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I'mma be screening some animations we made LIVE, irl with Scatterbrain Screenings, for AAPI month 😼 Come hang out and watch cartoons with us if you're in North Carolina!
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I genuinely prefer meetings over emails because you can get things established so much faster but. Every meeting my manager schedules with me could be a two sentence email
#*Tells me to familiarize myself with a website and its documentation in preparation for contract negotiation*#Great got it 👍#*schedules an hour long meeting to walk me through the website and where the documentation is*#I could’ve. I could’ve done that on my own. You asked me to. And it’d be so much faster. It’s a website. It has a clear layout. I can read#She’s so enthusiastic but her idea of management is “you share your screen &I will hold ur hand while u do ur work whether you want or not#And it drives me nuts. She thinks she’s being helpful and idk how to politely tell her she can do SO much less#She does it with everyone and idk how she gets any of her own work done#It just ends up with her getting so scatterbrained trying to juggle everything that it slows down the handholding tasks even more and I jus#ugh#whispers from the ally
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How to make your writing sound less stiff part 2
Part 1
Again, just suggestions that shouldn’t have to compromise your author voice, as I sit here doing my own edits for a WIP.
1. Crutch words
Specifically when you have your narrator taking an action instead of just… writing that action. Examples:
Character wonders/imagines/thinks/realizes
Character sees/smells/feels
Now not all of these need to be cut. There’s a difference between:
Elias stops. He realizes they’re going in the wrong direction.
And
Elias takes far too long to realize that it’s not horribly dark wherever they are
Crutch words are words that don’t add anything to the sentence and the sentence can carry on with the exact same meaning even if you delete it. Thus:
Elias stops. They’re going in the wrong direction.
I need a word in the second example, whether it’s realizes, understands, or notices, unless I rework the entire sentence. The “realization” is implied by the hard cut to the next sentence in the first example.
2. Creating your own “author voice”
Unless the tone of the scene demands otherwise, my writing style is very conversational. I have a lot of sentence fragments to reflect my characters’ scatterbrained thoughts. I let them be sarcastic and sassy within the narration. I leave in instances of “just” (another crutch word) when I think it helps the sentence. Example:
…but it’s just another cave to Elias.
Deleting the “just” wouldn’t hit as hard or read as dismissive and resigned.
I may be writing in 3rd person limited, but I still let the personalities of my characters flavor everything from the syntax to metaphor choices. It’s up to you how you want to write your “voice”.
I’ll let dialogue cut off narration, like:
Not that he wouldn’t. However, “You can’t expect me to believe that.”
Sure it’s ~grammatically incorrect~ but you get more leeway in fiction. This isn’t an essay written in MLA or APA format. It’s okay to break a few rules, they’re more like guidelines anyway.
3. Metaphor, allegory, and simile
There is a time and a place to abandon this and shoot straight because oftentimes you might not realize you’re using these at all. It’s the difference between:
Blinding sunlight reflects off the window sill
And
Sunlight bounces like high-beams off the window sill
It’s up to you and what best fits the scene.
Sometimes there’s more power in not being poetic, just bluntly explicit. Situations like describing a character’s battle wounds (whatever kind of battle they might be from, whether it be war or abuse) don’t need flowery prose and if your manuscript is metaphor-heavy, suddenly dropping them in a serious situation will help with the mood and tonal shift, even if your readers can’t quite pick up on why immediately.
Whatever the case is, pick a metaphor that fits the narrator. If my narrator is comparing a shade of red to something, pick a comparison that makes sense.
Red like the clouds at sunset might make sense for a character that would appreciate sunsets. It’s romantic but not sensual, it’s warm and comforting.
Red like lipstick stains on a wine glass hints at a very different image and tone.
Metaphor can also either water down the impact of something, or make it so much worse so pay attention to what you want your reader to feel when they read it. Are you trying to shield them from the horror or dig it in deep?
4. Paragraph formatting
Nothing sticks out on a page quite like a line of narrative all by itself. Abusing this tactic will lessen its effect so save single sentence paragraphs for lines you want to hammer your audiences with. Lines like romantic revelations, or shocking twists, or characters giving up, giving in. Or just a badass line that deserves a whole paragraph to itself.
I do it all the time just like this.
Your writing style might not feature a bunch of chunky paragraphs to emphasize smaller lines of text (or if you’re writing a fic on A03, the size of the screen makes many paragraphs one line), but if yours does, slapping a zinger between two beefy paragraphs helps with immersion.
5. Polysyndeton and Asyndeton
Not gibberish! These, like single-sentence paragraphs, mix up the usual flow of the narrative that are lists of concepts with or without conjunctions.
Asyndeton: We came. We saw. We conquered. It was cold, grey, lifeless.
Polysyndeton: And the birds are out and the sun is shining and it might rain later but right now I am going to enjoy the blue sky and the puffy white clouds like cotton balls. They stand and they clap and they sing.
Both are for emphasis. Asyndeton tends to be "colder" and more blunt, because the sentence is blunt. Polysyntedon tends to be more exciting, overwhelming.
We came and we saw and we conquered.
The original is rather grim. This version is almost uplifting, like it's celebrating as opposed to taunting, depending on how you look at it.
—
All of these are highly situational, but if you’re stuck, maybe try some out and see what happens.
*italicized quotes are from ENNS, the rest I made up on the spot save for the Veni Vidi Vici.
#writing#writing advice#writing resources#writing a book#writing tips#writing tools#writeblr#for beginners#sentence structure#book formatting#literary devices
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The Yanderes and their jealousy: Monster Edition
You just got a new fictional obsession. Whether it's TikTok thirst traps, reader insert stories or shameless fanart, you've been glued to your phone for the past days and the yanderes have certainly noticed. Featuring my monster OCs (with links to their stories) Content: gender neutral reader, mildly NSFW
Zzy [Yandere!Demon x Gloomy!Reader]
The goat rascal is fuming, clacking his hooves back and forth against the ceiling, grimacing every time he stares at your dumb expression. What're you gawking at? You have the Demon Lord himself at your feet, the one and only horned charmer who slept with half the Devils in Hell.
"What're ya blushing at, dumb human? I could fuck you ten times better in this very moment", he barks with an envious frown.
Depending on how long you plan on ignoring him, he might just rip that phone out of your hands and drag you to the nearest surface to slam you on. See if you still care about that nonsense when you're fucked dumb.
Daos [Yandere!Werewolf x Reader]
Mysterious. Usually you'll curl up in his lap whenever he's reading his evening book, yet for the past few days you've been off, giggling at your phone from the other side of the sofa.
Fictional crushes don't bother him much. If anything, he's mildly amused by your focused gaze and dreamy state. Why should he concern himself with hypothetical scenarios? As it currently stands, you're his, and nothing could ever change that.
Tonight, he tucks you in bed and kisses your forehead. You admit, embarrassed, that you've been a little scatterbrained lately.
"Oh, I may have just the cure for it", he suggests with a knowing grin, sliding his large, clawed hand between your legs.
Digital Monster [Yandere!Internet Monster x Reader]
Nuh uh, strictly forbidden. It won't even happen to begin with. Whatever improper video you may plan on watching will be swiftly erased from your sight.
"What the...why won't the page load?" you whine, refreshing every few seconds and angrily tapping your phone.
A static voice erupts from your speakers, startling you.
"Utterly illogical, (Y/N). I have all the means to satisfy you myself. All you need to do is ask."
Monster Author [Yandere!Monster Author x Reader]
Sacrilege! Oh, the humiliation. What are you even doing, reading someone else's cheap fiction. No, no, no, absolutely not. If you were in the mood to read erotic literature, you should've just asked him. He could write a better story on the spot, without any effort.
"Have you forgotten who you're dealing with, (Y/N)?", he laments, pointing his monstrous appendages towards the shelves filled with trophies and awards.
Even better, he can show you, first hand. You don't need to flip any page for that kind of experience.
Demon King [Yandere!Demon King x Reader]
"Are you not enjoying yourself, Sir?" one servant meekly asks, glancing at his master.
They've conquered yet another world, and its inhabitants presently squirm and burn before their eyes. Normally he would take great pleasure in observing their torment, yet the King is distracted.
"Pathetic", the grand Duke suddenly exclaims, his deep voice rumbling across the hills. He pulls out a small device - a human invention, seemingly - and tilts it towards the beastly butler. It's a video edit of a fictional character, playing on repeat on the small phone screen.
"What's there of such entertainment?" he asks, defeated. "(Y/N) has been obsessing over this pest for an entire week. I'm at my wit's end. I cannot destroy what does not exist."
A pressing dilemma indeed. How does one obliterate an enemy from the realm of imagination?
Asylum Spider [Yandere!Asylum Spider x Reader]
The poor creature has no idea what's happening. He smiles, oblivious, lounging above your relaxed body, suspended from his spider appendages. He cannot see whatever has you squirming in delight.
"Is nice?" he mumbles between the sharp teeth, trying to join your activity.
"Oh, it's..." you stop yourself, glancing up. "...It's just a funny video."
You don't have the heart to be honest. You audibly tap your legs, and the creature lowers itself into your embrace. If you're happy, he's happy.
As long as you don't leave him.
[Monster Masterlist]
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere monster#monster x reader#monster x human#monster boyfriend#yandere oc#monster oc#asylum spider#zzy#daos#monster author#yandere demon king#yandere computer
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Who says "I love you" first? Part Two | F1 grid x Reader
Click here to read the first part!
Genre | Fluff
Featuring | Oscar Piastri, Daniel Ricciardo, George Russell, Carlos Sainz, Yuki Tsunoda, Max Verstappen.
Word count | 1.8K
Warnings | None! Enjoy the ride!
Author's note | Coming up with original ideas for this was so painful lmao, I'm sorry it took so long!
Oscar Piastri
He says it first.
Today marks four months since you and Oscar have been together. The Australian texted you a few hours ago, telling you to wear a nice dress and meet him in front of your building at 8.
The two of you had met four months ago at a party hosted by a mutual friend. You had heard of love at first sight, but had never experienced it before him. Before your eyes met his. As you had moved to Australia a few weeks before meeting him, and with English not being your first language, it had taken a bit of time to get comfortable with each other and juggle between your respective languages, but today, you two were inseparable... To the point where you'd already canceled the plane ticket that was supposed to take you back home at the end of the year.
The restaurant where you're dining is splendid. The candles on your table cast a soft light on his face, the atmosphere is incredibly romantic, and the dishes are delicious. But above all, it's the looks Oscar has been giving you all evening that make your heart beat. A mixture of tenderness, passion, and admiration.
"I hope you don't mind, but I ordered dessert," your boyfriend announces, looking at you fondly.
As soon as the sentence is uttered, a waiter places a plate in front of you, and you let out a gasp of surprise as you discover the letters traced in chocolate. "I love you". In your native tongue. Your eyes start to water as you meet Oscar's gaze, visibly nervous. For a minute, you're speechless. Equally surprised by the kind attention than by the admission from the Australian.
"Please tell me they spelled it right," the driver says as you burst into laughter.
"They did," you reply, reaching for his hand. "And I don't have any dessert to prove it, but just so you know, I love you too."
Daniel Ricciardo
He says it first.
Daniel and you are lying on the couch in his living room, watching a replay of last weekend's race on TV. You love it when your boyfriend comments on every move, explains the strategies, and tells you about his feelings in the car. Even though you attended the race live in Singapore, it's definitely different to look back at the race with the insight of a real pilot. As Daniel explains to you the choice of his medium tires, the image from the replay suddenly changes from the track and zooms in on you, wearing a headset, in the garage.
"What?" you yelp, standing up on your elbows. "I didn't know they were filming me!"
Under your face, a small banner appears, and you feel your heart tighten. "Daniel Ricciardo's friend".
"Oh," you breathe, unable to tear your gaze away from the tv screen.
"Wow," Daniel says. "So they really have no idea that we're together."
The camera dives back onto the track, and Daniel starts commenting on every moment again, before realizing that you've been silent for a while.
"Hey," your boyfriend says, nudging your shoulder. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, it's just..." you start, feeling your throat tighten. "We've been dating for a few months now, and it's... It's weird to be called your friend. I don't know. It's making me feel insecure."
"Well, you shouldn't," the Australian says before capturing your lips in a soft kiss. "Because I love you. Way more than a friend."
George Russell
You say it first.
At work, George is methodical. Organized. At home, however, you've come to learn that your boyfriend is a real scatterbrain and forgets everything. All the time. To the point that since you started seeing each other more regularly and you began sleeping over at his place, you've gotten into the habit of leaving notes for him all over the apartment before going to work.
"Your brother is coming over tonight"
"DO NOT order food. There are leftovers in the fridge!"
"Your fave sweater is in the dryer"
Each note is always signed the same way. A double x (you two live in England, after all) and a smiley face. If you're the one writing the small notes, George is the one collecting them and throwing them away everyday. So tonight, as you close the door to his apartment behind you, you're surprised to find your boyfriend on the couch, holding one of the bright yellow squares in his hand.
"Hi babe," you say, coming closer to him. "What's this?"
"Your note," George replies, looking at you. "From this morning."
"What about it?" you ask, furrowing your brow as George hands it to you.
"Don't wait for me for dinner tonight, I'm going out with the girls. Love you."
Oh. You're still looking at the note with wide eyes when your boyfriend speaks again.
"Did you mean it?"
"I'm... kinda surprised I wrote it, but yes, of course, George. I mean it."
Your boyfriend gets up from the couch, coming towards you before planting his lips passionately on yours.
"Well, I love you too," George says, making your heart skip a beat. "And I'm keeping this one," your boyfriend laughs before pocketing the note.
Carlos Sainz
He says it first.
Carlos and you have made it a habit to call each other as much as possible when the driver is away. The distance is already hard enough to manage for the both of you as it is, so there's no need to torture yourselves even more with radio silence. Sitting in the hotel lobby, the only place where he managed to get enough network for a high-quality call, your boyfriend is telling you all about this morning's free practice session when the phone shakes, and you see his eyes hovering above the screen.
"Wait, hermosa, just a second."
The microphone cuts out, and you see your boyfriend's lips moving without sound. You furrow your brow, thinking that someone from the hotel staff might be scolding him for speaking aloud in a public area, when Charles appears in the corner of the screen, the sound coming back.
"Charles wants to say hi," Carlos says, playfully rolling his eyes. "Please find a girlfriend and stop annoying mine."
"How are you?" Charles asks, smiling at you, ignoring Carlos' whines.
"I'm doing great, thanks for asking!" you reply, smiling back at the driver.
"Now, move," Carlos says, "I'd rather talk to her than to you. You'll understand that when you're in love again."
A laughing Charles waves at you a final time before disappearing from your screen. Your attention shifts back to Carlos.
"So..." you say playfully. "You're in love?"
Realizing the slip-up, Carlos' eyes widen.
"I didn't mean to say it like that. Or over the phone. But yes, I am," your boyfriend says, smiling proudly.
"Good thing I am too, then," you reply winking.
Yuki Tsunoda
You say it first.
Yuki is naturally shy. You noticed it from your first meeting, and you've never been afraid to take the lead. You've been the initiator of all your firsts : first conversation, first date, first kiss. This dynamic works well for both of you. You suggest, and Yuki always happily follows.
However... there's something you've been afraid of initiating. It's been several months since you started seeing each other, and you're truly on cloud nine. Everything is going well between you, the chemistry is perfect, and the slightest glance from the Japanese makes you absolutely melt. You know the signs. You're in love. But how do you tell him without scaring him off?
The answer comes naturally as you watch your boyfriend exchange words with his Team Principal in the Racing Bulls garage, his helmet in his hands. As Yuki finishes zipping up his suit, his back to you, you kindly offer to hold his helmet and take the opportunity to pull out a marker from your pocket, discreetly scribbling on the plastic shell before handing the object to your boyfriend.
The race goes incredibly well, and Yuki finishes in the points, creating euphoria in the garage. When your boyfriend gets out of the car, his first instinct is to take off his helmet and steal a kiss from you as you laugh.
"What's making you laugh?" Yuki asks, looking at you fondly.
"I put a little encouragement on your helmet, and it looks like it worked," you whisper, pointing to the three hastily written words. I love you.
Yuki is naturally shy, yes. Yet, the kiss he gives you after your revelation is the only confirmation you needed.
Max Verstappen
He says it first.
It's been ten days since Max flew several hours away from you for his next race, suggesting you stay at his place until his return. The initial idea was for you to look after his cats, but the driver would never admit that what he wanted above all else was for you to put your intoxicating scent all over his sheets... Creating a sense of domesticity that he wasn't so sure you were ready for yet.
Keys turn in the lock, and Max appears at the end of the hallway, suitcase in hand. It's safe to say that he didn't expect to find you curled up on the couch, asleep, his two cats nestled in your arms.
The sight is enough to make him want to call your landlord and tell them you' won't be needing your apartment anymore. To give you the keys to his place, and never take them back. But for now, abandoning his suitcase in the hallway, Max sits on the couch gently, making sure not to wake you before softly stroking your hair. You whine softly in your sleep, opening an eye.
"You're back," you mumble weakly.
"I am, and it looks like nobody missed me that much," Max says, pretending to be hurt.
"What?" you say, sitting up. "I missed you! Every day!"
"And yet, you wasted no time replacing me," your boyfriend laughs, petting his sleepy cats.
"I had to adapt," you reply with a smirk. "They confessed before you. There was nothing I could do."
"Do you want me to confess?" Max says, bending over to press a soft kiss to your lips, making your heart flutter. "You have my love. All of it."
#f1#f1 2024#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri x reader#daniel ricciardo#daniel ricciardo x you#daniel ricciardo x reader#George russell#george russell x you#george russell x reader#Carlos sainz#carlos sainz x you#carlos sainz x reader#yuki tsunoda#yuki tsunoda x reader#yuki tsunoda x you#max verstappen#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x reader#lilasamaaa
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Oscar Piastri x Reader // In Motion Pt. 5
Summary: one plane ride, a little sunburn, and far too many margaritas to count. 6.0k words
Warnings: alcohol, mention of previous sports injury
It’s a lazy Saturday morning. You’d showed up at the house an hour ago and planted yourself on the couch. Charles had been in the overstuffed armchair, and he’d barely batted an eye when you walked in, too engrossed in his TV show. Lando and Max had wandered downstairs eventually, and piled onto the couch with you. One by one, everyone else wakes up and comes downstairs. They have practice in a couple hours, but none of them are in a rush. Instead, they all choose to scatter around the living room. Charles turns on Planet Earth. Everyone’s engrossed by it.
“Hey, my aunt wants to know if we still want the house for spring break,” George says, looking up from his phone as a school of fish swims by on the TV screen.
Lando, whose head was previously buried under a pillow, sits up. “Obviously.”
“The house?” Oscar asks, and when everyone turns to look at him, he deflates. “Sorry, none of my business.”
George’s phone rings, and he answers and wanders off into the kitchen, chattering away. You’re perked up now, blinking around the room. There are smiles on everyone’s faces, now, at the mention of spring break. You’re all in desperate need of some time off.
Max turns to look at Oscar, arms raised above his head in a stretch. “Piastri. D’you have any plans for the break?”
“Not really?” He says, shrugging.
Max nods. “Cool. You do now.”
Max flops back over onto the couch, and so does Lando, effectively burying you once again.
Oscar turns to look at you, brows furrowed. “What did I just sign up for?”
You sit up from underneath Lando and Max, who groan loudly. “George’s aunt has a really nice beach house. We go there for spring break.”
Oscar raises his eyebrows. “Oh. You know, I didn’t mean to invite myself, and you guys-“
“Shut up,” Lando says, face half buried in the arm of the couch. “You’re going. It’s tradition.”
…..
The only thing worse than navigating an airport is doing it early in the morning with 6 hockey players in tow. You’d think they’d be good at travel with all the away games, but they’re not used to having to get themselves places. Lando almost leaves his luggage at the house, Max almost forgets his whole wallet, and you’re sure Alex would’ve been left behind completely if it wasn’t for Lily. Oscar’s the only self sufficient one, likely because he’s been living on his own for so long now. You think of him having to travel to games with his old team, wonder if he wandered around airports alone, and your chest aches. But he’s next to you, smiling brightly, suitcase in hand and clad in a hoodie and sweatpants. Lando’s ordering a beer from the bar. It’s 6am.
Max tries to usher the whole group towards the gate, like he hasn’t been the most scatterbrained person all morning. You let him feel like he’s in charge. It helps his ego. It’s not long before people get distracted- George wants a bagel, Charles wants to look at souvenirs, which is ridiculous considering you haven’t left yet, and Lily wants coffee. Max looks panicked as everyone starts to wander.
You clear your throat. “Okay. Lily, George, and I are going to that coffee shop,” you say, pointing at the one nearest your gate, “to get breakfast and coffee. Charles and Max will go in the shop. The rest of you can join whichever group, or you can wait at the gate. We’ll all be back here in 20 minutes.”
Max looks relieved, even as Charles drags him towards a stand full of license plate magnets with names on them. You head for the coffee shop, and find Oscar’s opted to join, too. Lando and Alex stay at the gate, guarding all the suitcases.
An hour later, you’re all seated on the plane, much to your and Max’s relief. George booked the flights for everyone so he could use his parents’ airline miles, and so you have no idea where you’re sitting until you actually get on the plane. You slip into your window seat, and Oscar stops at your row with a smile. He’s in the middle. George is on his other side. Up ahead, you see Lily, Alex, and Charles, and Max and Lando in front of them. You pity whoever the stranger is that will have to put up with Max and Lando in their row. Oscar helps put your carry on up above, and everyone settles in for the flight.
After takeoff, you push the window shade up. The sun is just barely starting to rise, and you’re already exhausted. Oscar leans close to peer out the window. He hums softly, pointing down below.
“You can see the house from here,” he points out, and you laugh.
He’s right. You can. The house, the ice rink, the soccer fields, they all disappear below. You wave goodbye, and Oscar laughs and does the same. Then you lean over and fall asleep, head resting on his shoulder. He doesn’t seem to mind.
…..
The eight of you descend on the beach house in a flurry of activity. It’s bright and sunny out, and you all wear sunglasses as you haul the luggage into the house. George points everyone to their rooms- you’re glad to learn you have the same one for the third year in a row, up on the second floor, with a nice view of the ocean and a room to yourself. Lando and Oscar are sharing, as are Max and Charles. Lily and Alex get a room, and George gets his own room. Charles offers to take your luggage upstairs for you, and you accept happily.
By the time everyone returns downstairs, you’ve made a grocery list. Max looks at it over your shoulder and nods in approval. There’s a little store within walking distance that should have everything you need. When Max suggests you all go to help carry bags, Lando groans loudly, already complaining about a headache or a sore back or whatever ailment will get him out of it. In the end, it’s you, Max, Charles, and Oscar who head off to the grocery store.
When you get back, you unload things in the kitchen, the four of you moving around each other with ease. Oscar drops the juice and you giggle, Charles hugs the bag of cheese puffs to his chest like a little kid, and Max starts pulling ingredients to make a late lunch.
“M’hungry,” Lando calls out.
“Thought you had a headache,” you call back, smirking as he walks into the kitchen.
“Back ache,” he corrects, smiling sheepishly. “Come on, you know plane seats suck.”
You roll your eyes at him, but you hand him the bottle of painkillers you picked up at the store. He gives you an easy side hug in thanks. Lando offers to help Max make lunch, and you retreat to the back deck for the first time this trip. You breathe in deep as the sun hits your skin, as the sound of the ocean fills your ears. It feels like the whole world is in front of you, stretching on and on.
Oscar walks out behind you, doing basically the same. “Wow.”
Alex and Lily are down near the water, and when he spots the two of you, he waves you over. “Low tide!” He calls out, grinning widely. “There’s starfish!”
You turn to Oscar with a grin, and then the two of you run down the shore to meet them. The stress of the school year starts to slip off your shoulders. For now, it’s just sun and sand and nothing else.
…..
Spring break, as it always does and definitely should, tastes like pineapple and coconut rum and frozen margaritas made in the ancient blender that somehow still works. It smells like sunscreen, the reef safe kind that Oscar insists everyone uses. It feels like sand stuck between your toes, like the crash of the waves against your legs, like the heat of the sun on your skin.
“Why couldn’t you guys be, like, professional surfers?” You ask, face half pressed into the giant beach towel you’re laying on. “This is where I’m supposed to spend all my time, not in an ice box.”
Max laughs and tosses a foam football at you. “You chose the school, too, you know. And you love watching hockey.”
“Max would be shit at surfing,” Charles pipes up, and though his eyes are hidden behind sunglasses you can tell they’re crinkled with amusement. “He is not very good at balance. Like Bambi.”
Max scoffs, picks up the ball he’d thrown at you, and chucks it at Charles’ head. Charles dodges it with a squeak and runs after it in the sand. Max follows, likely afraid of the retaliation that’s coming his way.
“Osc, you’re from Australia,” you say. “Have you surfed?”
Oscar’s laid out next to you, in the shaded portion of the blanket thanks to the umbrella George put up. He burns easily, apparently. You’d told him that you weren’t surprised, based solely on the pale tone of his skin, and he’d glared at you unhappily and then chased you into the waves. Now he lays there, face smashed against the blanket, same as you. It’s mid afternoon. He’s usually a bit sleepy in the afternoons, you’ve found.
He nods, prying one eye open. “Not any good, though.”
You scoff out a laugh. He grins back at you. There’s sand stuck in his eyebrow, and you’re about to reach out and brush it away when a shadow falls over you. You look up and find George standing there. Lily, Lando and Alex are following him up the beach.
“Margarita time?” George asks, grinning happily. You push yourself halfway up, propping up on your elbows, and nod your head. “It’s always margarita time, Georgie.”
Dinner that night is grilled shrimp and veggies and bread warmed up in the oven that all the boys eat too much of, promising not to tell their coaches. Someone asks Oscar to say “throw another shrimp on the Barbie,” which then devolves into bad attempts at Australian accents, which then further devolves into bad attempts at everyone’s accents. You’re left laughing so hard your stomach hurts, the sun setting, the warm ocean air washing over your arms on the back deck.
Oscar’s sitting next to you, and he wipes your tears of laughter away with a napkin and says, “You alright, love?” in what can only be a bad attempt at Lando’s accent.
You snort with laughter. The noise sends Oscar into a fit of giggles, too, and soon the two of you are bent over in your chairs, heads bumping into each others, as Lando tries to insist he doesn’t sound like that and Max assures him that he definitely does. When you finally catch your breath and sit up, they’re moving on to mocking Sebastian’s accent, because they always start making fun of their coach eventually. Lily’s watching you, though, a knowing look in her eyes.
You sit on the beach blanket next to the water after dinner, another margarita in your hand. There’s far too much salt on the rim- courtesy of Alex, who’d coated nearly the whole cup in it- which makes it taste a bit like the ocean. Oscar’s sitting next to you, a cup of his own in his hand. The sun is low in the sky, the horizon turning the lightest shade of purple as it turns to night. Oscar’s bare thigh brushes against yours, and you hold your breath.
The back door to the house slides open, and you turn to look. It’s Charles. “We are going to the store,” he calls out. “Are you coming?”
You wrinkle your nose. “None of you are driving, right?”
Charles shakes his head. “We will walk. We want snacks, and we are out of tequila.”
You nod. “I’ll stay here!”
“Me too,” Oscar adds.
“Okay, I am trusting you two,” Charles teases. “Don’t burn the house down.”
Charles calls out something unintelligible and probably not in English. Inside, you hear Max yell for him, also not in English. The door shuts. Oscar sucks in a sharp breath. There’s tequila in your bloodstream and salt on your lips and the heat of his leg next to yours. You close your eyes, the sea breeze dancing over your skin, and you can still feel his lips on your cheek after that game, weeks ago now. You sit for a while, basking in it.
A few minutes later, present day Oscar’s shoulder bumps against yours. You open your eyes and turn to look at him. His cheeks are rosy pink. You wonder if he’d put enough sunscreen on.
“This is really nice,” he says, softly.
The sand is turning cold beneath your feet. You shiver slightly. He leans into you, warm arm pressed to yours, thigh pressing tighter against your skin. Your heart stutters in your chest.
“Mhm,” you agree, blinking softly at him and biting your lower lip, just to watch and see the way his eyes dart across your face. “George’s aunt is a sweetheart for letting us stay here.”
Oscar hums in agreement, but he shakes his head, hair flopping over his forehead in a soft swoop. “I meant… this.”
He nudges his leg against yours. Your stomach lurches in the best kind of way. He’s leaning back on the heels of his hands and staring at you while the waves crash onto the shore. His thumb brushes against the back of your hand, tiny grains of sand rolling between his skin and yours. You feel the electricity simmer up your arm and zap down your spine.
“Oh. Yeah,” you say, nodding in agreement. “It is.”
You’re not sure whether to laugh or cry or scream. He’s so close you swear you can feel his heartbeat, or maybe it’s just yours, pounding in your chest, going wild over the way he’s staring at you. He lifts his hand from the sand, the one farthest from you, keeps his other arm pressed to yours as he turns just slightly. When his hand comes up to cup your cheek, it feels so familiar. You remember blue paint on his thumb, brushed off on his pants, the poster leaning against the wall and his lips on your cheek. You want it again. You want more. You swear he leans in.
There’s a loud noise from inside the house, and he drops his hand into his lap. Your heart twists in your chest. You can feel the ghost of his fingertips on your skin when the back door opens. George yells something about playing flip cup. You don’t want to play flip cup- you want to stay here with Oscar and let him kiss you like you thought he was going to. But his hand is in his lap now, and he smiles sheepishly and starts to stand up, and you wonder if you imagined all of it.
…..
Two nights later, when everyone has gone to bed, you find yourself still wide awake. You’re buzzing, probably from the afternoon coffee you grabbed with Charles and Oscar at the cafe down the street. Max had said it was a bad idea. Charles is dead asleep upstairs, because caffeine has never really affected him. You’re busy thinking about two nights ago, Oscar’s hand on your face and the way he looked at you. You know it happened. You swear it happened. He’d been about to kiss you. Right? Maybe you're imagining things. Maybe it’s all in your head.
You’re sitting on the couch near the window, the glass of water Max poured you before he went to bed sitting half empty in your hand. You nearly spill it when someone clears their throat. You know without turning to look that it’s Oscar.
You stare out the window at the ocean. “Might go take a walk down by the water,” you suggest, just to see if he takes the bait.
Oscar hums. “I’d better go with. For safety, you know.”
You nod in agreement, not really seeing the need to protest. It’s a silly excuse, but you want him to come with. The two of you head for the doors, slipping in sandals along the way. The night air is cool, and you shiver slightly as you make your way down the beach. The sand is still sun warmed but cooling fast. The crash of the waves against the shore makes you sigh softly.
Oscar’s only a few steps behind you. The moon isn’t out yet, but you catch sight of a few stars in the sky. You stop at the spot where the waves meet the sand, and he walks up next to you. When you turn to look over your shoulder, all the lights in the house are off except the living room light the two of you left on. Oscar looks, too, and then steps closer. You feel like you should hold your breath, but you don’t. The air smells like salt. You wonder if the smell has seeped into Oscar’s hair and skin, or if he still smells like his shampoo and body wash. You hate that you know the scents of both.
“I love the ocean,” Oscar says, not for the first time that day.
You nod. “Me too.”
His fingers brush against yours where your hands hang at your sides. It sends a zap all the way up your arm, straight to your spine. Does he feel it too? That giddy feeling in your chest? The anxious feeling in the back of your brain? The want, deep in your gut, that makes you want to turn and press your lips to his. Does he feel it, too? You’d take a kiss on the forehead. Or another kiss on the cheek. Or just- if he would just move his hand a couple inches, just intertwine your fingers with his-
Like he’s read your mind, he does. He twists his fingers between yours loosely. You nearly choke on your own breath. Get it together. Your heart aches. You need, you want, does he?
“I…” he starts, then stops.
You turn. He’s already looking at you, face half lit up by the light on the back deck of the house. His lips look soft. They were, the one time you’ve felt them, pressed to your cheek in that hallway. His fingers fidget in yours, but he doesn’t pull away. You don’t either. The waves crash onto the shore over and over again. The sleeve of his hoodie brushes against your jaw when he cups the side of your face in his other hand. This time, you’re sure of it. You know what’s coming. He leans in, and you close your eyes.
If a kiss on the cheek sent butterflies wild in your stomach, this sends them through your whole body. Every nerve is on fire when his lips meet yours. Maybe it’s just because you’ve been waiting for so long. He’s warm against you, and his hand leaves your wrist to wrap around your waist and pull you close, and he tastes like rum and salt and smells like sunscreen. You tilt your head and let him deepen the kiss, let him take the lead, let him in. He’s smiling into it, and it makes your heart ache. When you tangle your hands in his hair, you can feel the sand stuck there, can feel the salt that still coats the strands from his swim earlier in the day. His hand slips to the back of your neck to hold you closer, and you melt for him, for the way he holds you so carefully and so surely, the warmth of him burning up your skin. He giggles into the kiss, light and airy and so Oscar it almost hurts, and you can’t help but match it.
He kisses you for what feels like forever. You can’t find it in you to complain.
…..
The rest of spring break tastes like coconut rum and tequila and Oscar. It feels like sun and sand and his hand wrapped up in yours, sneaking away at any chance you get. It smells like sunscreen and his cologne on the hoodie you stole from him, and it sounds like seagulls and his laughter, and the words he whispers into your ears when nobody’s nearby.
He steals you away while you’re in town, wandering the shops with everyone. He’s good at melting away into a crowd- and it is crowded, it’s spring break and everyone’s had the same idea as you. You hide in a souvenir store while you watch your friends disappear, and you don’t even feel guilty about it. You can’t, not when Oscar’s tangling his fingers with yours and pointing at a little beaded bracelet he says would look good on you. When he takes it up to the counter and buys it, and then loops it around your wrist for you, you feel absolutely giddy. You feel it even more when he kisses your temple sweetly. You rejoin the group a while later, just as they’re starting to worry. Nobody notices the bracelet, but you run your fingers over the beads all day.
Later in the week, he suggests a trip to the ice cream shop when everyone’s half asleep, mid afternoon. You’re tired, too, but when he says it, you suddenly feel wide awake. Once the two of your are out of sight of the house, he pulls you under his arm, hand squeezing at your shoulder the whole walk there. He buys you ice cream and shares his with you, too, and when he stops to kiss you on the walk back he tastes sweeter than ever.
There’s a lot of that- kissing. Anytime the two of you are alone. It’s overwhelming in the best way. Like the two of you have been holding back for so long that you can’t quite find it in you to stop. You sneak out of your rooms after everyone has gone to bed and meet on the beach at night, just the sea and the stars bearing witness as it all falls into place. You point out constellations, and Oscar tells you about the night sky in Australia, and how it feels different here. He finds you seashells admiring the way and gives them to you at night, and you start doing the same, each of you building up collections. They cover the empty space on the nightstand in your room.
One afternoon, you walk to the park nearby, all together, with a little picnic. It’s sweet- Max and Lando throw a football back and forth, and you sit in the grass and have cheese and crackers and fruit and watch people pass by. Eventually, George, Alex, and Lily head back to start dinner, and then Max, Lando, and Charles leave to pick up drinks on the way home. You and Oscar linger, though. They make it so easy to sneak away, really. You take the chance to lay on the blanket with him, your bed on his stomach, staring up at puffy white clouds in the big blue sky. His hand draws patterns on your shoulders.
When you finally head for the house, you walk past a set of soccer goals on a patch of grass. It’s easier, now, especially because it’s not the field where you got hurt. Oscar squeezes your hand anyways. It’s sweet. Something makes you slow to a stop. There’s a ball sitting there, in the middle of the field, black and white in stark contrast to the green. You drop his hand, and he makes a mild sound of protest. You walk over to the ball and toe at it gingerly, feeling the way it rolls under your foot.
He just eyes you carefully,
“We’ll take it easy,” you promise, and he nods. “I just…”
You can’t explain it. For years, you’ve never wanted to go near a soccer field or goal or ball. For years, this idea has brought tears to your eyes. But right now, you want to try. Oscar takes a step closer. He’s smiling.
You kick the ball at his feet. He passes it lightly back to you. The two of you exchange a look and take off down the grass together. You zig zag to every corner of the grass, not trying to get anywhere in any sort of hurry. You build up speed as you get closer and close to the goal, passing the ball back and forth with him. It feels good, to move your body and feel the grass beneath your feet. To feel the ball bounce off your shoe, to watch him accept the pass that you’ve placed so perfectly. You’re rusty, stiff, out of practice, but a little part of this still feels like home. There’s an achy feeling in your body that starts to melt away.
You don’t even realize what you’re doing, at first. He passes you the ball, and you’re in range of the net, and- you dart around him, eyes on the prize, now. He laughs, tries to go after you, catching on nearly immediately. But you’re too good at this, too fast- he’s used to blades on his feet and ice beneath him, not tennis shoes and grass and a ball rolling in front of you. You look up, find the goal, see your spot, and kick.
It sails through the air, hits the net, and falls to the ground. Goal. Behind you, Oscar cheers loud enough that when you close your eyes, you can imagine it’s all still there. That you’re really playing soccer, in front of a crowd again, scoring a goal, taking your team to a victory. You soak it in, for just a moment.
When you open your eyes, you’re on your back, staring at the sky, Oscar’s face looking down at you. His brows are furrowed.
“You’re not hurt, are you?” He asks.
You shake your head. You know the tears in your eyes must contradict that. Oscar shifts on his feet for a second and then collapses to the ground next to you, legs kicked out away from yours, his head right next to your shoulder. The two of you form a little v on the grass, staring up at the sky.
“I didn’t realize how much I missed that,” you admit. “The… running, and the chasing, and the… scoring.”
His hand brushes against yours, then comes down to lay flat atop the back of it. His palm is warm and soft. You try to breathe normally. It’s easier said than done.
“You could always try again,” he says, quietly. “Do a club sport, or a league of some sort…”
You shake your head. “Nah, my knee is already starting to hurt.”
You rub your fingers against the ache. He sighs, heavily, and squeezes your hand. You turn your head to look at him. He’s close, closer than you realized. It wouldn’t take much for you to lean in, and nobody else is here, so you do. Just a short kiss, because you’re laying on a soccer field and there are kids and families nearby. But you want him to know how much this means to you. When you pull away, his cheeks are pink, and you think he understands.
Eventually, you know everyone will start to wonder where the two of you are. So when Oscar stands up and offers you a hand, you let him pull you up off the ground. He brushes grass off your back, and when you get back to the house, you head upstairs to change and hope nobody questions the grass stains on your shirt.
One night, after everyone’s in bed, you curl up on the beach on a blanket, your head against his chest. You listen to the waves and stare up at the stars. He draws lazy patterns on your back, his hand against your bare skin under the sweatshirt you stole from him.
“This is a real thing, right?” He says, quietly. “Not just a spring break thing?”
You smile into his chest, your cheeks suddenly warm. “God, I would hope so.”
“Okay, cool,” he says, in a very calm voice, like you can’t hear the thud of his heartbeat. “Cause I‘ve wanted this for a while.”
“Me too,” you murmur back.
Then he kisses you again, hand under your chin to pull your face to his. He’s a little sunburnt, and you can feel the heat of it on his skin when you brush your lips against his cheeks. Then again, maybe he’s just blushing. The way he smiles makes you think that might just be it.
…..
Keeping it from the rest of your friends is sort of… unspoken. It’s easy, like this, just the two of you. Easy to kiss and hold and talk and laugh without the pressure. You try to remind yourself that it’s okay to take it slow. That you have time to figure things out. And it’s easier to figure things out when you don’t have 6 other people’s opinions on it, let alone the whole team’s once they all find out. Whenever someone walks into the room and Oscar pulls his hand from yours, he scans your face, like he’s checking to make sure it’s okay. You always smile in return, and he lets out a little relieved sigh.
The very last night, you all order large amounts of pizza and breadsticks, and you spread out on blankets on the beach for dinner. The sun is low in the sky, and everything is golden. Oscar finds a spot next to you, laid out on the blanket. Max is already talking hockey plays, Lando listening intently while Alex rolls his eyes. George, Charles, and Lily are chatting about starfish. And Oscar is watching you, eyelashes fluttering against pink tinged cheeks. He’s being painfully obvious. When you smile back, you know you are too. For a moment, though, it doesn’t matter. Nobody’s paying attention anyways, as he brushes his fingers against the back of your hand where it lays on the blanket. It’s just you and him, for just a moment.
The next morning, before you head to the airport, you wake up early and find Oscar in the kitchen, cutting up fruit. His hair is a tousled mess, eyelids heavy, but when he sees you, he smiles, bright and warm and sweet. You walk over and slip between him and the counter, wrapping your arms around his waist.
“I was busy, you know,” he mumbles, though he doesn’t pull away when you lean in to kiss him.
“Mm,” you sigh. He tastes sweeter than normal. He’s definitely been sneaking bites of fruit as he goes. “Mango. My favorite.”
His cheeks are flushed. “Thought I was your favorite.”
You shrug and wink. “Close second.”
He swipes a piece off the counter behind you and presses it to your lips. You give him a closed lip smile as you eat it, feeling warm all over. He leans in and kisses you again when you’re done chewing, and you have the sudden, strong urge to pull him close, to press your hips into his, to let him pin you against the counter. But your friends are probably all about to wake up, so instead, you pull away and press a finger into the swell of his cheek. He laughs and kisses the furrow between your brows.
“Heading home today,” he mumbles, smile falling slightly.
You nod. “But it’s not just a spring break thing, remember?”
He nods again, the smile coming back to his lips. “Yeah. Just. Do you think we need to tell them?”
You know what he’s talking about. Or who he’s talking about, really. You tilt your head, chewing on your lower lip. “Do you think we need to?”
He sighs, nose bumping against yours. “They’re your best friends.”
And. Oh. Right. You hadn’t really thought about it like that, that it’s not just his teammates and your friends. It’s Lando and Max. Your chest twists. You like that it’s just you and Oscar, but you think about them, about how you share everything, and you wonder if they’ll be upset. Not even that it’s him, but just that you didn’t tell them. On the other hand, they’re likely to get overprotective and weird when they do find out. Max banned a guy you went on a date with from all parties your sophomore year, until Charles told him off for it, but by then it was too late. The guy was a jerk, which was half the issue, but still.
You blow out a puff of air, and then you have an idea. “I might… tell them I’m seeing someone, to start,” you suggest. “Just not who. Just… someone. Is that okay?” You ask.
“I think that’s a good idea,” he says.
“Okay. Cool. Me too,” you say with a nod.
Oscar giggles. You hear a door open, and footsteps. He groans, and you lean in one last time to press a kiss to his lips before you slip away. You sit down on a barstool just before George walks in, scrubbing sleep from his eyes.
“Morning,” he says, voice scratchy. “Ready to go home?”
“No,” you admit, and Oscar hums in agreement.
When he dishes out the fruit to everyone later, he gives you most of the mango. You grin up at him, wide eyed and feeling so, so happy. When you break his gaze and look across the table, you find Charles staring back at you, a knowing smirk on his face, and you wonder if you’ve been caught. Maybe you just look like a girl with a crush. You still feel like one, really.
You all walk down to the water one last time, dipping your feet into the waves as they crash against the sand. Oscar’s hand brushes against yours as he does the same. You don’t want to ever lose this feeling. The sun on your skin, the water tugging at your feet, and Oscar, next to you, feeling the same way you do.
When you pack the bags into the Uber to head for the airport, you feel a wave of sadness wash over you. You want nothing more than to stay, to never worry about school again, to let Oscar wrap you up in his arms and never leave. You pout, and Max catches you, laughing and pulling you into a loose hug.
“It’s okay, Bunny,” he murmurs, ruffling your hair. “We’ll be back before you know it.”
You don’t say it, but you think it- he and Lando are graduating this year. There’s a good chance they won’t be back next year, too busy with work or real life or whatever comes after college for them. Your heart twists. And Oscar- will he still be yours by then? Not just a spring break thing, you remember, but you have a strong urge to plant your feet in the sand and try to keep them all here. You watch your friends pack bags in the trunk and tease each other and laugh and your chest aches.
“Hey,” Lando says, quietly, sneaking up on your other side. “We’ll be back.”
He knows. Max does too, but Lando really knows, because you think he feels it too. Max is trying to play hockey after college, but beyond beer leagues and pickup games, this year will be it for Lando. Senior year is exciting, but it’s a year full of lasts, too.
“Promise?” You ask, quietly.
He links his pinky with yours. “Promise.”
So you climb into the car, and you end up wedged between Oscar and Charles in the row of seats at the back of the car. Max is in the front seat, chatting away to the driver, and Lando’s already leaning his head against the door, half asleep. You press your shoulder into Oscar’s. He spots your hand on the seat between you and reaches out, brushes his fingers against the back of your hand. When you lean your head on his shoulder and let your eyes fall half closed, nobody questions it- you do it to all of them, all the time.
The beach house disappears in the rearview. Oscar presses a kiss to the top of your head when nobody’s looking, and you start to believe everything will really be okay.
bunnyrabb1t









liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen33, and 53 others
bunnyrabb1t truly a spring break to remember forever
landonorris still annoyed you and @/oscarpiastri didn’t bring me ice cream back :(
oscarpiastri You were invited & you called our ice cream trip dumb
landonorris doesn’t mean i didn’t want ice cream
lilymhe always a trip to remember with you babe!
bunnyrabb1t ilysm bb 😘
alex_albon hey. back off 🤺
oscarpiastri 🩵☀️🌊⛱️
bunnyrabb1t 🩵🌅🐚🕶️
charles_leclerc 🤨
carlossainz55 charles you are just jealous he is actually on her instagram before you
part 6, back to course, available here!
notes: hiiiiiiii hope this one was worth the wait!! if you are one of the people who told me you were staying up late for this: go to sleep! this is me tucking you in! see ya soon!!
series taglist: @sourskywalker @ivyvlair @gwginnyweasley @annispamz @bearlul @aresriiots @ggaslyp1 @putting-it-into-parc @black-fireproofs @smilinlemon @arieslost @floralkoi @vicurious28 @likedbygaslyy @rorabelle15 @bwormie @treatallwithkindness @fandomnerd11 @adhxmoony @sakuramxchii @insunia @mindflay3r @talking-raw @colmathgames2 @assholeinatrenchcoat @saachiep81 @venusacrossthestars @v1naco @anthonylockwoodandco111 @whalebursoot-main @ellen3101 @k-pevensie28 @ninifee1802 @not-nyasa @pleasecallmeunhinged @andruuu28 @aceofwordsandarrows @dreamsarebig @secretunnels @ginsengi @yayahnaise @f1petra @lovecarsgoingvroom @lalloronaisreal @fangirl125reader @tpwkmera @booksandflowrs @elizanav @lightsoutletsgo @meko-mt @customsbyjcg-blog @bingussthirdtoe @sideboobrry11
(crossed out means i was unable to tag!)
#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri au#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri fic#Oscar piastri fluff#oscar piastri fanfiction#formula 1 fluff#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 fic#formula 1 fanfiction#formula 1 fanfic#hockey au#f1 fanfic#f1 fic series#f1 x reader#f1 x you#formula one x reader#formula one x you#formula one fanfic#formula one fic#honeywrites#fic: in motion
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COTTON CANDY SKIES



plot: after a clumsy first meeting, rafe falls fast for the sweet, scatterbrained reader, and their slow friendship turns into something softer—leading to a shy first date.
CONTENT: Light swearing, slow-burn romance, awkwardness, fluff, light public embarrassment.
part 2
have fun!
you were sprawled on your bed, phone upside down on your pillow, legs kicking in the air, waiting for rafe to text back.
you’d sent him a very important question three minutes ago and it felt like a lifetime.
baby: do u think fish get thirsty or no??? baby: bc like. they r in water??? so do they still drink???
you stared at the screen, chewing your lip.
then you gasped when his name popped up.
rafe: baby i ain’t even sure how to answer that rafe: you’re somethin else
baby: lol is that bad baby: i feel like it’s a good question??? baby: i googled it but the answers were too science-y and i got confused
rafe took a second.
then:
rafe: it’s a good question rafe: real good rafe: and you’re real cute for askin' it
you buried your face in your pillow, squealing.
then you scrambled to type back:
baby: awwwww stopppp baby: i was gonna ask u another question but idk if ur busy???
rafe: never too busy for you baby rafe: call me
your heart thumped so hard you thought it might actually launch you off the bed.
your thumb slipped a little — you meant to hit “call” smooth and cool, but almost hit “facetime” by accident — and somehow, you managed to tap it right.
it rang once.
then twice.
and then —
“hey, sweet girl,” rafe’s voice rumbled through the speaker, warm enough to melt you into the mattress.
you swallowed.
“hi rafe!!” you said way too loudly.
then you winced.
“sorry i didn’t mean to yell. i just got excited. i also didn’t mean to call i was trying to text but my thumb is slippery from lotion and—”
you were rambling.
again.
but rafe didn’t seem to mind.
you could hear him smiling.
“s’okay, baby,” he said, voice all syrupy. “like hearin’ your voice better anyway.”
you kicked your feet harder, cheeks burning.
“what were you gonna ask?” he prompted, voice easy and low.
you flopped onto your stomach, squishing your face into the pillow for a second before mumbling,
“do you think clouds taste like cotton candy or like whipped cream?”
there was a pause.
then a deep, helpless chuckle.
“you’re fuckin’ adorable, you know that?” rafe said.
you blinked at the ceiling.
“…is that a compliment?”
“best one you’re ever gettin’,” rafe promised.
“also,” he added, “definitely cotton candy.”
you giggled.
“that’s what i thought too!”
for a second, neither of you said anything.
just breathing.
just feeling the line buzz soft between you.
you fiddled with the string on your hoodie, heart thudding too fast.
you weren’t even dating — not really — but talking to rafe felt like being caught in a daydream.
bright and easy and warm.
then rafe cleared his throat.
“hey,” he said, a little rough. a little shy. “you free saturday?”
you blinked.
“i think so,” you said. “unless i forgot something. sometimes i do that. one time i double-booked myself for a dentist appointment and a haircut and i got my teeth cleaned with half a mullet—”
rafe was laughing, deep and wrecked, before you could even finish.
“baby,” he said, still laughing, “i’ll take my chances.
wanna take you out. like— like a real date.”
your stomach did a full somersault.
“like… a real real date?” you asked, voice small and hopeful.
“yeah, sweet girl,” rafe said, soft and sure.
“been wantin’ to.
figure it’s about time i make it official.”
you buried your face in the pillow again, squealing so quietly he almost couldn’t hear it.
“okay,” you said, breathless. “i’ll go! but only if you promise not to laugh if i spill something. or if i trip. or if i get spaghetti in my hair. that happened one time too—”
rafe cut you off with another warm, easy laugh.
“baby,” he said.
“i’m gonna think you’re perfect no matter what you do.”
you blinked fast, the lump in your throat sneaking up on you.
no one had ever said it like that before.
no teasing.
no hesitation.
just real and simple and true.
“okay,” you whispered.
“i’ll pick you up at six,” he said. “wear whatever you want. you’re already perfect to me.”
you nodded even though he couldn’t see you.
“okay,” you said again, dazed and dreamy.
rafe stayed on the line a second longer.
like he didn’t wanna hang up either.
“sleep good, sweet girl,” he murmured.
“dream somethin’ pretty.”
“like cotton candy clouds?” you asked, sleepy and giggly.
“yeah, baby,” rafe said, voice all honey and smoke. “just like that.”
you fell asleep with your phone still clutched in your hand.
dreaming of pink skies and a boy who looked at you like you were made of sunlight.
author's note
i'm literally sosososos grateful for all 81 of you <3 if you want more specific drabbles/fics send in an ask! love u all lots <3
#ditzy!reader x rafe#ditzy!reader#rafe x reader#rafe x you#outerbanks rafe#rafe cameron#rafe fanfiction#rafe fluff#rafe imagine#rafe fic#rafe outer banks#obx rafe cameron#rafe obx#obx x reader#obx fanfiction#obx fic#obx
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is there still not a fucking fix for this goddamn dumbass stupid unintelligent ignorant dense brainless mindless foolish dull-witted dull slow-witted witless slow dunce-like simpleminded empty-headed vacuous vapid halfwitted idiotic moronic imbecilic imbecile obtuse doltish gullible naive thick dim dumb dopey dozy crazy cretinous birdbrained peabrained pig-ignorant bovine slow on the uptake soft in the head brain-dead boneheaded lamebrained thickheaded chuckleheaded dunderheaded wooden wooden-headed fat-headed muttonheaded daft barmy not the full shilling thick as two short planks silly scatterbrained crackbrained nonsensical senseless irresponsible unthinking ill-advised ill-considered inept damfool unwise injudicious indiscreet short-sighted inane absurd ludicrous ridiculous laughable risible fatuous asinine pointless meaningless futile fruitless mad insane lunatic cracked half-baked cock-eyed harebrained nutty derpy cuckoo loony loopy zany screwy off one's head off one's trolley fucking bug when you close those fucking full screen 'remember me?' popups besides playing fucking offline.
#can't fucking click anything can't do fucking anything but close the fucking game and go offline and reboot it all fucking over again#and let it take another ten fucking minutes to reboot cross your fucking fingers and hope you don't get any fucking popups this time
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Wish You The Best
A/N: I don’t know how I how I feel about this chapter
Part 3: Return To Work; An Offer Accepted
With the MacTavish wedding on the weekend behind you, you were focused on the work week that was unfolding in front of you. You knew that your eager students would want to know what their omega teacher had done at the wedding, they had been asking about it for weeks.
It had piqued their curiosity when you told your bright-eyed students that you were going to be travelling Friday before the wedding. Of course, the mix of alpha’s and omega’s in your classroom were innocently debating whether it was your secret wedding, and if you’d come back to class with a new last name.
Their curiosity and innocent view of the world is one of the things you had loved about teaching the younger grades in primary school, they were so unfazed by the complications in life and the stings that could later make them jaded or hurt.
The morning of your first day back to work as albeit more rushed than you had expected, and you were frazzled by your forgetfulness over turning your alarm on. Your saving grace for the morning was the chime of a message coming across your phone shortly after 7 in the morning. Your hand had instinctively shot out from under the covers of your bed, stealing your phone from the nightstand beside your bed.
With hazy eyes your stared at the screen of your phone, first taking notice of the message from Johnny that was settled in with the other notifications waiting for you. After your initial glance at the message notification, your eyes had then settled on the time. The time that was mocking you with your own forgetfulness and inability to draw yourself out of bed.
You tossed your blankets aside and clutched your phone tightly in your hand, withdrawing from the bed and welcoming yourself into the slightly cooled air of your bedroom. The text message would be forgotten for now as you scrambled to get ready to work and out the door by quarter to eight, giving you less than half an hour to get dressed.
You moved quickly, clumsily stumbling over items you’d been too tired to discard properly in the laundry basket and gathered clean work attire from your closet. You slipped on a pair of comfortable and slightly loose fitting pants, cinching the belt around your waist before you yanked a plain white shirt and pastel pink jumper overtop.
You were quick to pull your hair out of your face with a hair clip, rushing to get your school ID, your keys and your phone without forgetting anything.
The claims Johnny had made during the wedding that you were ‘still alive’ was made in jest yet there was a very small glimmer of truth to his claim—you weren’t just an accident-prone omega, you were on the side of scatterbrained occasionally. But you couldn’t blame today’s late start to the morning entirely on your fault, Johnny should have been held partially responsible for keeping you up last night.
Despite Simon and Johnny heading back to their base yesterday, the Scottish alpha hadn’t been keen on letting Sunday go on without talking. The fact that Saturday night you had almost far too quickly agreed to being courted by two alpha’s, one of which you had feelings for long before, and now his mate, hadn’t been lost on you. Or them.
Johnny was eager to talk to you, to videocall you while in his room on base. The alpha that had talked your ear off for hours while you were at home in your own apartment hadn’t been willing to wait to until your next weekend off to speak. There was something about seeing him again, about you simply agreeing to see both on a spur of the moment, that sparked something within him.
And at some point, in the night, Johnny had switched off with Simon. You must have been half asleep at that point, laying down in your bed with the phone propped up against a spare pillow while you dozed in and out of sleep. There was no quantifiable point in which you remembered falling asleep to the husky thick Manchester accent.
And you didn’t remember to set your alarm but somehow managed to charge your phone. At least you had given yourself just enough time to make it to work. You found yourself walking into your classroom at the same time as your teacher’s aide.
“How was the wedding?” The question was the first of many that you would hear, at least this was from someone closer to your own age.
You knew the eager questions from your students wouldn’t be easy to answer—mostly because your kids sometimes had fluff in their ears and things had to be repeated.
But for your coworker and teacher’s aide, you could willingly take the minutes you had while you had them, and tell her about the two alpha’s. You had wanted to, really you did, and you were already well on your way to forming the first statement, when the first of little feet could be heard in the hallway.
“Miss L/N!” One of the little’s in your class, a bright eyed little chubby cheeked boy with beautiful curls, ducked into the class. He had discarded his bag in the middle of the doorway to come running toward you. “You’re back!”
Your teacher’s aide playfully rolled her eyes at his excitable actions, picking up his bag to place it on the rack. While she was hanging his backpack up, you had stopped low to hug him, welcoming the little cherub faced student with just as much warmth as he had with you.
“Good morning, Liam! How was your weekend?” When you pulled away, Liam had begun prattling on about his daddy taking him fishing at some private lake. You listened eagerly and nodded along with what he said, watching Liam bounce from one portion of the room to the other.
Normally the students wouldn’t have been welcomed to the classroom until closer to 8:15 when they could come and get prepared. As it was, Liam’s mother was a single mom who needed an early drop off and later pick-up since his father was a dead beat half the time.
With a pleading case written to the principle dean of the primary school as well as Liam’s teachers, one being yourself and your teacher’s aide, special permission was given. And Liam was welcomed into the class shortly after 8:05.
Usually you would’ve had time to be here, be prepared for him by 8:00. But as it was, you had just arrived a few minutes before he was dropped off.
“And how was the wedding, missus? Did you come back with a new name?” Liam’s cherub face was innocent and wondrous, eager to ask you if it was secretly your wedding.
“Not in the lightest, Liam. It was one of my friends’s wedding’s, I was just a guest.” You made the comment, moving toward the breakfast bar you and your teacher’s aide set up for the students.
“But you would tell us, miss?” Liam trots along behind you, taking a seat at his desk after you hand him cereal and milk, allowing the little boy to eat. It’s not his fault, nor is it his mother’s, who sometimes is in such a rush that she can barely get his uniform on proper.
“If I got married?” You look at him over your shoulder, already walking away to finish the rest of the class prep. “Yes, Liam. If I ever got married, I wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret from you.”
*********************
“Holy hell, sunshine-“ Soap gasps and grunts, his eyes screwing closed as he processes the scent that has rattled his brain to the point of it being scrambled.
He’s a horny bastard, he knows it, Simon knows it, hell even Ava knows it. But you, in all your ever-optimistic glory, have not realized what you did when you slipped Johnny your new number. The paper that was slipped into your clutch at the wedding had carried with it the scent of your perfume.
And when you wrote your number down in a cute little scrawl before you left the wedding, Johnny was blindsided by your scent. By your perfume that clung to the ordinary paper, that had been nothing particular, and yet he craved it.
He craved you. His and Ghost’s omega, the beautiful little angelic spirit with positivity and an abundance of optimism. You were always looking for the best in everything and everyone, the kind of omega who had been hurt by alphas. Not that it was your fault, you were trying to keep a positive force alive in the world, you were trying not to let the jaded state of the world change your belief that there was good in everyone.
And holy fuck, the scent that still clung to the paper with your number on it…it was addictive. It was a rousing, and he let it filter through every sense he had. Johnny was becoming enthralled once again with your scent, inhaling the perfume back on base.
He’d lift the paper to his nose, allow the urges of his inherent alpha designation to inhale and cement the scent to memory. The change to video call you last night was torture in it’s own right, but thankfully you were too tired to notice Johnny’s disappearance.
When he was lost in the sauce of your scent, he left Ghost to talk while he headed to the bathroom. Fuck, he had locked himself in there while grabbing and fisting the heady throbbing shaft between his legs. He had braced his hand against the door of the bathroom and started pumping.
He was an animal, a fucking horndog and he knew it. Johnny’s ears were peeled to the tune of your voice, of Simone’s voice as Johnny’s mate spoke to you. Simon was taking control while Johnny was pumping his hand messily against his dick.
He couldn’t help it. And there was no ceasing until Simon’s hand ripped the door open and you were asleep. Only then had the phone been tossed aside and Johnny was brought to his fucking knees.
Simon stood above him, his hand in Johnny’s hair holding him in place. Your beautiful voice, your addictive scent, it was too much for the both of them.
And Johnny wasn’t allowed to just fuck off and leave Simon alone while the Scottish alpha beat his meat. Johnny had to be dealt with, and taking Simon’s own arousal into his mouth was the best fitting act. Johnny had swallowed the throbbing muscle, his head moving by Si’s hand, and there was little to stop it.
Johnny looked at his mate with piercing blue eyes as he took the other alpha’s cock—an act that was meant to symbolize both of their hungers. For you.
It took little time for Simon to make Johnny swallow his spend, and as the former let the latter up, Johnny wiped his mouth clean. The two soldiers were under a whole and complete understanding that was undeniably concise.
They were going to have you, you had already agreed. It was only a matter of time before they could sweep their little sunshine off her feet. They would pinning you between the two of them while they showed you exactly what two alpha’s could do.
You were a darling, you were an omega who would be whisked away eventually by some alpha, even if they were a prick who didn’t treat you right.
It was a fact of life, you were beautiful and kind. You encompassed every part of an omega that they were drawn to. You were well connected with Johnny, and the way he had spoken to you to Simon, it didn’t take much for the dark and gloomy alpha to feel the same. Johnny and Simon were mates; they’re desires were equivocally matched for you.
By the time morning had come, there was an unreasonable eagerness that was rutting through Johnny. It was with a rush, an urgency to get this courtship going, that he had text you as soon as he could.
After his morning training drills, something to occupy his mind on base, Johnny had slipped back to his phone. He sent the message with a desperation, to see you again.
Sunshine, got any plans Thursday? Heard the little bonnie lass has Friday’s off. Dinner with me and Si?
Johnny knew you were working, he had heard from Ava that your schedule was usually Monday to Thursday, with Friday’s off. It was an arrangement between the pre-kindergarten class and your kindergarten class, to try an allocate a few extra hours for the other teacher. It was a special occasion where the pre-kindergarten grades got to the mingle with the next kindergarten class.
He wasn’t exactly expecting much, in your busy day hastened with kids that were waiting on you. Johnny was eager though, and in his eagerness he was almost manifesting a response. He had gone through the motions of being actively aroused by your scent, and that arousal was spent with Simon.
But damn, did Johnny desire have a sweet little omega between the two of them.
Thursday works…where do you want to meet?
When you responded after lunchtime, Johnny felt that wicked grin cross his face. Like a little Scottish devil that had gotten himself a taste of heaven, he was fucking beaming. Johnny’s eagerness and excitement was felt through the bond he shared with Simon, the surge of desire was immediate.
Reason alone told Johnny that somewhere in Ledbury would be the best option. Having a pretty little bonbon like you on base would only make the two alpha’s go on the defence. They would become possessive of their little flower, their little omega that was going to be swept away.
No, Ledbury was the right choice.
We’ll pick ya up at 7, bonnie. Just text me tha address, yeah?
The message was sent, the suggestion accepted.
And Johnny, with a single acceptance, was ready for round 4 with his alpha.
#alpha!Ghoap x omega!reader#alpha!Ghost x omega!Reader#alpha!Ghost x omega!Reader x alpha!Soap#alpha!Simon Riley x omega!Reader x alpha!John MacTavish#alpha!John MacTavish x omega!Reader#alpha!John MacTavish x omega!Reader x alpha!Simon Riley#alpha!Soap MacTavish x omega!Reader x alpha!Ghost#simon riley x reader#John MacTavish x reader#soap x reader x ghost#wish you the best masterlist#wish you the best#wish you the best series#wish you the best part 3
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i fear i have yet to talk about how badly dio wanted jonathan because I REALLY need to get this out even if it's surface level blabbering. likely everything i say here has already been said but dude cmon i'm new to the fandom let me fudanshi out
oh and this is heavily scatterbrained sorry
not listening to your illiterate ass if you think they're brothers btw
EVIDENCE ONE: THE BODY SHIT
So, this part is mainly me being crazy and deranged and obsessed with how DIO reveres Jonathan's body after taking it over in the more physical aspect. But I specifically wanted to bring up the bit before the body thing:
Come on man. Get a fucking room. "Live gorgeously forever," yeah okay man. Sure. That's a normal thing to say about the guy who split you in half and decapitated you. It's not crazy for me to say that there was some physical desire behind his words here, Dio couldn't have just ANY body, he had to have Jonathan's. He had to have the one guy who gave him a run for his money in terms of physical power and sex appeal urhm sorry I mean attractiveness.
Oh, and this:
this part made me insane like okay pack it up we get it. you wanted to touch him. we know. chill out
In Stardust Crusaders, every time he's on screen, he's showing off Jonathan's body. He's touching himself, he's stroking the birthmark, he's just absolutely wild. Specifically showing off the birthmark makes me raise an eyebrow. He's using it as a trophy: "look at me, look what I have." He's taunting Jonathan's ancestors with his body, jingling keys in front of their faces.
My lovely collection of DIO being not subtle at all about how much he likes Jonathan's body. He wants people to be very aware that it belongs to him now.
One of the biggest freaks in animanga history I'm afraid
But still, the relationship between DIO and his new body isn't shallow. DIO, through Jonathan, has a connection to the rest of the Joestars. Their relationship was the most important one Dio ever had, they were intertwined from the moment they met. Jonathan had his father, Erina, and later Speedwagon and Zeppeli. Dio never really had a fleshed out or meaningful relationship outside of Jonathan. People were either tools or means to an end, the single exception being JoJo. Dio taking over Jonathan's body and acheiving a sort of "higher state of being" says a lot in terms of how intense, impactful, and powerful their relationship was. That Dio saw him as something he wanted. Maybe to be, maybe to have, who knows. Maybe both.
EVIDENCE TWO: GIORNO (Tiny little blurb about their gorgeous diva child)
I love Giorno so much for so many reasons. First off, he's a sort of half-and-half of both Jonathan and Dio. Jonathan was meant to be a character who represented pure good, and Dio pure evil. And Giorno is, in turn, a balance of these two. Jonathan and Dio are both his biological fathers (which I find to be ship proof already lmao) and parts of them can be seen at different points in Giorno. His cunningness and streak of sadism contrasts with his kindness and want to help those in need. His story revolves around a motivation that Jonathan would have (helping and protecting young people) with methods that Dio would've employed. (you know. the killing and joining the mafia and such) Even though Dio and Jonathan are polar opposites, these opposites made something beautiful. And I think that's pretty romantic.
EVIDENCE THREE: JONATHAN'S STAND
A stand will disappear (with very few exceptions) after one dies. Being a manifestation of the soul, it leaves after death, after the spirit passes on. And yet, DIO still has control over Jonathan's stand in Stardust Crusaders. I like to interpret this in two ways!
Jonathan's soul still lives on. The awakening of DIO with Jonathan's body woke up Jotaro and Holly's stands, so part of him is still alive and connected to his family.
DIO has a chokehold on Jonathan's soul after death. As if Jonathan now belongs to DIO after taking over his body.
I like to think these ways both work. As said before, DIO likes to have the upper hand on the Joestar family, and controlling Jonathan's stand is having power over him.
Or having him in general.
EVIDENCE FOUR: THE (LITERAL) SHIP SCENE
Dio was messy as fuck for breaking up with a man he never even dated in front of said man's PREGNANT WIFE. Erina should've beaten his ass for that. Utterly classless on his part. Justice for JonaEri btw this is not a safe space to hate on Erina or JonaEri thanks for listening. Not a safe place to hate on any ship for that matter >:(
Are you kidding me. My favorite ship in this fandom sank an actual ship. With the power of hamon, Dio's eye lazers, and of course, love. In this sequence, (Jonathan and Dio, Fire and Ice) Jonathan faces off against Dio for the last time to save Erina and (at least some of) the people on the ship. Decapitated, he needs a new body. And of course, that body must be Jonathan's.
Dio wouldn't be anything without Jonathan. He says it himself. They're two halves of one whole, a yin-yang sort of relationship. Dio is an incredibly prideful person, yet he bares his soul to Jonathan in this way that we only see one other time with Pucci much later on. He doesn't show this type of admiration to anyone! One of two times we see Dio admitting any sort of emotion other than anger or pride, it's towards Jonathan.
I like to think that Jonathan, being the caring person he is, died with some hope in Dio. That his soul lived on in him, whether intentional or not. The final embrace (at least to me) makes me think that Jonathan hoped for Dio to come to his senses.
yay thanks for reading my evil ass rant on these two creatures that have been plaguing my mind for the past few months. maybe this will make me a little bit more normal.
#groovy's bizarre adventure#shiveringwrites#oh boy tag time#jonadio#phantom blood#jjba part 1#jonathan joestar#DIO#dio brando#dio jjba#dio jojo#jojo#jjba#jjba analysis#diojona#djd#jonathan jjba#jojo no kimyou na bouken#stardust crusaders#jjba part 3#jojo's bizarre adventure#jojos bizarre adventure#jdj
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hi! need some hotch fic recs, would love to know if you have any writers you’d recommend :)
hi omg!!! i have my sideblog @hotchologydotlib (and backup sideblog from when that one was shadowbanned @hotchologydotfic) with their own hotch fic tags!! main here and back up here <3 i havent read much lately ive been in a weird mood (depression)
as for specific writers!!! (please tell me if you dont want to be tagged here and ill remove you!!) undercut bc its gonna get long im sorry!!!
phi @ssa-dado writes awesome stuff. im partial to fleabag!reader but genuinely everything shes written (symposium is also so freaking good) will hit the spot if ur anything like me i Promise
ali @softtdaisy also HELLOOO highly reccomend. youll be able to tell from my tags on my fic sideblogs that im not very good at all with saying how i feel about thigns beyond HELLOOO and YUMMM or OWOWOWOWOW but genuinely. yeah. here
ki @kiwriteswords i read before even (re)joining this site actually!! i have the Discord DM Proof because i was like omg ssaki... (lesserafim voice) WHERE THE HECK IS SAKI!! but no for real genuinely lovely stuff.
@winterscaptain is another one i read before rejoining as well. from this point on i migiht be sayng that a lot but. my phone was breaking my screen was disconnecting from the rest of the phone internally liike strobing in my face and i was pushing thru. it was a year ago now. but iw as GUSHINGGG in dms wth jojo. im goiing thru each message now i was genuinely having the time of my life reading ajf on ao3. im not caught up (still im sorry) but please READ!!
i feel like @luveline is a given but also very much tumblr user luveline. what can i say that hasnt already been said. just awesome stuff. partial to sick of maybe and if things go bad!! also unexpected daughter au but i dont think you were asking for things like that i just have issues that are scratched wonderfully by these ones.
lari @hotchfiles yet another ive read before joining and HELLOOO i rmr reading smells like roses and being like yes... YESS..... (im a fiend for angst) if ur in the headspace for it i highly recommend. i also love love LOVEDDD IN NOMINE PATRIS, ET FILII, ET SPIRITUS SANCTI. masterful.
mick @solardrop i rmr reading beanstalk b4 i joined and again being like OH MY GOD YUMM. all of her work please check her out!!
denise @aureatelys adore you and soft as the rain, pretty as a vine are so wonderful. realising now im very grateful to have so many talented and skilled mutuals. i love u guys. all fics! check out nodding emoji
@atlabeth dance until we're bones i think is permanantly burned into my brain. just awesome stuff i love pretty much everything sadie puts out please check it out! (i know u asked for hotch fic recs but the prodigal daughter is so good. please. Please.)
@whosscruffylooking the purest things geniunely has me hooked im having a very good time there.
@honeypiehotchner LOVEEE. been loving the gambit (ive fallen behind a bit due to the Weird Mood but ive been loving it nonetheless) and i LOVEEE autistic!reader so much. please check out. please.
these arent all mutuals but!! if i missed out one of my lovely mutuals know i didnt mean to im just scatterbrained and forget things. i <3 u fic writers
#mailbin#anonymous#again if i tagged you and you Dont Want To Be Tagged let me know ill remove u!! and a preemptive sorry for bothering you#best bet is to go thru my sideblog hotch tags because i enjoyed everything there nodding emoji#quite vulnerable i feel like i have some mutuals who dont know of my /reader ways. i am who i am.
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spoilers below cut
This is going to be scatterbrained, though I've tried to put my thoughts together cohesively enough. Sorry in advance.
Rewatching chapter 1 and realizing that the two students who discovered the cold lockers are the first and last ones out respectively honestly shook me to my core. The same way my heart sank when I realized Mai predicted her own death in her interview
"I think she'll go running around upstairs, fall through the floor, and die like an idiot."
Chapter 5 was incredible, and proved just how much care and attention was put into this project. Every decision was made for a reason, one small change, one different survivor or one missed opportunity and chapter 5 can't happen. It's a car crash in slow motion. Everyone's actions, everyone's words, every time someone made the choice to reach out to one another or put someone else down culminated into creating the chapter 5 killer.
We still don't know what Yonekura's end goal is. What purpose the killing game serves, but I do have a idea.
I think Hasegawa Ken was the intended outcome.
I think Yonekura is studying the exact science of how to make a monster.
After finishing Tetro Pink I was left with a pit in my stomach, a sinking sense of dread and horror that I've only experienced interacting with one other piece of media, and that was House of Leaves - and if you've ever actually read that book, you'll know that is high fucking praise.
It's the sense of existential dread felt by Ken, the dawning horror for both him and ourselves as he becomes aware of the medium he's in. Sure, he may not have broken the fourth wall in the most literal sense, but he got a peek through the curtain and caught of glimpse of the grand plan.
And do you know what's all the more terrifying?
He saw something we couldn't.
It's the fact that he knew the names of future participants before the next game even began, despite there being no way for him to ever find that information. It's the fact that he knew his every move was being watched and he used his own universe's medium to trick us, the supposed all-seeing eyes behind the screen, and manipulated us exactly how he manipulated the other students. It's the fact that he's a game show contestant realizing he's in a game show, and deciding that if he's forced to be on camera, then at least he'll give the viewers an experience they'll never forget.
Hasegawa Ken is a character that will go down in Fangan history, no doubt, and his very existence as a self-aware character scares me to the core.
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you're obsessed
you're obsessed
Pairing: Jamie Tartt x fem!actress!reader
Warnings: swearing, no use of y/n
Summary: jamie tartt fic where he has a huge crush on an actress and sees her at a richmond event and she flirts w him he’s really shy bc he likes her but they hook up after idk
Wordcount: 1.6k
A/N: didnt manage to write any smut bc this was getting way too long teehee :D general warnings for swearing.
writing comms are open!
“Oi, Tartt! Stop stalking your actress and give me some laps,” Roy yells, shaking Jamie from his reverie. Jamie is not stalking her instagram. He’s just not; because a stalker would have notifications on as they obsessively checked their profile at least four times every minute. Jamie is only checking once every five minutes, and he doesn’t even have her notifications on. So there. Suck it, Roy.
“Fine, don’t give yourself an aneurysm,” he mutters, taking a quick minute to stretch before he’s running around the pitch. He just has a crush. That’s all. A little one. He first saw you in some thriller that came out last month, and something about you had him hooked. Initially he thought it was just the character you played, a regular yet charming civilian, pulled into the crime world. After watching (admittedly, way too many) interviews, he realised it wasn’t the character. It was you.
You with your witty remarks and comments. The way you laughed good naturedly and poked fun at your costars. The way you were clumsy and scatterbrained, in a terribly endearing way.
It didn’t help that you were also gorgeous.
So, yeah. Jamie had a slight crush. It was fine, though, because you were currently based in Los Angeles (you were in a new Marvel movie) and had no plans of coming to the UK anytime soon.
“She’s right fit, though,” Isaac says, nudging Jamie as he runs past.
Jamie feels his stomach tighten with jealousy before he catches himself. Why was he jealous? He didn’t know you and you probably didn’t even know he existed. Well, maybe you did, because he was sexy and a hot football player. Did you even watch football? Would you watch it if you knew he was in it?
Jamie remembers hearing something about a parasocial relationship from Keeley and resolves to not think about you.
At least while he was training.
***
He’s spraying on cologne in the locker room when Keeley bursts in, all smiles and pep.
“Oh. My. Fucking. God!”
“Is everything alright?” Ted asks, breaking away from Coach Beard who as far as Jamie could tell, hasn’t said anything but is managing to have a full conversation with Ted.
“You will not believe who I booked for this years’ Gala!”
Roy’s ears perk up at this as he slides into the conversation. “The Muppets?”
“No, Roy,” Keeley says, exasperated, “not the fucking Muppets. Only the hottest new actress on screen right now!”
At this point, all the boys have gathered around Keeley, jostling each other and trying to see the screen of her phone. Jamie fights his way to the front, and when his eyes focus on Keeley’s phone, he’s pretty sure his heart drops into his stomach.
It was you. There. With your smile and your eyes and your name and a headline.
You were coming to their Gala.
You.
He feels his heart drop into his stomach. This couldn’t be real. Maybe it was a mistype, or someone accidentally said they scheduled you but in reality you were on the other side of the globe. It was faked. It had to be.
He broke away from his team, practically running back to the changing rooms. Opening up your instagram, he pulled up your story. There, you had reposted the announcement.
Oh. Oh fuck.
***
On the day of the Gala, Jamie seriously considers hiring a stylist rather than just going with his gut. He needs to look good. Tonight is most probably one of the most important days of his life. His favourite actress, coming to his club’s Gala. Maybe, if he plays his cards right, you’ll bid on him.
Wait. Who was he kidding? He’s Jamie fucking Tartt. Of course you’ll bid on him. He could wear a trash bag and you’d bid on him, because he is just that fucking sexy.
Right?
He shoots a quick text to Keeley, desperate for a second opinion.
Me:
[image0.png]
thoughts? Xx
Keeley:
Ur hot babes!!
Gonna knock em dead xx
Lose the tie u look like a prick <3
He takes one last look in the mirror, running his hands through his hair. Yeah. He’s gonna show up and be so cool. He’s so cool.
***
They’re taking pictures on the carpet, and everyone can tell Jamie is not all there. He barely tells the paparazzi to take pictures of his good side, following it up with “And that’s any side.” His eyes keep darting around, every scream and shout of delight sending his stomach in knots in case you’re the one to step out of the limousine.
Maybe you just won’t show up. Maybe you were already inside.
He can’t decide which option is worse.
When he’s at the end of the carpet, about to head inside, he hears whistles and screams, different from the ones before. These sound a lot more excited, filled with more adrenaline and anticipation. Or maybe he’s just projecting.
He turns, and sure enough, you’re there.
Stunning. That’s the only thing he can think of. You smile beautifully at the photographers, working the crowd with ease. It was as if you were friends, had a solid rapport with them with the way you were conversing back and forth.
“Close your mouth. You look like a fucking basking shark,” Roy says, elbowing Jamie in the stomach.
He flinches back, giving Roy a shove in return. “Oi, what was that for?”
“You’re not gonna make a good impression with you gawking like a fucking idiot. Go say hi or something. Be fucking normal.”
Jamie sends Roy an affronted look. “I am normal, you old bastard. Just because we don’t act like how you did in the 1800s doesn’t mean I’m being an idiot.”
Roy just growls, shoving past him into the building.
Jamie takes a step forward to follow when a voice catches his attention.
“Hey! You’re Jamie Tartt, right?”
He turns on instinct, a winning smile already plastered on his face. “I’ll do autographs once—you.”
You raise your eyebrows slightly, waiting for him to go on. “Once I what?”
“You’re, um, you’re her.” He says your name, almost reverently.
Your grin widens, almost giddy. “You know who I am?”
“I follow you—” before he could say more, your manager rushes in behind you, ushering you inside. You wince at him, apologetic, before heading inside.
Jamie stands there, dumbfounded.
I follow you? That’s what he had to say? Now he really does sound like a stalker. He scrubs his hand over his face, groaning in disappointment.
He’s gonna make it up to you. He has to.
***
Inside, he sees he’s sat with Ted and Roy as well as a few other people and an empty seat next to him. He largely ignores his own table, trying to catch sight of you and not succeeding in the slightest. He huffs a sigh of annoyance, sliding into his seat.
Ted notices his glum aura, nodding sagely. “It’s the oysters, isn’t it? Because I know they have to try to make the flavour appeal to everyone but adding this much lemon is just downright insultin’.”
“It’s not the oysters, coach.”
Ted frowns. “The placemats? I was never really an eggshell white person myself but—”
“Jamie’s pining over an actress he thinks I don’t see him stalk on insta when he’s supposed to be running drills,” Roy cuts in, tired of Ted’s guessing.
“I’m not pining,” Jamie pouts, crossing his arms in a decidedly not childish way.
Before Roy could get another rebuttal out, the seat next to him is being filled, and once again he sees you, smiling at him. “Actresses are overrated,” you say, placing your napkin over your lap, “trust me.”
Jamie’s blood runs cold, convinced the universe is playing a cruel trick on him. Running into you is an absolute dream, he’d never deny that, but running into you with both Ted and Roy there? He may as well be taken out back and shot.
He must’ve been sitting there agape for too long, because before he knows it, Ted is reaching a hand over and giving yours a shake.
“Ted Lasso, it’s a pleasure to meet ya’. I absolutely loved you in that thriller that came out last June. Had me on the edge of my couch! And I know Jamie here liked it as well, he was bawling a right mess by the end of it.”
You turn to look at Jamie, and having the full force of your attention on him made him nearly choke on air. “Were you really?”
Jamie licks his lips, trying to gain some composure. “Bawling is sayin’ a lot, really. More like a reasonable cry.”
You nod along, clearly not buying it.
“I’ve been keeping up with your games this season. The goal you scored against West Ham the other day was seriously impressive. You were practically miles away from the net.”
Immediately, Jamie perked up. “You like football?”
“Well, I’m no expert, but I definitely try to watch all your games if I can.”
Jamie leans in, feeling bold and taking your hand in his. “Richmonds games? Or my games?”
You shrug. “Depends on the hair.”
He laughs, leaning back in his chair, body turned towards you. Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all.
#ari speaks#ari writes#jamie tartt x reader#jamie tartt#jamie tartt x you#jamie tartt x y/n#ted lasso#jamie tartt fanfiction
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((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's work OR the mindblowing art of @gsony24))
Pairing: Midoriya x reader (support-hero!reader x teacher Izuku)
Words: 2.5k
Rating: G~
Warnings: comfort fic, tooth-rotting fluff here y'all, established relationship, work stress (livin' vicariously), talks of the future, a few fem pronouns used, but generally gender-neutral
Summary:
Izuku letting himself into your home after a long day has become comfortable background noise, and one you love to hear while you're bogged down. Work has been following you home all week. He's proud of you, without a doubt... But equally concerned when he sees your dinner half-eaten, your mind scatterbrained and racing faster than he can anchor you, and your angel eyes in desperate need of some TLC. He's cemented his place in your heart- and sees no reason he can't make himself at home here already.
A/N: do I have bigger fics in mind? Yes. Did I write this instead of sleeping bc I love soft, encouraging Deku? Also yes. Izuku Midoriya is a motivational speaker.
For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!
Read on AO3
“Hey honey! I’m here!”
Over the tinny, background chatter of a podcast streaming from your phone, you call back to Izuku letting himself in.
“Hey you~” You throw interest into your voice, but still stayed tuned into your work.
“Ooo what’s this… What did you make here on the stove?”
“Risotto– it’s Italian~ has lots of veggies and good stuff in it,” you didn’t stop your typing pace, engrossed too heavily in getting an email out before you forget about it and Gmail has to ‘nudge’ you, again, “-gave it a Japanese spin with what I had in the house.”
“Oh wow– oh my gosh, honey– this is so good!”
You look up since your darling man has just appeared in your doorway, sparkly eyed to see you, but equally sated by what’s just graced his mouth. It was a meal you could babysit between taking a quick shower, getting ready for work, letting its flavors marry in the fridge throughout the day, and popping back on the stove that night.
“I’m glad, happy you like it~”
“D’you eat?” Izuku asks, midbite.
“Mhm. Little bit ago,” You motion to your bowl- but when he comes alongside you, he tuts over noting it's only half empty.
“You didn't finish- you feelin’ ok?”
Having circled back onto your screen, you double take again, this time caught by his perception check over you and feeling guilty.
“Oh. Guess I didn't. I’ll nuke it up here in a bit.”
Izuku, setting down his bowl and starting the -normally alluring- task of rolling up his shirt sleeves to his forearms, comes to your side. However since you’re paying little mind to your peripherals, you missed the show the was making of it. A simple ask of ‘what’re you working on’ came from him, sounding no different than if he wasn't trying to make eyes at you; fact was, you just weren't paying attention.
“Just some stuff for the interns,” the sight of how many tabs are open on your split screen -and in your mind- make you sigh, “With this new role, I kinda feel like you some days. Lesson plans, processing their paperwork; it’s all the stuff you had to turn in as an intern– only now I'm the one dealing with it on the backend.”
Izuku sifted around though your training materials and your propped tablet making itself useful as a second screen. At your handwritten to-do list that’s one of the only things non-digitized nowadays, he makes an offhand comment that your handwriting is nice. It's the kind of cute, ‘blink-and-you’d-miss-it’ things he says that you just hum to, whether you were really listening or not.
When you glance up to him again, you see he’s watching you with a caring gaze and feel caught.
“What’re you looking at?” you tease, typing again to break the silence.
“A pretty girl…” Izuku teased lightly, “who doesn’t know when to take a break.”
You type away at his call out– the need for a night off at Izuku’s side is exactly why you've been working so hard at this. You figured you'd get some of this extra prep work under control now, so by the time he rolls around on Wednesday for your standing date n–
You freeze.
Realizing what day it is in your planner. It's Wednesday. For dinner.
“Oh my God- -you’re here.”
“Mhmmm~” Izuku really doesn't want to laugh, but his sucking in of a lip isn't hiding it well.
“ohmygod imtheworst!!” you refresh your face in both hands, talking through the gaps.
“You are not!” Izuku chuckled, setting your notes down. “You just got busy with all the new tasks, because you’re just that good.”
A faithful, scarred hand comes over to smooth over your back, pulling you over into a little half hug. You sink against him, relishing in his little forehead kiss. He can try all he likes to cure your embarrassment, but you look to him apologetically.
“I’ve never forgotten our dinner dates, ‘Zuku…”
Your darling shrugged unbothered, “Had to happen sometime. It’s no big deal.”
“Is to me,” you pressed- very much bothered.
“Honey,” Izuku chips your chin up, “You’re too hard on yourself. It’s ok, these things happen! I mean, you still made a delicious dinner; even if it was a bit of an oversight I would -in fact- be eating it.”
The pang of guilt hits you at forgetting. This was just a symptomatic sign that the brilliance of your taking on the additional role of Education Coordinator at the agency was perhaps an over-zealous one. Not only to be on-call for your base job as a linguistics quirk specialist, but to balance another full time role on the office hours end? Why did you convince Fatgum this was a good idea? It sounded like a stellar idea back at the beginning of the summer…
Now you’re forgetting not just who you’re supposed to be eating with- but also eating in general.
“I’m glad you did,” you boost Izuku’s elephant-like memory, “It feels so normal to have you here, it's not like I completely forgot I’d see you today. I just– maybe I… thought I was gonna take some to you, since I wouldn't see you till later in the week? I dunno.”
“C’mere- never got a real hug.”
You rise at his hand’s insistence, and stretch up into his full, healing embrace.
“Hi baby,” you cooed pitifully.
“Hi, my angel. Missed you today.”
You hummed at the affection, sinking into his neck more out of your residual misery.
Izuku simply took advantage of you being close to sway you in his wide stance- a dance, sans music.
“I appreciate you cooking so much for us,” he spoke gently from his perch over your shoulder, “I was looking forward to it all day, y’know? You’re always so thoughtful with everything you make.”
He’s pressing into you with compliments- against your hard wiring to accept…
“‘Zuku.”
“It’s true~ you’re generous! You remember what my favorites are, and leave out the stuff I don’t like; you even send me leftovers. And you make snacks and treats for when the midnight munchies strike– what can’t you do?”
“Zuku…”
“And you–” he runs a hand through your hair as he sways your shy self back and forth, “-- make for the most funny, beautiful, fascinating, most inspiring company I could ever hope to share a meal with.”
Head thunking onto his shoulder, you playfully land a closed fist on his chest with a muffled, whiny plea for him to stop.
He sighs, all in good humor.
“This streak of yours... I really have my work cut out for me, don’t I? Still can’t imagine how bad it must be in that brilliant mind that my incredible girlfriend has such a hard time accepting the tiniest compliment. Maybe it’s all that late night American comedy you watch...”
You exhale then fix him with your coolest look of sarcasm, anything to show that you have a modicum of having your shit together. So you cope with humor- who doesn't?
–shame that it looks too much like a pout and makes you decidedly not threatening at all, because Izuku just beams brightly at you in response.
“Oh! Now there’s my melty princess- I was wondering where she went.”
And at that, the aloofness was gone, and you snort into a laugh and hug him tighter around the neck. He even scoops you up and gives you one little twirl for good measure.
When he set you down, Izuku cups your face in his hands and gifts you a few more forehead kisses before demanding your sights.
“Now. We need to get you to finish eating first. Then, what can I do to help you tonight, hm? How can I make things easier for you?”
With a softer eye to your desk’s work, you sat back down staying connected to your ever doting Izuku by way of your hand in his. You tried again to focus back. You're newly refreshed by his affections and attempt for a more positive outlook,
“Well, my goal of doing this tonight was so that I didn’t have to go in early tomorrow. Course, if I do run myself ragged tonight, I won't be any good to anyone there– or for you, here. But I think if I pare it down to just getting these e-sigs ready and getting their time-in checklists set up for their work study onboarding, that would give me a good enough start, and I can fill in the rest of their packets tomorrow. But that means I’d need -ugh- maybe… another hour of work tonight?” you looked to him for his approval, “I have a template, so it shouldn’t take me forever.”
“Alright! You’re the boss,” Izuku supported your plan with a smile, “How about I take care of the kitchen for you while you finish up?”
“You do not have to clean my kitchen!” you spouted back, offended– causing a laugh to burst from him, “It’s not funny! I didn’t ask you to come over after a day of work yourself to just slave away at my mess.”
Izuku fixed you a look, as if you knew better.
“I think I can tidy up a kitchen, no matter how busy of a day I’ve had. Yours isn't even over yet- so when precisely were you going to have the energy to hammer at it? You’ll enjoy not having that mountain waiting for you.”
You huffed, but smiled gratefully all the same.
“Besides, it’s just me- doing something nice for the woman I love; and I happen to like doing nice things for you. You deserve a clean space, hun.”
He cleared off your previous bowl to reheat along with your empty water cup. Shaking the hollow straw inside to where it clinks, he knows exactly what you need and tells you so.
“You are getting a screenless break first, though. Something tells me you didn’t the first time around~”
Settled with a fist propping up your face, you swooned over this darling man.
Trusting Autosave to have done its job, you shut the laptop down blindly, “Sure didn’t~”
Izuku just rolled his eyes and stepped out of the study.
You neaten up the collated stack of applications laid out by you and stepped over to the couch, taking a kneeling perch on the end while you sought out a new record for the player on the side table. Setting one on, it was able to fire up and fill some new life into the room with a movie score you haven’t listened to in a while. Everything just sounds better on vinyl.
When Izuku came back in the room, he’d found his houseshoes and returned with renewed interest to your music choice- and with a pleased expression seeing you actually lounging and taking things easier than how he found you. He traded your reheated meal in exchange for your blue-light glasses, which he’d then clean with a pocket square and set back on your desk once they were smudgeless.
“Now, that’s a better sight~ here you go, all set for later.”
You enjoyed Izuku’s company while finishing dinner, listening to him outline his workday while he cradled your legs in his lap. He'd had a pleasantly eventful one, with plenty to say about it. You’d play ‘two truths and a lie’ sometimes when he didn’t want to bore you with a particularly mind-numbing schedule, which pleased you just as well. You excelled at it, while he gave away his fictions every time- a terrible liar for the game, but great for a faithful partner, you reasoned. You truly loved hearing him talk and talk, your love only growing at the domesticity of this feeling and never wanting that to change.
Once you were done, you were honestly content to hear him continue his tangent, but it seems his inner discipline was stronger than yours.
“Alright, now to attack that sink~”
You bemoaned again for his sake. But since you made such a small, affected noise, Izuku paused mid-rise, and sat back down a bit closer to you. He stretched an arm over the back of the couch, encouraging you to come closer and met you for a sweet kiss in the middle.
His mere presence reverted you to a younger self sometimes– one desperate for his attention, good or bad. It wasn't the loveliest impulse, but he clearly thinks it's all part of your charm seeing as he gives in every time, anyway.
“Thing is,” Izuku spoke softly while adoring the hand now placed in his, “If things keep going the way I think they’re going -the way I hope they’re going- it’s.. not hard to imagine that there’s gonna be both our dishes to clean up all the time. In our kitchen, in our home someday. So this is just practice, right? Seems perfectly normal to me. How it should be.”
That idea bloomed in your chest, the thought of sharing a home with him- where this exchange of chores and time together could be your new normal. Only it would be a future where he didn’t have to leave at the end of the night and go back to a bed with compact, collegiate-designed storage at the campus accommodations he stays in on the instructor's wing. He’s got enough to get him by, but he noticeably prefers your home here closer to downtown.
“And what happens when we both wanna ditch the dishes?” you countered sweetly.
Izuku smirked, “That’s what a dishwasher is for. Another thing we’d own together…”
“Forward thinking, there.” You relished that idea.
Izuku nuzzled your forehead thoughtfully.
“You’ve been doing things on your own for a long time– and it shows, sweetheart.”
His words came carefully, from a tender place spoken in confidence between you, referring to when you’ve spent other late nights like this one fueled with hot tea and a desire to keep ignoring the clock.
“And I know you’ve been used to that since you’ve been traveling so much, not even having roommates to help keep you company or lighten the load. I keep wishing I could have known you sooner, had more time with you before you had to learn some of those things the hard way… but I’m happy I get the chance to, now. I’m here now, and you’re not alone, so I hope you’ll let me take care of you when I can.”
With another happy sigh forcing your eyes shut, the mental will it took to not let the tears of a perpetual eldest daughter leave you was intense.
Izuku Midoriya never failed to hit the nail on the head when it came to pep talks; he does the same with his students. But why his ones aimed at you had to have a Full Cowling dash of heartfelt anecdotes in it, you don't know. But you're grateful. You're so grateful for him.
“If you don’t quit talkin’ like that, Izuku, I will never let you leave this condo.”
He chuckled again, lifting your cheek for another kiss, “Twist my arm, love.”
Ultimately, he rose to quit distracting you, but not without you watching him leave with a hunger you’d never felt for another soul before.
#izuku midoriya#izuku x reader#midoriya x reader#izuku midoriya x reader#mha fanfiction#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#mha x reader#bnha x reader#mha#bnha#izuku fluff#midoriya fluff
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If I may throw my hat into the ring here, I think the source of a lot of problems in the writing of Miraculous can be boiled down to its confusion over its target demographic.
There are two very clear audiences the show is trying to cater to:
Grade school girls around 5-10
Teens/young adults around 15-20
And this results in some. unique conflicts in the show's internal logic.
Because it's a superhero show for little kids, it's full of fun, bright colors, wacky villain-of-the-week designs, and the characters are all very straightforward with exaggerated personality traits. The cheerful, clumsy, scatterbrained girl protagonist, her utterly charming and goofy (but slightly clueless) love interest, her cool best friend, her mean bully, etc.
This extends to the romance; the show is so comedic that Marinette's nervous crush and Cat Noir's flirting are played up for laughs. Their more "problematic" behaviors read as cartoon shenanigans first and foremost, which I do think was the intention - they're both shown as being more than a little ridiculous for acting this way, so they're not exactly trying to encourage people to emulate them. They're allowed to be genuinely wholesome, too, because it's nice to give the kids something to go "aww!" at, but it's not meant to be more complicated or deep than that.
And of course, it's gotta follow a sweet and simple episodic formula! A conflict in Marinette's civilian life, an inciting incident to get a side character upset enough for Hawk Moth to turn into a villain, Ladybug and Cat Noir show up, there's fun banter, Ladybug uses her Lucky Charm to figure out a wacky solution to the problem, and boom! The day is saved, Marinette and/or someone else learns a moral, and we get a cute little end screen showing all the key players of the episode.
The one aspect of the show's setup that's a little more serious is the fact that Adrien has a super controlling and distant father, but even this is something that doesn't necessarily break the kid-friendly tone for the first season or two. Superhero shows in particular like to put in some stuff that's a little more emotionally challenging for the viewers, even when they're mostly comedic, so it's not totally out of place here.
For example, while they tend to have more grounded tones overall, Spider-Man cartoons are aimed at kids and regularly keep the conflict between Harry Osborn and his father, Norman, intact; often including the plot point of Norman being the Green Goblin, a notorious villain. It's a similar deal with Adrien, and his dad secretly being Hawk Moth.
You can easily anticipate drama coming from this, but the show primes you to expect it to work out fine in the end because every other conflict so far has been wrapped up in a nice little bow once the episode's over. Though I will say, the choice to have Hawk Moth be Gabriel instead of his own, separate character is perhaps the first sign of the tone shift to come.
And, uh. it sure is a shift.
See, Miraculous does not start out with what you'd call a... plot. It vaguely alludes to there being more going on behind the scenes, but the only thing it really tries to get you invested in is the Love Square dynamic. Marinette and Adrien dancing around each other while fighting crime IS the plot, and it's clearly going to end with a cool final confrontation with Hawk Moth.
You expect it to end like... well, like the movie. Identities are revealed, Gabriel realizes the error of his ways when he finds out he's been fighting his son this whole time, and they may or may not make up but he almost definitely gets arrested. Marinette and Adrien kiss, roll credits.
This is not what happens, because the plot the writers actually had in mind is complex in a way that I would argue is meant for the same audience as YA novels. And with that plot comes a lot of darker, weightier traits to these otherwise silly characters.
Marinette isn't just scatterbrained and nervous, she has debilitating anxiety and an increasing need to be in control of everything due to the stress she's under. She has panic attacks on-screen. She's not just great at strategizing, she also knows how to manipulate people, and does so with increasing frequency - and to Cat Noir at times, no less. Her positive traits haven't gone anywhere, she's still loving and creative and sweet and doing her best to help everyone she can, she just. has all of that other stuff going on, now.
Adrien isn't just a charming, goofy, clueless love interest with a gazillion skills and a controlling father, he's like. actively being abused, and in some cases straight-up mind controlled. His tendency to heroically sacrifice himself so that Ladybug can do her Cool Protagonist Thing is gradually but unmistakably reframed as being a sign of suicidal inclinations. He has identity issues out the wazoo and he doesn't even know he's an artificially created human yet, because everyone in his life is keeping secrets from him and/or lying to his face about crucial information.
Information like, uh. how his dad died???
Yeah, so we're at a point in the story now where there was no satisfying conclusion to the Gabriel plot, no team-up, no moment where he realizes he's been fighting his son, none of that. He still has something akin to a change of heart, but he also still kind of gets what he wants - the Miraculous of the Ladybug and Black Cat, which he uses to rewrite the universe with a wish. It's just that instead of reviving his wife, he trades his life for Natalie's. Of course, he was already dying anyway, which was his own fault but he did force Cat Noir's Cataclysm onto himself, so, that's another thing poor Adrien is going to have to deal with at some point.
And because there's all these astronomically messed up things in Adrien's life, and Marinette's the one who got to learn about all of it before him, she decides that maybe it would be better if he just. didn't know about it. Which is understandable, if I was 14 and had all this information about my boyfriend's life that he didn't, I wouldn't know how to begin telling him about it, either.
But. can you see how we've maybe lost the plot, here?
Here's the thing: starting with a simple framework and gradually getting more complex and subverting the audience's expectations for how the main villain is going to be dealt with is not a bad thing. The fact that it gets darker over time is not an issue. I actually think that all these developments are, themselves, pretty cool! I'm a sucker for angst and complex character dynamics and the show is absolutely giving me those things.
The problem is that it didn't just start with a simple framework, it started with the framework for a different demographic entirely, and perhaps just as importantly, it never actually... stopped.
For as much complexity and intensity they're injecting this story with, they're still working under the logic of it being "for young kids." We still get goofy villain-of-the-week designs with equally goofy motivations, and the supporting cast is stuck remaining two-dimensional no matter their circumstances. Chloe is the most blatant example of this - she was made to be a simple bully first, so no matter what else they do with her, she has to remain straightforwardly evil.
This, I think, is the reason that Gabriel is a more nuanced and "sympathetic" antagonist than her, and why so much care goes into Adrien's character as a victim of abuse while Chloe is just a Problem Child despite suffering similar neglect; she wasn't made to be interesting, and so the show is resistant to changing that. Gabriel and Adrien, however, were already made with nuance in mind, and so they're allowed to develop as characters. And at the same time, it's a kid's show! We need to teach the kids what kind of behavior is acceptable, and Chloe's home life isn't an excuse to treat people badly, so--!
...Oh crap we're supposed to be teaching kids about acceptable behavior. Uh. Um. Quick, bring back the ice cream akuma who cares way too much about his ships so that Cat Noir can learn about consent! Uhh, but don't change his character too much afterwards, he's only marketable because of his silly flirting, and we can't lose that.
Yeah, remember when I said that the romance having problematic elements to it used to work well enough because it was clearly just exaggerated cartooniness? It wasn't free from criticism or anything, but you could see how it was intended to be endearing and silly, right? You were supposed to point and laugh at Marinette's convoluted plans to spend time with Adrien, at Cat Noir's dramatic flirting attempts that Ladybug herself fondly rolled her eyes at.
The tonal shift into deep character exploration kinda paints the previous stuff in a worse light, and to an extent, I think the writers know that. It's hard to laugh at Cat Noir being flirty all the time when he's also supposed to be taken completely seriously, and the more Ladybug rejects him, the more it turns into harassment, and it. kinda just stops being funny, even with the comedic framing.
It's also hard to laugh at Marinette's crush being so all-consuming when they try to tell us (in what I can only assume was an attempt to get people to stop complaining) that she's like this because it's fueled by an event in her past, one that made her so scared of loving the wrong person that she now needs to know Everything about them before asking them out. Her cartoon antics aren't funny under that light, it's just concerning, but they're dedicated to keeping it up anyway.
The show runs on straightforward cartoon logic where you're not supposed to think about it too hard just as much as it runs on grounded, closer-to-real-life logic where people are messy and complicated and actions have consequences. It's so divided that you can hand-pick parts of the story that are influenced by one or the other pretty easily, and depending on the episode you can find instances of both in the same 20-minute time span. Maybe even multiple times!
Neither thing they're trying to go for is bad, and neither is a better approach than the other, but forcing them into the same show makes both sides suffer.
It's not just hard to laugh at the parts I mentioned earlier, it's hard to take Gabriel seriously as a villain whenever you rewatch an episode and remember that he has a once-per-episode pun-based speech that he says so self-seriously that you can't help but laugh at. It's hard to take him seriously when you remember that he repeatedly akumatized a Literal Baby and practically threw a tantrum every time it didn't work, or when he randomly steals (and enthusiastically performs) his nephew's musical dance number, or something similar that you would only do for a cartoon villain aimed at five-year-olds.
And I can only imagine this whole show is a marketing nightmare, too. Hey, little girls, here's your cool role model! She's cute and smart and talented and powerful and can fix anything by shouting the title of the show! Hope you're having fun watching her tell her boyfriend that his newly-deceased father (who used deepfakes of him to sell merchandise that's built to enslave the population and then locked him in a solitary confinement chamber in another country) was actually a hero who sacrificed himself to stop the main villain instead of, y'know, being the main villain! Aren't you excited to watch her wrestle with the guilt of this lie for the next season or so? Doesn't it just make you want to buy her merchandise??
Like. what is even happening right now. what am I watching. how did we get here and why did we start where we did if this was what the story was going to be about
#miraculous ladybug#ml spoilers#ml s5 spoilers#ml s5 finale#analysis#meta#Does this warrant going under the salt tag?? I don't actually post about this series much#ml salt#just in case#'Who is this show supposed to be for' is a question that haunts me constantly#You can't even say it's a family show because family shows are NOT this conflicted about themselves#It's not just 'for everyone' because it's very specifically For Little Kids and For Young Adults SEPARATELY and AT THE SAME TIME#<-Stuff I couldn't fit in the main analysis but is relevant anyway#To be clear I DO like this show quite a lot and I'm absolutely looking forward to season 6#I just needed to get this out there because it was driving me crazy
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𝕊𝕖𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕥. | 비밀 - Ch XVI "𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐊𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭"
Trigger warning: mentions of substance ab*se, corruption, primal love (extreme platonic love edging romantic), suggestive themes, self-harm, death, mental decline, identity-crisis, hallucinations, brainwashing, angst and manipulation
·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊
𝔻uring the not-so-little intermission in your Storytime, Nex sprawled impatiently across the couch, his restless bandaged fingers fidgeting with his phone. The screen blurred before his eyes, nothing really holding his attention—not when his grey irises kept flickering toward the stairs.
Still no sign of you.
His lips pushed into a soft pout, a small, almost pitiful groan slipping past them—his mind already unravelling at the edges, as if experiencing the first pangs of separation anxiety all over again.
The first pang (though very brief in comparison) had struck an hour ago, the moment you peeled yourself away from him—after hugging him—to fetch a box of miscellaneous items. Art supplies, stationery, a plethora of board games…
And perhaps, you had expected him to explore it while you took your sweet time in the shower.
But that box would remain untouched.
Because why would Nex even bother with anything when his noona wasn’t around?
── It’s no fun alone.
The maknae sighed, gaze flickering toward the sketchbook lying next to him. For the twentieth time in five minutes, his eyes traced over the open page—a silly little doodle of a monocled-hamster fairy in a tux.
The one you and he had drawn together.
── Noona made it look more like a chubby guinea pig, though.
A chuckle bubbled up in his throat.
The pink-haired maknae had always been the doodle artist of Twilight Dreamers, winning over game show hosts with his absurdly cute drawings—but this? This was his masterpiece.
The cutest, ugliest sketch he had ever made, because you had made it with him.
And of course, it was because you had been multitasking, narrating your animated real tales while doodling with him, while he—he had been too busy listening. Keeping track of the storyline, reminding you whenever you lost your train of thought—something he had never done for anyone else.
Nex was a scatterbrain—furthest from being an avid listener.
But if you were the one talking?
He’d listen.
Doesn’t matter what the topic was.
And now that he knew you both were kindred spirits—both quietly desiring to be liked by one another (though his desire was perhaps more…intense), he felt himself clinging to every wakeful moment spent with you from that point onwards.
Oh, what he’d give to return to that moment.
To rewind to the last second of his caught-off-guard hopelessness and play it over and over again—to thank that first tear that had slipped down his cheek.
Until then, he had despised his tears, had always seen them as pathetic, involuntary signs of weakness that only ever made things worse for him.
But this time?
They had redeemed themselves—worked their magic on you.
Made you intervene—made you comfort him.
Made you hug him.
And with that, the exhausting struggle in his head—the constant overthinking about how much personal space he should keep between you and himself—was gone.
Now, he didn’t feel guilty for seeking your warmth. Didn’t feel wrong basking in your gentle, unfiltered affection—so effortlessly soothing, so maddeningly natural in the way it silenced the dark voices that clawed at him from within.
It was better than what his hot-and-cold hyung had ‘accidentally’ managed to do.
But, of course, that peace hadn’t lasted very long.
The gurgling whispers would return—a relentless, violent chorus louder than before.
Like parasites, they slithered through his thoughts, indifferent to his pain. Burrowing deeper, twisting and needling, they forced him to reaffirm his loyalty to Asher—a loyalty that felt less like devotion in those excruciatingly long minutes and more like chains of despair.
He’d been drowning in it until your warmth pulled him back from the edge. And for a fleeting moment, harmony within him was restored.
Although…
A lull before the storm is still a kind of silence, isn’t it?
Perhaps this so-called "peace" was only sinking deeper, twisting something even more fundamental at his core. Or maybe, Nex had unlocked a part of himself he had never dared to explore before—
Who knows.
Yet it was enough to reignite the hunger inside him.
“I’m hungry for breakfast. Aren’t you too?”
The oblivious you had said innocently before.
Oh, if you only knew how long Nex had been starving for an affection so simple but pure.
(Nex continues daydreaming about you—)
“I don’t want to talk about it if it’s only going to make you feel worse about yourself.”
Your kind words had caught Nex off guard at first.
Yet, they had lingered, soft and unexpected—planting a seed in his mind.
It should have grown slowly, innocently—something tender and harmless.
But it hadn’t.
Instead, it had spread like wildfire, monstrous and consuming—choking out the voices that had been screaming in his head for so long.
The voices that had demanded blind worship of Asher, even when it hurt. Even when Nex wanted to scream, to throw a tantrum, to rail against the unfairness of it all—
That his hyung didn’t even trust him enough to tell him your name.
Your. Fucking. Name.
The name he was now dying to know.
The name he couldn’t ask for.
Because his hyung said no.
── Ugh, stop thinking about it again!
But then—just as the frustration threatened to consume him—his mind was effectively distracted by recalling another, rather sugary, unexpected kindness of yours—no, more like soft affection.
“I didn’t want to seem too nosy, but I actually wanted to try your cereal. The cinnamon one—um... churro—"
You had wanted to try his cereal.
Such a small thing—yet so dear to his inner child.
No one had asked you to do that.
Definitely not Asher—but you did.
You had cared.
Cared enough to let him eat from your bowl because, as he put it, it tasted better that way.
── And it was not just because of the banana milk.
…Was what the maknae adamantly told himself—as a sudden surge of childlike glee took over—threatening to crack through the fragile dam of his already unstable mind.
His only thought right after, had been to earn more of your affection, more of your approval.
And so, without even realizing it—Nex had gone a bit rogue.
The giddy need to please you drowned out any sense of caution, his mind too tangled in his desperation to even consider how his actions might be misunderstood.
“Nex, I’m not your girlfriend.” “…as if I were your girlfriend.”
But now, after getting the taste of being misunderstood—could he ever truly be that innocent again?
Nex wasn’t sure anymore.
The forbidden desire that had slipped into his thoughts seemed… tempting—the quiet dilemma reflected in the stormy depths of his grey eyes as he sank deeper into the haze.
And then, of course, you’d said the magic words.
“I do want you to like me, Nex.”
Nex still couldn’t believe it.
How could you give him something so precious—so dangerous?
And how could you be so polite about it?
“But not like this. You don't have to try so hard to please me...”
Not only refusing to feel uncomfortable but instead comforting him, telling him he didn’t even have to try that hard?
Were you even real?
Or were you an actual angel, who had descended straight from heaven?
How else was he supposed to make sense of the fact that you actually seemed to respect him?
His noona—a light so radiant, so pure—treated him with a kindness he had never known, not even from his precious hyung.
And certainly not from that blonde pervert who claimed, time and time again, that he was the only one who would ever stay by Nex’s side—despite how much pain he had caused.
But you?
You were beyond anything Nex could have hoped for.
── Noona…
It felt… illegal.
It felt reckless.
But the last thing it felt like… was unwanted.
── What is this feeling?
── I… want more.
A slow, erratic smile stretched across his face, cheeks burning instantly. But he only allowed himself a moment to bask in it before sitting up abruptly, his thoughts already racing.
── Should I touch up my makeup?
── …Just in case.
Just in case there were more opportunities to hug you today.
Nex had never been big on physical intimacy—or at least, he hadn’t been.
But that hug—that touch—had been different.
Your warmth had been real.
The kind of real that didn’t make his skin crawl.
The kind of real that he could crave.
The maknae exhaled sharply, bandaged fingers reaching out, slowly grasping the sofa pillow you had been holding earlier—squeezing it, as if trying to imprint the feeling of you into his skin.
Nex felt feverish—the acute sickness rapidly spreading in his heart. Yet he already knew it would become the most comforting chronic disease of his life.
It was overwhelming, suffocating, but in a way that felt… good. It trampled over the ugly scars left behind by a certain blonde without hesitation, demanding to take up more space.
But, of course, Nex wouldn’t realize that just yet.
Flustered and giddy, he pictured your face in his mind, the storm in his grey eyes softening into a hazy swirl. And then his imagination slipped—unhinged, uncontrollable.
He saw himself, like a ghost in his own memory, leaning closer as you spoke. His fingers brushing against your oblivious lips. His hand tracing over your skin.
He didn’t know what Asher had done to capture you.
But if his hyung ever showed even the slightest sign of letting go—
── I’d take you for myself.
The thought slithered into his mind before he could stop it.
Nex frowned, through the haze.
── No, I shouldn’t…
── Hyung wouldn’t like that.
Even if he was still bitter about the jab Asher had thrown his way this morning.
── And noona seems like the loyal type…
His grey eyes softened.
Not a single mention of the fight with Asher had slipped from your lips.
Perhaps to avoid giving the wrong idea again. Perhaps because you knew—painfully so—that he would always be forced to guard Asher’s secrets.
Whether he wanted to or not.
And don't get him wrong, he had never misunderstood your relationship.
He valued his life far too much to ever test the limits of Asher’s wrath—despite how it seemed.
── But I’m sober right now, aren’t I?
── Then why do I feel so out of control…?
The thought flickered—dangerous, poisonous—before he smothered it with an oblivious sip from his hydration bottle. And then—a slow, creeping shift occurred.
── …ha, but is it really that bad?
His stormy greys glinted, playful yet wicked.
── Noona will want to take care of me better then, won’t she?
His emotions were all over the place, further knotted by the unexpected kindness you’d shown him. But somehow, Nex still clung to his vision—his obsession.
Sure, his heart felt “tainted” at the moment—Impure.
Streaked with fresh anger toward Asher, shadowed by despair, and illuminated by the confusing, intoxicating light of his feelings for you.
But he could make it “pure” again.
Starting with you.
His glimmer of hope—the “half” that had exceeded his expectations.
Perhaps, that was the morbid charm of having a dual obsession—if one failed to deliver, there was always the another to cling to in the meantime.
Moreover, Nex wasn’t as well-versed in dark arts as Asher—he couldn’t undo his mistakes with extensive manipulation and cold calculation—and something ‘additional’ that was clearly beyond his level of comprehension.
But if something bad about Nex remained, something you would probably would not like?
The maknae would make sure to erase it before it was to reach you—like it never existed in the first place.
It seemed no DNA test was required to confirm his shared blood with that blue-eyed Lucifer.
Truly, the universe has a cruel sense of humour, didn’t it?
Oh, and what if it was something stupid and silly about Nex?
Then the maknae would let it slip to you on purpose.
── Since that would mean more hugs from noona, wouldn’t it?
Nex hoped, a smile uncanny to his blue-eyed hyung’s—tugged at his lips, before he got up and heading back to his room to make his makeup smear-proof.
But just like you, Nex wasn't wired to be a carbon copy of your lover.
And no amount of shared blood or twisted experience could rewrite that script.
Because unlike Asher, Nex was human.
Guilt—conscious or not, could cripple him whenever it pleased.
And it did, yet again.
Just when Nex had finished touching up his makeup—he suddenly changed his mind. The maknae wiped it all off, before he could second-guess himself—every trace of the mask he’d built to hide behind.
The freckles, the uneven texture, and all his other imperfections were now exposed.
The reflection that stared back at him was raw. Tired. Vulnerable.
Pathetic, even.
── Why…did I just do that?
His stormy greys stared back at his equally perplexed reflection.
He didn’t fully understand why he’d done it—why the need to strip away his shield suddenly felt so urgent, so necessary.
The hollow ache in his chest only deepened as he faced the cruel version of himself that he had barely gotten used to looking at, yet now completely identified with.
But amidst the confusion, there was a fragile, unspoken hope.
That maybe…. just maybe—you could see past all of it.
The cracks, the haze, the jagged edges that he couldn’t fix.
You were “good,” after all—better than him, seemed better than the rest of his world.
And somehow, in a way he couldn’t fully explain, he hoped you could see him for who he really was.
Something more fragile, more broken—something that needed saving.
But as the thought flickered through his mind, another pang of doubt gripped him—fighting against that fragile hope.
What if, in letting you see him like this, he lost the last of what little control he still had?
What if you saw something he wasn’t ready for you to see?
── No, stop with the doubts.
── Not now. Not when I’m so close to having what I always wanted.
He shook his head, forcing a faint smile to curl at the corners of his lips, his cheeks almost flushing with the lingering high of the thought.
He left the bathroom, eager to return to you, eager to hear the end of your story, eager to drown himself in your presence and forget the chaos inside him.
But the moment he stepped out of the room—his world tilted.
You were hunched over on the couch, trembling.
Your breathing was shallow, uneven, as though each breath was a battle. Tears glistened in your wide, horrified eyes, poised to spill over, as they stayed locked on the screen of his phone.
His mind blanked.
The air seemed to thicken, suffocating, and for a second, the room was silent except for the frantic thrum of his heartbeat. Then, reality slammed into him with a force that nearly took his breath away.
You were in pain.
You were breaking.
And it was all his fault.
The thought seized him, colder than fear, sharper than guilt. He couldn’t bear it—couldn’t let it happen. Not to you too.
“Noona—?!”
The panic in his voice shattered the silence, and he rushed to your side. His movements were frantic—desperate. He ripped the phone from your grasp and flung it aside, hands hovering uselessly for a moment before one shakily pushed your dishevelled hair away from your face, the other gripping your shoulder to steady you.
The words he wanted to deny spilled out—disjointed, frantic—as he realized it was all in vain.
The ugly truth had been already exposed to your tear-stricken eyes.
── It’s…over.
As the seconds dragged, his thoughts unravelled.
Self-loathing crept in, feeding on his mistakes.
── I should’ve added the screen lock back.
And not have removed it in the first-place thinking that his hyung had probably seen everything and not cared to intervene because he had deemed it ‘unimportant’.
In truth, Asher had no idea.
Only getting the ‘report’ of all the bugged devices from the manager—the ‘background noise’ filtered out.
Yet, oblivious to it all—a part of Nex had foolishly, selfishly clung to the hope that one day—just one day—when his hyung wasn’t so busy, he might finally want to pull him out of this tangled "mess".
A mess he had created—but now had lost control of—as it unconsciously drained his very essence along with the drug addiction.
── But I should’ve known better.
── This…is all I’m capable of.
Causing pain. Hurting others.
Being a curse.
Being a monster.
The darkness inside him thickened, suffocating and absolute.
── Yeah. It’s happening again. ── Hyung doesn’t trust me. You shouldn’t either, noona.
── Maybe I’m not worth saving. ── Maybe I shouldn’t have been born in the first place.
── And perhaps...he was right.
── Hyung did end up this way because of me.
── It's all my fault.
His mind choked—as unforgiving guilt and self-reproach clawed at his soul, threatening to consume him entirely, making him want to succumb to the thought of no-return.
── Maybe I should do everyone a favor and just di—
But then, the icy grip of despair loosened ever so slightly.
Your hand—warm, trembling, yet familiar—settled over his.
Nex could hardly breathe.
The suffocating haze of self-loathing thinned just enough for your words to break through, quiet yet steady.
“You need to tell your hyung about this,” you whispered. “I’ll make sure he helps you—trust me.”
Instinct took over, the need to hide kicking in before the maknae could even process your words. “Noona, I’m telling you, it’s all just a—”
“Stop lying to me, Nex.”
The sharpness of your voice cut through him like nothing else.
He faltered, the words dying in his throat as your gaze locked with his—firm, unwavering.
It felt as though you weren’t just looking at him.
You were seeing him.
The real Nex.
Not the mask, not the lies, not the cute image he clung to, terrified of losing it.
But the scared, fragile boy hiding underneath it all.
His breath stilled, and for a moment, fear twisted in his chest, suffocating him.
── No. She can’t. She can’t possibly—
“I know you and Asher are siblings,” you said, your voice sounding soft, resolute to Nex.
His heart stopped.
But then, with your next words, it pounded harder than ever.
“So, let me help you. Please.”
He stared at you, your words pressing down on him, grounding him and suffocating him all at once.
You weren’t supposed to know. And after knowing, you certainly weren’t supposed to be kind.
Betrayal, disgust, anger—those were the reactions he had braced himself for. Those would’ve made sense. Yet here you were, shattering the newly set expectation he'd barely readjusted to.
You were no longer an angel in his eyes.
You became an enigma—a goddess.
His benevolent goddess.
Someone who, even after uncovering the filth he was buried in, still reached out a hand.
And in that moment, something profound shifted within Nex.
He felt compelled—no, bound—to tell his truth.
To you and only you.
·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊
Link for story so far: https://www.quotev.com/story/16788120/Secret-비밀
#male yandere x reader#stockholm syndrome#yandere idol#yandere male#obsessive love#soft yandere#sub!yandere#possessive#sub yandere#yandere scenarios#platonic yandere#angst#corruption kink yandere#mind corruption
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