i hope it does things to you too.

BRO SAYS “to je přesně náš vztah”(that’s exactly our relationship) INSTEAD OF “THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT WE ARE” VZTAH, while yes meaning any kind of relationship, AND ESPECIALLY THE WAY MY DUDE IVO HRBÁČ(stone's VA, kinda poetic someone called Ivo voices him, innit?) SAYS IT, HAS SUCH A ROMANTIC FUCKING CONNOTATION ISTG. FRUITY ASS MF.

also something to mention! my guy ivo(the VA) gives this role his all, or at least significantly more than the other VAs. from him really yelling in that booth both "he's baaaaccckkk!!!!" and "doctor! take me with you!" through the soft way he says "i can't lose you again" to my personal favourite(which made me get up from my chair and walk around my room for a bit to cool off): him sounding like he's on the verge of tears with "goodbye doctor".

Am i biased? yes. but im also correct in my assertion of him being the absolute highlight of this entire dub. so.

anyway that's that, thanks for reading :)

[artbyblastweave]

If you had to bet on which female superhero breaking the Wonder Woman monopoly on Female Superhero Recognized by Non-Cape-Nerds in the near future, who would you bet on?

This is a hard topic for me to address because of my Feldspar-and-quartz levels of recognition of B-list superheroes that I think of as A-list because I've been seeing them in things for years.

That said, I think that a lot of what they've been doing with Captain Marvel over the last ten to fifteen years was, in large part, motivated by how the meteoric rise in popularity of the MCU was highlighting how Marvel didn't already have a widely recognized female character who could hit at that weight; some good Carol Danvers stuff came out of that, but we also got Civil War II, and the "girls can join the air force too!" propaganda threaded deftly through the whole affair, so it's not entirely clear the extent to which any of that worked. Relatedly, Black Widow's inclusion in the initial MCU Avengers lineup was, while not a bad decision, also pretty visibly a result of them going, Christ, we need at least one woman and we don't think they'll take The Wasp seriously- who's left? So Widow was pretty big for a minute... followed by dead, and in the absolutely ridiculous position of her solo movie being released after the one in which she died. And Scarlet Witch, she was pretty big for a minute!.... followed by dead. There's an issue here.

A long time ago, like when I was a teenager, I had this pithy observation that it felt like Marvel had a greater range of diverse, idiosyncratic female superheroes who got to exist independently of the branding of a male counterpart, but on the other hand DC got to have Wonder Woman. There are ways in which this was obviously extremely truthy even at the time- most of the female characters I was thinking of- Wasp, Black Widow, Scarlet Witch, Invisible Woman, Storm, and so on- existed basically exclusively on ensemble team books, and it was an analysis that left out characters like the Birds of Prey, Starfire, and Raven. Again, I was a teenager. But it does inform what's come to be my real conclusion on this, which is that I'd prefer that both companies just start cranking out a whole bunch of solid, sustainable B-list female superheroes who have a clear niche and reason to exist that isn't "trying to recreate the lightning in the bottle that is Wonder Woman." Like, ten new characters who stick at the reasonably successful levels of quality and fan buy-in achieved by Kamala Khan and Kate Bishop? Way, way better outcome than the other thing that can happen.

Because, like, the decisive answer to your question, the one that occurred to me halfway through writing this? Harley Quinn. They tried to do this with Harley Quinn- maybe less "Wonder Woman 2" and more "DC's answer to Deadpool," but on balance I don't think jacking up her prominence in the way that they've done has been good for her, in the same way I don't think jacking up Deadpool's prominence has been good for him.

[vannyinthestars]

Why do you want Cat to punch Kevin??

LMAO I DID NOT THINK PEOPLE WERE ACTUALLY GOING TO SEE THAT POST

Okay so my unorganized, wild thoughts:

- I love Kevin guys don’t get me wrong. Not a Kevin hater, I promise.

- I don’t want Jeremy to be the violent one. Also, he and Kevin already have a developed relationship (of sorts) and it feels out of character for him to lash out. (We’ll see, maybe his backstory will change my mind).

- Laila, Jeremy, and Cat have a very skewed perspective on what went down in the nest. As they pick up small details I simply think there are conclusions that are going to be jumped to.

- I think Kevin has a lot of guilt and would probably just take it, which could be an interesting scene and probably a catalyst to him and Jean actually talking through problems.

- Someone should defend Jean! Even if it’s the wrong thing to do and the wrong person to hurt.

- Cat’s also a backliner, she’s a defender. Kevin is a striker, she’s literally supposed to be the thing between him and the goal (even if Jean isn’t a goalie), if you get what I mean?

- I have a feeling Jean is going to have lots of feelings once he’s face to face with Kevin again. They had buffers at the end of TKM/beginning of TSC. Idk I just think that the Trojans are going to see whatever happens as Jean moving backwards and are not gonna be happy with Kevin.

- the other option is Lucas punching Kevin because of everything he slowly finds out about the nest, Ravens, and he strikes me as another character with little impulse control.

Everybody is so entitled to have their opinions about this it just came to mind. I don’t think Jean wants her to do it, but I think Cat could/should. <3

[seasonal-writes]

Hey there! So, it’s been a while. I have done a lot of thinking, some writing, some attempts—but I have come to the conclusion that I do not think I will be writing out the continuation and end of When Fate Finds Golden Rings. It took me a while to get to this point, and I'm so sorry to anyone who was hoping or expecting me to eventually come back to posting it on ao3. You know, you just.. don’t write on a fic for over a year-ish and surprise! Maybe you really lost the energy and passion for this piece after all. Which is okay. 

BUT. Instead,

Welcome to: Ro gives away the plans for the ending, rambles about that process, and gives other weird notes about their first big boy AU. Because I saw a post about bullet point-ing fic and realized I am, in fact, allowed to do that. 

Strap in because this is going to be a Big Post. Sorry in advance. And if it wasn't very obvious, um. Spoilers for When Fate Finds Golden Rings below the cut. <3

It’ll probably be starting at chapter 14. 

So, I want to disclose, before we begin: the ending is not totally up to my current standards as a writer. And this isn’t going to be me bashing my own creative process or my burnout or anything like that. I just feel like noting that… had I thought about the ending in more detail instead of flying by the seat of my pants, I think that it would be more put-together and interesting. I think that applies to the entire story, honestly. So. Yeah. If the ending falls a little flat, that is why. I was too busy daydreaming over my epilogue—which I will be talking about as well!! It's honestly my favorite aspect that came from continually thinking about the fic rather than writing it. LMAO.

Interestingly enough, I originally wrote that there were going to be at most like, 7-8 chapters left. realistically, that would probably not have happened. Considering this outline was in SHAMBLES, I can safely say it would’ve been a whirlwind last few chapters. sincerely, future Ro after writing out the mess you’re about to see.

The place where Joel, Lizzie, and Etho live was going to be the place where the ending took place. All the chapters in this “arc” as I'd call them—even though that’s not really what they are—were going to be here and were originally intended to be a deeper dive into Tango’s background. Since the first half of the story is really steeped in Jimmy’s world, it had only felt right to give Tango his own section and exposition as a character.

This was going to become the part of the story where it’s like, Jimmy and tango are in a more stable place for a moment so it gives them more time to reflect. It also would’ve given them time to be away from each other, which I thought was important for two guys who had been subjected to good ol’ forced proximity and were finally given little outs to be apart; i.e. Etho taking tango away for a day, Jimmy spending time with Lizzie and/or Joel. That was a chapter idea I had: both basically kinda being like: yeah! no! I can be alone. I don't miss him at all. not even a little. it feels weird without him here though, right- and just dealing with that. Plus the fear of getting caught, the fear of the OTHER one getting caught and not knowing. yeah. <3

Something I had planned on happening between Tango and Jimmy was that Jimmy was basically going to very much avoid his own feelings all around. He’s so attached to this guy, very much falling for him, and convinced that he is in the way despite it all. He’s kinda… under the impression that maybe he’s in the wrong for not wanting to stay, because OBVIOUSLY Jimmy knows better than to stay in one place like this after the whole journey thus far, when Tango seems so happy. So Jimmy, flawed as this idea is, just assumes Tango will be better off if he stays close to his home and Jimmy doesn’t want to make Tango feel like he has to keep running. The best way i can describe this is like

Jimmy: Man. Tango seems really happy here. I don't think he needs me. I bet he wants to stay. No, I'm not gonna ask him, that’s crazy. What I WILL do, however, is leave without telling him. 

and then he did. :) 

That was basically going to lead into a chapter where Jimmy is ~kidnapped~ on his way out of town by ANOTHER set of characters I was excited about: the mercenaries, Ren, Martyn, and BigB! Golden Rings!Ren is fun to me because he keeps the Red King aesthetic. For some context of why they exist: the three stooges mercenaries heard through the grapevine that if the two princes were captured and returned alive, there would be a big reward. I never actually decided if they’d been tracking Jimmy and Tango for a while, or if it was a coincidence that the reward went out and they happened to stumble into town. but all that matters is that Ren ‘n Gang are in fact successful, and smuggle Jimmy off to a camp somewhere along the road headed back to the palace with full intentions of bringing him home, with or without tango. 

behind the scenes, tango is actively losing his mind. so, fun fact here: I never actually…wrote down how this next bit happens. please forgive me i haven’t touched this outline in like a year and a lot has happened since then- but OoOoh wow! Tango manages to find him!! at the camp!! at night. please note here that golden rings!tango has reflective animal eyes. like cats at night when light shines on them? that’s tango. 

I had this whole scene planned where I would riff off the Tango Rage and make him go nuts on these guys. The funny thing is that Tango can’t really fight, but I think he would do an effective job on scaring the shit out of them and chasing them out of camp. Like, spooky story level shit—crackling twigs, snapping branches, etc.. At the end, Tango manages to untie Jimmy and they make a quick getaway back to town. 

When I tell you this was gonna be one exciting chapter after exciting chapter, I mean it. The next big part, dear rancher enjoyers, was going to be the confession scene. 

Basically, imagine. Tango and Jimmy are walking home. tango is really quiet, won’t look at jimmy except to make sure he’s still right there. There is a storm brewing in the sky, and they’re trying to get back as soon as possible. but suddenly, tango freezes in place. Jimmy gets a few feet ahead, but stops and turns when he notices tango isn’t in pace with him. tango looks hurt. more hurt than jimmy’s ever seen him. which makes Jimmy feel awful. and it’s like:

T: If you wanted to leave, you should have told me.  J: …Tango. T: If you wanted to leave, you should have come and told me. We are friends— a team, you've said it yourself. I would’ve been ready to go.  J: I wasn’t…I was hoping you wouldn’t follow me.  T: Why wouldn’t I follow you? J: I just thought it’d be easier on both of us if I left you to your devices here. I’m sorry.  T: You’re sorry? You think that’s gonna just- just make this better for me? After you just up and left me there, worried that you’d been taken back to your family? T: And- And you almost were, too! You were this close, Jimmy! If you were that scared of staying then- J: You know, there was nothing forcing you to come get me, I could’ve just gone and you could’ve stayed and lived the life you wanted back in the palace! I thought that was the plan! Freedom for both of us! T: ….You really just don’t get it, huh? Are you that dense? J: What? What don’t I understand? T: I am in love with you, you idiot! J: …You.. you what? [dialogue taken from the scene i started writing but never finished<3]

And then more things happen and then they KISSSSSSSS !!! 

Realistically, I want to note that the transition between here and the ending was very finicky and not written down. so, instead, i will be giving you a general run down of what the ending was supposed to be. 

With tango and jimmy now having confessed and acting upon those feelings, they think they’re safe for the moment. However, soon after, etho finds them and basically alerts them of an uptick of Nether Guard, having heard that the mercenaries reported their sighting and now, rather rapidly because ~portal transport~, the kings were sending search parties out once more. etho suggests they get out of the city, and the two agree, prepping quickly to leave what became a very good few allies and safe place for the roads once more. 

The day they are supposed to flee, the overworld’s royal party arrives; Grian heading the way, seeming to be the one sent to find his little brother. 

This part got really fuzzy for me because I don't think I ever actually plotted out the transitionary period between "you two need to run" and "we're running, it's bad."

What I do know, though, is that the final scene would’ve been a confrontation with Grian, who attempts to convince them to come home. but when Jimmy explains, begs his brother to try and understand (i also think he uses his secret relationship with Scar as a bit of an example. leverage, even); Grian eventually wishes his brother goodbye, and turns a blind eye to let them run. 

Epilogue: Tango and Jimmy, fittingly, escape to the countryside. When they eventually outrun search parties and the call for their return dies down, they settle on a tiny cottage out on a tiny farm with wishes to expand it and make it their own. Jimmy tends to the animals. Occasionally, he sends a letter under a false name, and he gets one in response; a brother, far away, still keeping him in on happenings in the kingdom and in his life. Tango dives into his redstone, creating and building and making things he never would’ve had much time to while being a king. He thinks of a guard, long left behind, and wonders if he thinks of him too. 

The two never marry, as marriage doesn’t leave a very sweet taste in their mouths—but they do make vows, whispered promises to stay together forever. A prophecy haunts them; but they were never really the type to obey any plan laid out for them, anyway. 

Some years later, a quiet life has been established—but one day, someone arrives. Tango has gone out to gather supplies, so when there’s a knock, Jimmy answers the door. 

Before him, there is a tall figure with a familiar set of eyes. Impulse, knight and ex-personal guard of the Nether Court, stands before him. When Tango returns to find him, a beautiful reunion is had; one with tears and relief and all the love in the world so present in one moment. 

GUESS WHAT !!! TANGO/JIMMY/IMPULSE CANON IN GOLDEN RINGS EPILOGUE!! IMPULSE COMES BACK TO HIS BOY AFTER ESSENTIALLY GIVING UP HIS GUARD POSITION BECAUSE IT’S NOT THE SAME!! THEY CAN BE SO SILLY TOGETHER NOW!! AAAAAAAAA I’VE BEEN WAITING TO SHARE THIS GOD-

please god someone ask me about this dynamic i’m not okay

And, yeah! That was kind of it for the story. As I said, it falls flat to an extent. It’s not the ending that I would give it today. I still wanted to share it, even if it wasn’t the best or most detailed. I love this story, I love this universe and its characters and all the work I did on it. I still want to think about it, talk about it, etc. I’m not letting it go completely, just.. the fic won’t be finished. I am of the firm belief that I could’ve done a lot of things differently, that the story could be even better if I rewrote it entirely. But that’s not a project for right now. :) Because holy shit this fic is at 65k and that would be… hoooo.. a lot of work. Just like picking it back up and finishing it would also be quite a bit of work. It’s hard—I’ve had people tell me just to do it, just to finish the damn thing for the sake of finishing it and not quitting. So, this is my version of that, even if it isn’t the same. I don’t feel like I’m quitting, I'm only a little sad about how it's ending for now, but it feels right. I’m just like 99% sure I won’t enjoy writing the rest out. And, like I said at the start, that’s okay. Passion and motivation changes. People grow.

Anyway, that’s all! Thanks for listening to my silly little ramble about this AU that is old but still lovely. If you guys have questions or wanna chat about the AU at all, my ask box is always open even if I am terrible at answering them. If I find anything else or think up anything, maybe I’ll post about it! But, for now, I hope you all enjoyed my sillies. I love everyone who set foot in this space and read what is still my most favorite fanfiction I've ever written. :)

[valtsv]

please tell us more about the VALshrue wedding AU

okay <3 yay <3 so basically me and my wonderful friend sacha @unbloodiedmartyr have put our sicko heads together to come up with an au that i originally devised, but which sacha did a lot of the hard work of actually plotting out a rough storyboard for, where shrue got arrested by carson after beating the shit out of him, which initially was going to end with them simply being made a rhetorical saint to shill tranquilitea - but then VAL takes the CLS, and the withermark still happens as a kind of consolation prize set off by the faulknerians when it becomes clear their assassination plot is a bust in a last-ditch attempt to prevent legalisation (it does not work, faulkner is having the worst time of his life still), so carson needs to spin something up to placate the peninsulan populace, who just won the war, but at a horrific cost to human life and infrastructure which has put a pretty massive dent in people's faith in their government and the corporate gods. his solution? a wedding! because everyone loves a wedding, right? it's the perfect distraction, a great opportunity for marketing, and symbolically fitting for the start of a new regime - and he has two perfect candidates lined up to make the sacrifice of being forced into an arranged political marriage. so shrue is given some alterations to make them a love saint, specifically a stand-in for their alternate wartime propaganda version of the promised bride who gave her life to become something that could help her people win the war (which ties nicely into legalising the parish of tide and flesh), utterly loyal and devoted to VAL - who is wandering around shellshocked and despondent until she's captured and tranquilised by god hunters and brought back "home", where she wakes up in a cell to carson gleefully telling her that he has a surprise for her. she is understandably less than thrilled to be one of the new figureheads for the exact kind of regime she came to the conclusion she wants no part in, not to mention being shackled to another saint whose sole remaining desire is to worship her unconditionally, but she has little choice - if she refuses, they'll purge her, and recreate the processes they used to make her to hallow another girl in her place. and then shrue begins to regain some of their memories, and shockingly isn't exactly okay with all this either. meanwhile the clock is ticking for them to figure out a way to stop the wedding of the century from taking place and officiating a literal marriage of '''true''' romantic love to the unconditionally selfless love of serving as a patriot to one's country, ushering in a new age of sacrifice and wanton cruelty.

it's got toxic mutually abusive failmarriage! it's got politicial intrigue!it's got the state commodification of the body vs. the right to personal bodily autonomy! it's got the hideousness of gender essentialism! it's got examinations of how propaganda enables the rise of fascism! it's got aromantic perspectives on the institution of marriage! it's got tragedy! it's got drama! it's got the two worst living dead people alive being forced to learn to care about each other because they're the only people they can rely on! if we ever write it i can't wait for you all to see it

[merlincersei]

Merlin BBC UK TV Show - A Psychological Analysis Series Part 14

Why Merlin Wears The Same Clothes Across 5 Seasons Of The TV Show?

It would not be an exageration to state that Merlin wears the same 2 predominant outfits across all episodes of the TV series with some occasional deviation, namely:

Blue Shirt, Red Scarf, Brown Jacket

2. Red Shirt, Blue Scarf, Brown Jacket

Over the years I tried to guess some of the reasons, as to why the creators made this decision:

Budget:

While you would assume an internationally broadcasted TV show would have sufficient budget to dress up their lead protaganist. This simplistic design allows for an extremely budget friendly costume which would need multiple copies, in the event if the outfit got soiled or torn or have to be altered to fit Colin Morgan.

2. Reinforcing Familiarity:

Having a character with a particular defining fashion style helps establish a sense of familiarity for the viewer. Prior to streaming services, watching a TV Show meant the audience would spend multiple episodes across several seasons which could spans years. By not changing Merlin's outfit, it helped the audience view the character with a nostalgic lense evertime they watched the TV show which was spread across 5 years.

______________________________________________________________

However I came across this article that gave me a clue to build my theory on:

Here is what Julian Murphy, co-creator and executive producer had to say:

It all began in a restaurant on Kensington Church street, where I had lunch with the writer Jake Michie. And the pitch I gave him was very simple - It was 'I'd like to do the Arthurian story, but as an origin story in the same way that the Superman story had been done in [US TV series] Smallville.' And I think from there, it evolved.

______________________________________________________________

Superman is known for his iconic blue and red outfit, similar to Merlin.

So i decided to see how many character traits overlaps between Merlin and Superman in the Smallville TV Show:

In conclusion, Merlin is the Arthurian Superman and because he is Superman he has to wear Red and Blue as his defining outfit!

[maroonshirt81]

Am I No Joke to You?

9k carcar os

Carlos also knew Oscar didn’t hate him because he had asked him outright, and the answer had been, “Yes, Carlos, I have a dartboard with your face pinned to it right above my desk. You never noticed?”

(He had secretly checked. There wasn’t one.)

Unfortunately, the only conclusion left to draw was that Oscar simply didn’t find him funny. And Carlos refused to believe that.

---

or: 5 times Carlos failed to make Oscar laugh and 1 time he succeeded

___

(extract:)

“Maybe you just rub him the wrong way,” Lando suggested, sitting on the edge of the table in their office break room like he had never before heard of the concept of chairs.

“But you always make fun of him, and he’s all ‘heeheehee!’” Carlos objected, scowling at the new coffee machine, which looked more like an airplane dashboard, with random blinking buttons and different levers.

“Maybe,” Lando continued, “you have to learn to rub him the right way, yeah?”

“I do not plan on rubbing my paralegal in any way, Lando,” Carlos huffed.

“Maybe you should?”

Carlos turned away from the futuristic machine to throw Lando an incredulous look. “I hope you are joking.”

“Dead serious,” Lando said, looking—in fact—dead serious. “I actually think he likes you.”

“I think it’s time to take you to the vet again,” Carlos mumbled, turning back to the coffee machine, which unfortunately hadn’t magically turned less complicated in the last five seconds, even though Carlos’s need for coffee had just skyrocketed.

“Look, mate—some people are just like that,” Lando continued cheerfully. “When they have a crush on someone, they become all mean and playfully judgy. He probably wants to look cool in front of you—can’t really do that when he’s giggling like a schoolgirl at everything you say.”

Carlos decided the best course of action was to ignore Lando and his crazy conspiracy theories that no one but his therapist should ever hear spoken out loud.

“This thing should come with a robot barista!” he said, pressing a few random buttons. Thankfully, he heard Lando dissolve into giggles behind him, so any further advice was successfully silenced for now. “What did they expect, putting this into a lawyers’ break room? Intelligent people? I get paid to talk for a living, not push buttons. We even have an elevator guy!”

Lando’s giggles evolved into a full-mode laughing fit, which Carlos knew he would not recover from for the foreseeable future, so Carlos was free to fall into his rant for an appreciative audience. The shrieking laughter was already attracting other people—the door to the break room opened to reveal Alex and… Oscar.

Perfect.

“Hellooo?” Carlos sing-songed, knocking against the coffee machine’s top. “Maybe it is voice-activated?” He grabbed one of the random handles and spoke into it like a microphone, “One espresso, please, Mr. Machine.”

Lando let out a howl. Oscar was stone-faced as always.

“Look at this!” Carlos ranted, pointing at a temperature gauge. “Why does it have a speedometer? Am I supposed to regulate the speed of the coffee flow myself?” He yanked one of the levers and blanched when it actually came off, turning to give Alex and Oscar a guilty look, as if he had just realized they were witnesses to his crime. “You saw nothing!” he said, hiding the lever behind his back. “I am serious! If you rat me out, I will bring you down. I know some good lawyers!”

Alex laughed, like any normal person would.

Oscar looked like Carlos had just recited a bad rendition of Hamlet in front of the class. But not only that. He was also coming closer, until he was standing right in Carlos’s space, reaching around him to grab the broken lever. And then, as if he had done nothing else his entire life, he pushed the lever back into its place, grabbed a clean espresso glass from the cupboard, put it under the machine, and pressed a button, upon which a stream of delicious-smelling espresso flowed into the glass.

Carlos, too stunned to speak, had kind of forgotten to give Oscar some actual space to work his magic and was now standing so close, he could count the moles on his cheek.

Oscar turned to look him straight in the eye and said, “You see. There’s a button that says ‘espresso’ on it. What you want to do is—you push it.”

Carlos silently gawked back until the machine stopped whirring. Oscar held his gaze. When Carlos didn’t say anything, he finally turned back to the machine. “You know what?” he said, pushing the same button again. “Let’s get you a double.”

Lando’s laughing fit was reaching the stages of teary breathlessness, squirming on the floor red-faced and weak, and Oscar looked way too proud of himself as he pushed the espresso glass, filled to the brim, into Carlos’s hand.

“Maybe you’d understand the coffee machine better if you actually got your own coffee from time to time instead of making your paralegal get it for you?”

Carlos grabbed the almost overflowing cup and shuffled over to the table, sinking down into his chair with a thousand-yard stare into the warm brown of the espresso foam.

“Anyone else want anything?” Oscar asked the room. Carlos assumed Alex shook his head because all he could hear was Lando wheezing, followed by the whirring of the machine as Oscar made his own coffee.

“All right, back to work,” he announced a minute later. When Carlos finally looked up, he saw that Oscar had stolen his #1 Boss mug and was silently toasting him before walking out of the room.

“Oh my God,” Alex snorted as the door closed behind him. “He is hilarious around you, Carlos!”

“Yes, you two should have your own show!” Lando agreed from the floor, still wheezing for air. He started to pull himself up by the table leg, his flushed face appearing over the surface. “Are you seriously making him get your coffee?”

“It was one time!” Carlos said darkly. “By accident.”

“How do you make someone get you coffee by accident?” Alex inquired.

“He was getting chummy with Verstappen, so I needed him to be busy.”

“Ah,” Lando coughed as he plopped his ass back onto the table’s edge, continuing his boycotting of chairs. Then, out of nowhere, he turned to Alex. “Hey, do you see Oscar’s Insta stories every Sunday?”

Alex looked just as confused about the sudden change in topic as Carlos. “Huh?”

“Yeah, every Sunday, he posts the same picture of the view from the lookout at the top of the mountain with the caption #cyclinglife or something equally lame.”

“Yeah, I think I’ve seen it,” Alex said. “Why?”

“Yes, why are you telling this story to Alex like it’s not clearly aimed at me?” Carlos asked, frowning.

Lando shrugged, unsuccessfully trying to suppress a grin. “Just to have plaulsibl—uhm. Pausible—shit! Plaulauli—fuck, it’s getting worse…”

Carlos gravely shook his head. “How you finished your degree, I will never understand.”

“Oh, shut up,” Lando snorted. “That’s why you’re the one talking in front of big audiences, and I’m the one holding the clients’ hands and making them laugh. Who needs to know how to say ‘palausible denybility’ anyway?”

“This is why I keep my accent,” Carlos declared. “Because it makes me pronounce English better! Listen!” He took a deep breath and moved his hand like a conductor as he slowly spelled it out for Lando.

“Plau-si-ble De-nia-bibli—FUCK!”

Lando collapsed right back onto the floor.

[sjsmith56]

Dad for a Day

Summary: Bucky looks after his son from another universe when the boy’s parents go missing.

Length: 3.6 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Dr. Strange, OCC (named), Sam Wilson.

Warnings: Missing parents, some swearing.

Author notes: Set just after Thunderbolts.

It had been a gruelling mission; co-leading (more like cat herding) the mixed team of select Avengers and Thunderbolts into a secure facility to steal back a piece of technology from the industrial tycoon (or sociopathic billionaire) who stole it from its inventor (an eccentric genius). Between keeping the disparate members of the two teams from actually killing each other with levels of snark that rivalled anything ever experienced by himself and Sam Wilson, then convincing the two sides to cooperate, Bucky was glad they finally completed the mission, and they could go home.

Which was where he was right now, unlocking his front door, and stumbling inside at 2:30 in the morning. He didn’t even undress before collapsing onto his bed. All he wanted was sleep and everything else could wait until the morning. He had earned the right to at least 6 hours of being comatose.

There was a cough. Bucky ignored it. There was another cough, louder and more prolonged than the first one. He opened one eye, saw a blue suit with a swirling red cloak around it at the side of his bed, and closed his eye. There was no way he was dealing with the man.

“Barnes,” said a voice.

“No,” he replied, pulling a pillow over his head. “Go away.”

“It’s important,” said the voice.

“No, Stephen, it’s not,” he answered. “Leave me alone.”

“I would but there’s no one else,” said Dr. Strange. “It has to be you.”

“No.”

“You leave me no choice.”

Bucky swore as his body was levitated in the air and he saw the bed getting further away from underneath him. Then the blanket came off, followed by the pillow which he held onto as best he could, until it too, was ripped away leaving him floating in the air. That’s when he saw the boy, hiding just behind Strange.

“Who is that?” asked Bucky, “and why is he here?”

“He’s your mission,” said Strange. “Bucky, meet Steve. Steve Barnes.”

“Is this a joke? Because I’m really not in the mood.” He took a second look at the boy, noticing the dark hair and blue eyes that were just like his, coming to a conclusion that shouldn’t have been possible. “Fuck.”

“Language,” admonished Strange. “He’s only 8 years old.”

“9. I’m 9 years old,” interrupted young Steve, now standing beside Strange and looking from one man to the other. “You’re not my dad even though you look like him.”

“Steve, we talked about this,” said the sorcerer. “He’s not your dad in this universe but he’s the best Bucky Barnes available, and until your parents are found, someone has to look after you. It’s too dangerous to leave you in your universe.”

Bucky listened to the exchange, then closed his eyes and breathed in and out to calm himself.

“Best Bucky Barnes available? What the hell does that mean?” Strange frowned. “I’ll listen. Just let me down.”

With a shrug, the sorcerer released him, and Bucky fell onto the bed, hard enough to knock the air out of him. Young Steve laughed a little, until Bucky glared at him, making him retreat again behind Dr. Strange. Raising himself up, Bucky shifted so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t hurt kids,” he announced, bothered that the boy seemed to be afraid of him.

“You’re mad at me,” replied the boy. “Or you’re just mad all the time like the others.”

The others? He glared at Strange, who shrugged.

“I’m just … tired,” explained Bucky, pulling his phone out of his pocket, seeing he only got a few hours of sleep. “I didn’t get to bed until late after getting home from a tough mission. I’m not mad at you.” Reluctantly, the boy stepped out from behind Dr. Strange, but he remained wary. Bucky sighed and looked up at the sorcerer. “Can I take a quick shower and get changed? I’ll be five minutes, tops.”

“We’ll be in the living room,” said Strange, leading the boy out.

When Bucky made it out to the living room, Steve was sitting on the couch, with his legs crossed as he played a video game. Dr. Strange looked up at Bucky, then jerked his head to the kitchen.

“He’s engrossed in the game,” he said. “They don’t have them in his universe, but he caught on pretty quickly.”

“So, he’s the son of my counterpart in another universe?” questioned Bucky, as he began making coffee. “Where is his dad?”

“Missing.” Bucky waited for more explanation. “The boy’s parents were supposed to pick him up from school, but they didn’t show. My counterpart there is looking for them, but it’s like they’ve disappeared into a black hole.”

“HYDRA?” asked the super soldier.

“No, they no longer exist in that universe but it’s possible a version of them made an incursion and took his parents. That’s the working theory.” He leaned closer. “Every other Bucky version we’ve come across haven’t exactly been friendly. That’s why I need you to look after him and keep him safe while we search the multiverse for his parents.”

“I’m hungry.”

Both men jumped, startled by the sudden appearance of Steve, neither having heard him approach. The kid had stealth skills.

“What would you like?” asked Bucky.

“Flips,” said the boy.

The two men looked at each other blankly, then at the boy.

“I don’t know what those are,” said Bucky.

Dr. Strange did his thing for a moment, then gave a small smile. “Pancakes.”

Bucky could make those. He got the ingredients out, measuring and mixing as Steve watched him. When he finally poured some batter into the pan and flipped it once the bottom side was cooked, the boy smiled.

“Flips,” he said smugly.

Assembling several on a plate, Bucky took the syrup bottle and held it up with a questioning look on his face.

“Syrup?”

Steve frowned. “Sweetness.”

Bucky poured a little bit and watched as Steve dipped his finger into it, then licked it, smiling after.

“Yes please.”

“Milk to drink?”

“Chocolate?” Steve looked at him hopefully.

“What does your mom usually do?”

“Not chocolate.”

There was disappointment in his voice which Bucky recognized, having heard it from Cass and AJ several times.

“We can do chocolate.”

Bucky opened the chocolate drink powder container, putting a heaping spoonful into two glasses and pouring milk in each, stirring vigorously, then placing one in front of Steve. He kept the other for himself, then made a stack of pancakes. It was only then that he noticed Dr. Strange was gone.

“Son of a ….”

He stifled the rest, mindful of Steve’s age. The boy took two more pancakes from the stack that Bucky made, pouring a whole lot of syrup over them.

“You married?” he asked Bucky, his mouth full of a pancake.

“Nope. Finish eating your food before you speak.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Nope.”

“Boyfriend?”

Bucky glanced at him. When he was 9, he didn’t even know men could have boyfriends.

“Do you have any friends?”

“Yeah.” He put some pancakes into his mouth, carefully chewing them before answering the boy. “I do. Probably some of the same ones your dad has. Sam Wilson.”

“No, Dad says he’s a jerk.” Steve took a bite. “John Walker?”

“No,” replied Bucky, firmly. “He’s a … well, we’re not friends.”

Steve rattled off more names, which Bucky shook his head to. “Steve Rogers? I’m named after him.”

“He’s in your universe?” Bucky was surprised at the level of longing in his voice. “Why didn’t he look after you?”

“He’s looking for Mom and Dad, with the other Avengers.” Steve burped and giggled, bringing a frown to Bucky’s face. “Sorry.” He studied the older man’s face. “Isn’t he here?”

“No, he … returned to the old days.”

Bucky stabbed a piece of pancake and put it in his mouth. Steve watched him as they both ate.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did he go back to the old days?”

Why did he go? It was something he asked himself often. Yeah, the man felt out of place in this time, and he was tired of the fight … so he said. But if he was Bucky’s best friend, why didn’t he stay? Shit, it wasn’t something he was comfortable discussing with his therapist. There was no way he was having a conversation with a 9-year-old about it.

“I guess he felt he had to,” said Bucky, avoiding young Steve’s eye. When he did look at the boy, he could see the kid was lost in his own thoughts. “You, okay?”

“I dunno,” admitted Steve. He put his fork down. “You think they’ll find them?”

“Your parents?” The boy nodded. “Yeah, if all the Avengers are looking for your parents, they’ll find them. It’s what they do, right? No matter what universe, the Avengers are the good guys, and they help people in trouble.”

That seemed to satisfy Steve, and he kept on eating. Bucky finished his food and put his dishes in the dishwasher then began washing the frying pan. He smiled when he heard the chair move, and the boy brought over his own dishes. They finished the cleanup then he looked at the clock on the microwave. It wasn’t even 7:30 in the morning yet.

“Did you bring clothes?” he asked. Steve nodded then went over to the entryway, picking up a backpack. “You can sleep in the guest room.”

He showed him the room, then the bathroom, which the boy disappeared into. The sound of a flush was followed by him opening the door.

“Did you wash your hands?” asked Bucky, leaning against the wall.

With a little huff Steve went back inside the bathroom and washed his hands, making sure to show them to Bucky when he came out.

“Can I play that TV game thing again?” he asked. “What’s it called?”

“Video game. You don’t have that?” Steve shook his head. “What do you do for fun?”

“Ride my bike, draw, read comics, go to the fun field.” He shrugged. “Normal stuff.”

Stepping aside, Bucky let him return to the living room. For a kid who had never seen a video game until an hour before, he had no problem remembering how to start it up. Bucky never even played it himself. He got it for Cass and AJ for the odd occasion they visited. Idly, he watched the boy play, then he thought of something.

“What’s your mom’s name?” he asked, wondering if she was someone he already knew.

“Mom.”

“What’s her name name? What does your dad call her?”

“Honey. Sweetheart. Babe.” There was a slight grin on his face. He glanced over at Bucky. “That doctor guy said I couldn’t tell you.”

“Seriously? Why not?”

“I dunno,” he shrugged. “Maybe so I don’t affect the natural order of things in this universe.”

Where did that come from? What 9-year-old talks about the natural order of the universe?

“Do you even know what that means?” he asked.

“Kind of,” admitted Steve. He focused on the screen game then huffed when he was eliminated. “It means you’re supposed to find her yourself. I can’t tell you because that would be ….” He closed his eyes and thought for the right words. “Interfering with your reality.”

“Dr. Strange told you that, didn’t he?”

“Yup. Said that no matter what I couldn’t tell you. It has to happen naturally.” He looked sideways at Bucky. “I think that means you have to….”

“I know exactly what it means,” sighed Bucky. “What’s this fun field place you mentioned?”

“You know, with swings and slides, and things to climb.”

“So, a playground?” Steve shrugged, turning his attention back to the video game. “Yeah, in my day, we called a fun field a playground.”

“Can we go there?”

“Sure.”

It took about 10 minutes to walk to the playground which was empty but Steven kept himself entertained swinging on the swings (going up way too high), sliding down the slides (face first on his stomach), and climbing up the outside of the largest structure until he was on top and jumping off, landing cleanly on his feet. It appeared he had inherited the super soldier abilities. Bucky wondered how the search for the boy’s parents was going but said nothing. He did watch anyone approaching, considering the possibility that whoever was responsible for his parents being missing might come here for the boy. But no one triggered his senses in an alarming way and after an hour they walked back to the house. Along the way Bucky received a text.

Sam: You coming to debrief?

Shit, he forgot.

Bucky: Can’t. Doing a favour for Dr. Strange.

Sam: What kind of favour?

Bucky contemplated what to tell Sam. The sorcerer hadn’t said anything about keeping Steve’s presence a secret, although standard operating procedure would dictate that the fewer people that knew, the safer it was for the boy. But if he wasn’t safe at the office, then he wouldn’t be safe anywhere. He looked down at the boy, who was jumping from the line in the sidewalk to the next line.

“I have to go into work,” said Bucky. “You’ll have to come with me.”

“Okay.” He stopped and squinted up at the tall man. “Are you an Avenger?”

“Sort of,” replied the super soldier. “I was kind of made to form a team that was supposed to be the new Avengers, except no one told the old group. The lady in charge of my group wasn’t being truthful and so we stopped working for her and now we work with the Avengers a lot.”

“Do you have a name?”

“It’s not a great name,” began Bucky, then he sighed. “Thunderbolts.”

A smile appeared on Steve’s face, and he began jumping again. “That’s a cool name. Is Thor on your team?”

“No.”

“Zeus?”

The kid knows about Zeus? “No.”

“Who?”

He really didn’t want to explain everyone on the team. “You’ll see when we get to the office.”

That satisfied Steve and they returned to Bucky’s house. He texted Sam that he was on his way and bringing a guest, which his friend took to mean a woman. He gave up trying to explain, figuring the man wouldn’t shut up about it until he actually walked in with the boy. At first, he was going to take his motorcycle, but he didn’t have a helmet to fit his guest, so they took the truck instead, making sure he was buckled in securely. On the trip to the compound, Steve asked him more questions about this universe, enough to keep up a steady conversation. Bucky found himself smiling more often than not at some of the younger boy’s observations.

When they arrived there, the guard at the gate wasn’t going to let Steve in but Bucky gave the man his death glare while flexing his left hand. Steve watched the interaction with interest.

“You sure know how to look mean,” he said, after the guard waved them through. “But you’re not. You’re kind of nice.”

Unsure how to answer that Bucky didn’t respond. After parking, they walked towards the doors into the facility, and he felt a smaller hand slip into his.

“You, okay?” he asked, looking down at the boy. “No one here will hurt you. I promise.”

“I know,” smiled Steve, still unsure. “I’m just a little afraid.”

He kneeled down so he was at eye level with him. “They shouldn’t be too different from the people in your universe. Dr. Strange wouldn’t have brought you here unless he was sure of your safety. I can promise you that everyone here will protect you.”

Steve swallowed and nodded his head, then suddenly hugged Bucky, prompting him to hug the boy back, after some hesitation. Then they stood up and walked towards the briefing room. As they entered, all conversation stopped, and everyone’s eyes focused on them. Alexei broke the ice.

“He looks just like you, Bucky,” he said, in his thick Russian accent. “Is this your son? I didn’t know ….”

“This is Steve Barnes,” replied Bucky. “He’s from another universe. Dr. Strange brought him to me early this morning. His parents are missing and the Avengers in his universe are looking for them. Until they’re found, I’m looking after him.”

Sam stepped forward, kneeling down. “I’m Sam Wilson. You’re safe here. How long have they been missing?”

“Yesterday,” answered Steve. “They didn’t pick me up at school and the principal phoned someone. That doctor came for me and then the other doctor brought me here.” He looked back at Bucky, who smiled slightly at him. “He’s the same as my dad but also different.”

“Yeah, it’s like that in the multiverse,” smiled Sam. “Well, we have to have a meeting about the mission we did and there are things that aren’t meant for you to hear.” He pointed to a small glass-walled anteroom off the briefing room. “Are you okay if you wait in there? I’ll get someone to bring you a video game or books or whatever you want. You can see Bucky and he can see you, so you’ll be safe.”

“Okay. You’re nicer than the Sam I know. He’s kind of a jerk.”

Bucky grinned a little, then walked him over to the anteroom, as Sam contacted someone to bring some things to keep Steve occupied. After closing the door, he sat where he could keep an eye on the boy. A woman entered the anteroom, and his face lit up. She brought him some things to keep him entertained, even sat with him for a while. Bucky had seen her around before, recalling she worked in the daycare that was available for the support staff, but her name escaped him. Steve seemed completely at ease with her and Bucky wondered for a moment if she was his mother in the other universe.

“Earth to Bucky,” said a woman’s voice. He turned to Ava, who was looking at him with her eyebrows raised. “Are you paying attention?”

“Yeah, sorry,” he said. “Just concerned about the kid.” He coughed to clear his throat. “Right, let’s get this over with.”

Two hours later, they finished the debrief and the meeting broke up. When it was just Bucky and Sam left in the room, a portal opened and Dr. Strange walked, looking a little banged up. He noticed Steve in the anteroom and cast a spell so Steve couldn’t listen in.

“You’re back fast,” remarked Bucky. “You only dropped him off here this morning.”

“It’s been longer on their planet,” he said, a little too calmly for Bucky’s comfort. The sigh that came out of him then was alarming. “His parents are alive but his planet is gone. Don’t react, if you can help it.”

“What do you mean, gone?” asked Bucky.

“I mean just that. Whoever took his parents did it to get the other Avengers preoccupied with finding them. With them out of the way a certain individual attacked their planet. You can guess who it was. At least this version didn’t have the stones. We got as many of them out as we could, but their planet was destroyed.”

He couldn’t help it; Bucky looked at Steve with sympathy, who read his face instantly and burst through the door, confronting all three of them.

“They’re dead, aren’t they?” he cried. “Mom and Dad are dead.”

Strange shook his head. “No, they’re fine. Really. It’s just that you can’t go back to your home because everything is gone. Right now, we’re trying to find a place for everyone, but it takes time to find the right place in the multiverse.”

The look on Steve’s face was more than Bucky could bear, as he asked about his friends, receiving a sad shake of the head from Strange. Bucky kneeled down to the boy, hugging him. At first, the hug wasn’t returned, then his son from the other universe suddenly grasped Bucky hard as his body shook with emotion. Focused intently on each other, neither noticed that Strange and Sam had left.

“What happens now?” asked Steve, a brief time later.

“I guess you find a new place to live with your parents,” answered Bucky. “Maybe you can even stay with me for a while.”

“You mean it?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” Bucky crossed his chest with his fingertips. Steve frowned at him. “It’s something I said as a kid to promise that I was telling the truth. “I know I’m not your dad, but I can be your friend.”

Steve nodded then slipped his hand into Bucky’s as he stood up. Just before they left the room, he pulled back a little.

“Mom’s name is Jessica, but everyone calls her Jess.”

Bucky smiled at Steve. That was the name of the woman from the daycare.

“Let’s find out what they’re going to do with the Avengers from your universe, okay?”

“Okay.” He stopped again. “Do you think I can take the video game with me? It’s fun.”

“We’ll see what your parents say but as far as I’m concerned, it’s yours.”

The two of them joined the others who were being canvassed to host their counterparts while a new home was sought for them. They all made a big fuss of Steve, consoling him on what he had lost. Given the circumstances, he handled it well. When his parents arrived, along with several of the surviving Avengers and some civilians, Sam nudged Bucky at who Mrs. Barnes was. Bucky nudged him back when he saw the other Sam Wilson with his wife and daughter. Steve Rogers wasn’t among them, having been evacuated elsewhere. It was going to be an interesting time hosting these people while their options were considered. An interesting time indeed.

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[esquilone]

What I would say/i guess about women who are attracted to Micah Bell and Javier Escuella:

(I fit into this group of women) (˙༥˙(👈

❤︎ Javier and Micah are the characters I'm most focused on in the game and in the fandom, but I intend to talk about other members of the gang if anyone wants me to.

❤︎ Note: the images aren't mine, they're from Pinterest, I just edited them and changed details and made a cover for this post! :p

𝓜𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓱 𝓑𝓮𝓵𝓵 -

In my view if a someone feels attracted to Micah Bell, I’d say she has a thing for chaotic, unpredictable, and somewhat dangerous men. Micah is treacherous, manipulative, and extremely violent, but he also has a twisted charisma and unshakable confidence. This might suggest that she’s drawn to unapologetic rude man’s (bad boys? No…I don't think that's the right term for him, I'll explain later) who exude self-assurance and an “I do whatever I want, no one can stop me” attitude. Fascination with danger, being ordered around and “threatened”, something almost sadistic...the desire to possess or be taken by something/someone in which the relationship would be seen as forbidden or absurdly impossible, especially if the couple don't resemble each other in the slightest.

If I were to analyze their types:

I did some research with AI, psychology videos and voices in my head (lol-), so I came to the conclusion, almost certainly because I'm not a health expert, but I believe the conclusion corresponds to my summarized research:

❤︎ One of the most evident reasons or possibilities, repeating once again: questionable charisma and danger. Micah has a charismatic nature, with a strong presence, confidence, boldness, and a sense of security. He attracts many people, even those who question his morality. A visible aura of conscious danger can be thrilling, especially for those who are drawn to dominant and unpredictable personalities, as he always appears unfazed and unintimidated by others. It’s no coincidence that he didn’t panic when he was shot by Dutch or when he repeatedly clashed head-on with Arthur.

Many people are fascinated by charismatic villains, and Micah, with his rustic style and confident attitude, can be captivating. Additionally, some people are attracted to troubled men, believing they can change them, feeling drawn to problematic individuals because they think they can “fix” or “save” them, romanticizing the idea that he could be different with the right love. I believe this could happen, but it would depend a lot on his own effort. Normally, people don’t change completely because of the environment in which they grew up and learned—both childhood and adolescence play a huge role in shaping an individual. The way someone is raised (whether well or poorly) MOLDS who they become and how they act.

Example: extremely strict, conservative people, and in many cases, Christians—mostly Protestants—often learn from their families certain prejudiced expressions and statements that were justified as biblical in many cases, even though not all of them were concrete. Some were used to “cover up” acts and speeches against these groups of people. That being said, I can say that Micah is somewhat of a patriot, even if he isn’t particularly religious. The way he was raised by his father, possibly even being distant from his own mother, made him completely closed off, locked inside his own world of justice and reason. He is an adult and knows how to make choices, he knows what is right and wrong—even if his sense of morality is distorted due to the way he was raised and taught by his father. If I’m not mistaken, Micah is the youngest son, and maybe that’s why he kept doing what his father did—perhaps in an attempt to please him, to be greater than him, or maybe just to avoid forgetting someone he barely remembers

JUNGIAN SHADOW: The Repressed Side of the Psyche

❤︎ Carl Jung, a psychiatrist and psychotherapist born in Switzerland, conducted research and described a “shadow” as an unconscious and repressed part of a person’s personality, where traits, desires, and impulses that do not fit into the conscious or socially acceptable identity (the one that divides a person in terms of moral good and evil) are stored. The shadow can contain both negative aspects, such as aggressiveness and selfishness, as well as repressed qualities, such as boldness and a desire for freedom. Carl began developing the concept of the Shadow around the 1910s. Micah Bell presents himself as an individual who does not care about social and moral norms. He is treacherous, grumpy, mocking, and opportunistic, but also extremely free, proudly self-confident, and fearless. For some people, especially those who repress certain desires or more primitive impulses, he can become an irresistible symbol. Perhaps they project onto him what they secretly wish to be or experience—whether it be the feeling of power, strength, lack of restraints, or the freedom to act without guilt. The attraction to someone like Micah may stem from an unconscious identification with this shadow, as he embodies aspects of the psyche that some would like to express but cannot due to societal norms or their own self-control.

Attraction to the Feeling of Power and Domination, to the Alpha Male

❤︎ The idea of the “alpha male,” which is a bit of a cliché term—I don’t know—is deeply rooted in biological and social instincts. For much of human history, survival depended on strength, dominance, and the ability of men to lead in tribal societies. Although social dynamics today are more complex, the attraction to traits associated with power and leadership remains strong in many people.

Micah have exudes this brutal survivor energy. He fears no one, manipulates to get what he wants, and always maintains control over situations. Even though he is despicable, he is a strategist and survives in a world where the weak are discarded. For some people, this behavior conveys strength and raw masculinity—something that can trigger an unconscious attraction, especially in those who value security, protection, or dominant leadership. Another psychological factor is that some people are drawn to danger and unpredictability. Someone like Micah will never be boring; he will always be a challenge, mainly because his actions are unpredictable. For some people with a more submissive personality or who seek dominant figures—someone who gives them the feeling of “he is in control, I don’t need to ask, he takes care of it”—he may seem magnetic, even with his cruel behavior.

( - ❤︎ - )

𝓙𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓮𝓻 𝓔𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓪 -

Now, if a woman likes Javier Escuella, the story is quite different…. Javier is a loyal man (at least to some extent), passionate about life, music, and camaraderie. He has a Latin charm, a romantic side deep down, and gives off an energy of a “seductive outlaw.” This could indicate that she’s attracted to men with an exotic touch, who mix charisma with passion and emotional intensity. Maybe she’s drawn to adventurers—rebels who still hold onto some sense of honor—someone who can be dangerous but also has principles.

❤︎ A woman who likes Javier Escuella prefers a more romantic rebel—someone who can be dangerous but still carries passion and loyalty (to his own interests). It’s more about intensity and adventure rather than pure self-destruction. In fact, it's said both in the game and on websites and books that Javier fled Mexico fearing for the lives of the people he loved, not for his own skin. He killed a man of power because he was in love with a woman who was married to this man of "power". But I don't remember if this question of being in love is one hundred percent affirmative, I didn't smoke anything while I was playing and I think he says it like this….look:

I firmly believe that Javier is not a fool, he wouldn't kill someone for no apparent reason, not even in the heat of the moment, in that scene of the separation of the gang he shows himself confused and analytical about everything that happened in the gang, so much so that I believe that he thinks he and Bill decided to leave, I didn't see Javier or Bill in the scene where Arthur climbs the stone hills, I only remember Micah, Dutch and those other two men that Micah took to the gang. So in my opinion the military man or man of power that Javier killed for the woman he loved, possibly did something against the workers or even to her, if he was going to stay with her he would have known exactly how to escape even if it was risky, maybe this man would have discovered the betrayal and killed her or beat her, or something worse... Mexico at that time was known as a violent place, where the minority that suffered the most were women.

If I were to analyze their types:

I don't think Javier needs that much analysis for someone to like him, he doesn't have any kind of Red flag 🚩, so let's say....right right, I did some research and one of the traits that is most included in attractiveness would be personality and Identification. Javier is a loyal, charismatic, and enigmatic member. His blend of honor and pragmatism can attract people who seek trustworthy and loyal figures but also have an independent and rebellious side that refuses to be stepped on.

Personality Theory (Big Five) and Connection to Attachment Theory:

According to attachment theory, many people seek partners who offer a secure attachment—someone who is present but not overly controlling. Javier represents this balance, as he appears committed and protective without being suffocating. He cares about those he loves, but does not deprive them of their freedom. According to this theory, people with high agreeableness may feel drawn to his loyalty and sense of brotherhood. Meanwhile, those with greater openness to experience (similar to him) might relate to his free-spirited nature.

❤︎ Agreeableness - is a personality trait that refers to the tendency to be cooperative and compassionate rather than suspicious or antagonistic. Individuals with high agreeableness are generally more respectful, friendly, generous, helpful, and committed

The Instinct of Care, the Fantasy of the Protective Partner, and the Need for Security and Protection:

Many women (and not just women, even some small groups of men) feel attracted to men who give off a sense of security, not just physically but also emotionally. And Javier shows unwavering loyalty to his group and his companions, which can be seen as a sign of reliability and stability. He’s someone who doesn’t abandon those he cares about, but for him, loyalty is the trunk of the tree of morality, which can create a feeling of comfort and protection—something that is exceptionally sought after and desired among women.

Javier can also be seen as the archetype of the “protective partner,” someone who defends those he loves and is willing to fight for them. This trait—once again, repeating—can trigger the unconscious desire to be cared for and protected, especially in women who value relationships built on trust and mutual security.

Psychodynamics and Projection:

Carl Jung, who I mentioned earlier at the beginning of the post, would probably say that male figures like Javier can represent—repeating again—the archetype of the “loyal companion,” someone who combines empathy and strength. For some, he might symbolize qualities they wish to express or find in another person. What people seek and value the most are deep emotional connections, so they might find themselves attracted to the way he engages with others. Those who repress desires for adventure, a sense of justice, loyalty, or independence might project that onto him, admiring his free-spirited life since they don’t allow themselves to live that way.

And lastly.....

Attraction to the Exotic and the Mysterious Past:

Javier has a foreign background—he’s Mexican—and a past that’s barely explored (which I firmly believe could make up half the story of a full game; he’s so underdeveloped, unfortunately). This can spark interest in people who feel drawn to the curiosity about his past or even to the idea of an outsider. Psychologically, the effect of novelty on something unknown can make that attraction even stronger.

So, I can conclude from these analyses that women/girls who are attracted to both Javier and Micah Bell likely have a fascination with extreme contrasts. On one hand, she values loyalty, protection, and deep emotional connection (Javier fits here); on the other, she feels drawn to danger, unpredictability, and limitless freedom (Micah fits here). This may reflect a duality within herself (which I also feel)—a desire for security and stability, but also a curiosity for controlled chaos and the forbidden thrill in their stark differences.

Maybe you’re someone who seeks different intensities in relationships, who is interested in psychological complexity, and who might have a repressed sense of pride that expresses itself through these opposing attractions or through the actions of the character you feel drawn to. I believe that people in our group take pride in having a partner who matches their “ANIMUS”—a confident partner who is admired or desired for their control over what they do or simply for being great at it. This also helps shape your own image as their partner. Couples where one person is striking make the second partner more interesting, sparking curiosity about “who?” or “how?” the person managed to win and claim them.

CINEMA! I’m going crazy, creating theories and analyses—this is fun and makes me happy! 🚶🏻🤸🏻

[arcadiaamber]

i giggled reading this btw... today i learned how pissed off i can get pricefielders

anyways... im not even gonna geti nto the first point because i cannot comprehend whatever the fuck ur saying so... 😭😭😭‼️‼️‼️

2. calling me a dumbass is so funny but anyways.. i get that they have their chemistry or whtv but its literally not like they NEED to get back together 😭😭😭😭😭 if anything id like it if they just stayed best friends.. b. reconnecting with chloe most likely would NOT help her move on from the past because chloe IS the past. (i mean seriously shes her ex have u ever felt a sapphic breakup that shit HURTS..) me wanting max to be able to move on from her past without chloe is not bias and actually comes from what i want to see in her character aka GROWTH.. i get she can grow with chloe but she can as easily grow by herself its not like being by yourself is inherently a bad thing LMFAO.. perchance her growing without chloe might be better.. the fact u went thru my posts like a fan flatters me but i promise you im not a d9 bootlicker i just enjoy double exposure like a regular person would.. also im a pricefielder, except i dont kiss dontnod's ass sooo.... there was zero "character assassination" for either of them in my opinion anyways. i think theyre both in character, max is still the socially awkward nerd but shes more confident and i think thats a great thing. chloe breaking up with max because of the fact she couldnt move on from arcadia bay is realistic of her and definitely shows her growth from her 19 year old self to her mid 20s self. i dont get why you want these characters to be one dimensional and stay stuck as the same person forever.. they were teenagers in lis1. they are going to grow and change thats life. also you pointing out that max broke space and time for chloe enforces my opinion that max is codependent on chloe. she doesnt care what it takes or even what happens to her she just wants chloe to be safe, and i dont really think thats HEALTHY.. but what do i know about healthy relationships...

3. i hope u realize i was half joking when i said it wasn't bias for safield.. like yeah i obviously have some bias but also its nkt completely unrealistic to hope that the next game focuses on the two main character's' relationship 😭😭😭😭 idk man i feel like ur going a little loopy..

4. again with the insults ijbol... i never said that actually i said that i would be happy IF that was the endings given.. i never said i wanted her to be attached to ANYONES hip 😭😭😭😭 and i quite literally said after that id rather her be by herself for a while WHICH AGAIN ISNT A BAD THING.

5. i dont know how u sat there, played all five episodes of lis1 and came out of there with the conclusion its about pricefield. if there wasnt any violence against young women committee by jefferson the game wouldnt have a plot. it wouldnt have a story.

mannn idk after reading allat im inclined to believe you wrote that seething, steam coming out of ur ears, whistling like a teapot because i didnt kiss dontnod's ass and actually have a mind of my own. the amount of delusion in that essay as well good lordddd 😭😭😭😭😭 this is my first and LAST time i respond to one of these bullshit responses cause ya'll spew so much shit out ur ass it baffles me how u guys actually think that...

this is probably going to be EXTREMELY controversial so i dont expect ANYONE to agree (please dont hate me 🙏🙏🙏‼️‼️‼️) but i REALLY DONT WNAT CHLOE BACK IN DE2. I HAVE REASONS!!!!!!!!

1. i think that it'll be viewed as a cash grab and like pricefield / chloe fans r never happy sooooo

2. if chloe and max were to get back together for some unforeseen reason i think that woukd ruin max's potential growth in de2 in my opinion. like i PERSONALLY think that her 'losing' chloe should help her move on from the past and should be portrayed as something that can help her move forward instead of dwelling on what could have been (as taylor swift once said, everything you lose is a step you take 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️)

3. i think she'd be so out of place and id rather have de2 focus on max and safi's relationship and this highkey sounds lkke bias because of my fixation but i PROMISE YOU its not.. mostly...

4. i think that max should grow by herself i really dont think she needs to be attached to chloe by the fucking hip.. like i would be so fucking ecstatic if you got to be with amanda/vinh/safi at the end of de2 but i think the most realistic ending would be for her to be by herself, not FOREVER, but for a good amount of time for her to be secure with being by herself because i personally think max is extremely codependent with chloe.. if .. that makes sense

[hidefdoritos]

reflecting on life and realizing that I was actually really close to being the third in some good friends' relationship o.O