#all this to say i now have brainrot and you all are going to suffer for it

[relicsongmel]

Was doing some thinking today and realized that one of the reasons I'm really drawn to Kieran is because he's a rare example of a character that's shy (and usually good-hearted) but still has some rougher edges to him.

I feel like all too often shy characters are shoved into being portrayed as either "smol bean who would never hurt anyone and just wants friends uwu" or "brooding loner who snaps at people to cover up the fact they don't actually know how to socialize" with not a lot of wiggle room in between. While I can and do enjoy characters that (arguably) fall into those respective categories, they're a bit reductive in the sense that things are very rarely that black and white in reality. Even the kindest people have a limit to what they can tolerate. They have bad days or respond poorly to events around them that cause them stress. And the same can be said in reverse as well—point being, people are multifaceted and don't always behave as predictably as we'd like to think.

And I think Kieran reflects that dichotomy perfectly. When we first meet him, he's meek, timid, and relies heavily on his more brash and forceful older sister to help him navigate social situations where he would otherwise lose out on something valuable because he's too afraid to come forward and ask for what he wants (like how she has to ask the player to battle him on his behalf). He's often quick to cower whenever she starts to get heated, but he's also not afraid to point out when he thinks she's wrong and sometimes even gets sassy with her himself. He's undeniably sweet and gentle and shows eagerness to make friends with the player, but he becomes much more curt when he notices we're lying to him about Ogerpon. The rest of the Teal Mask storyline shows him fluctuating even further—yelling at Carmine and the player for keeping secrets from him, punching things in fits of anger...then backpedaling and apologizing for the trouble he caused a few scenes later. Spreading the truth about Ogerpon to everyone in the village to help make her happy...then selfishly demanding a battle to see who's worthy of being her Trainer when she has already clearly chosen the player.

After being lied to and suffering repeated losses at our hands (including the Pokemon he's idolized all his life choosing us over him), he leans even more heavily into his bitter side during the Indigo Disk—being cold and ruthless to pretty much everyone around him, but at the end of the day it's primarily overcompensation for what he perceives as his own personal weakness (because he's still just a kid trying to be taken seriously). He's shown to drop the act on multiple occasions—most notably when he's caught off guard by our appearance at Blueberry Academy and at a few points during the Area Zero expedition. He antagonizes the player up until the moment of his defeat and tries to catch and use Terapagos in a last-ditch moment of desperation that ends up going horribly wrong, but after everything resolves he's quick to admit his mistakes and asks the player for forgiveness and if they can still be friends. After the epilogue he's mostly back to his old self, but still seems to get worked up when provoked (e.g. when he yells at Drayton for refusing to stop calling him "ex-Champ" in one of their League Club Room interactions).

And I think this varied and sometimes contradictory behavior is precisely why Kieran is such a cohesive and believable character—because it shows how even kind, well-meaning people may have a hidden darker side that can show itself under the right circumstances. How they might let their insecurities get the better of them. How a shy, timid kid might not have the experience to know how to deal with sudden feelings of frustration and/or jealousy that are far too strong to keep to himself, so he lashes out as a result. How despite all this he remains kind, sensitive and loving at his core and shows willingness to learn from his mistakes. And that is what makes him so compelling to me.

[justhereforthemeta]

Romantic expectations and the story we didn't see: A magic trick hiding in plain sight

Here's a hopeful meta for all my fellow celestial brainrot sufferers out there. Cheers! :)

This idea started as a dead end, trying to track the movements of Crowley’s sideburns/tattoo because I thought time travel shenanigans were afoot. I had to abandon that theory when it was pointed out that David was simultaneously filming as the sideburns-having Fourteenth Doctor, and in-universe Crowley can do whatever he wants with his facial hair whenever he feels like it. But hey - null findings are still findings!

On the bright side, pausing the show to make notations in a spreadsheet forced me to slow down and notice other changes I'd overlooked the first time around: acting choices, costuming choices, references to book lore. And possibly a few surreptitious flicks of the wrist, in places where we’re meant to be focused on the magician’s other hand.

@amuseoffyre and @ineffablefood had a great exchange recently about romance and “the significance of misdirection and three-in-one (magic) tricks” throughout the show. I suspect Neil has done something brilliant with the audience’s long-standing expectations (since the 1990s, really) for the love story between Crowley and Aziraphale to develop. And while it is a wonderful story indeed, playing to this expectation lets Neil distract his audience from the blink-and-you'll-miss-them seeds he's planting for the final chapter.

Continued below the cut...

Let’s start at the beginning of Episode 2. First, context: In the previous installment, Crowley stormed out of the bookshop, was whisked away to Hell by Beelzebub where he learns about the Book of Life threat to Aziraphale’s existence, then returned to the bookshop to dance a little apology dance and hide Gabriel with an unintentionally massive joint miracle. In S2E2, we and Shax catch up with Crowley as he's snoozing in the Bentley.

Shax: “You’re in trouble”

A. J. Crowley, cool as a cucumber: “Obviously. Former demon, hated by Heaven, loathed by Hell. How will our hero cope?”

Interesting! Sarcastic? Yes, absolutely; but that’s also a good 4500 years and an averted apocalypse away from “I’m a demon. I lie,” wouldn’t you say? Someone is sounding a whole lot less depressed and aimless and navel-gazey (do snakes have navels?), and a whole lot more like he’s got a project to focus on, since his "what's the point?" ruminations on the park bench in E1.

And of course we all noticed the costume change right away. Hello, black turtleneck. Feeling cute today, thought I’d cover up my graceful long neck? That sounds unlikely. Let’s put a pin in this one.

There’s also an interesting acting choice going on here. Crowley speaks to Shax in a funny, drawling, too-cool-for-you voice that we haven’t heard in a while. Specifically, not since 1967. If you go back and give the S1E3 scene in the Dirty Donkey a listen, you’ll hear it (and if you know of another instance of it that I've missed, please let me know!). In S2E2, he keeps up this odd voice (if anybody knows what kind of affect this is supposed to be, please do tell!) throughout this dialogue with Shax, except for the brief moment when she first surprises him about the joint miracle having been detected.

1967 was a fun year. Crowley masterminded a heist! And seemed like he was having a ball doing it, right up until his little caper was called off after Aziraphale brought him the thermos of holy water. Crowley spoke to his co-conspirators in that same funny, very 60’s-caper-film voice. He wore a hip 60’s turtleneck. He bought petrol for the only time ever, so he could get those sweet James Bond bullet hole decals for his car (per the book, seen on the Bentley in the show).

Those James Bond bullet hole decals would of course have been part of a promotion for this 1967 release, which you just know our film-enjoying demon went to see in the theater:

Starring this suave, be-turtlenecked guy:

And now - begging your forgiveness - a brief rant.

There are a number of posts out there that refer to Crowley’s S2E2 turtleneck as a flirtatious sartorial choice - actually, ‘slutty’ seems to be the favored accusation. There are even a few posts floating around commenting on how sweet it is that Crowley swaps out his slutty, kinky, throw-me-over-your-desk-and-take-me turtleneck for a more dressy and appropriate collared shirt specifically to attend Aziraphale’s Jane Austen ball. 

Now this is all in good fun, and Crowley does indeed look fantastic here, and I do love a good fangirling sesh as much as the next person. However, fandom’s collective tendency to interpret what we are seeing on the screen through the lens of romantic expectation can, at times, give rise to a kind of blinkered enthusiasm that obscures the original text in a haze that is part Mandela Effect, part unrestrained horniness, and part in-group code talking and identity reinforcement.

Respectfully, Crowley’s black turtleneck does not appear at all in S2E5: The Ball. In fact, it never appears again after the end of S2E2.

For Someone’s sake, let’s collectively pull our heads out of the romantic fog/gutter for a moment and focus on what we are actually seeing in the book and on the screen. For Crowley, this is an uncharacteristic within-period costume change. There is a surreptitious flick of the wrist happening here, out in broad daylight, and we are all missing it.

So here’s a thing. Aziraphale appears to have settled comfortably into life on Earth, his neighborhood, his books, using Crowley as an outlet for sharing his good deeds that he would once have reported to Heaven. Meanwhile, at first glance, Crowley appears stuck in a rut. There he slouches on a park bench with Shax in S2E1: a guy who lives in his car, stagnantly clinging to old familiar habits, mulling over the pointlessness of it all.

Setting aside the bit about living in the Bentley (I’m going to attribute this to well-documented issues between him and Aziraphale, discussed in many other excellent metas, and move on), Crowley has at least two very good, proactive reasons for maintaining his contact with Hell through Shax. First and foremost, it’s a source of information he can use to keep ahead of potential threats to Aziraphale and himself.

But also, I would posit…he kinda likes it.

Recall that book GO was first conceived as a parody, with Aziraphale and Crowley as spy-against-spy (but not really) field operatives in an ages-old cold war between Heaven and Hell. Their entire book dynamic is rooted in the trope of two opposing agents who have been in the field for so long that they now have more in common with each other than with their respective head offices. Their St. James’s Park meetings among other spies and ministers trading secrets are a sendup of what was once a well-known Cold War-era cliché. 

Our contemporary Crowley still likes slick outfits and hellaciously expensive watches and high-performing vintage cars and pens that write underwater while looking like they could break the speed limit. He coaches Shax on how to blend in as a demon on Earth, and he helpfully redirects the wayward contact looking for the Azerbaijani sector chief. He loves improvising and getting away with shenanigans under the institutional radar. And boy golly was he impressed with Jane Austen: master spy, brandy smuggler, and mastermind of the 1810 Clerkenwell Diamond Robbery. 

And if you look at it a certain way, for as long as Crowley has considered himself to be on “[his] own side” - going at least as far back as Job - he could almost think of himself as a sort of double agent. It’s actually a very romantic sort of notion, befitting our hopeless romantic of a (professedly former) demon; but it’s romantic in a very different way than we, the audience, have been primed to watch for.

In other words, in a very “on my own side” kind of way, Crowley really gets a kick out of being a spy. Or at least, dressing up and accessorizing as one, and moonlighting as a good-doing double agent when he can get away with it. And also being a plotting criminal mastermind. Two sides of a coin, really. Just look at Jane Austen.

My point is: No, Crowley did not wait around for Shax to come find him in a turtleneck so that he could go flirt with Aziraphale later. He’ll flirt with Aziraphale no matter what. No, this:

is actually this:

Much like the one he wears to the Dirty Donkey in 1967: 

whilst holy water heist-plotting. Here's a clearer shot with gratuitous Bentley, because I love them:

…and which he'll wear again, with appropriate camouflage, while infiltrating Heaven in S2E6:

That is the 1967 planning a HEIST turtleneck for committing ESPIONAGE and STEALING THINGS in. Because turtlenecks are what modern human master spies wear to get their hands dirty - after all, he saw it in a movie once. 

Crowley dons his tactical turtleneck sometime during the first major break in the action (which doesn't happen until after the joint miracle to hide Gabriel) after he learns about the threat the Book of Life poses to Aziraphale. Loverboy started mentally preparing himself to go after that book immediately upon learning that it was in play as a genuine threat. 

Now let’s pick up at the S2E2 Dirty Donkey scene, reading the story from this angle. Of course, Crowley enables Aziraphale’s delusions about Heaven by hiding information from him, and does not disclose the Book of Life threat when they meet again. They go into the pub, Aziraphale shamelessly paws Crowley’s chest like the seductive Bond Girl he is, and Crowley gets to act all smooth and suave and intimidating as he chases off the interloping Mr. Brown (or Mr. Collins for the Pride & Prejudice fans, take your pick).

Ergo, theory: beginning in S2E2, Crowley is already thinking of himself as a Jane Austen/James Bond action hero (“How will our hero cope?”), psyching himself up to rescue Aziraphale by getting his spy game on and stealing the Book of Life.

Now, watch closely...This is where Aziraphale and Crowley brainstorm their plans to solve the problem they both know about: getting Maggie and Nina to fall in love and thereby get Heaven off their backs. Crowley’s vavoom plan is drawn from yet another movie (“Get humans wet and staring into each other’s eyes - vavoom, sorted. I saw it in a Richard Curtis film.”). But Crowley also implicitly shares his solution to the problem he hasn’t told Aziraphale about. And true to form, Crowley’s Jane Austen solution isn’t the same as Aziraphale’s Jane Austen solution. 

Two solutions that fail by the end of Season 2, and a secret third one that might still work...and there's our magic trick of three.

‘“I’m lost. Am I doing a rainstorm?” Yes, babe. And a heist, too - just not until season three. Can I get a wahoo!? 

I won’t spend time on A Companion to Owls during this meta, except to note that in all three minisodes, we get to watch stories that involve Crowley acting as a double agent on “his/their own side” - successfully making Hell and Heaven think he’s fulfilling their will while saving Job’s goats and children; failing to fool Hell when he does a good deed in Edinburgh; and of course, collaborating with Aziraphale whilst evading detection as an infernal turncoat during the Blitz.

(Because this is getting long, I'll also skip over Crowley's interrogation of Jim in this episode - I'll probably come back to that in another meta. But interrogating is a rather spy-ish thing to do.)

When we catch up with Crowley again later, he’s already slipped out of the bookshop, having left Aziraphale to his biblical reverie about Job. He saunters snakily down Whickber Street as usual, but with a very pointed and swift glance over his shoulder (see pic above). This demon is up to something - possibly something we didn’t get to see, something that may have happened offscreen while he stepped out. In any case, knowing there’ve been unfriendly angels in the neighborhood that morning, he’s rightly concerned about being spied on.

From this point until the beginning of episode six, there isn’t a whole lot of opportunity for Crowley to make any next moves. He babysits the bookshop, during which time he manages to wring some crucial information out of Jim; he follows his Crowley’s Angel around like a puppy, and downs a bottle of red like a good old fashioned lovesick boy once that’s been pointed out to him. If any plotting or scheming is underway, this occult being is keeping stumm for now.

This has been a long one, so I’ll wrap up with Crowley’s infiltration of Heaven with Muriel. The turtleneck disguise works (Archer fans, be vindicated!) long enough to gather some information that will be crucial not just to the denouement of S2, but also to Crowley’s journey in S3 (previous post on Crowley's Fall, Saraqael, and memory wiping). And Aziraphale gets to enjoy that view exactly zero times. The point isn’t oh, a turtleneck! How flirty! So cunty! So cute! Y’all. Everything matters. The costume change was a deliberate choice. In-universe, Crowley’s decision to wear his special spy turtleneck for spying in is a signal that he is out doing spy things, even as we watch.

In sum: Beginning in S2E2 and continuing through the end of the season, Aziraphale and Crowley are actively living out the scripts of two parallel, concurrent, and completely different Jane Austen stories. But you and I, dear fellow audience member, we came here for a comedy with a hefty jigger of romance, and that’s what Neil gave us to focus on. And right up until the Final 15, that was the only story we saw.

Meanwhile, Special Agent A. J. Crowley doesn’t have time to mope around at the end of S2E6. He’s kicked down, but he’s not out. He's got a Book of Life to steal, a very serious bone to pick with a certain memory-wiping angel, and his Angel and the world to save. 

“‘Heigh ho,’ said [romantic, optimist, former demon, hero, master spy] Anthony Crowley, and just drove anyway.”

[satoruhour]

the racer toji smut won’t leave me alone so here is my additional brainrot bc my sister in christ we must suffer together <3

what about fem!reader who’s bf is a total ass bc he dragged her to the races but ignores her for the whole night bc he’s too busy showing off to the other guys and makes fun of her for not knowing shit about cars. she went to support him but he’s being so shitty and she goes to sulk alone near some quiet part.

a little boy comes to join her and he introduces himself as megumi, he hates crowds and loud noises so he sits with reader for a while, until his daddy comes along and his daddy is hot. toji introduces himself, asking what a pretty girl is doing alone in these parts and offers to show her his car but out from nowhere comes slimy bf who just embarrases himself trying to kiss toji’s ass and reader is like i need to break up with him

but ofc toji puts him in his place and tells him his gf is way out his league, and a real man would never leave his girl alone the entire night. it shuts him up fr and toji, megumi and reader leave to go check out some cars bc it’s nice to actually have someone tell you all about the cars instead of being made fun of for not knowing

the rest is obvs history bc megumi loves hanging out with reader and toji can’t keep his eyes off her. and vice versa hehe

a/n: jelly ur mind >>>>> also how did i write a whole FIC about this omfg im sick. i claim i dont like toji then write like this 💀💀 + can u tell how much i love making fun of incompetent men by the way i talk about reader’s shitty boyfriend cause youd be right. i hate men. ✶ / 2.2k

the stuffy parking lot had been a routine place for you at this point, taking the familiar route past shibuya 109 and into miyamasu-zaka avenue. you’re not entirely pumped to be in the car beside your boyfriend right now, who’s talking loudly and obnoxiously into his phone, but that isn’t what is irking you right now. you’re more worried when you reach there, sure to come face to face with his equally obnoxious friends who just can’t shut up about their cars.

it would be fine if they were being cocky and could back up their modifications and NOS with proper results from racing, but they were all losers, both figuratively and literally. you sigh for the umpteenth time when daisuke asks if you cancelled the dinner with your friends because he was going to celebrate his ‘sure’ win and you stifle the urge to laugh. sometimes you wonder why you’re still here.

“we’re here babe, c’mon, get out. i’ll go park the car and come back to get you,” as daisuke tells you this, he’s patting your thigh like you’re a dog, smiling his stupid smile and your brows knit together.

“can’t you just drive to wherever you’re parking?”

“ahh… no can do, baby — my parking’s somehow better when you’re not stressin’ me out in the passenger seat.” what were you doing dating a man who couldn’t even park? you groan into your hands, picking up your bag and exiting the vehicle, making sure to slam the door extra hard even if you’ll be getting a lecture later about harming his ‘baby’.

he’s perfectly fine watching your tantrum and doesn’t say anything except for continuing to smile, driving off without a care as he looks for a parking spot. thankfully you could save your face a little, since you were still early to the meet, a minimal amount of people lingering around the abandoned parking lot in their miniskirts and tights and tramp stamps — a look you definitely would’ve loved to try out if not for your boyfriend telling you you can’t show off your legs.

it’s like he has some personal vendetta against you, but really you think it’s just because he saved you from an unfavourable situation before and while at the time you expressed mutual feelings for him, he just might be holding you hostage with that favour he did for you, unconsciously feeling terrible if you were to leave him.

a few minutes pass, and then ten, and you’re waiting for a full fifteen minutes against a wall, all the while the classic crowd of tokyo is trickling into the car park, cars driving in slowly and you’re dreading every time someone enters, sure that you’re being judged for being daisuke’s significant other. and when the waiting time finally hits twenty, you’re taking matters into your own hands and turning the corner where he drove.

just to see him conversing with his loser friends who were already somehow there, showing off their own cars which they spent money on for nothing and laughing up a storm. you lug your body over, because while you were still somehow okay with daisuke, you couldn’t stand his friends.

“babe! ah, my bad, should’ve texted you that the boys were already here and that i was with ’em,” his affection was limited to just a hand on your waist, not wanting to look like a softie in front of them, “we were just talking about our updated NOS, or ‘nitrous oxide system’ for my cute baby who couldn’t remember it the first time.”

all you can do is burn in embarrassment as they laughed, ridiculing you for the mistake you made ages ago about the terminology of street racing that sometimes you couldn’t exactly grasp. you did your best each time, sometimes googling things about racing that you wouldn’t know otherwise, but because it was still pretty illegal in japan, it was difficult to find the specific terms they used. but with how much your boyfriend teaches you (as condescending as it was), you probably could’ve written an essay.

and it wasn’t a one-time thing either, from smacking your hand off the stick shift to pestering you about closing the car door more gently, you’re soon to reach your limit.

“yeah, i know what a NOS is, bitch.” you mumble under your breath, turning away from him as he continued joking with his boys before one of them shouted out someone else’s name, hiroshi, you heard and they all pile over each other like excited dogs, seeing his new and improved Mitsubishi Eclipse, a bright, striking green and your boyfriend follows them easily.

throughout the different races of the evening and the excitement, you’re left chasing after your boyfriend who can’t help but sidle up to different racers and their cars, and the dreaded situation you hoped wouldn’t arise, did. daisuke loved asking you questions with confusing numbers and letters, and then laughed in your face when you picked the wrong option.

so when he asked you whether a L72 or a 327 small-block was better for his sorry excuse of a Camaro from 1981, you answered that you knew they had used 327s for Yenko Camaros, but without the knowledge they had discontinued it since it wasn’t optimal performance for the car. “yeah, no, darlin’, they already stopped it and switched to big-blocks after ’69… i thought i taught you this!”

with lips pressed tightly together, you find that you hardly want to be here any longer, body turning hot with shame and tears prickling at your eyes. you don’t chase after daisuke when he walks off and nudges hiroshi about your limited knowledge about cars, hands clenching and unclenching into fists before you’re tugged gently on your jacket sleeve.

in front of you is a young boy, playing with his fingers shyly with a head full of messy black hair and strong features that scrunch up into an anxious expression and you’re squatting and wondering what business a young boy like him had in scenes like this before he’s explaining how he hates the loud music and noises of metal against metal and the sound of tires.

you frown, understanding him immediately as you ask if you can hold his hand to which he nods, “what’s your name, sweetheart?”

“fushiguro… megumi,” he mumbles, flinching when there’s an erupt of cheers from the concluding race.

“oh, honey, let’s go,” you squeeze his hand in solidarity, “let’s sit far away from the action, okay? you like music?”

megumi sniffles a little and nods again, calming down the further he is from all the cars, sitting down on the curb in an area where there’s fewer racers, it being a deadend for the route. soon, you’re fishing out your earphones to insert into his ears, playing a few favourites of yours at a softer volume to drown out the noise of the cars. you’re content to find someone as clueless as you in this whole thing, even if the other was a child, and you almost want to chastise his parents for leaving him so vulnerable in a place like this when said parent is looking left and right, jogging while looking for his son.

“that’s my dad…” megumi mumbles with hope in his voice as the man starts to call out for him, expression morphed into worry from the moment he looked down from his car to find megumi gone. the boy’s hands you back your earphones with a slight smile and a ‘thank you’ before running off, and you’re lunging forward just to make sure he’s safe, running a little behind him while he navigates his father’s voice. it seems like he doesn’t have much care for the loud noises when his dad is finally in view because he speeds immediately into his arms before a tall man comes into view, and you’re blessed with seeing this hot-ass dad in a baggy long-sleeved top.

“hey… thank you for lookin’ out for the kid. i’m fushiguro toji,” toji nods towards you in acknowledgement, looking past your face after appreciating it before glancing down to your figure. “what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?”

megumi who was propped up against his shoulder opts to cling to his father’s neck, hiding from the rest of the world while you walk slowly alongside the man, fingers thumbing the strap of your bag to keep your grounded. you were quick to explain that you were here because of your boyfriend, and you swear a glint of disappointment flashed in his eyes, but you don’t give it much thought because soon the man himself is running up to you with a renewed sense of confidence.

it was probably because toji was here; and sure, you knew about fushiguro toji and how much your boyfriend loved him, but you didn’t know how popular he could get, drawing countless pairs of eyes to your interaction. 

“hi! hi, fushiguro toji right?” and you’re already ready for the clownery to start when he opens his mouth, “i’m wakashita daisuke, big fan! any chance you’ll get back into racing?” daisuke is spouting so much shit you can’t even bear to look up but there’s one sentence that has got toji riled up, using just one hand to threaten your boyfriend who looks scared out of his mind. “you’d look so good with a Ford Mustang too, why don’t you sell off that old Corvette you’ve got—”

and soon toji is clutching onto the collar of his shirt, easily pulling him off the ground as the people surrounding you laugh and whoop. seems like you weren’t the only one who hated him.

“that Corvette means something to me, not like that piece of junk you call your Camaro. and at least i treat my car better than how you treat your girlfriend,” he spits the word like it’s venom, “who you can’t even respect as a person.”

daisuke is plopped onto the floor, but toji easily backs him up with a finger to his chest, “laughing like an idiot when she doesn’t know about engines and then saying you taught her — that would reflect your efforts as a teacher, wouldn’t it?” the man smirks when your boyfriend stutters out his answer, the crowd oooh-ing like it’s a free show.

“and then you leave her stranded for the whole night to hang with your boys, in a place where she’s uncomfortable and vulnerable. but you couldn’t give a shit, can’t you? you’re too busy sucking your friends’ cocks to notice.” there’s howls of laughter now (you can’t help but let out a giggle too) with how ruthless toji is being, all the while having a kid on his shoulder, but you imagine megumi is used to these types of altercations by now.

toji leans down to spit in his face, “you disrespect a woman in my eyes, you’re a joke to me.”

he just rolls your eyes, heading off from your stupid boyfriend and toji fully expects you to follow, beckoning you to go with him when you stay rooted. “c’mon, don’t mind him. he didn’t deserve you.” toji mutters, pressing a kiss to megumi’s temple as he leads you away from the scene silently, and you leap at the opportunity to thank him immediately.

“to be fair… i did all the research for my boyfriend,” toji interrupts with ex-, and you laugh, “yeah, ex-. but i’m not entirely opposed to learning about cars. they seem kinda cool.”

“is this your way of telling me you want me to teach you?” what’s a little flirting with a guy, anyway? even the other said it himself, daisuke didn’t deserve you. you nod with a sheepish smile, petting megumi’s head when he rouses from his dad’s shoulder, heart warming at how the young boy shoots you a gleaming smile.

toji shrugs with a little chuckle, “sure.” he’s keen on showing you his Chevrolet Corvette at the other end of the parking lot first, telling you about the specifications and the modifications he made for it to be suitable for drifting. he explains how his Corvette had to be converted to a rear-wheel-drive car, or a RWD to support the heavy stress on the back wheels to make a successful drift turn.

toji tells you the differences between a clutch kick and a shift lock and how to sustain a drift on a sharp turn, excited at finally finding someone who didn’t have a clue about racing. he even offers to show you, but you’re a little too intimidated by being in the passenger seat with him, especially when it’s going at high speeds.

“maybe another day,” you offer and toji picks up on your insinuation, trying to stifle at grin that maybe this attraction wasn’t one-sided. he liked the way you talked to megumi, he liked the way you intently listened about his love for cars, and he couldn’t wait to get you in his car with a hand to your thigh.

“i’ll hold you to your offer, darlin’.” the name sounded so much better coming from his mouth, an attractive smile lining his face before he offered his free arm for you to hang on, gasping silently when you felt how toned his arm was. oh, the late night thoughts you already knew you were gonna have…

“i’ll tell you about the other cars here, let’s go.”

thirsts and drabble requests are open!

[somedayillbepeterpan]

Penelope and her robe of power

Shoutout to @whistledownbad for invoking and taking this out of my subconscious. I didn't even realise I was thinking about this deeply (I shouldn't be surprised anymore since S3 has burrowed deep in my brain).

A short discussion on the Polisanity discord (a very very lovely, creative, and hilarious discord community of the residents of the Polin brainrot) showed me how this robe represents Pen's power-- not just in sexuality but in her character.

And it is shown on moments where she loses something, where her power was seemingly taken from her.

S3Ep3 - Forces of Nature

The first time we see this robe, Pen has just lost a flirting battle against Cressida for Debling's attention while pretending to be someone she is not. She looks defeated and annoyed which contrasts a similar scene on Ep 2 (after the fan encounter) where she looks more embarrassed and slightly amused at the situation.

S3Ep4 - Old Friends

The second time we see it is at the beginning of Ep 4. Pen is losing her battle from her resolve to follow the familiar tide of the marriage mart (I elaborate more on this scene here because it's not just Pen who is losing their resolve) on the day that Debling asks for Portia's permission to propose to Pen (where we get this poignant statement from Portia about security being romantic. Which I actually agree on coming from a poor family/country. Also, can I just say Nicola looks absolutely stunning in this scene).

She is distraught and seem to be in the middle of convincing herself that she is doing the right thing.

S3Ep5 - Tik Tok

In the middle of the chaotic 24hrs of Penelope's life (where she gets proposed to by the love of her life and experiences her first sexual encounter), she is seen crying and having to write about herself on Whistledown for the 2nd time for the current season (she probably writes about herself regularly in the column so as not to arouse suspicion but she would have most likely focused on mundane things) when we see this robe for the third time.

She loses the chance to feel completely and irrevocably happy about her engagement when Eloise points out that she is harboring a heavy secret from the man who just lovingly confessed that he would rather feel tortured with love for her than to carry on living.

S3Ep6 - Romancing Mr. Bridgerton

Ahhh...Pen and this robe. I'm so curious now what actually is the design on the robe and the decision behind using it for these scenes.

The fourth time we see this robe, Pen seemingly decides to lose Whistledown forever, hiding a part of herself in the "name of love". A crossroad that she never thought she'd have to go through when she began that season, Pen gives up all power and decides (tentatively) to follow her mother's advise. It's admirable on one part as real life will tell you that sometimes, there are sacrifices you need to make for your partner. But this really is sometimes up for debate whether that action is made in love, out of love, or for love (or not at all). I've always thought that Pen also suffers the same hero complex that Colin has albeit more subtle than his. I think this was part saving Colin (from whatever trouble Whistledown brings) and also part penance for what her writing and decisions have put him through regarding Marina.

AND THEN-- the last last time on this season that we see her in it is so viscerally powerful that it probably made everyone forget that:

This wasn't the same wedding night robe (where Colin openly lusted on Pen and stubbornly wasted his opportunity).

That whenever we saw Pen on this robe in the earlier episodes, she seemed to be unhappy and devoid of power and agency within herself.

S3Ep8 - Into the Light

This wonderfully and deliciously short scene encapsulates Pen's embracing of her power-- the parts that she has been losing and letting go whenever she wears this robe. I also love that it's with Colin that she finally embodies the full strength of this power.

Come S4, I need this robe to be slowly taken off by Mr. Bridgerton off of Mrs. Bridgerton please.

[raguiras]

One of Deuce's old delinquent "friends" was being weird with Yuu (Allen)...

Reblogs are extremely appreciated! 👉👈

Allen suffers from major insecurities and trauma caused by people commenting on him and bullying him for his rather feminine appearance, and Deuce, who's already quite protective over casual friends, DEFINITELY ain't taking it.... That said, these two have a massive "cute mutual protectors" dynamic and Allen protects/defends Deuce equally much!

YEAHHH the third part of my Allen x Deuce ship introduction is here!! I'm brainrotting so hard—

Previous parts: part 1 // part 2

Next up is most likely the ship event post I mentioned before 👀

Below is the second part of Allen & Deuce's relationship timeline! Its first part can be found here.

SPOILER WARNING for Book 5 & Book 6!

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BOOK 5:

Between Book 4 and 5, Allen finally had his top surgery (he's intersex & used to wear binders). Deuce not only accompanied him to the hospital, but also stayed in the next room for the entire duration of the surgery and made sure to immediately visit Allen once it was over. He sat by the blonde boy's bed, his mere presence comforting Allen and making him feel at peace. The following days, Deuce spent even more time at Ramshackle and strictly slept over every night as he wanted to be 100% attentive and take perfect care of Allen all around the clock. Needless to say, Allen constantly thanked Deuce for being there for him, and it only intensified his own feelings... Allen had never been taken care of this much before, and it was probably more than what an average friend would do for you, right...? Did this mean...? No, Deuce couldn't love him. Nobody could. That's what Allen had been taught all those years, after all. And if so many people had said it, it had to be the truth...

Unfortunately, the VDC got announced shortly after Allen's surgery, and his recovery included a strict prohibition from sports or anything exhausting. Allen, being an aspiring musician and good dancer, cursed to himself — this would've been THE opportunity to go viral — and the Heartslabyul freshman listened to him rant. That's when Deuce ultimately decided that he'd audition... he wanted to support his mom with the money and keep an eye on Epel anyway, and now, he could not only fulfill his recovering crush's dream for him by performing and hopefully promoting Allen through it, but also impress him...

Little did Deuce know that Allen didn't need to be impressed. Watching Deuce practice — yes, even when he didn't get a single step right and tripped over his own feet — was super cute and gradually attractive to Allen, not to mention that the blonde boy really liked Deuce's voice as well...

Training was hard for Deuce, but knowing that Allen was watching certainly helped... He did his absolute best and followed Kalim and Jamil's guidance as closely as possible. Couldn't mess up in front of his crush, right!?

When Deuce got selected to be a performer and Allen became the manager, both of them celebrated in joy. While neither of them mentioned it, this meant that they'd get to spend even more time together...

...and when Vil decided that everyone would stay at Ramshackle for the preparation period, these two mentally celebrated even more. Now they'd officially live together for a couple weeks...

In order to prevent shenanigans and an angry Vil, Allen searched for sugar-free alternatives of Deuce's favorite snacks as well as food tasting similar to them. However, Allen would occasionally let Deuce snack on his own secret reserves whenever the two were together in Allen's room, away from prying eyes.

Deuce had problems sticking to Vil's prescribed skincare routine, so Allen decided to help him with it. He reminded Deuce of the routine every morning and evening and also helped him apply the products.

Deuce also struggled with the set bedtime and asked Allen to remind him to go to bed early. Considering that Allen had been struggling with his own sleep schedule for some time and would often stay up until past 3 am on the worst nights, the two decided to simply share a bed on most days so they could "force" each other to sleep on time. Not only did this intensify their relationship even more and excite both of them, but it helped Allen fall asleep much sooner... Deuce's presence was soothing to him and distracted Allen just enough for him to not overthink his life prior to going to bed.

During the preparation period, Allen offered to help Deuce with his vocals, which the Heartslabyul student excitedly accepted. Not only could he improve his own singing through it, but spend even more time with Allen and listen to his beautiful singing voice a lot, too... Additionally, Allen was able to efficiently teach Deuce due to being a self-taught singer with little knowledge on technical terms and theory, resulting in extremely easy and comprehensible explanations that could actually be understood by Deuce.

On occasion, Allen also taught the blue-haired boy basic makeup skills and sometimes even did Deuce's makeup for him. Needless to say, there were TONS of eye contact and blushing involved...

In addition to this, Allen kept helping Deuce with his gradually improving self-control and school work. Deuce, too, assisted Allen with the rest of his recovery and was super attentive.

Due to the combination of the shared dorm, their close friendship, their study sessions and the intense VDC preparation, Allen and Deuce were quite literally spending the entirety of every day together by now. While they had always been around each other a ton, this was what ultimately made them come off as inseparable.

You would've thought it would be impossible for Deuce to fall any harder, but oh boy... with every passing day, it only got worse. Deuce basically had heart eyes like a lovesick puppy at the mere mention of Allen.

While Deuce tried to hide his ginormous crush, it was impossible to deny. Everyone could see the way Deuce looked at Allen with nothing but admiration and love in his eyes, and Ace even started getting concerned due to how down bad & out-of-character Deuce appeared to be.

Whenever Allen wasn't around, Deuce would even ask Vil and Rook for advice on his appearance and compliments. He was desperate to impress and woo Allen and awkwardly admitted this to the two Pomefiore housewardens, too. Neither were surprised as they had already Deuce's crush on Allen, and they ended up actually giving the boy some advice.

When Deuce once came over to visit friends and pick up some things at Heartslabyul, Cater was blown away by the strong scent of his cologne. The fact that Deuce had suddenly bought something like that sure was surprising, especially considering that the boy was usually more of an Axe guy...

Not only that, but Deuce practiced the dance in front of his mirror extremely often, too. It had to perfect... HE had to be perfect for Allen. After all, the blonde boy was way out of his league...

Being around Deuce so much made Allen's feelings grow quickly, too. However, unlike Deuce, Allen absolutely HATED them and tried to get rid of them out of fear of being rejected and hurt again. All those years, he had been taught that nobody could ever love him and that developing a crush on him was basically impossible, so why would Deuce of all people like him back?! Allen actively denied his feelings... he couldn't risk this friendship or the possibility of having a broken heart again. He'd just wait for this phase to pass...

Grim noticed that Allen was suddenly spending even more time with Deuce and that the two also got progressively touchy. He confronted Allen with something along the lines of "Why're ya spending SO much time with him?! Do you have a crush on him or somethin'? Myahaha!". Shit, Allen thought to himself. His cat knew.

Vil knew, too. So did Rook. So did Jamil, Kalim, Ace, Epel and even the ghosts! The only ones who somehow didn't know about each other's feelings were Allen and Deuce...

Allen tried his best to deny the way he felt whenever Deuce would flash him a smile during practice performances. Deuce, on the contrary, would melt internally at every proud grin Allen gave him...

The fact that Deuce was now a better singer allowed him to approach one of Allen's favorite impulsiveness control methods with more confidence: singing and rapping out one's feelings and frustration.

Additionally, Allen admired the fact that Deuce was now trying his hand at ballet in order to overcome the last few traces of his old internalized toxic masculinity. Allen, struggling with some toxic masculinity himself and having been ashamed of his curves and rather androgynous appearance all his life, saw this as an inspiration to try his hand at more feminine fashion. He had wanted to do this for a long time, but held back out of fear of being seen as even less of a man because of it... and now here Allen was, wearing more feminine clothing for the first time and making Deuce fanboy even harder than usual.

Deuce was not the only one fanboying, though. During the entire VDC performance, Allen was cheering like a madman and couldn't keep his eyes off Deuce. So what if they had Vil, Epel and Jamil? To Allen, Deuce was the star of the show.

When Deuce finally discovered his Unique Magic, Allen was not only incredibly proud and happy for the Heartslabyul student, but was also reminded of an old character he had created as a younger teenager who had had the exact same skill as Deuce. Was this a sign...? ...nah, he must've been delusional.

BOOK 6:

During the invasion, Deuce immediately jumped in front of Allen in order to protect him, but got hit himself instead. When he got injured and passed out as a result, Allen absolutely panicked. He wasn't even really concerned about how the dorm was being damaged — only Deuce's wellbeing was on Allen's mind. Additionally, he felt overwhelming guilt that this had only happened because Deuce had protected HIM...

Instead of going to S.T.Y.X., Allen decided to stay at NRC in order to take care of Deuce. He spent most of his time in the infirmary, sitting by Deuce's bed and waiting for him to wake up. Why was he doing this?! Out of guilt only? Certainly not... Was he crazy?! Deuce was just a friend... just a friend... just a friend who he loved a lot and had undeniable feelings for. No matter how much Allen tried to fall out of love, it was impossible. Deuce had given him so much and it was the most Allen had ever been cared for...

When Deuce finally woke up, Allen immediately pulled him into a relieved, loving lung-crushing hug and didn't want to ever let go. Deuce felt as if he was about to pass out again due to the happiness caused by Allen cherishing him so much.

Deuce and Allen kept doing their usual activities — hearing each other out, helping each other, spending fun time together — while hoping for Grim and the housewardens to finally return.

Considering how often Deuce stayed at Ramshackle anyway, him and Allen decided that he could simply leave some of his belongings from the VDC preparations at the dorm. This only prompted Deuce to visit Ramshackle and sleep over even more...

Every night before going to bed, Deuce wrote about Allen into a little diary. Hell forbid Ace found it, but at least it allowed Deuce to openly express his feelings without being judged or teased. As he kept reading through the words he had written already over and over again, Deuce realized even more just how much Allen had helped him with various highly important things over the past 5-6 months of knowing each other... and that's when he decided to buy the giant Shiba plushie Allen had recently mentioned as a thank-you gift. Sure, he had already occasionally gifted Allen stuffed animals before, but maybe this huge Shiba would convey his gratitude and crush even more...

Needless to say, Allen was blown away by the gift and pretty much jumped Deuce out of joy. He had wanted this Shiba plushie for weeks now, and receiving it as a surprise gift from his crush was an indescribable feeling. However, Allen strictly viewed it as a platonic thank-you gesture and didn't (want to) get the hint. After all, why would Deuce be pining after him...?

Near the end of Book 6 [= during the time when the game's canon Yuu is still at S.T.Y.X.], Deuce suddenly received a call accusing him of highly offensive vandalism in his hometown. Both Allen and Deuce were absolutely furious at this unreasonable accusation, and it was a no-brainer for Allen to prove Deuce innocent. While Deuce broke down and complained about never being able to escape his past no matter how much he tried, Allen not only encouraged him and told him that he had become a much better person, but was also determined and already had a plan. Having excellent manipulation skills and a way with words, Allen got Crowley to give him access to all private cameras around the school to prove that Deuce had been at NRC the entire time and couldn't possibly have been the culprit. He mailed the recordings to the police station in Deuce's hometown, managing to prove that the Heartslabyul student was innocent. Allen also suspected that the person blaming the vandalism on Deuce was likely the culprit or one of their friends, encouraging the police to continue their investigation with them. Deuce, on the other hand, couldn't have been more grateful that Allen had successfully cleared his name and stood up for him like that. A week later, a call informed the two boys that one of Deuce's former friends had admitted to the crime and had tried to blame it on Deuce out of anger that he had distanced himself from them. Hearing how his old "friend" had betrayed Deuce only made him cherish his current friendships and especially the relationship he had with Allen even more...

BOOK 7:

[I haven't played Book 7 yet, so I'll either update this section later or share it in a separate post! Until then, we're assuming that they realized just how much they loved each other even more.]

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That's everything for now! The final part of their relationship timeline (post book 7), including when they FINALLY get together, will be in my next Allen x Deuce introduction post!

However, my next overall post is likely going to be the announcement for my ship art/writing event 👀

Thank you for the support on my previous Allen x Deuce posts! It means ridiculously much to me 🥹🥹🥹

[staraxiaa]

sunflowers, the afterword:

author's corner/first thoughts.

okay. so. i am insane. i am a god. i just wrote 18k words for a fic that i thought of, planned, and created fully in less than two days, bc someone said i like to make ppl suffer and yes i do. but then i was like, i am GOING to write fluff and i took it personally. to that one reader, thank you!! anyways. i wrote this with the intent of using the prompt "you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid" and barely even ended up using it. i don't know whether to laugh or cry. i hope it doesn't flop but also it's okay if it does bc i literally spent almost 48 hours brainrotting and word vomiting like it's out of my brain now and this feels glorious. it was random unfiltered thoughts and grinding away at 3am until i am empty. no thoughts left in my head. can you see? i could eat the world raw, the itch has been scratched. the sheer amount of motivation i had w this fic is never happening again. cheers! will update as i think of things! sorry to anyone who ends up reading this fully. i have been unreasonably fixated and have brainrotted over this for two hours, inclusive of sleeptime. while sleeping. i kid you not. i would wake up and something would click and i would hop over to the laptop and fucking grind away i am so sick of myself

unwritten scenes, headcanons

you guys are 20. you haven't started dating yet. you're a doctor. you guys are yelling at each other. you say 'you want to kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid.' katsuki's so angry that he does. ⇁ this was the original ending btw but i thought this one kinda fit better he brings you sunflowers sometime. real ones. he's sneezing all the while. you take one look at him and you die of laughter. he's still sneezing. you tell him: you know i actually didn't even care about them until i found out you were allergic. ⇁ if i could write nsfw i would do it here like dude do u see the vision omfg a whole side plot where he's like what the fuck do you mean you weren't dating deku. you're like. what the fuck. are u stupid. someplace where you actually address how you treat midoriya, his lack of a quirk, and how you stood by and watched it all happen ua sports festival. you kick everyone's ass. #you have been trained by eraserhead and you are super duper cool i also don't remember if i included this, but: your mother asks you after the first evening. "you're not really friends are you." you say: "nope!" and it is the happiest she has ever seen you. the ua boys try to flirt with you and get hurt really stupidly a lot on purpose. you wonder why they've stopped showing up. it's bc katsuki gives them a whole earful. and you're like bitch what the fuck im a doctor and and hes just tsundere about it first kiss scene instead of the ending where he's like you care and you're like of course i do??? what the fuck?? are u stupid?? you guys start yelling at each other and you're both acting like ur 2. he calls you stupid and blind. you call him ugly. he's so mad he literally just lurches forward and kisses you. it's awkward and messy and you guys are so mad at each other. you literally headbutt him in the face. ah young love. ⇁ this was another alternative ending more exploration behind reader's character, her insecurities, and about some of the stuff i info dumped before the start of the katsuki povs? i feel like i didn't handle that as well as i could have, but i also didn't want to go on 10 billion tangents for things that had very little relevance to the story. i also think the transition to the last scene was a little abrupt, but tbh at that point i was just so ready to call it like. i just didn't see the point. i think it would have made for a more natural reading experience, so here's the tea: he's proud of u but u guys are angsty and ignore each other until after training camp. [more brainrot pining moments]. if i had to write the above scene, i think i'd do something along the lines of: you're first aid relief at the sports festival, not actively participating. dunno if you'd be nearly as badass, though. you definitely get pissed when they muzzle katsuki and probably get rly mad but ofc u cant show it. so u just unmuzzle him and walk away and hes staring after u. this is ur ??? elsa arc? i dont remember the disney princess. the training camp is torture. aizawa makes u run with them. you tell him straight up that u hate his guts. he grins like that is the best thing anyone has told him in his life. katsuki definitely blows up some earth monsters for u. but while ur not looking. he's angsty like that. the bath scene? oh lord u just know he blows mineta up. maybe he lowk fucks it up too and you have to heal it! the potential HAHAHA. i dont know how you end up getting kidnapped, but id probably just bullshit a reason like ur the #1 healer in the world hurr durr and afo wants u! idgaf if the plot makes sense or not this is entirely secondary to my scheming. katsuki just about loses it when he hears you're one of the targets -> how you get kidnapped? idk. you're not a remedial student, so you're probably participating in the game (odd number of ppl right). unsure of how i'd handle the news of your kidnapping: just know katsuki loses it again. for like the 5th time. yipppeeeeee

character notes, thoughts

your quirk is literally just you take people's injuries into your own body and heal it yourself. you're superhuman. i put 2 thoughts into this: 1) you're a healer and 2) i like cool characters. congratulations. you have now been born. i don't even remember if i kept the shouto scene. but anyways i think my bias was showing. just had to throw him in there. also the kuroo mention. sorry i'm totally normal and i mean it ⇁ btw i love you all (everyone who likes/interacts with my fics) but i joke to my friends everytime someone interacts w my first bakugo/midoriya ones from lacuna bc guys!!! my shoto fic is RIGHT THERE!!! the baby that launched the entire collection. please show him some love this reader is probably one of the favorite ones i have written, more of an oc at this point i think, and i wasn't expecting her to grow on me so much. but lowk i love her and am so proud of the way i wrote her growth!! i do feel like i wrote her very soft, but i hope her flaws were made very clear⏤ she is meant to be a sort of unreliable narrator, so she also is overly critical of her own, but there were several things that were not addressed as i was writing, particularly concerning midoriya. (quirk, the bullying, bystander's guilt.) however, i think that including them would have made me go off on a tangent, and detract more from the main point of the story i also do think i wrote katsuki a little ooc, if only because i didn't see the point of including what's already there in canon. sorry. my brainrot did not extend that far, and by the end of this, i was literally ready to drop. his perspective isn't meant to be all-encompassing (in the story, it may seem like it purely bc of how i paced it) but those are meant to be like. random thoughts that appear in several scenes. reader does not have bakugo living rent free in her head 24/7, and neither does he. they're just stupid and pining and i just wrote all the moments in my head where they do.

[yaksha-lover]

very simple resquest:

idia having a crush on yuu, but he has to be his own matchmaker and try by himself to woo them

i have a very serious idia brainrot feel free to ignore this

“What are you doing?”

“Wha- uhh, nothing?”

“Nothing.” You watch Idia scoot another centimeter closer. “Okay.”

“The breeze is less intense from here. That’s why I moved. Not because of you, if that’s what you were thinking.”

“The breeze? We’re sitting inside.”

“From the vent, obviously.” Idia says, not turning to face you but staring through his peripheral vision.

“And those flowers in your hand?”

“Are these flowers? I, uh, though they were weeds.” He fake coughs to cover up the awkwardness. “I guess I have no use for them. Did you…?”

“…”

“Sevens, you’re really gonna make me say it?”

You stare at him, refusing to help.

“…Would you like them?”

“Yes, thank you.” You smile at his suffering, taking the blue bouquet in your arms. They certainly didn’t look like ‘weeds’ to you.

“You know, since I’m here anyway…”

“Yes?”

“Sheesh, don’t make that scary face. I just…never mind. You probably have plans already, because you’re popular and all so it doesn’t matter.”

“Idia.” He stops mid standing up to walk away. “You spent the last twenty minutes getting close enough to sit beside me and then you pull a ‘never mind?’”

He visibly cringes. “You noticed that, huh?”

“If you don’t ask me out right now, I think I’m legally allowed to beat you up as retribution.”

“So you knew the whole time I was going to ask you about the movie…”

“Not the movie specifically, but what else would you be doing? Also, I thought things might be heading in that direction.”

“What? How could you know?”

“We’ve hung out several times a week for the past month.”

“Yeah, but I thought you only thought of it as friends…or y’know a pity hang out?”

“Last week I told you I liked you.”

“I thought…as a friend…”

“What did you think it meant when I said I wanted to bite you?”

“Uh…cannibalism?” You shoot him a look. “Geez, I’m short on friends these day, I have to take what I can get.”

“Well, go ahead and ask.”

Idia flushes pink from his cheeks to hair. “Do you insist on humiliating me?”

“Oh, so now it’s humiliating ask me out? I guess you don’t really want to.” You sigh dramatically, pretending to get up and leave.

“NO!! Wait. Ugh, why are you doing this to me?!”

“Because it’s funny.”

“…will…y…go…t…with…m?” he mumbles.

“Sorry? Didn’t quite catch that?”

“Sevens,” he curses. “I said, will you go out with me?”

You smirk at him. “Was that so hard, sweetheart?”

His eye twitches. “It’s like you want me to die from a heart attack.

[megamindsecretlair]

You Understand Me Now

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Black!Bratty!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (female receiving), size kink, some dirty talk, all consensual. Daddy kink. Toxic smut. Mention of jail, drug use, and drinking. Angst if you squint. Established relationship.

Summary: While Franklin feels mounting pressure from setting up new business, he has to track you down and set you right.

Word Count: 3,673k

A/N: Hello brainrot, my old friend. Who needs sleep when there's smut to be had? I had TOO much fun writing this. It was written in a daze so all mistakes are mine. I just need some act right from Franklin!!! Enjoy if you do too! Thank you for so much love on my Franklin fics! I love yall. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers!

Taglist: @planetblaque @notapradagurl7 @miyuhpapayuh @henneseyhoe @mybonafidefeelings @blackerthings

You were shaking your ass like there was no tomorrow. The music was thumping through the floors like a live beast. You felt it in your chest. Alcohol was coursing through your system. It gave everything a hazy, bright glow. It was too loud to think and yet all roads lead to Franklin Saint.

You had been cooped up in an empty house by yourself. What use was all the shit Franklin brought in if he wasn’t there to enjoy it with you? He would leave early in the morning and not return until long after you’d gone to sleep. Your initial reaction was that he was cheating, but you knew that wasn’t the case.

You’d see Franklin dead before he cheated on you. And he’d see hell freeze over before the thought crossed his mind. You knew he loved you. He wasn’t the greatest at showing it and dammit, it hurt. 

Did that mean that you had to suffer? No. No, it did not. You called up your girl and went to her place to get dressed. The hardest part about dating Franklin was all the secrets. All the lies. They sometimes got twisted in the careful web you weaved. Over time, it became easier to not leave the house at all. 

Franklin was turning you into a hermit and you wanted to hate him for it. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a cell in your body that could hate that man. So you took your anger out on him in other ways. It was an insidious need gnawing in the back of your mind.

Sometimes he’d walk in with that tired grin. Too tired to give you a proper hug and a kiss. Like you weren’t worth the effort it took to check in and ask about your day. You knew that he was in the middle of important business dealings. But lately, you were feeling neglected.

Not today.

At your girl’s house, she told you she missed you and your wild days at wild parties, living it up, gone off of the weed, and having real fun. She reminded you that you were still young and you were one of the lucky ones. You didn’t have a baby to look after. 

“You mu’fuckin’ right,” you said. You nodded your head, the idea taking shape the longer you sat with it. Thirty minutes later, you were both dressed like you didn’t have a man. You wore a very short skirt and off the shoulder top. Your coarse hair was pulled into a high ponytail. Your makeup was flawless.

It was practically gone now. Still you danced. Still you partied like there was no tomorrow. You left your pager at home. You didn’t care what Franklin had to say. So you shook and danced and waved off try-too-hard niggas with grabby hands. 

You clasped your friend’s hand and pulled her away from yet another man in your business. Damn, couldn’t you just go out and dance? Let loose?

“I see you havin’ real fun,” you heard above you.

You gasped and straightened out. You hadn’t seen him. Felt him. Or heard as he approached. One minute, your eyes were closed dancing to Flashlight. The next minute, Franklin was staring down at you with his nose slightly flared.

“How’d you find me?” You asked.

You looked around him and noticed Leon standing by the door looking sullen. “I can get to you any time I want,” he said. 

You folded your arms. The night’s festivities were catching up with you. Sweat pasted your shirt to your body. Little frizzes of hair escaped your ponytail. Your feet ached from spending hours on the makeshift dance floor. You were out of breath, staring at Franklin and wondering where his state of mind was at.

“I’m here trying to handle bidness and this is how you act?” 

You sucked your teeth and rolled your eyes. “The hell was I supposed to do?” You had to yell to be heard over the funk music. “Sit at home and wait for yo Black ass to come around?” 

Franklin rolled his neck. He was stressed out. You took a step forward. You longed to wrap your arms around him to hug and kiss him. To make it all better. But fuck that. Your anger was a familiar coat you threw on. 

“Let’s go,” he said. He dismissed your comments altogether. He turned and you faced the wide expanse of his broad back. His black polo shirt highlighted the slope of his shoulders, his sexy walk. The length of his legs were their own turn on. 

You didn’t follow him. He moved behind a dancing couple. He half turned and inclined his head. You turned around yourself. Two can play that game. You headed towards the back of the party. 

You were gaining attention. Those who weren’t smoking weed, were looking at you over the tops of cups. Others were smokin’ that stupid ass crack pipe. Franklin grabbed your hand and stopped you in your tracks. 

“Don’t fuckin’ embarass me. Let’s go,” he said, his whispered baritone fanning across your ear. You took a deep breath to steady yourself. Your body always reacted to him. Right now, your clit was throbbing thinking of what he was planning on doing to you. He hadn’t touched you in a week and it was driving you insane. 

“You can’t tell me what to do, Franklin,” you said.

Franklin stopped looking around and fixed you with a glare so severe, it’d hurt less if he slapped you. “The fuck you just say to me?” 

“You can’t tell me what to fuckin’ do, Franklin.” You emphasized his name, drawing out the syllables. 

“Man, get yo ass in the car,” he said. 

“Fuck you, nigga!” The rage that you cloaked yourself in was comforting in its heat. Spurned on by the alcohol, you poked at his chest. “Fuck you! Fuck you!” You slapped at his chest. 

“I’m only going to say this one more time, get in the fuckin’ car,” he said. He leaned in close to you, that calm demeanor slipping back behind his eyes. He kissed you on the cheek. A quick, dispassionate kiss that only served to piss you off even more. 

You opened your mouth to say something, but Franklin gripped your upper arm. He pushed you forward, around dancing people giving you the stink eye, past Leon with a little smirk on his face, and outside. The brutal LA night was cold and unforgiving against your damp skin. 

“Get off me, nigga!” You yanked your arm out of his grip. He talked about you embarrassing him. But he was the one who dragged you out of the party like some baby. 

Leon snickered. “Damn, you let her talk to you like that?” 

Franklin took a deep breath, looking towards the sky. “For one fuckin’ day, can any of ya’ll act right? I’m sick of this shit.” 

“I know you ain’t talkin’, Leon,” you said. Alcohol emboldened you. You felt invincible. Like you could hang onto a star and fly through the universe. You were ready with a scathing remark. 

Franklin stood in front of you, blocking your view of Leon who had squared up, ready to pop off. Franklin’s nose flared, his mouth stuck in a grimace. “Car, now,” he said.

Oh shit. Maybe you went a little too far. “Sure thing, Franklin,” you said with a sweet smile. 

You heard Franklin blow out a deep breath. “You got a way to get home?” You heard Franklin ask Leon as you walked away. You folded your arms and trudged the short distance to the curb. 

You reached the car, sliding in and putting your head against the headrest. You glared at Franklin as he said goodbye to Leon. Leon was smirking. You bet they were laughing it up at your expense. At your feelings. 

It paled in comparison to the lust you felt for Franklin. He walked towards the car. He was so different after he got out of jail. Tougher. Harder. There were moments where you would catch the Franklin you first fell in love with. The optimistic boy you would follow anywhere. 

Franklin was a man after jail. He picked up an edginess. A shorter temper. You couldn’t tell him what to do and that made him sexier to you. He was never a weak man. But now, he was strength personified. 

He climbed into the car in silence. He turned the car on and peeled out of the projects. “Not gon’ say shit?” You asked. 

Franklin didn’t look at you. He kept his eyes on the road, obeying all of the traffic lights. There was no reason to give LAPD an excuse to pull you over. Not that they always needed one. Driving while Black was practically an invitation to the cops to fuck with you. 

Franklin turned into his garage. You watched and listened as he closed the garage door behind you. He turned the car off and hopped out of the car. He came around to your side and opened the door. 

You hated the silent treatment. It was like he had ice water in his veins. You got out of the car and stood in the open door. Arms folded. Staring across a chasm at Franklin that you couldn’t cross. Couldn’t access. You weren’t welcome.

“Sick of this shit,” you muttered. 

“Get yo ass in the room and I’ll deal with you in a minute,” he said. 

“No, fuck you,” you said. 

That vindictive streak in you wanted to push him. To push him past the point of breaking him. 

“I don’t need this fuckin’ shit! I got enough shit to deal with than hearin’ my girl shakin’ her ass for anyone to see!” His voice rose from a deadly calm to outright yelling. 

“I was just dancin’,” you said with a shrug. 

“Yo ass don’t listen too good, huh?” Franklin grinned cruelly and laughed. He grabbed you by the arm and tugged you inside the house. The house was lit up like a Christmas tree, as if he’d searched every room for you.

You didn’t have a chance to appreciate the sentiment as he tugged you through the house, towards your room. He pushed you onto the bed and watched you flop. 

You pushed up onto your elbows but Franklin grabbed your hips and yanked your body down the bed to the edge. Your ass hung off of it. He used his leg to push yours further apart. 

“Franklin?” You asked. Your voice wobbled but not with fear. You were so turned on, you didn’t trust your voice. 

A sharp slap rung throughout the room. You cried out and clutched at the bed spread. Heat blossomed on your nearly exposed ass. One sharp jerk later, and it was over your hips, pushed up.  

“This what you wanted right? Why yo ass was actin’ up?” He asked. 

He rubbed the area that he slapped and you hissed. You were at an awkward angle. Half hanging off of the bed like you were, your heels were the only thing sort of keeping you upright. You stood on your tiptoes to brace yourself. Franklin standing in between your legs threw your balance off slightly. 

Franklin ran his hands down the crack of your ass, down towards your pussy. He moved your skimpy panties aside and pressed his thumb into your entrance. You cooed and collapsed onto the bed. 

“This pussy right there? Mine,” he said. He slapped your ass with his free hand and you gasped. The dichotomy of him slipping his fingers inside of you and the heat of the slap was too much already. 

“Baby…”

“Naw, don’t baby me. It was Franklin earlier, wasn’t it?” He asked. He removed his thumb and quickly replaced it with his index finger. He grunted and pushed a second finger in. 

“Oh, baby,” you moaned. He widened his fingers, preparing you for him. 

“What happened to all that shit you was talkin’?” He asked. He leaned over over, driving his fingers in deeper. You moaned and clutched the bedspread past the point of your fingers cramping. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. You moved your ass in a circle, in tune with how Franklin pumped his fingers in and out of you. As long as he kept doing that, you’d give him any answer he was looking for. 

“I don’t believe you,” he whispered against your ear. He leaned back and added a third finger. 

“Oh, fuck!” You moaned. Your body jerked and twitched as if you ate a live wire. Your orgasm ripped through you. Each wave hit you harder and faster, dragging you under its sweet release. 

Franklin withdrew his fingers and you heard him licking each one. You huffed. This man was going to be the death of you. 

Franklin massaged your ass, bringing attention back to the lingering pain. “I just missed you, baby,” you said. 

“Mhmm,” he said. He took a few deep breaths. His hands grabbed a handful of your ass. He made quick work of his pants, shedding it in nearly one fell swoop. He rubbed his thick, hardening dick along your slick slit. 

You bit your lip and moaned. “Pleasepleaseplease,” you said and wiggled your ass against him. 

He grabbed your left wrist and pulled it behind your back. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t uncomfortable either. You twisted your wrist but Franklin didn’t give you much room. He learned forward, his polo shirt rustling against your shirt. 

He brought his lips down to your ear. He licked the shell of it. Placed kisses behind your ear, into that sensitive spot. You shivered. Your desperate pussy clenched around nothing. He wrapped your hair around his fingers and pulled your head to the side for better access. 

You ached. You were so empty, you could cry. Literally, tears gathered behind your closed eyelids. You needed to be filled up by him. Consumed by him. You wanted to end where he began and begin where he ended. 

“The next time you need some dick, you come fuckin’ find me,” he said. He pushed into you slowly, stopping every so often so that you could get acclimated to him. 

“Oh, yes, Daddy,” you whined as he fulfilled your silent request. “Pleaseplease,” you muttered over and over. 

“Do you know my heart stopped comin’ here, callin’ for you like a mu’fuckin’ idiot? I called your pager. Shit was beepin’ by our bed. Anythin’ could’ve happened to you!” 

He seemed to forget his plan because he started to increase his thrusts. Whatever he gave, you took. You bounced back on him, matching his rhythm. He fucked you into the bed, pushing down on your arm behind your back. 

You were shoved ever more onto your tiptoes. Your right hand searched for purchase on the bed. Anything to brace you against his savage thrusts. It felt like he was pouring all of his frustration out into you. You gripped the bed spread and chewed on a piece of it.

There was a low, delicious burn inching up your legs. You shook violently, crying out as he hit that spot that only he could reach. Only he could touch. Only him. 

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you choked out. He pushed the very air from your lungs. Each thrust knocked a little more loose. You panted against him. 

“Oh fuck, right there,” you whined. Your ass clapped against his hips and the wet slap surprised another orgasm out of you. You stuttered over his name as you came, your pussy contracting and flooding his dick. 

“Look at you, can’t even hold on to that fucked up attitude,” he said. He licked your neck and nibbled at a sensitive bit. You shuddered and tried to curl in on yourself. 

“Naw,” he breathed. 

He slipped out of you and you cried in earnest. Tears slid down your cheeks. You groaned. Words weren’t working right for you. 

Franklin manhandled you. He flipped you onto your back and pulled you by your arms. You sat up and flopped against his body. He gripped your chin and made you look at him. 

“Talk a big game, no follow through, huh?” He asked. Bastard. But you got what you wanted. 

“I’ll do better, Daddy,” you said. You gave him puppy dog eyes.

Franklin grinned and pecked your lips. “I know you will,” he whispered. 

He tugged your shirt off, revealing your bra. Franklin sucked your nipple through the lacy material and you bucked off of the bed. “Shit!” 

The sensation was both there and wasn’t there. You registered a barrier between his mouth and your nipple but you didn’t really feel it. 

Franklin thrusted into you, hard. You gasped, your mouth hanging open. He climbed onto the bed, getting into a better position. He tore off his polo shirt and tossed it onto the floor.

He laid over you, crushing your body to the bed. He used one hand to spread you completely open for him. The other hand, grabbed your right hand and held it above you. Your fingers intertwined with his. He ground his hips into you, his dick disappearing inside of you.

His strokes were deep, brutal, and punishing. He wasn’t done being pissed at you. The thought should scare you. It should drive you right out of his bed. But no one else fucked you so completely. Made you feel so wanted and adored and like he needed to fuck you like a person needed air. 

Every stroke hit that deep spot inside of you. Your knees closed around his hips. Your left hand scratched his back. 

“That attitude shit stops,” he said as he made out with your titties. He pulled your cups down until they were under your breasts, pushing them up and into his eager mouth.

“Yes, Daddy,” you moaned. 

You felt the muscles in his back working as he pushed in and out of you. His dick stretched you right to the edge of pain. That fine line was delicate and he walked it well. Your hand traveled the length of his back, feeling all of the additional muscles and the dip of his back. The top of his ass that you couldn’t reach. 

You closed your eyes as he rolled a nipple around his mouth. 

“The last thing I need to fuckin’ worry about is you,” he said.

“Yes, Daddy. I’m sorry,” your breath was failing you. Hell, you didn’t even know what he was saying at this point. You’d agree to just about anything at the moment. As long as he kept his strokes nice and deep like that. 

You felt him in your chest. He pushed up and you couldn’t barely breathe. He was stuffing you full of him, feeding you his dick. 

“You think this shit is cute and it ain’t! How the fuck it look that I can’t control my girl?”

You contracted against him. Another orgasm was building. His voice was so deep and raspy. And when he yelled, it was like unlocking a switch inside of you. You began to twitch again. Tears streamed down your face.

“I’m sorry! I hate being here without you,” you managed to croak out.

Fuck, you were so damn close. “Please Daddy, I’m so sorry. I’ll do better,” you said. 

Franklin lifted his head from your titty. He stared into your eyes. 

“Don’t you fuckin’ know how much I love you? Why do I have to prove it to you?” He asked, softly. So at odds with his pounding dick. 

“You don’t!” You yelled. Your orgasm was just out of reach. So, so, sososososo close. 

“Then why you like makin’ me mad?” He asked, his voice raised. Your jaw went slack as the orgasm finally tore through you like a tidal wave. You flopped and twitched, unable to hear or see anything as stars danced behind your eyelids. 

Your convulsing pussy triggered Franklin’s orgasm. He pushed into you further, his cum splashing inside of you. You felt his dick twitch and pulse. 

“Fuuuuuck,” he groaned. “You feel what you do to me?” He asked. He placed his head into the crook of your neck and panted.

“Yes, oh fuck yes,” you murmured. 

“You do that to me,” he said. He kissed your jaw, your cheek. Your lips lazily found his and you kissed him with the last remaining breath in you. You felt light headed. You wanted to curl up like a cat at his feet. He rubbed your arms and kissed you as you floated back to your body. 

As he softened, he pulled out of you. His thick cum eased out of you. Franklin rolled over onto his back with a contented sigh. He placed one hand behind his head. You rolled and tucked your body into his. He rubbed your back. You spread your right arm across his chest. A possessiveness taking over you. 

He kissed your temple and looked at you. “Don’t you ever call me by my first name again,” he said. He turned to stare at the ceiling. His fingers never gave up their glide and and down your back. 

You giggled sleepily. “Keep fuckin’ me like that and I won’t have to,” you said. 

Franklin grabbed your right hand and brought it to his lips. “I gotta fuck you to keep you in line, is that it?” He asked.

“Somethin’ like that,” you said with a small giggle. 

You were dragged kicking and screaming to sleep. You wanted to stay up and talk to him. Anything to keep hearing that sexy voice. Anything to keep him here with you longer. You were beyond worried that the moment you opened your eyes, he’d be gone again. Like a puff of smoke you couldn’t hold on to. He’d just slip through your fingers. 

You were so blessedly fucked out, that your head emptied. You fell asleep to the thump of his heart. And you prayed. Prayed that he’d be there when you woke up.

Psst. There's more Franklin Fics! The Secret Franklin Saint Files

[multifandomfanficss]

A Pretty Damn Good Solution

Egon Spengler x Reader

Prompt: When Egon finds out you’ve been having nightmares all week, he decides to find a way to help you by conducting a sleep study.

Warnings: Nightmares, panic attacks, sleep deprivation, and insomnia.

A/N: This is GN!Reader with no pronouns specified. The Egon brainrot is so real so please enjoy this incredibly self-indulgent fic I wrote to the cope with my work stress induced nightmares. Crossposted on my AO3 adriansglasses.

You woke up breathing heavy, in a cold sweat. You hear quick, clumsy footsteps running through the hallway of the firehouse. At first you’re confused. You’re still out of it and you’re scared. Suddenly Egon is busting through your doorway. His glasses are crooked, his pj shirt is buttoned incorrectly, the buttons not matching the holes. He has a proton pack slung over his back. He must have been in a hurry to get to you.

“Are you okay?! I heard you scream.” He looks at you with confusion. “I thought one of the ghosts had breached the containment unit.”

“I’m sorry. I just had a nightmare.” You apologize, still trying to collect yourself. You’re shaking like a leaf.

“Oh.” He looks at you sadly, taking off his proton pack. He sits on the bed, straightening out his glasses. The bed dips, shifting you towards him.

“I apologize for my appearance and demeanor. I was under the impression you were in danger.” He looks down at his shirt, fixing his buttons.

“I’m sorry I worried you.” You say, sheepishly.

“No, don’t be.” He draws out the o on the no, speaking softly, inflecting his tone upwards to try to bring you comfort. He gives you a soft smile, to match his tone.

You sit in silence for a few minutes. Egon isn’t quite sure what to say, but you don’t mind. Despite his awkwardness, he was still deeply comforting.

“I forgot to ask. Are you okay?” He breaks the silence.

“Not really. I’ve been having nightmares all week.” You begin to fidget with a string on your blanket.

“(Y/N), why didn’t you say something?” He asks.

“I didn’t wanna bother anyone.” You shrug your shoulders.

“You’re living in a building with several scientists who care about your well being. I assure you that you wouldn’t be bothering us. We could have helped you. You should have at the very least spoken to Peter. His concentration is psychology.” Egon tried not to lecture you, but he was confused as to why you were suffering alone instead of asking for help. He didn’t like to see you in pain.

“I guess I thought I should be able to deal with it on my own.” You avoid eye contact. Egon finally puts the pieces together. It wasn’t always easy for him to read social que’s, but he could read his friends easily enough.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed. Everyone has nightmares. They could be caused by a number of reasons. Typically mine are caused by stress, but I’ve since figured out how to get a handle on them through scientific means. Where they used to be constant, they’re now more rare for me.” He sympathizes.

“I didn’t know you had nightmares like that. I’m sorry.” You respond.

“They’re handled.” He pauses for a moment, thinking. “I believe it would be beneficial for me to conduct a sleep study on you starting tomorrow night, with your consent of course.”

“Do you really think it’ll help?” You look at him, desperate for an answer to your problem.

“Yes. I’ll have everything ready tomorrow night, but do you need anything before I go?” He asks.

“Can I please have a hug?” You request. Usually you’d be embarrassed, but right now you didn’t care. Egon had been the greatest comfort you’d had in the last several nights.

“Of course.” He smiles, a small blush creeping onto his cheeks. The hug is awkward at first, but you both relax into it. He’s warm and his pajama shirt is soft. While Egon’s presence is always calming, his steady breathing and heartbeat do wonders to bring you back to a more relaxed state. He begins to rub your back. “We’ll get to the bottom of this and just remember you’re not alone.”

————————————————————————

The next night you’d shown up to Egon’s lab as requested. You’re surprised to see he’s set up a cot with your favorite blankets and pillows. He was nothing if not observant.

“I gathered some things from your room in an effort to make you more comfortable.” He speaks, walking around the room, pressing buttons and moving things around.

“Thank you.” You smile. You sit down on the bed and Egon begins to fit wires to your forhead.

“May I?” He asks, gesturing to your chest.

“Um yes- yeah uh that’s okay.” You blush. Egon moves your shirt over and attaches wires over your heart. “I really appreciate you doing this.”

“Of course. It’s no problem, really. Do you need anything before you go to sleep? Can I get you a glass of water?” He asks.

“No, but can you explain how it’s gonna work again?” You lay down, attempting to get comfortable.

“While you’re asleep I should be able to see any changes in heart rate, breathing patterns, or brainwave activity. I can collect all the data I need and all you have to do is sleep.” He explains.

“Seems simple enough.” You give him a smile, despite your nerves.

Egon leaves the observation area and the lights dim. You close your eyes and fall asleep.

About 2 hours into the study Egon starts to notice a rapid elevation in heart rate and your breathing becomes heavier and inconsistent. He scribbled down notes, watching your brainwave patterns until you shoot up gasping. You start to pull at the wires attached to you, not remembering why they’re there. Egon enters the room with his journal and pen in hand. He approaches your bed.

“You’re okay. You’re in my lab, remember? I have to say that was quite interesting. How long did it feel like you were stuck in that nightmare?” He asks.

“Uh I- I don’t know, like hours?” You debate, trying to catch your breath.

“You were asleep for about 2 hours, but you only entered REM state about 15 minutes ago, which is when you started dreaming.” He takes down more notes.

“Only 15 minutes?” You ask, your voice and body shakey. Egon pulls a chair up to sit next to you. He lays his journal on your bed and takes your hand in his. He begins to feel your pulse. You instantly start to calm by his touch. He’s observant of this. He decides to keep holding your hand even after he’s done checking your pulse in an effort to keep you calm. He writes with one hand and holds your hand with the other.

“Can you tell me a bit about the dream?” He asks.

“I was alone in the firehouse and the containment unit broke and I was being chased by a demon. I woke myself up before it caught me.” He gives you a look. On one hand he feels bad that you were so scared, but on the other hand he’s intrigued.

“How did you wake yourself up?” He asks.

“I have like this thing I do if I need to escape a dream. I feel like I’m pushing and pulling and clawing my way out of reality, like I’m trying to swim through molasses until I wake up.” You tell him.

“That’s amazing. From my end your adrenaline spiked enormously. I didn’t realize you were doing that on purpose.” He scribbles down some more notes.

“Yeah. I guess that’s a thing I do.” You say awkwardly. “Did you get anything useful?” You ask.

“Yes, but I’ll have to run more tests throughout the week.” He closes his journal, turning to you. He realizes he’s still holding your hand. He doesn’t let go. He was so excited by the scientific aspects of the experiment he forgot why he was doing this in the first place. “We’re going to figure this out, but until then I’m here.” He smiles at you, giving you a look of sympathy.

————————————————————————

The next two nights went similarly to the first one. You would have nightmare and Egon would remind you everything was okay before sitting down next to you to take notes as you recounted the dream. Your dreams were often about being chased or not being able to save someone. You would usually use your emergency escape out of your dreams. Talking about your dreams helped. It gave you an outlet and it aided Egon’s studies. The two of you had fallen into a routine and it was starting to help.

Tonight was different. Egon watched as your heart rate spiked and your breathing patterns began to change. Your brain activity was off the charts. He knew you’d be up soon. He watched as you tried and failed to pull the emergency break. You begin to thrash in bed. He wonders why you haven’t woken up. He enters the room just in time for you to shoot up screaming and covered in sweat. You begin to hyperventilate, crying out. “Egon!” You cry for him. Tears start to stream down your face. He runs to your bed.

“It was just a dream. You’re okay. You’re safe. I’m here. Everything is okay, (Y/N).” Egon tries to keep his voice calm, but he speaks with urgency. He places his hands on your shoulders, trying to ground you. You can’t get your breathing under control.

“I- I couldn’t get out! I couldn’t get out! I was stuck and I couldn’t get out!” You’re speaking a mile a minute.

“(Y/N), look at me. You’re awake now. You’re safe. I won’t let anything hurt you. I need you to try to breathe with me. (Y/N), what’s three things that you can see?” He asks, trying to bring your focus back to reality.

“I can’t” You sob, unable to focus.

“Yes, you can. What’s three things you can see?” He repeats.

“I see your journal. It’s in the chair.” You try.

“Good that’s two things.” He smiles.

“Your pen is on the floor.” You continue.

“I dropped it when I rushed in to check on you. What’s two things you can hear?” He asks.

“The clock is ticking really loudly and- and I can hear… the heater is on.” You tell him, listening closely.

“Good. What’s one thing you can touch?” He asks.

“Can I touch you?” You ask, hesitantly.

“Yes, thank you for asking.” He smiles. You grab his hand, beginning to trace all the lines and wrinkles on it. You learn every detail of his fingerprints. Tracing the indents and following the patterns comforts you.

“Are you feeling a bit better?” He asks.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I’m just having one of those moments where it’s hard to tell what’s real and what‘s fake. I woke up from a nightmare, but it was just another nightmare. I don’t know if I’ve ever had a dream inside of a dream before. I thought that was just in movies.” You keep tracing his hand.

“No, it’s real unfortunately, but so am I and so are you. This is real.” He gestures between you. Part of himself means that the two of you are real and your interaction is real, but another part of him meant something different. The care you have for each other is real too, very real.

“I hate that I’m still tired. I don’t wanna go back to sleep, but I know I have to.” You sigh.

“Would it make you feel better if I stayed in here with you?” He asks. While he’d usually be too awkward to ask this, his solution is based in science. All of his research points to his presence being a comfort. This gave him more confidence.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” You hope you’re not being an inconvenience.

“If I minded I wouldn’t have offered. I want you to feel like you’re not alone.” He gives your hand a squeeze.

“I think that would help me a lot actually.” You start to shift, laying back down in bed. Egon gets up to turn the light back off, kicking off his shoes and lab coat before getting back into bed with you.

“I figured it might.” He smiles. He always loved when his scientific theories were proven right, especially one that benefited both of you so much. It brought both of you comfort to be in each other’s arms. Egon’s presence was enough for you to sleep soundly for the rest of the night and he was happy to know that you felt safe and calm. Even if it was only a temporary solution to your problems, it was still a pretty damn good solution.

“Goodnight, Egon.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

[mayisgoingnuts]

Lee!Lucifer X Ler!Reader Scenario

Warnings: Some swearing but that's all, only did it for comfort.

Author's note: Lucifer. Brainrot. That's everything I have to say for now 😞🙏💞

————————————————————————

"Be careful with those, they don't get pretty all by themselves, y'know?" Lucifer says with a calm smile, which quickly shifts to a more "cocky" smirk. "Well, maybe they do."

You chuckle at his stupid comment, slowly returning your eyes to your main goal: his wings. A pair of wings was already amazing for you, but now three? No way you would lose the chance to check on them. See them, admire them, touch them...

You slowly caress one of them, taking a good look and with your eyes almost shining in amusement. "They're so soft..."

"Right?"

But as you keep stroking his wings and exploring each inch, you can hear a light snicker coming from him. He cover his mouth and looks away, not wanting to interrupt you.

"Huh? What happened?"

"N-Nothing, nothing. Just be extra careful there, alright?" Lucifer answers, looking at what people normally call a 'wingpit'.

"Ah... does it hurt? Sorry if I-"

"No no you didn't hurt me, it's just... ehhh... y'know..." He tries his best to explain without actually turning it even more embarassing, making a few hand movements aswell. "...sensitive?"

It took you a few seconds to understand, but once you did, your confused expression changed almost instantely.

"Oh, alright. I'll be gentle." But as you spoke, your fingers traced around that same spot once again. "See?"

Lucifer jumped a little on his bed.

"Okay, now this one was on purpose!"

"No idea what you're talking about."

The rythm of your fingers did not changed, basically dancing on Lucifer's wings. Everything he was able to do was cover his eyes with a single hand, using the other to grab the sheets tightly.

"Goddahahammit!"

"Wow, your feathers are so nice to touch... I could stay here all day." You say, wearing the happiest smirk you could have right now.

His superior wing flapped lightly as you kept tickling it, only making it worse for Lucifer himself as you now barely needed to move your hand.

"You better not hit me with those."

"It's really hahard not tohoho!"

"...was that a complain or a threat?"

"Bohoth- AH!"

You knew he wouldn't help himself, this man just loved giving you motives to keep going. As a consequence of his "rebel" answer, you let go of his wings, going straight to his ribs.

"H-HEHEHEY!"

"I just felt offended! I'm complimenting you, and you're threatening me to attack me with your wings? Tsk, tsk... not nice."

"COME OHOHON!"

Due his constant squirming, you decided to put a little pressure, pushing him down to the bed to make it easier for the both of you. His wings were so fun to watch too, it was almost like he was about to open flight.

"Just don't fly outta here." You joked.

His giggles and laughter were a mix now, creating this goofy yet adorable (in your opinion atleast) laugh of his. Lucifer kicked strongly in the air, trying to avoid using that huge strength of his on you and end up pushing you away; or worse, throw you away.

The demon's ribs began to have a bit more of mercy as you moved your fingers off of them, but only so you could reach his armpits. They moved very very slowly, tickling all the way 'til there.

"W-Wait! Wait! I- I knohohow what you're doing, dohohon't you dare!"

"Nothing is stopping me to do so..."

"Because I cahahan't! Hehehehe!"

You couldn't help but chuckle at his poor attempt to make it look like he's not letting you do that. "Will it make you happier if I pretend that I believe you?"

"Yehehes! Wait, nohoho!" Your teases were making him way too nervous to think coherently, much less speak. "Fuhuhuck, I don't knohohow!"

"If you say so." Just a few more inches before it hits a death spot... "I won't stop, because I'm evil and I love seeing you "suffer" with your oh, so "hated" tickles!"

"G-Gah- No- Nahahah-"

"And you know what would make me even more evil?"

"I don't wanna know! I dohon't wanna know!!"

It felt just like a button. You pressed his armpits, and Lucifer let out a cackle as soon as you did so.

He tried to roll from one side to another, and as he tried to protect his own weak points, it just made your thumbs get stuck there. All you needed to do was wiggle them, tickling them whenever you feel like it.

"SHIHIHIT! SHIT! SHIHIHIT! I CAN'T TAHAHAKE IT!"

"Just raise your arms, like that I can get my hands back!"

"THEN STOHOP MOVING YOUR FIHIHIHINGERS!"

You went silent, looking away with a bratty smile. "Now you're asking for too much."

"OH HOW I HAHATE YOHOHOU!"

It would be just a matter of time until you stopped and finally let him rest, but for that, Lucifer needed to grow tired of the tickles first.

No, you didn't need to "free him".

After all, getting rid of you was a task that he could've done as soon as you touched him.

He just decided not to.

[almostnugget]

Pretty Gifts

Coriolanus Snow x fem!plus-size!reader

Your husband bought you a dress, but when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror…

word count: 3.2k

warnings: body-image stuff!, vague…whatever the fuck is wrong with coriolanus subtext, allusions to sex, OC!family/family members for reader and their strained relationship, reader has a LAST name but no first name

a/n: GOD. im suffering from a severe level of brainrot for this man and im finally shedding my fear of posting about him so have this VERY self indulgent piece i wrote…ages ago bc there was just. no plus size/curvy reader for this man. Also this was originally written in 3rd person but i changed it to 2nd so hopefully it sounds alright

Since falling in love with his wife—you, Coriolanus Snow has developed a certain proclivity for buying you things. He used to before, but now it's near constant. They can't leave the house without you coming home with a new trinket, a new piece of clothing, new shoes, anything.

But he'll do it when you’re not around just as well. If he sees anything and it makes him think of you or if he thinks it's something you’ll adore, it's nearly a given that he'll buy it.

Especially clothing.

He's had your exact measurements since you’d gotten married and his cousin, Tigris, designed your wedding dress and while those measurements might've fluctuated, he is well acquainted with your size. Which means, Coriolanus Snow is free to buy his wife any clothing he sees fit.

And he does.

You joke that he likes dressing you up like you’re his own little doll, but you never say it with any annoyance. Something is fun about your husband seeing clothing and simply needing to see his wife in it. It's flattering.

Most days, he'll come home after this or that meeting and drop a bag in front of you with a succinct, "I got you something." You smile almost immediately and always say, "You didn't have to," but you both know he will keep doing so.

And usually he'll insist you try it on for him as soon as possible, if not right away. Other times he'll wait, and declare it's the perfect thing to wear to whatever event they have to attend right around the corner, and you take that as a sign to wear it then.

Some days, however, it's you who comes home from an outing with your mother or father, or one of your siblings. You’ll come home and greet your husband as you usually do: all but tackling him in the hallway with a hug and kiss or the more subtle 'hi' and a kiss on the cheek.

He'll pepper a simple 'there's something for you on our bed' into the conversation and you know you’ve received another piece of clothing. Sometimes he won't say anything, but you know that look in his eye.

And eventually you’ll go into your shared bedroom to find whatever new piece of clothing Snow's picked out for you laying out on the bed—an obvious sign you should put it on right away so he can see you in it when he sees you next. And you usually oblige (though sometimes you’ll try it on just for him and then put back on whatever you were wearing, simply for comfort reasons and he doesn't mind because at least he knows now, and it's always better than his imagination).

Today was no different.

The heels of your shoes click against the marble flooring as you walk further into your home, pausing momentarily as you decide whether or not you want to take off your shoes or not. Before you can decide, you call out, "Coryo?"

It doesn't take a moment for his voice to call out, "In here!"

You hurry into the parlor where you spot your husband sat on the small loveseat, book in hand. His head lifts at the sight of you and you waste little time in hurrying over, falling onto the seat beside him and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"Hi."

It never fails to make a smile overtake his stoic features and he reaches over, hand pressing into your cheek. "Hello, darling," he whispers and gives you a proper kiss that makes the stress of the day leave both of your bodies.

He pulls away first this time (you swap off), and his brow quirks. "How is your sister?" He asks, thumb still caressing your cheek.

"Normal," you tut, shifting around to lay on the couch, your head landing firmly in his lap. You meet eyes and you smile. "Annoying."

"Better," he remarks, and not even he can hide the satisfied twitch of his lips. You both get a strange thrill whenever the other says something on the edge of mean.

You do love her sister. To an extent.

Geneva Day (née Thorne) is the eldest of the Thorne siblings, seven years your elder, which meant you never spent much time together growing up. Close is not a word to describe you. Especially since, when Geneva learned of Coriolanus' desire to marry the youngest Thorne, she disapproved.

The only ones who knew the marriage started as a sham were the parties involved and your parents, so perhaps Geneva sensed the falsehoods, but in your mind, what right did your sister have to dictate your life? Simply because Geneva had already married? No, you wouldn't have it and you said as much.

But Geneva persisted right up until the wedding when you blatantly told her: "I'm marrying Coriolanus Snow whether you are there or not." And Geneva had no choice but to accept the marriage. Her qualms have lessened with time but you have not yet forgotten about your sister's harsh words towards the man you now love.

"But Cami's ok," you breathe out, sinking further into the couch and your husband's lap, shutting your eyes.

Cami, Camilia Day, is your young niece. While Geneva is on thin ice and probably always will be, you can’t bring yourself to extend the same feelings towards the young girl and in truth, the trip to the park with your sister was more or less just about your niece.

"I played on the swings with her."

"Did you?" Coriolanus asks and although your eyes are shut, you can hear the teasing grin in his voice. "I suppose that means you weren't pushing her?"

Your nose wrinkles. "Cami insisted on pushing herself, I couldn't interfere." Your tone is so matter-of-fact, Coriolanus can only laugh. His fingers twine in the strands of your hair.

"I'm glad you had a good time, dove," he tells you and you hum in response, turning your head to relax more in his lap as he continues stroking your hair.

"I'm just happy to be home."

And Coriolanus never doubts that you mean that.

It's taken him some time to get used to, but his wife genuinely means it when she says she would rather be with him than anywhere else. He used to hate the way his heart would pound when you’d say things like that. Now, he savors the feeling.

Silence passes between you. His fingers continue carding through your lock, his eyes falling back onto the book in his opposite hand, as you lay with your head on his lap.

But eventually, he can no longer help it.

"I got you something."

Your eyes crack open. Your husband's eyes are fixed on his book, but you know he can see you in his periphery because the corner of his mouth twitches upward as soon as you look his way.

"Did you?" You question, unable to hide your own smile for a moment more. Part of you should feel guilty about the way you get constantly doted on, but you can't bring yourself to do so. Still, you say, "You shouldn't have."

"Nonsense," Coriolanus tells you, as he usually does. "It's my job to give you the things you deserve." His eyes finally look down at you. "And you deserve the finest things I can get you."

You stare up at him, mulling between saying something and simply leaning up to mold your mouth to his. You settle for the former. "Then, thank you, my love," you hum, hand reaching up, tips of your fingers running over his cheek.

You know that always gets him, evident by the way his eyes flutter for a moment and you bite back a smile as your hand falls back down.

"I'm assuming it's clothing?" You question and you can tell from the look on his face that it is. But you know it usually is anyway. "I'll try it on later." You shift onto your side, nestling your head further into his lap. "Too comfy to move now."

He laughs, and his fingers continue through your hair. "That's fine. You can wear it for dinner tonight."

The two of you have elected to dine out tonight, if only because it’s been awhile and while love the food you can get at home, restaurants always scratch a certain itch.

And Coriolanus likes showing you off. Sometimes.

You hum in affirmation, content to agree. Once more, silence falls but you’re quick to interject, "Read to me?"

It doesn't matter what he's reading, you like hearing his voice. And as he usually does, Coriolanus obliges, dulcet tones beginning to permeate around the parlor as he reads out the passages of his book for his wife to hear.

You stay that way for a long while until Coriolanus leaves to get some work done in his office and you let him part with a kiss and then settle yourself back onto the couch to relax a while longer.

Eventually, however, with dinner approaching, you head to your shared bedroom. There's a piece of fabric laid out on the bed but you ignore it for now, electing to shower first—whatever clothing you’re meant to wear tonight will look far better if you’re clean, and after a day in the park, the shower feels necessary.

Twenty or so minutes later, you walk back into the room wet hair tied up on your head and a towel wrapped around you as you admire the dress on the edge of the bed. Your eyes light up at the sight of the finery your husband's picked out for you.

Fingers skimming the velvet material, you bite her lip, unable to deny this is exactly the kind of thing you would want to wear.

It's a deep red, almost a wine, made of velvet. The straps are thin, and the top is fitted with corset boning from the looks of it.

Immediately, you move to change, eventually pulling the dress on. It's snug in a comfortable way, not too tight and not too loose. And the skirt is fitted, contouring to your body. It's nice.

You glance at herself in the mirror, satisfied, and move to fix your hair and at least put on a necklace, if nothing more. Makeup too, if only because you don’t want to give the public anything to say about your ‘unkempt’ face.

Coriolanus can only pay off so many people, you’ve found.

By the time you’ve finished getting ready, you flop back on the bed with a content sigh. While you’re excited to show off your new dress, you’re also just hungry for dinner. Whether it’s out or at home, it’ll no doubt be something good, like every night—Coriolanus won’t settle for less, and your mouth waters at the thought.

You know you should head down now, but you pause once more to catch a look at yourself in the full-body mirror that sits in the corner of the room. Your hands skim the skirt, tugging it down your thighs a little when you still.

Your reflection stares back at you for a moment too long. The dress looks gorgeous. The stitching is fine, the design exquisite.

But on you?

Doubts begin to creep in.

The youngest Thorne is by no means skinny. You never have been, but you’ve accepted it. You like your thighs and the way they're on the thicker side. Even your hips are nice, wide perhaps, but nice. At least, so you tell yourself.

But the way the woman in the mirror stared back at you…

Tentatively, you turn to the side.

Most of your dresses, in fact all of them, flare out at the waist. They don't hug your stomach, leaving it hidden underneath the fabric. This dress does the opposite. It hugs your flesh, emphasizing the pouch of fat.

Biting your tongue, you face forward again, unable to miss the way the dress hugs the divots where your hips blend into your thighs. It's all on display. Not an inch is hidden.

Your arms wrap around your midsection and you glance to the door. Coriolanus wants to see you in this. But you can't let him see you, not in this.

It's irrational and you know it. He's seen you in far less clothing and doesn't care, why would he mind the dress? But a little voice in the back of your mind tells you that this dress will simply make him realize.

Grimacing, you sit back on the edge of the bed. Trying to work up the courage to change or go to dinner, you do neither.

Coriolanus is at the dining table, eyes fixed on the doorway in waiting for his wife. All he can hear is the ticking of that incessant grandfather clock in the corner. His hand taps the table and he mentally counts the seconds.

Have you fallen asleep? Is that it?

That's the logical answer, but his mind starts to race with unsavory thoughts about you avoiding him or worse. He bites them back until they leave a bitter taste in his mouth and he leaves the table.

Swiftly, he makes his way to your bedroom and raps his knuckles against the door. "My dear?" He calls through the wood.

Shame wells up inside of you and you swallow it back. "You can come in."

He doesn't waste a second, turning the knob and stepping into the bedroom. Whatever sight he expected to see, he isn't sure, but his wife sat on the edge of the bed completely done-up for dinner yet not moving, isn't what he expected.

"Dove?" He questions, and his unsavory worries start to fade, yet not completely as he shuts the door behind him. "It’s getting late.”

Biting your tongue, you nod, exhaling softly through your nose. "Right," you breathe. "I- I know.”

His gaze narrows for a moment. "Why didn't you come out?" His eyes fix on your attire and his heart thumps. "You're wearing the dress."

"I am."

Your tone. The way you avoid his eyes.

Coriolanus stuff his hands into his trouser pockets and sighs heavily. "You don't like it."

You gasp, eyes meeting his. "No, no, I love it. Coryo, really, it's beautiful," you assure. His head tilts and his eyes narrow again, scrutinizing you now to discern the problem then. It's your turn to sigh. "I don't think the dress likes me."

There's a furrow in his brow as he replies, "It doesn't fit?" That doesn't make sense. He had the dress tailor made to your latest measurements, how could it not fit? Did someone not listen?

"No, I-" Your words bite off and you tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. "I...I don't look good in it."

The way Coriolanus looks back at you, you'd think you’d spoke an entirely different language. "What?"

"I don't look good in it, Coryo," you repeat, a little surer.

And now he sees it. His wife is hunched over, one arm wrapped around her middle. The other hand is tugging her skirt down.

For a moment, he says nothing, contemplating how to approach this. Finally, his voice breaks the silence. "Let me see."

The heels on your feet scuff against the carpet and your nose wrinkles. "I don't-"

"No," he says and you know he's serious now, "stand up."

You sigh again and he lets you take a moment, knowing he's asked you to do something you deem terrifying. Eventually though, you stand. Your hands wring in front of you for another long moment, before you let them fall to your sides.

Coriolanus says nothing more, eyes roving slowly over you. He begins to circle you and you feel oddly like prey being sized up by a predator.

He comes to a stop in front of you once more. Trying to avoid his eye, you duck your head but his fingers tilt your head up and your eyes immediately find his cold, icy blue ones.

"You're right," he says flatly. "You don't look good in it." Your eyes widen, and he adds, "You look breathtaking."

He's calling you breathtaking but it's his words that take your breath away. Breathtaking?

"I would never use good to describe you," he continues, his voice a whisper in your ear as he moves behind you. His hands find your waist and he directs you to stand in front of that mirror you found so detestable. "Good doesn't say enough."

"Coryo—"

"I'm not finished," he cuts you off, and you press your lips together. His eyes flit to the mirror in front of them and he notes the antsy look on your face. "What do you see?"

"Me. You."

"What do you see when you look at yourself? Right now?"

You sigh heavily, biting your tongue between your teeth. Your eyes fall to your body, particularly that midsection. You don’t get the words out because Coriolanus slides one of his hands around to press flat against your stomach. He pulls you flush against him.

"Is this the problem?" He asks, voice low in your ear. His other hand falls to your hip. "Is this?"

"Coryo-"

"Don’t."

Your lips press into a thin line. He makes it hard to argue. "Yes. That's the problem." His fingers dance over your stomach in a way that makes you shirk back against his chest.

"I don't see a problem," he whispers against the skin of your neck. He makes it very hard to argue.

You try again. "It's— There's too much."

"Good," her husband growls into your ear, fingers pressing against the flesh of your hip. "More for me to have."

The sensation makes you jolt slightly, a familiar heat crawling up the back of your neck and spreading to your cheeks. You can't even bring yourself to reply, but you don’t have to, because he’s not finished.

"You can think all you want," he begins, and his tone is a touch softer, "but you look ravishing, my dear. Every inch of you was made for me." He leans closer, nose brushing the curve of your neck. "And I love every inch. Not even beautiful begins to describe what you are."

Your expression softens and your hand reaches up to your shoulder, hand pressing into his cheek. "Coryo," you whisper, turning your head to face him. "You mean that."

And it's not a question. Because you believe it. You don’t have to believe anything but him.

"I do," he replies, leaning closer until his nose brushes against yours. "Even when I first saw you, I knew you were the most divine woman I'd ever seen."

A laugh bubbles out of you. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Snow," you tease and it's enough to make him smile as well. Your lips press against his for just a moment before you pull back and ask, just to check, "You really like this dress on me?"

"I do," he repeats, a little more emphatic. "And I'll buy you a dozen more like it to prove it."

Another laugh, one that makes your nose scrunch and your eyes crinkle. "That won't be necessary." Another kiss. "But I appreciate the sentiment."

With a sigh, your hands fall to cover his where they still rest over your stomach and your hip. Squeezing his hands, you glance at your reflection and find that it doesn't look so bad anymore.

"I guess we should head to dinner now," you muse, but you don’t have time to move before Coriolanus is pulling you closer.

His mouth hovers over the space where your neck meets your shoulder and he whispers, the sound somewhere between a purr and a growl, "I want to eat something else first..."

Dinner will have to wait.

[harmonysanreads]

i’m just thinking abot ur recent post about when you cry during a movie… i’m having dr. ratio brainrot rn pls help

no but so real. he’d just delve into the illogicality of the film while ur sobbing your eyes out. he just doesn’t understand why you’re so affected? 1. it’s not real 2. you can see this coming from a mile away (and it can be either: the thing is pretty obvious, or the thing isn’t that obvious and ratio is too smart for his own good).

when he sees you cry he does scoff at the fact that you’re crying at something so trivial, but tones down his comments and maybe… if he feels nice enough, subtly wraps an arm around you in attempt to console you.

this is more general film/movie hcs but;

actually at any point while you’re watching a film he starts rattling on about how the film’s production is bad, how that sound effect wasn’t actually realistic (they could’ve done better sound design), how the actors aren’t actually speaking in the film, they actually record their lines later on.

(he mentioned that once and now you can’t stop thinking about it while watching literally anything, be it a live show or not. when you’re having a mini-crisis over if someone on a live gameshow is actually speaking or saying their lines later, he rolls his eyes and reminds you of the fact that it’s live. you miss the fond smile on his face while he does. it’s nice to know that you pay attention to his comments during the film-)

he just ruins movies for you and at some point you never mention the fact that you’re gonna watch a film or invite him to the movies anymore. he gets a bit pouty over it — maybe you mention a film you recently watched and he stares at you, mildly offended that he wasn’t invited. you explain that he keeps ruining the film for you, why can’t you let imagination be imagination?

okay… so he tries his best to tone it down. only for you. he still points out the obvious, but tries to bite back his comments when the lead does a stunt that comes off a bit too… unnatural? (it’s just nice to see your amazed face… that’s all.) or a poor done joke that really should’ve been performed better (he likes the way you giggle at it, even if it isn’t a very good one).

i’m actualy suffering dr ratio brainrot so bad rn he is taking over my life he lives in my head rent free please help

[ Post in question ]

Anon, please save me because I too am having massive Ratio brainrot after reading your ask(s).

I think infodumping is one of Ratio's love-languages in general. It's difficult to grasp unless you've known him for a while but he wouldn't just go parading around information about a specific topic to just anyone. Moreover, he always puts emphasis on self-learning. So unless he detects enthusiasm and effort for learning or if he really likes someone, I can't see him speaking this much — about movies nonetheless.

But if we consider it being his unique way of showing affection, I presume it'll annoy him greatly if the reaction he gets is counterproductive and refrain from it altogether in the worst-case scenario. Complaining about bad filmmaking is Ratio's way of connecting with you throughout the ordeal, you can watch a movie with anyone but, how many will passionately criticize (and flaunt their knowledge) every scene in front of you? It requires a level of trust and sharing certain thoughts with someone else necessities you have good rapport, at least for characters like Ratio.

So when you mentioned him trying to tone down on the criticisms ultimately instead of shutting it off entirely, that just showed how much he actually cares about you, which I think is very sweet.

[mellowsaturns]

just between us

DBF!BUCKY X READER

summary: you and bucky have a little moment in your bathroom at your family’s brunch 

warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, fluff, bathroom sex, secret relationship, age gap (reader is in her 20s), unprotected p in v, fingering, teasing, praise kink, he’s a menace, they are just horny for each other lol

wc: 1.2k

a/n: that picture has been giving me the biggest brainrot and now y’all have to suffer with me <3 

--- 

The sun’s shining perfectly and there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky—just the perfect weather for a fancy brunch that your parents had planned for weeks now.

Everyone’s laughing and having a good time. You’re on your third mimosa and it wasn’t even twelve o’clock yet. Life was good.

You’re chatting with your friend when suddenly, all her words become white noise to you.

Because you smell him before you even see him—that distinctive and expensive cologne that managed to imprint itself onto you as well. Freezing in your spot, you could feel the warmth he’s radiating behind you. And when he places his hand on the back of your chair, his timber voice sends shivers down your spine. “I hope I’m not too late,” he announces to everyone. You had to clench your thighs shut.

“Bucky!” your father shouts, half surprised and half excited that his best friend’s here. “Thought you couldn’t make it?”

“I managed to rearrange some things,” he says, and you could picture the smirk he had on his face right now.

Bucky subtly moves his hand, his palm now directly on your skin thanks to the backless dress you’re wearing. He gently brushes his thumb against your heated skin before making his way over to your father who had managed to find an extra seat for him. And when you finally see him, your breath hitches—he looks like he’s about to go on a damn runway, pure sex on legs. You stare at him in hopes of catching his attention but he doesn’t spare a single glance at you.

Asshole, you mutter to yourself.

-

“Say that again?” he grunts into your ear. Because said asshole now had you up against the wall, your dress rolled up to your waist while he’s knuckles deep inside you.

Halfway through, you got annoyed and left the table. Unknowingly to you, he also followed you into the house and when you entered your room and into the bathroom, he grabbed your face and kissed you hard, one thing leading to another.

“Say that again, sweetheart,” he taunts, sliding his fingers deeper into you.

You whimper, clutching onto his shoulders. “Said you were an asshole,” you grit out. “You didn’t even look at me.”

He hums. “Sweetheart, you in that dress is just sinful. I know ‘cause I was the one who bought it for you,” he says. “I wouldn’t have been able to control myself if I looked at you. I would’ve fucked you right there and then in front of everyone.”

He chuckles when you clench around his fingers. “You like that? You like the idea of me bending you over and taking you so everyone can see?” he teases into your ear, voice low and husky. “I wonder what they’ll say when they find out you’re fucking your father’s best friend.”

You whimper at his suggestion but with the way he’s holding you, so rough and so passionate, you couldn’t care less about what they’ll say about you and Bucky.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers, kissing up your neck. You gasp when he bites down. “I can’t get enough of you.”

You’re close and he knows it too. He goes in for a bruising kiss and curves his fingers at just the right spot, one that only he’s able to hit and you shutter against him.

After he licks your arousal off his fingers, he gives you no time to recover as he spins you around and bends you over the counter, caging you in between his arms and the cold marble. He’s eager to feel you and it takes no time for him to slide in.

“Bucky!” you gasp.

“Fuck. I miss this,” he moans, as if he didn’t take you apart so good last week that you had trouble walking the next day. “It’s like you were made just for me.”

There’s an intense warmth building inside of you with the way he’s gripping your hip and pounding into you from behind. You���re clutching the counter to stabilize yourself from his rhythmic thrusts and trying really hard to suppress the obscene noises that are threatening to escape.

You hope no one’s in the house right now because you accidentally let out a needy cry.

He uses one of his hands to cover your mouth, his large palm helping you muffle all your guttural moans. “I can feel you, doll,” he rasps, “Does my pretty girl want to cum?”

You hum, nodding your head pathetically.

“Hmm? What was that?”

You're pleading but it gets lost.

“No?” he teases before slowing down.

Asshole.

He chuckles at your mewling and finally lets go of his hand. “Please. Bucky, please. Let me cum,” you whine.

He smirks at your desperate voice and lifts your head up then, making you look into the mirror.

“Look at you,” he muses, “taking me so well.” His fiery eyes meet your dazed ones in the reflection and you brace yourself as he picks up his pace again. Bringing you up against his chest, he kneads your tender flesh while his hot breaths hit your neck.

He holds you tighter when your legs start to shake and when you finally release, he follows seconds later, filling you up with him leaving you sticky and satisfied. “You did so well for me, baby,” he praises, holding you in his arms while your pounding heart settles from the aftermath of your orgasm.

He leaves first just to lower the suspicion and you take this time to make yourself presentable again. As always, your hair is a mess and you have mascara running down your face—nothing new thanks to Bucky.

When you join the table again, he’s already there laughing at some joke your parents said but you don’t miss the cheeky glance and wink he gives you.

Your friend looks at you for a moment, but continues the conversation the two of you left off at. If people wonder why you’re always disappearing, they don’t ask. It gives you a sort of thrill that maybe they know. That you're in something so illicit and that he’s yours as much as you are his.

You probe at the coffee cake in front of you, not hungry anymore because you’re full of him already.

Later, when everyone is helping to clean up, your phone buzzes with a notification.

Meet me in my car in 10.

You look up and Bucky’s looking at you from the other end of the backyard with a smirk on his lips.

You scoff. The sun was still out but then you remember he has very tinted windows installed in his black Mercedes and who were you to deny him when he’s looking like that?

In five, you text back.

When you look at him again, he’s biting his lip and looking at you with that look—the one he gives you during those moments in between heated kisses—like you’re the best thing that has ever happened to him.

[sirenscriptures]

primarchs + fantasies

summary: basically just a ramble thirst post because i want to drag 30k/40k into my already mess of a blog. i’m still figuring out certain pieces of characterization/lore so be patient with me here <3 i am suffering this brainrot and dragging you down with me!

warnings/notes: nsfw themes (18+ only), fem-bodied depicted reader, mentions/depictions of exhibitionism, of course size difference, hints of breeding kinks, slight mention of blood drawing, bondage/rope play. (these are partial fantasies i think they’d have but also they are genuinely so touch starved i think even the slightest form of physical intimacy could make them combust. in a good way.)

featuring: lion el’jonson, fulgrim, leman russ, magnus, sanguinius, mortarion, and horus lupercal (pre-heresy)

lion el’jonson

look, if there’s one thing each of the primarchs could use in some way, it’s a fucking break. lion is definitely one of those primarchs. the man has always been on high alert, and has never truly known how to relax. that is, until he bonded with you.

the fact he’s found himself so close to you is quite a milestone of sorts. being a primarch of many secrets, you can assert that he isn’t someone who trusts easily. he doesn't let many others know what his deeper thoughts contain, not even some of his own blood.

however, it’s almost like he’s a different person in your presence. when he’s with you, he feels a profound sense of peace, like he can shut his mind off from his usual stressors and worries. especially during your alone time.

but it’s when he’s completely alone (a rare occurrence) that his thoughts tend to wander more than usual. it isn’t a total shock in the slightest when all he can think about is you. but when his thoughts are crowded with curiosities of what sounds you’d make while on top of him and how you’d feel wrapped around him…yeah it gets a little concerning to someone of his stature.

the thoughts of you like this start small…then they bloom into much more , to the point where if he even looks your direction when in this state of mind he’s a stuttering, flustered mess. a completely rare state for a primarch to be caught in, yet here we are.

so, it’s safe to say that while lion isn’t one to deeply “fantasize” like some of his brothers might, his intrusive thoughts about you certainly have a habit of spiraling and he has to physically slap himself to snap out of it.

fulgrim

in terms of fantasies, where do we even start with fulgrim? ever since you let him get close to you, whether that be on a personal or physical level, it was like opening pandora’s box. when you get him started, there is no going back.

it doesn’t have to be much to get him started with you. just your beauty alone and seeing you smile at him could get his dirtier thoughts racing. (horny bastard <3)

the fact that you were totally oblivious for a while of the power you held over him was amusing at times. though he was much bigger than you, he often thought about what you would do if he let you take the reins over him.

even just the thought of your soft hands running over his bare body could make him shiver. he could picture perfectly how beautiful you’d look if he had you on top of him. but he could also picture how beautiful you’d look if he had you in front of a mirror.

the way your delicate frame would lean against his chest as he fucked into you, massive hands roaming all about your perfect body…

most of the time he has to stop himself from thinking any further, for just the thoughts alone aren’t enough. maybe he’ll show you what he means when you’re alone with him in his chambers.

leman russ

if you want to delve into literal ferality, it is absolutely leman’s brain. and his actions, of course. so it isn’t far fetched to say his fantasies about you are in the same realm as his normal thought processes.

now, just because he is one of the more “feral” primarchs doesn’t mean he lacks complete restraint. but when it comes to you, let’s just say his restraint goes a bit…out the window if you know what i mean.

when his mind does wander and you’re not around, he tends to imagine showing you off. exhibiting how well he can pleasure you and how good you look while he does it to you. he doesn’t mind those of his legion seeing him with you like this, and even when you two are alone during these moments, he almost wants someone to see.

he would love to display the way he makes you whimper and squirm around him while rutting into you. though, he won’t let anyone get the wrong idea. you’re his, and he won’t let you forget that in the slightest.

but that’s not even half of what he’d like to do to you. and you can tell so blatantly in the way he teases you, unashamed of who’s around when he makes his usual remarks. but at the same time, he does it all out of love. he knows how annoyed you get from him pushing your buttons all the time, but he can tell you wouldn’t change it for anything.

magnus the red

for someone who sees most physical intimacy as a “waste of time” like a few of his other brothers, he certainly doesn’t stick to that thought process when it's you he's thinking about.

with magnus being as knowledgeable as he is, it genuinely frustrates him when he can’t figure out at first why he feels this way about someone like you. yet the more time he spends around you, and the more you show how open you are to learning from him and that you actually listen to him, the more these feelings start to increase.

in a strange way, he feels comforted by you. though when he’s closer to you than usual, these feelings of comfort seem to…deepen into more than he first expected.

even though he can’t pinpoint it at first, he finds that every time he’s away from you, the want for your presence grows within him like some sort of hunger. yet, it’s now laced with the craving to feel your touch.

his mind is generous in being able to envision you beneath him, body trembling with arousal as his touch travels your bare skin, admiring and caressing every inch of you. all of his senses are ablaze; the craving for your touch, voice, scent, everything becoming too much for even someone of his stature to endure.

shaking away these thoughts is much more of a challenge than magnus would first anticipate. but now that he’s come to this self discovery, he doesn’t want to waste anymore time merely thinking about it.

sanguinius

while sanguinius is the more compassionate of the primarchs when it comes to overall personality, don’t let that fool you. when this man gets down, he’s an absolute freak.

on a serious note, the one thing sanguinius loves is spoiling you, on all levels, of course. but he just has a little bit of extra fun when he gets to do it to you physically. he does love when you return the favor, but if he’s being completely honest he likes it more when he gets to please you.

when he’s with you in an ordinary setting, he doesn’t let his more “sinful” thoughts take over. out of many of his siblings, he is certainly one of the most restrained and can control himself when it comes to feelings such as these. one of the lucky ones, he supposes.

but despite being able to hide it, you do make it quite difficult at times. it can be anything that triggers that burning within him—the way you unsuspectingly bat your eyelashes when you stare at him, or when you look so bashful when he greets you with a kiss on your hand. or even when you accidentally brush up against one of his wings. and you aren’t even aware you do so much to him physically…

yet there’s not much that gets him going quite like the thought of driving you absolutely mad with pleasure (much like fulgrim if we’re being honest here). whether it’s the thought of how you’d react to his head in between your thighs until your legs tremble uncontrollably, or how pretty you’d sound when he drains just the slightest bit of blood from your tender neck…

sometimes he’s left heavy-breathed at the thought, and you’re not even in the same room as him. if only you were aware of the effects you had on him. though, something inside sanguinius felt as though it wouldn’t be a mystery for much longer.

mortarion

believe it or not, mortarion is not a total stranger to these kinds of thoughts. though, it’s much more intensified since you’re the only person he’s had these thoughts about.

with mortarion being one of the more distant and reserved of his brothers, his sex drive is one of those things he’s never had to deal with since he’s never felt this way about anyone else before. so it’s no surprise how easily pent up he can become.

even just the slightest things you do can get him electrified, and the poor, touch and affection-starved soul doesn’t even fully understand why. the way you smiled at him with genuine fondness from a distance the other day? he’s still thinking about it for weeks. the way your hand gently brushed against his face by mistake? still has him reeling even when he’s in your presence.

the way his thoughts of you overwhelm him is far from easy to deal with, and you immediately notice the way his behavior changes in response to these newer sensations.

it’s so much worse when he’s away from you for long periods of time, though. his mind is racing with everything from how beautiful you would look tied up in various positions; the imprints of rope staining your soft skin, to what sweet sounds he could get you to make in response to his mouth in between your legs.

his poor legionaries when they have to deal with him in this state…he’s so helplessly tuned out from everything and they have not a clue what’s going on with their primarch. but he won’t have to worry much longer, for he’ll be venting his sexual frustrations out on you when you’re both reunited.

horus lupercal (pre-heresy)

honestly, what doesn’t horus think about when he’s thinking about you? not many people can make his mind wander to even the most dangerous of places like you can. while he isn’t sure how this all started, he is far from complaining. honestly, what doesn’t horus think about when he’s thinking about you? not many people can make his mind wander to even the most dangerous of places like you can. while he isn’t sure how this all started, he is far from complaining.

the way he is around you is his usual self, but his thoughts about you aren’t restrained in the slightest. you’re so captivating, and while he wants to hang on every word you say to him, he can’t help but fantasize in the process.

horus doesn’t expect you to have a very strong effect on him at first, yet he’s proved wrong very quickly when he’s away from you. when he’s finally alone is when it hits him.

he thinks about how much he’d love it if he had you all to himself. he could imagine spoiling you in every way imaginable, but especially physically. he could imagine all the noises he could cause you to make, and all of the sensations he could make you feel. but most of all, he could imagine breeding you—filling you up with his seed to where you know that you’re his.

from there, you’re the cause of all of horus’ sleepless nights until he gets to see you again…

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 30)

They sat next to each other, Uzi immediately leaning into N, holding onto his arm and into his shoulder, N did his best to keep himself from blushing, instead wrapping his arm around her back.

Lizzy was already visibly uncomfortable, trying her best to not look at them, Uzi grinned up at N, this was gonna be easier than she thought.

If she was honest, PDA was not something she enjoyed, if she was going to be affectionate, she'd prefer to do it only between them, behind several closed doors. But! making Lizzy suffer was a chance she wouldn't pass up.

“Alright… V! Truth or Dare?” Thad began, looking to his side and making a finger gun at her, V's tail twitched once before she responded.

“Dare, I'm no coward.” She replied, and Thad leaned back and thought for a moment, tapping his foot idly.

“I dare you to… Tell N he's great at something.” He said after a moment, making V jump and Uzi snort, it sounded so simple but she knew she would struggle.

“Aw ugh, why that?” V protested, grumbling at Thad while he looked up at her nervously, visible sweat trailing down his visor.

“It'll be funny?” Uzi suggested, trying to back Thad up, she gave the worker a thumbs up, and he smiled gratefully.

She grimaced, eyes drifting over to N who was looking back at her with curious and slightly amused eyes. She flushed.

“N.” She started gruffly, clearly forcing every word.

“Yes?” N replied, amusement dancing in his tone. Uzi was already snickering, trying to conceal her laughter behind her hand.

“You are pretty good at… calming people down. I guess.” She finally finished, blushing heavily and averting her gaze from her fellow disassembly drone, N's face lit up in a smile made of sunshine.

“Aww thanks V!” His tail wagged behind him.

“Yeah don't get used to it.” She replied, quickly recovering from her fluster, she looked over at Lizzy, who despite hiding her face had in fact been giggling to herself. V blushed harder.

“Now it's your turn V.” Thad explained, it was clear that he had also been chuckling, only he knew better then to make it obvious, especially while sitting right next to her and not being Lizzy.

“N, Truth or Dare!” She barked, at her voice Lizzy turned back to face the rest of the group, looking up at V.

“Truth!” He stated immediately, tail still wagging from earlier, he squished Uzi closer to his side, she'd told him to “indulge in every sappy thought he had.” So that's what he was doing.

“Wimp.” V and Lizzy said at the same time.

“Hey!” He complained, but was silenced by Uzi's hand on his leg, he wasn't sure it was part of Lizzy's teasing or something only for him, he flushed anyway, tail beginning to curl around her waist.

“Do you want more kids?” V smirked as she asked it, it getting wider as N's breath was instantly taken away, if he was flustered before, he was about to perish now.

“Agh! V!”

He flushed a brilliant gold, glancing down at Uzi who had flushed similarly, although she did have a questioning look on her face, as if she too was curious.

“I-I yeah, eventually.” He gulped, feeling the nerves crawl up his spine. Was this how truth or dare was played? Trying to embarass the other people playing or expose them? “If… if Uzi wants them.”

Uzi ripped her gaze away, oookay that was something to keep in mind. She hadn't thought about the prospect at all herself, but knowing N had was… exciting? nerve-wracking?

He fully expected for them to last forever, if he was already thinking about things like that, it brought a wobbly smile to her face. She wanted them to last forever too… and maybe they would have more, together.

“Looks like she does~” V teased, taking great satisfaction in making her fluster.

“Bite me! I didn't say anything!” Uzi snapped back, Tera giggled in her lap, making a digital equivalent to a snarl to copy her tone, although it sounded more like a mewl.

“It's written all over your face.” V smirked.

“Gross! Cut it out V!” Lizzy interjected, shoving V lightly in the shoulder, V only laughed, both at her request and her pathetic shove.

“What? We were all thinking it.”

“I wasn't!” She seethed, looking pouty up at her freind, V smirked down at her, and Lizzy only lasted a few more seconds before she flushed a bright pink and looked away.

“Alright, Alright, N's turn.” Thad gestured to the family on the loveseat, Uzi was resting her head on N's lap, rolling Tera around on her chest, what started as a way to tease someone was quickly being converted into real affection, although Uzi would never admit it if asked.

“Thad, Truth or Dare.” N repeated everyone else's words, he was kinda liking this game, it seemed harmless enough, even if it could get a little embarrassing, it was all in good fun! Subconsciously, he was running his fingers through his girlfriends hair as she laid there.

He couldn't remember the last time he was in a room with this many people and all of them liked him; or at least didn't hate him.

“Truth.” Thad replied, leaning back into the couch, his foot propped up on his leg, he looked… very comfortable, maybe a little weird considering he was sitting beside someone who had tried to kill him. And unlike N, had actually meant it.

“Lame.” V hummed, causing Lizzy to nod in agreement, it was then that Uzi noticed that V had put an arm around Lizzy subtlety, at first it was resting on top of the couch, now it was over her shoulders.

Hypocrite.

“Nah.” Was the only sound out of Thad's mouth, giving the while situation a wave with his hands.

“Hmmm…” His eyes fell to V, and he got an idea, if the purpose was to embarass them, then;

“Do you think V is cute?” Thad blinked, before slowly turning his head to look at the disassembly drone, she looked back, clawed hands in crossed arms and her eyebrow raised.

“N are you trying to kill me man?”

“It's just a question.” Uzi backed him up, giving him a sideways glance as N looked down at her, eyes slowly softening as he got lost in his admiration.

“Well? Do you?” V asked him, turning her head to look down at him instead of Lizzy, inquisitive, visible sweat began to fall on the inside of his visor, clearly thinking very carefully about the next words out of his mouth.

“Uh. I wouldn't use the word cute, you're… attractive? In a intimidating… you'd probably kill me kinda way?” He tried to delicately explain. He wasn't blushing but he did look incredibly nervous, V stared at him for a moment before curtly nodding her head.

“Good answer.”

Lizzy looked past V and right at him, giving him a glare that told him precisely what would happen if he ever made a move on V, he wasn't! But that didn't mean that he didn't find her attractive, she could kick his ass! She had kicked his ass.

Thad found most people a little bit attractive, just not enough to ever do anything about it… was he supposed to?

“Hah…” He gulped, before quickly trying to change the subject. “Oookay…my turn again then.”

“Lizzy?”

“Lay it on me.” She said nonchalantly, head leaning back on V's arm without drawing much attention to it. Uzi would have called her out, she wanted to, but Lizzy was lucky she had respect enough for V to keep her mouth shut.

“Truth or Dare.”

“Dare.” She said, recrossing her arms, V nodded approvingly in response.

“I dare you… to hold Tera.” Thad said after a moment of watching Uzi play with the droneling, letting her roll into the crook of her neck before what he said caught up to her and she lifted her away.

“Um hey, I have problems with that.”

“Aww come on, Lizzy won't drop her, right Lizzy.” Thad reassured, looking back at Lizzy who had hollowed eyelights for a moment before quickly catching herself.

“If Doorman has a problem with it, then you should pick another dare, Thad.” She gritted her teeth clearly trying to-not-so-subtly tell him that she really didn't want to.

“Uzi, come on, we won't let Lizzy drop her. V?” He looked up at V, who rolled her eyes for a moment before turning back to Lizzy.

“Liz?” Oh, her voice was so soft when saying her name. Uzi almost wanted to laugh if she didn't know if she did he would be the world's largest pot calling the kettle black, hers did the same thing when talking to N.

“Ugh. Fine! I won't drop her, I promise or whatever.” It seemed Lizzy noticed it too, because she had flushed again and unfolded her arms to hold them out, ready to except the droneling.

Both parents swapped glances, Uzi slowly lifted up Tera and brought her over to where Lizzy was sitting, gently dropping her in Lizzy’s awaiting arms.

She held her correctly, surprising her, and even held her chassis tenderly, clearly not wanting to actually harm the baby. Tera looked up at her and squinted.

“There? Happy Thad?” She asked him, deadpan, gesturing to the baby in her arms, but making a point not to look at her.

“Uh… Lizzy?” Thad's eyes were hollow, pointing at the infant currently in her arms.

“Wh- Ah!”

Tera's screen was now a single unblinking purple “X” and she was completely still, gazing deeply into Lizzy's visor. The entire room lost their breath, N's eyes went hollow, as did Uzi's.

Did she… Did she have the solver? Oh robo-god did she somehow transfer it through her oil or something? Was it contagious that way? Oh shit, oh f-

Lizzy looked terrified for a breif moment, before the X disappeared, and Tera was laughing mischievously. Clearly having done it on purpose to scare her.

Either copied from her or N.

“Hah! Someone has a sense of humor!” V snarled out a laugh, and relief hit both parents, it was something she'd learned, not a symptom of… that.

“Take your freaky kid!” Lizzy quickly held Tera away from her, as far away as she could possibly without dropping her.

“She's not freaky!”

Uzi took her anyway, cradling her daughter in her arms which was currently giving her a very familiar smirk.

“You shouldn't scare people like that.” She spoke down to the little one.

“Hehehe, Mama!”

She went back over to the loveseat, core still racing after witnessing her daughter display such a tell-tail sign of being… different. Even if it was only something she'd picked up from them.

“Who you picking Liz?” V asked after having her laughing fit.

“Doorman.”

“Oh what a surprise.” Uzi rolled her eyes, how typical was that?

“Truth or Dare.” She asked, a snarky bite to her voice that often made Uzi want to beat her head in, or maybe slit her throat, her kit would need the oil soon.

Wait, what?

“Dare, no blackmail material for you.” She spoke before she could dwell on that thought, sighing as Tera giggled up at her, still an even temperature.

“Fair.” Lizzy shrugged, before a sneer came back to her face. “Make out with N.”

“W-what…?”

“You two have been lovey-dovey all day just to annoy me. So I'm calling your bluff. Bet you won't.” Lizzy had her hands on her hips, aside from the one that was now pointing at the both of them, gold met purple, and both blushed.

“Isn’t that a little much Lizzy…?” Thad tried to interject, trying to save them.

“Don't tell me you haven't been watching them make googly eyes at each other this entire time, doesn't it make you uncomfortable?”

“No? Not really.” Thad replied, and he was being honest. Not only had he not really noticed, but what little he had he thought was nice, they looked happy!

“Well, it does me. So? Are you doing it? Or are you scared?”

Uzi Doorman wasn't scared! Not of anything, especially not kissing her boyfriend! Spite was the prime emotion she was feeling when she turned to N, who's eyes were hollow as he realized that Lizzy had just said the magic words for Uzi to do anything.

“N. Are you okay with this?” She asked first, and he nodded nearly instantly despite the fact all the eyes on his head was looking out into the room full of people, his mouth went dry as he flushed more.

“I'm not scared of anything!” She yelled out at Lizzy before placing Tera on a pillow next to them and gripping his jacket, giving him only a moment to prepare himself before she was kissing him roughly.

His tail shot up and kinked on itself, eyes somehow getting wider for a moment before he started to melt, eyes fluttering closed as Uzi moved to hold his shoulder and grip him firmly.

His tail came around to pull her closer, and while it started chaste, like their first kiss, Uzi slowly began to deepen it, he felt himself shudder in delight as her tongue ran across his lip, asking to continue.

He made a groan as he aquestied, letting her do whatever she wanted with him.

To Uzi, she was acutely aware of the people watching them, and couldn't really let herself enjoy the moment, unlike N, who has completely forgotten the existence of other people the second she deepened the kiss.

She pulled away, a string of saliva still connecting them for a moment, both panted for a second, N's eyes reopening as the world came back in around him.

Holy Crap…

He could… understand the appeal now. He internally apologized to both Rebecca and Darren as well as all the horror movie characters he'd slandered.

She wiped her mouth with her hand, blushing profusely as she locked eyes with Lizzy, who looked like she was about to hurl, or maybe flee.

“Not. Scared.”

V began to howl of laughter, as N's eyelights were replaced by both a yellow heart and and a swirl, a blush overtaking most of his visor as he became one with the couch, sinking into it in his dazed state.

“I think you broke him…” Thad said, looking sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck. This seemed to be enough to make him blush in second hand embarrassment, green coating the bottom of his visor.

Uzi turned her attention back to her boyfriend, who had the biggest smile on his face as his tail was wagging wildly, now returned to it's place behind him instead of wrapped around her.

“Are you okay?” She asked, trying not to die of embarrassment herself as she slowly lifted him back into a sitting position, one of her other hands finding Tera, who immediately squealed the second she was touched.

“I’m perfect, biscuit~” He replied, still a little dazed, eyes drifting over to her in a lovestruck stare.

“Awww.” Thad cooed.

“Bite me!”

V continued her laughter, Lizzy huffed in annoyance, and the game continued, the tension between all five drones slowly dissipating into nothing.

Next ->

[mrzombielover]

Hello! Perchance, ur request is still open? I'd love your take on something that's been rattling in my brain. If you can't disregard the rest of the message, no worries! 😊 Human!Adam x Angel!Reader, I'd love an obsessed Adam who grew close to the reader after the fallout of his relationship with the trio (Luci, Lilith, and Eve). After being kicked out of Eden, he separates from Eve for years which is when he meets, well, you.

omg hi yes reqs are open!! everyone reading this pls send me more adam stuff the brainrot is realll and i need him in a way that’s concerning to feminism

also i just wanted to say thank you again for all the kind words you leave on my slow ride series it is so sweet and motivating :,)))))

warnings: none || wc: 842

When everyday in heaven is a perfect day, you tend to find yourself becoming bored. You fulfill your duties, chitchat with the other angels, eat your fill of the sweetest fruits and lay to sleep on the softest clouds. You can sunbathe, go for a swim, see your closest friends however much you prefer. Heaven is, well, perfect- it was designed to be. Everyone else is perfectly satisfied, you should be perfectly satisfied.

So why do you find your mind wandering?

When everything is perfect, you’ve found lately that you’re lacking a sense of fulfillment. Of purpose. And above all else, you’re bored.

This is when your habit started. It’s harmless, really, you just had an itch of curiosity that needed to be scratched. Sure, your job had basically nothing to do with the humans on earth, but they were so fun to watch.

There’s not many of them right now, but they’re all so fascinating, especially the little ones. You couldn’t fathom it, being mortal. Originally, you thought they lived such trivial lives, but upon closer inspection, they’re not so different from your own.

After the fall, they’re completely separated from you now. You wish there was a way for you to let them know that there were still angels watching over them.

Your favorite, though, is Adam. After eating the fruit of knowledge, he’s different. As to be expected, though, when he suddenly has knowledge of good and evil, concepts he couldn’t even fathom before.

He’s funny. It’s terrible, some of the things he says, and even worse that you find it amusing. He’s charming, in a way.

One day, you just can’t help yourself anymore. It hurts you to see them struggle. Since leaving the garden, they’ve known pain and suffering. Struggle. Hunger. And though you’ve never experienced those yourself, the thought brings you sadness. You can’t imagine suffering so, and there’s a sense of guilt because you know that you have the power to make things easier for them.

You feel such pity, watching them, so far away, as they lament about missing the garden. Adam says that, most of all, he misses the fruit. The berries here never seemed to be as sweet.

It’s no coincidence when, not long after, he discovers a bushel of all the fruits he’d missed. It nearly brings him to tears when he takes a bite, the sweetness on his tongue and juices rolling down his chin. And it’s not much, but the pride that blooms in your chest as you watch is the best thing you’ve felt in millennia.

So you leave more gifts for them. You ought to be more careful, you’re pretty sure you could get in trouble for this. But if you’re not actually talking to them it’s fine, right? That’s just a line you won’t cross.

“Holy fuck-“ You dropped the basket you were holding. “It’s you!”

That startled you. How had a human managed to sneak up on you??

“I knew it-!”

You quickly shush him, looking around anxiously.

“I’m really not supposed to be here,” You say quietly, but you crack a small smile. He smiles, too.

You straighten up, and you mean to leave, but then he grabs your arm.

“Wait!” You can feel the blood pumping beneath his mortal flesh against the skin of your arm, what a strange feeling. “You have to leave already?”

You pause, biting the inside of your cheek as you consider it. Oh, you really shouldn’t. But you’re missing the warmth from his touch on your arm already.

Though you know it’s wrong in every sense of the word, you figure a few minutes couldn’t hurt. So you sit with him. You tell him about heaven, how every day is perfect, how one day he’ll forget what any of this feels like. And he tells you about Lilith and Eve, and how lonely he is down here. You tell him you wish you could fix that, frustrated by your own incompetence.

“Trust me, you’ve done enough,” He laughs, but hes putting a hand on your shoulder reassuringly. The touch is innocent, but it (embarrassingly) takes a great effort to keep your wings still.

Adam doesn’t move his hand away this time, and you cautiously raise your hand and put it over his. You turn to look at his face, and his eyes flicker briefly to your lips.

Then he leans closer to you, and presses his lips against your own, in the same way you’ve watched other humans do. It’s an odd sensation, he’s so warm, and causes a feeling you’ve never felt to stir in your chest. and this time, your wings do flutter.

you’re utterly speechless when he pulls away, already longing for his touch again. but you’ve already spent too much time here, and on top of all the rules you’ve broken lately, that was probably a big one.

you stand up hastily, and you feel a pang of sadness at the look on his face.

“I’ll see you again, I promise,”

He can’t wait.

reblogs + comments greatly appreciated :)