#and i would honestly argue that the age gap is Still weird but at least sonic isnt double amys age anymore i guess

[originalgenshinscenarios]

Monthly special: Variable Barricade crossover!

I'm finally done with it! For now it doesn't differ much from the game, really I was rewriting the scenes more than anything but I'm glad it's finally done. It might be weird for now but honestly I just can't wait to get to write the romance!

Taglist: @audre-falrose

If you want to join the taglist just send an ask or dm me!

Reader here is female and has established background.

Cw: Age gap (Reader is 18 and the ladies are ages 20-24)

Next chapter =>

A young woman from a wealthy family always seeks a spouse who is of an equal status or preferably higher. At least that's what you always liked to believe…

As the only heir of the L/N family, you had your fair share of responsibilities. Marriage just happened to be on the higher priority list. It was expected of you. You had to pick yourself a man or allow your family to pick him for you.

It was a lot to agree to, given you never had any interest in men. Oh how you remember those meetings with businessmen who tried to match you with their sons. While not all of them were that bad it didn't change the fact that you ever only saw yourself beside a woman.

But you can't have everything in this world, so you've accepted the fact that your love life might never be fulfilling to you.

… but you were never so clueless about the upcoming storm.

Part one: chapter 1- Engagement at the first sight.

"Good morning miss Y/N" your maid greeted you with a practiced smile.

"Good morning"

"I've prepared your bag for today, is there anything else you require?"

"No, that will be all. Thank you" taking your bag you realized that it's slightly heavier than normal, but it's likely due to the extra materials you had prepared for the start of the semester. As a soon to be heir you've attended a prestigious school, it almost feels weird how close you are to graduation- where all of your actual responsibilities will begin.

Before your mind drifted away fully you've heard a familiar voice "Good morning my lady, I trust you're ready for school? You still have a few more minutes before we have to go" turning around you saw Thoma. He was one of many servants, but he was unlike all of them. He was your true ally… but even if you hold him in such high regard he had recently abandoned you as soon as your vacation had started. Granted his trip was purely to perfect his skills as a butler, but he still decided to hide his information from you until the very moment of his departure. So naturally you were mad at him, while being happy to see him at the same time.

"Good morning to you too Thoma" you looked at him, more glared almost like you wanted to tell him that he should've come to greet you earlier and that you were still mad about what he had hidden from you. He of course immediately caught on.

"I'm not sure how many times must I apologize to you miss, but I only wish for you to understand that-"

"Yes, I'm aware that grandfather had arranged it" you cut him off, as you heard this explanation before on more than one occasion. You definitely could see that villain plot something just to inconvenience you- but that's just how your grandfather was. Always ready to make your life ever so harder.

"I'm quite flattered that you missed me so much, but can we please move past it?" of course he was right about you missing him but all you could say was "It's not about me missing or not missing you, it's how you abandoned your duties without notice" although your words were harsh Thoma could see right through you, he always did but he didn't have a habit of arguing with you about your intentions "I see, in that case I stand corrected" although his smile was polite you could feel the smugness behind it. Almost like he was saying "we both know you're lying" but not in a very malicious way.

He knew that you felt hurt, betrayed even but there was nothing he could do when it was your grandfather's orders. It would be nice if someone took your feelings over orders though “No matter what my reasons are, I’m sure you agree that you ought to make it up to me” you said as your mood got a little brighter.

"Naturally, I don't intend to leave like that again so it shouldn't be a problem" he affirmed before continuing "We should get moving now, you wouldn't want to be late now would you?" there was no room for a disagreement from you so the two of you left your family estate.

-

After getting in the car there was only silence. The atmosphere wasn't tense at all, yet you felt like something big was going to happen today. Thoma had avoided your gaze which made you wonder if he wasn't hiding anything from you again. Last time when he had that trip planned he also tried to avoid looking at you, so you became a little suspicious "Thoma?" you got his attention "Yes my lady?"

"Do we have anything scheduled for today? I was hoping to go out with Ayaka" you knew asking directly was pointless but you made sure to emphasize "we", it was so he knew that you planned to take him with you like any other time.

"I'm afraid today won't work, master L/N wanted to speak with you today. My apologies for not mentioning it sooner, but I thought it'd save you some stress while at school" he sighed as you knew that he felt bad for you. You froze in place as you thought about having to deal with that old man "Do you have any idea what that might be about?" you asked, trying to hide your distaste "I do, but I was asked to not mention it to you" he said equally disappointed. Of course nobody had to know if he told you right here and there, but knowing what he knew he definitely didn't want to be the one to break it to you.

You sighed and before you knew it you were at the academy. It was an all girls school, where everyone comes from rich and influential families. You politely exchanged greetings to each girl you've passed. You didn't know them all but you knew better than to ignore them.

"Good morning Y/N" finally you were greeted by a familiar face "Good morning to you too Ayaka"

"You seem worried, is something on your mind?"

"I'll have to wonder all day what my grandfather is plotting" you sighed heavily. To give you some comfort Ayaka placed her hand on your shoulder "I'm sure you'll be alright. I don't think there's anything he can say that you can't handle"

"Let's just hope you're right…" it's not that you had no faith in yourself. It's more that it's him you're dealing with.

"You know, your grandfather isn't such a villain. From the times I've spoken to him nothing seems to make him out half as evil as you make him out to be" you heard that from more than one person whenever they know what you think of him. You thought if anyone- Ayaka would be different.

"Perhaps because he meets levels of basic decency with guests?" it was but a common sense to not disrespect members of the Kamisato family.

"How about Thoma? How does your grandfather treat him?" she asked, but she looked like she already knew the answer.

You on the other hand weren't exactly sure "You'd have to ask him yourself" to Ayaka you aren't a perfect liar, so she'd easily see through all of that. So making up an answer wouldn't do you any good.

"Well, at least they have one in common" she smiled and all you could do is look at her confused.

"And what could that be? How can a rude old man be compared to someone like Thoma?"

"Both of them certainly care much about your well being. You may not believe it but each time I chat with your grandfather he'd talk about you. And not in a way you'd assume"

"Oh really? I'd have to hear it to believe it"

"Of course he has a habit of throwing the word ''foolish'' pretty often. But besides that little detail I think anyone can agree that he doesn't mean any harm to you. Honestly I envy how casually you can speak to him"

"I wouldn't call arguments ''casual speech''"

"I suppose we just have different view on the matter" she looks away and when things were getting a little awkward she said "Regardless, I think you shouldn't worry so much about what he has to say"

-

You stood up to each challenge the universe had in stock for you for today. It allowed you to feel more confident about today's meeting. But as the day wasn't over so were your challenges.

There was a big commotion outside "What's going on over there?" you wondered "I have no idea" Ayaka looked just as confused as you "Nobody does. All we know is that there are four women by the gate, they all look so classy! I wonder what they are looking for" a student joined your conversation.

No matter what their business was, you had to go back home so you went towards the gate. You saw the ladies and they seem to have their eyes on you. When you were close enough to approach they all blocked your path. Before you could ask them what's going on they all took out roses and all of them said "Marry me" at the same time.

"Did you hear that?" "Did they say marry?" "I didn't know L/N had such tastes…" and other whispers could be heard from the students who all watched the situation unfold.

You didn't know what to say- but then again you weren't proposed to a bunch of gorgeous women on a daily basis. After taking a moment you were able to respond "Is this some kind of a joke… or a uh… misunderstanding maybe? Surely you all didn't just propose to me" you tried to be as calm as you could get.

"My, my the old guy was right- your reaction would be priceless indeed" one of them said, she had light pink hair the rose she was holding had almost the same color.

"To think you'd be so cold about the rejection, I can't let that slide. I'll have my vengeance" the one that had threatened you had beautiful golden eyes the rose she held was a strong shade of red.

"Although I should feel relieved at my rival dropping her chances this early, I insist that you'll stop yourself from making such threats miss Eula" another one spoke up. She was dressed the most formally among the group and her rose was white and elegant much like herself.

"You're making a scene here, the poor girl must be so confused" the last one finally spoke. She had a mysterious aura around her much like a dark purple rose she was holding. Although it was nice that she took your feelings into consideration you still had no idea what was happening.

You looked around trying to notice some hidden cameras or something that'd indicate that what's happening to you is just some sick joke. Or at least you were hoping to see Thoma- who could get you out of here.

“What are you looking for? If you think it’s some prank you’re mistaken my dear, everything you see here is very much real” the first one spoke up again. Her speaking so bluntly helped you adjust to the reality, you definitely can handle such forward strangers “May I ask who are you ladies exactly? Could you please tell me how you know me and what’s the meaning behind your sudden proposal? Do you even have permission to be here in the first place?” you said as you were surprised nobody reacted to strangers blocking the gate without any problems from the security.

"Alright then let's start with a simple introduction" the woman who earlier tried to put herself in your shoes spoke but before anyone could follow that you heard "I believe that won't be necessary" turning around you saw Thoma who continued "There will be plenty of time for that later. Miss Y/N, we must get going" he turned to the women "As for you, we'll meet at our arranged spot" he definitely knew what was going on. But before you made yourself into any bigger fool you waited until you got into a car.

"Before you lash out on me I told Master that it was a terrible idea" he said equally as annoyed as you were "I can't believe it! He really went through that knowing how you'd react" that was surprising, you don't usually see Thoma snap like this. He cleared his throat "But I suppose he'll explain everything to you once we get back to the estate" with that you stayed quiet. You were just speechless. Not only because of what happened but also because of how Thoma handled it. You don't remember seeing him this angry before.

-

Upon your arrival the silence still wasn't broken. You went ahead to meet with your grandfather, with each step you knew that whatever he had planned you're not going to like what you're about to hear.

"Y/N it's been a while" he said almost like he was proud of his little plan.

"It wasn't long enough" you said coldly.

"Haha! Wanted more time to miss me?"

"Indeed I did, perhaps that way I'd be able to forget how exhausting it is to talk to you" although it's annoying sometimes talking to your grandfather has proven to be a good practice for when someone tries to get on your nerves, at least it's easier to react without losing yourself.

But your sarcastic attacks have ended and with it silence filled the room. You felt tense and you had waited for him to explain himself but losing your temper and focus now will only lead to his victory. You can't possibly allow that "Well then, what was the reason for you to see me?"

"Didn't you figure it out already? I want you to tell me what do you think of the four women I chose for you" blunt as always. He always has to hit you with such a lack of tact. His voice was impatient but you were only surprised to hear that he was the one who chose your suitors.

"Excuse me…?" you panicked as you connected the dots. He knew. He knew without you ever telling him.

"I trust they were all to your liking? I'm sure you at least agree that they are beautiful indeed" his smug smile knew no bounds.

"Just wait a moment! What was the reason for you choosing women as my possible marriage candidates!?" this definitely was a joke on his part, a way to taunt you. Perhaps he set that up as a reminder that he had chosen for you and you had no say in the matter, you were only allowed a choice. The first wave was just a prank and the actual candidates might be some guys. That must be it!

"Did I read the signs wrong? Do you want me to match you with men instead?" this threw your possible theory out of the window.

"Yes!... I mean… not exactly… Just think what scandals might arise from that!" although you were happy about not being matched with men, you were still bothered by the entire situation so maybe if you bring it up it'll save you some time. That way you may be able to find someone on your own.

"Oh please we're not in the times where such things matter anymore. I thought I was supposed to be the old fashioned one" the way he said it made your blood boil. He never could take your concerns seriously now could he?

"Alright, I see your point… how long did you know?" you wanted to know how obvious you were. Perhaps he was more observant and caring than you thought. After all, he did you a huge favor by finding those ladies.

"I'd say quite a lot. I thought I was doing you a favor by sending you to an all girls school, but of course you'd miss an occasion like that. You could find yourself quite a bride but since you took your sweet time I had to step in" to say it made you mad is saying little.

"What do you mean by that? WHO asked something like that of you!? I certainly didn't. It's far too early for me!" you lost it. Everything felt so scary since your future is about to be decided at this very moment. All your grandfather did was sigh "I thought you already were aware that for you finding a suitable spouse is important"

"I do but I believe I have the right to make that choice on my own at my own time!" at least that's what you were told.

"And how would you go about it? By refusing to speak to anyone who isn't a business associate like you always do?" although you didn't want to agree, he was right about your total lack of social skills. As you didn't respond to his question he continued "Look, you don't have to make this choice right now. You'll have plenty of time to get accustomed to them and you can have a lot of time before you come to your final choice. Not only that if you wish to have someone else as your possible suitor just say the word and it'll be arranged" he sounded much less condescending now but after that he stood up to leave "Whatever you do the choice is yours to make"

You stayed in the room in silence, thinking over everything you discussed. Your train of thought however was stopped by Thoma who just entered “So… How did it go?” he was awfully casual but you didn’t mind it at that moment. You needed that, honestly if he asked you in some trained butler way or whatever you'd honestly lose it "You can probably imagine… not very well. I need to rest" you just wanted to go to your room and let this day be over with just so you could think it through. But you'd seen the awkward look on his face and you knew that you won't be done with today's disappointments “I’m afraid the surprises aren’t over yet for you my lady, from this day forward you won’t be living here”

"... What?" you weren't ready for something like that. You didn't even have the energy to say anything more.

"A vacation home is prepared where you'll live with the suitors" with that you recall him mentioning arranged spot. It made you realize that perhaps you knew all along what will happen next but you were just hoping to deny it…

-

You stood in front of a vacation home. Still in shock you had no clue what to say, you weren't here before so Thoma started to tell you about it. He sounded like he wanted to calm you down "The building has three floors. The first one is a common area, second is your suitors' rooms, where the third floor can only be accessed by us" it didn't help much but knowing you'll have some privacy was making the situation from totally unbearable to slightly less totally unbearable "I know it's tough but you must understand that escaping reality will not solve the issue"

"I know that… it's just…" you were too frustrated to find the words.

"If anything happens you know you can talk to me. I'll make sure you'll feel safe so should any of those women try anything I'll see to it that they'll be gone" he reassured you "Now, follow me" inviting you to follow him was like a gentle push into the unknown, then again you won't be alone at any point. So taking a deep breath you go inside.

"Before… uhm… I go to them… can I at least go to my room and change?" you found excuse with your uniform. Thoma smiled at you but before he said anything you heard footsteps.

"Greetings, I heard the door open so I thought it'd be nice to say hi" the girl standing in front of you had dark hair, if you remember correctly it was the one holding the purple rose. Regardless you were still a little stressed "Seems I had a bad timing… sorry about that. I'll let the others know and we'll wait for you okay?" she waited for your response but all you could do was nod. It seems like she didn't need anything more. After she left you asked Thoma to show you to your room where you got ready to see your suitors.

-

"Look who's finally here" the woman with pink hair said with a teasing voice.

"It took a while but it sure was worth the wait. After all seeing such a gem is a treat" although all of the ladies changed that one still remained in rather elegant and formal clothing.

"At least you didn't run away this time" the one who had threatened you before seemed annoyed. But such remarks made you feel the same. It wasn't that you ran away, you were forced to leave! But who is she to judge you anyways?

"It's good to see you aren't as nervous" the one who greeted you by the door smiled but her bringing that up caused the first lady to giggle "Oh that wasn't fair how you got to get to greet Y/N in our place. I definitely would love to see the look on her face now that you mention it"

"What can I say, I was the first one to get there on time"

"It was more that you left without any of us noticing" it seemed like an argument was going to burst out at any moment.

"Let's get to introductions, shall we?" Thoma finally spoke up.

"I'm Eula, you better not forget it" she didn't waste a moment to introduce herself. Considering her behavior towards you so far you wonder what she is doing here in the first place.

"Miko, but soon you'll get the privilege to call me your wife" you finally had a name to connect to that smug smile she displayed so far. She could see that her remark wasn't exactly serious but you could tell that she was here to "win".

"My name is Ningguang. I hope our odd circumstances won't make it hard for you to talk to me" she, just like Miko looked like she was here to "win" but her behavior towards you was different. She was less cocky but not any less confident.

"You can call me Yelan, you'll have to wait to learn more about me later though" from the four she seemed the most concerned about your situation. At the same time she wasn't open about herself at all. Perhaps it was a strategy for you to get interested in her.

But listening to all those introductions it felt awfully weird how all of them were so casual about the whole situation. They also seemed rather close even though they aren't living together for long.

"I hope you don't mind me asking but have you always been friends?"

"Not at all, but after living for a month you could say we got close. Still having Thoma around did make things easier" Yelan said and you immediately glared at Thoma.

"So you lied to me after all!" you didn't take even a second to call him out.

"I'm truly sorry but I couldn't-!"

"Now dear, no need to start an argument here. I'm sure you can tell he had no choice in the matter" Miko was right. But it didn't take away your shock- yet she continued "Let's just calm down okay? I know you're confused but all of us need to adjust to the situation. Of course our circumstances aren't the same but I say we make the best of it"

"Exactly, I'm sure you will pleasantly surprised once you get to know us" Yelan added

"If any of them will be too pushy I'll make sure to kick them out for you" Eula said, although Thoma said just the same thing earlier.

"The only person being pushy right now is you. Give her a breathing room, would you?" although Ningguang was talking to Eula, she was looking at you.

Now that you think of it all of them are looking at you. Perhaps they think that what they've said gained them some points in some made up game where you react positively to their words. You just stood there dazed as you realized that you are now but a prize to be won by these women.

-

After that conversation you went back to your room. Your brain jumps from one topic to another. You never felt this lost. You looked at your phone and remembered that there is one person you can rely on right now. Unlike Thoma, Ayaka won't have any classified information and she surely will listen to you. As you were about to call her you heard a knock on your door "My lady?" the only one who could be there was Thoma. You were still mad at him and you thought it'd be a good time to ignore him. Either that or you'd give him a piece of your mind. After all, your previous argument was cut short. So after thinking of the pros and cons of letting him in- you open the door.

Of course knowing him he didn't come empty handed, he had a tray with tea and your favorite snacks. With an apologetic smile you knew he was trying, but he needed to try more than that to make you forgive him.

"Don't I deserve an explanation first? Or do you take me as some sort of child who will trade her forgiveness for just a bunch of sweets?" you cross your arms. As you stared at him though you felt a little guilty for being so harsh on him.

"Are you really that mad at me…?" he was hurt, but so were you.

"Do you think I have no reason to?" you knew he didn't think that. But by underestimating how betrayed you felt he deserved your cold treatment.

"We both know I'd be lying if I said no…"

"So, are you going to make any excuses?"

"Well, Miss Yae was correct when she said I had no say in the matter. As a mere butler I can't do a lot"

"I know that" it was the truth after all. Perhaps you got used to Thoma always putting you first so much that when he took your grandfather's orders over your feelings you felt surprised. Even though it was normal and very much expected of him as a butler of L/N family… but not expected as your ally "Couldn't you at least warn me? Or not so subtly hint at what's going to happen?"

"I really wanted to, but if I did then they'd fire me" he said it so calmly, it made it clear that to him that choice wasn't hard at all "I wasn't even the one who had to come up with the excuses, but I must admit that today I had to improvise a little. Which didn't let me feel any less guilty I'll have you know" he sighed "But when they threatened my ability to work with you I knew there was no other option"

"To think they'd go that far…" and all that for what? A moment of surprise? Or perhaps there were many reasons you yet have to discover. Suddenly your anger went away from him and went towards your family who'd arrange such a thing.

"No matter what my situation was, what I did harmed you. So as a friend I want to apologize" you really liked the sound of that. After so many years you'd feel odd if your relationship had only the professional side of things. Still, such a statement out of nowhere caught you off guard.

"Uhm… As a friend, I accept your apology" you paused "But now that you don't have to hide anything anymore… care to tell me why now I was assigned suitors?"

"It definitely wasn't out of nowhere if that's what you're thinking. Recently a lot of men showed interest in you. The amount of letters only grew with each month over the past year. Usually what you got to see was filtered to say the least"

"I see, but I still don't understand why that should mean that I'll have suitors arranged right away"

"You see… uh how should I put this… It's more about pressure coming from your extended family"

"Oh. So that's why huh?" of course your "lovely" relatives are behind such a thing.

"That's right, I don't think it's in my place to mention it but they said they rather proceed with caution when it comes to leaving you to your own"

"I see, so they're just doing everything they can to make sure I can't elope" it wasn't unimaginable for them to think you'd do that. But it was your father who didn't accept his fate as an heir. You on the other hand were aware of what you're getting yourself into since day one "It's a shame that they still don't trust me. I know what my duties are"

"It's not all of them who think so I'll have you know, just a loud bunch who insisted on it" he sighed "But they were loud enough for Master to do something about it"

"... Wait! Doesn't that mean…" if these ladies were accepted by both your relatives and grandfather then surely they'd be qualified enough. Most certainly they had some character so you wouldn't be surprised to learn that they're high class "Hm… I should've guessed that highly born women would be slightly different from my previous possible suitors. I'll have to make sure to treat them well"

"Oh…" he suddenly looked nervous and avoided eye contact.

"Thoma… what is it?"

"It's a bit hard to describe-"

"Thoma. You weren't supposed to hide things regarding my suitors anymore"

"I think it's better if you see it for yourself, give me a moment. I'll be right back" this definitely didn't sound good. You waited for Thoma to come back and in the meantime you became increasingly nervous. When he knocked again at your door you opened it right away.

"These are their background reports…"

Hesitantly you took the documents. Confused as to why it'd be a problem you started looking through them. You couldn't believe what you were reading. This is either some kind of joke or maybe wrong documents perhaps?

"Thoma… these background reports…"

"Are true…"

"Just hold on it can't be! If that old man wanted to play a sick joke on me, this is the time you tell me so!"

"That's not it my lady"

You felt like you were about to lose it, you looked at the documents again. You read them through but there is one thing that caught your eye in each one.

"Yae Miko, age 24…kept woman" the last thing you wanted is to be matched with someone whose job is to get taken care of. But perhaps she has something else going for her.

"Ningguang, age 22… Can't keep a job?" you have no idea if it means she's continuously getting fired or is she dropping out "She's unemployed?"

"All of them are…" you could hear that he felt bad for you.

"Great" you said sarcastically.

"Yelan, age 23…Gambler" ah yes because there is nothing better but a gambler in a rich family.

"Eula, age 20…Disowned by the Lawrence family" Although she was the closest to your age not only was she associated with that family she got disowned by them probably for a reason.

"How can this all be!?"

"Calm down Y/N-"

"Don't you dare to tell me to calm down! This is unthinkable, unimaginable! I don't even know what else to say to that" you were losing it, but it's not like Thoma chose your suitors so you realized taking it out on him won't do any good "Sorry, I just need to be alone right now. I need to think this through"

"Of course… but if you need me just say the word" he left the room without saying anything else.

It was a true nightmare. You had no idea why fate had such a thing for you prepared. And more importantly… WHY your suitors were some random women who definitely didn't have the qualifications to be involved with your family!? They were just looking for an easy life... This definitely wasn't how you imagined your marriage to be arranged.

... To be continued...

[match-your-steps]

I fully understand that Marnac is probably supposed to be viewed as hetero, ok? like. if nothing else, the fact that every female character he meets becomes attracted to him is telling.

I definition think popular opinion is probably that the reason he doesn't actually have a harem (just a bunch of willing candidates) is because he's so devoted to the Goddess of Decay. Like, romantically. I mean, we can't really understand most of what she says, since it's just "murder," but her displays of jealousy indicate that she at least likely feels this way about Marnac.

Personally, I think differently. Although I agree he is very devoted to the Goddess of Decay and this plays a role in his disinterest in a relationship with another woman, I don't think Marnac is romantically interested in the Goddess of Decay.

First of all. Gotta get this out in the open- he calls her "mother" and is officially (as her disciple) her "son." Obviously she's not actually his literal mother and they don't actually have a parent-child relationship; it's a religious language thing, but it's still kind of weird. Also, I haven't caught up yet and I'm sure this will eventually change, but the whole child-looking body thing is honestly weirder than if he just got into a relationship with her disembodied sentient hand.

My second thing is really just that I don't view Marnac as feeling romantically attracted to the Goddess of Decay. Yes, he views her as important. The most important, even. But that's all. The way I see it, she is 'the most important' to him in the same way as anything or anyone else could be. The way he treats her is the same as he could treat a sibling or even an object. There is nothing in particular about it that is 'romantic.' Perhaps he stays out of romantic relationships with others because he is devoted to her, but more in a "this is the most important thing to me right now" way, like he doesn't have time or brain space for it.

Part of me thinks he may have been in love- or maybe even in a relationship- with Sanctus. After all, he clearly still places a lot of importance on his memory. While a relationship between them would have a pretty big age gap (at least to my knowledge; I'm actually not sure if there's any place to reliably be sure how old Marnac is, but it does seem like he's around mid-20s to mid-30s), that doesn't mean it couldn't have happened, and it certainly doesn't mean Marnac couldn't've had a crush. It's not crazy to harbor romantic feelings for someone who saved you during your time of need. In fact, it's a trope.

(You could also apply this logic to the Goddess of Decay, but I would argue that since she came to give him destructive power, she doesn't fit the firefighter-carrying-me-out-of-a-burning-building collapsing-and-being-fed-soup vibe very well.)

By the point where the story begins, however, I believe Marnac is on the aro spectrum. It could be due to trauma (caedromantic), and not just the hypothetical crush on Sanctum. Goodness knows he's got plenty of trauma to go around and mess with all sorts of emotional responses. It could be that he was always on the aro spectrum- maybe full vanilla aro, but I'm drawn to the idea that he might be demi.

It could be that he is making the choice to not act on any romantic tinglings he has, which I probably wouldn't call aromanticism, but still may manifest as looking like he's aro.

Any way I decide to look at it, though, heck, even if I decide to headcanon that he's fully allo and straight, I hope he doesn't get in any romantic relationships because it honestly makes more sense that he wouldn't. Even if he's gotten used to this world, he's still under a lot of pretty constant stress. He hasn't got any room for dating.

[dxavoidant]

⋉ . Weird ass thoughts that ramdomly popped up in my head . ⋊

∝ Once you see a fellow as a fiend, you are manifesting it into your life. Now you wonder why everyone shows up with ill intentions.

∝ It's okay to bloom late. Someone saying you have passed your prime isn't gonna help you achieve anything. Don't listen to them.

∝ Right-leaning youtube commentators are generally hotter than their left-leaning peers. But I would take Destiny than B*n Shapiro any day.

∝ I am anti-work, but I still am pro-full-paycheck. I deserve to get paid every cent writen in the contract. So, showing up late is not an option. I just refuse to overwork. Damn... I wish I was rich enough to "quiet-quit" the rat race. Fuck it I would just blast Prodigy's music while voguing out the office after submitting resignation letter.

∝ Age gap ain't nothing if the two partners are consenting adults. That 80 y.o starts dating a 28 y.o? No big deal.

Everyone with a working brain knows that a relationship between a 17 & a 18 y.o. isn't predatory since they're basically the same age. However, if one person is mid-20s, and another is 17, shit's starting to get weird.

∝ I firmly believe that 8 out of 10 men who complain about how young women are not rushing into marriage cannot wash their own dishes, let alone fix the lightblub. They do give off that mama boy energy.

∝ I know it's just ✨ aesthetic ✨ but those translation videos with a picture of kpop idols and not the original artists are weird to look at. It's like a propaganda. Like, if you're translating an Ice Spice's song, at least put her picture up not your NCT fave smh.

I mean... Doesn't this ↓ look like a "stan Shownu X Hyungwon" propaganda instead of a translation video? Why do I have to look at some random Asian person when learning the lyrics of an English song?

∝ Cardi B rage-throwing mic at audience who splashed water at her is completely justified. Some people just have that violent reactionary tendency. They really cannot control it. I don't know what happened next, but I hope that audience get yeeted off the venue.

Yo she's getting battery charges, and she honestly deserves it because she threw mic at the wrong person. But I still think her reaction was justified. Even though she asked to be splashed at earier, doing it without her seeing is what caused this explosive reaction. Surprise, surprise!

∝ I understand Doja Cat's resentment with fans. Fans don't owe artists sh*t nor do they owe the fans anything. Artists also don't have to love fans. But I think she tackled it wrong. Arguing with fans and trashing them on live streams ain't it. You can weed stans out from genuine supporters by decreasing the interaction with your fanbase. The stans would just leave if they don't get the attention, while supporters are there for your art.

∝ You can exercise without gym membership. You can exercise without gym membership. You can exercise without gym membership!!!

∝ Please stop buying those cheap gimmicky Ch*nese gadgets shown in ridiculous ads please I'm begging you. Especially electronic stuffs. It's unrepairable, single purpose plastic craps which are mass-produced just because the country has the resources to. They need to excel in marketing because there is too much supply.

This been staying in my draft for so long I will just add to this rather than writing new 280-characters posts lol

[sonknuxadow]

somewhat related to that last post. even if we completely ignore the issues with the ship itself. if you genuinely think that sonic and amy are either currently a couple or will become one eventually then idk what to tell you its never gonna happen and the day particularly weird and annoying sonamy fans realize that and stop bothering people about it will be the day i know peace

[littlepadika]

Calling Home (1) | Frankie Morales x Reader

Summary: You are a receptionist at the VA. Frankie Morales keeps calling. Yearning ensues...

Rating: M -> E in later chapters

Warnings: fem!reader, age gap (legal), praise kink, voice kink, discussion of addiction/PTSD/trauma, no use of y/n, no beta reader, reader is bad at Spanish, Frankie has a sexy voice 😩

Masterlist here

AN: My first fic. Pedro writers have inspired me to finally start writing again 🥺. Concept inspired by the movie RED. I hope you like it ❤️Set after triple frontier.

Chapter One

~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time he called was an ordinary Thursday.

“Veterans Affairs, how can I help you?”

You had been working at the VA office for about two weeks. Fresh out of college you felt lucky to have a job in the first place. You went to school to be a writer but your big idea for 'The Next Great American Novel' had yet to present itself. At least here you had access to the most inspiring stories and interesting people. Men and women who had seen more and done more than you probably would in your entire life. You loved talking to clients on the phone. It was weird but something about only being able to hear people’s voices excited you. You would sometimes write little stories in your head about the people you'd talk to, filling in the details that were unknown.

Your desk accessories reflected your love of books and writing. You had your growing collection of books sitting on your desk sandwiched between baby pink bookends. Next to them was a matching desk organizer filled with your favorite sparkly pens and sticky notes. You had decorated the plain cubicle walls with posters of quotes from your favorite books. You also brought your favorite candle from home. Even though you couldn’t light it you still liked to lift it to your nose once and a while and smell it between chapters. When you weren’t on the phone or scanning documents you would read. You finished To Kill A Mockingbird in your first week on the job and were now halfway through Murder on the Orient Express.

You were starting a new chapter when Frankie Morales called the first time.

You picked up the phone on the second ring already mustering your chipper 'customer service' voice. “Veterans affairs.” You stated your name. “How may I help you?”

“H-Hi. My name is Frankie- uh-Francisco Morales." A deep voice answered you. "I’m calling because I have gotten my benefits check yet. It’s been a month. I was hoping you could tell me if it got sent?”

“Okay Mr. Morales." You flipped on the computer. "Let me check. Can you spell your last name for me?”

“M-o-r-a-l-e-s”

“Okay... let's see.” You clicked on his account. You were momentarily distracted by his picture likely taken when he graduated basic if you had to guess based off the uniform. He looked sweet. Sharp nose and strong jaw balanced by kind eyes and a shy smile. You could imagine how age would continue to soften his expression making him even more handsome. The image was a strange juxtaposition to the voice you were hearing on the phone which was much deeper and rougher. His profile said he was special forces. A pilot. The rest of the information was blacked out. Something you were used to seeing on many people's accounts but even his years of service were redacted. He must have been involved in some dangerous stuff, you thought to yourself. The dates that were not redacted were mostly in Latin America. You clicked over to processing requests. “Looks like the check got sent one week ago.” You informed him.

"I'll look again but I haven't seen anything-" It sounded like he was apologizing when clearly it was not his fault.

"No no. It's probably a mistake on our end." You interrupted. With how shitty and outdated the payroll interface was you wouldn't be surprised if there was a mix up. "I’ll go ahead and let payroll know to send another."

"Great. Thanks." He replied sounding relieved. The roughness in his voice gave way to a smooth baritone.

“No problem. I'm sorry for any inconvenience it may have caused. We'll get it sent right away." You hoped he was not relying on this benefit check for anything important. While you could promise you'd fix the problem, the administration was notoriously slow. When he didn't respond you asked, "Is there anything else I can help you with today, Mr. Morales?”

“Uh-no" The roughness back in place. "Thank you." He paused before adding your name onto his thank you which made you smile. People usually never remembered your name.

“Alright. Have a nice day and thank you for your service.” You chirped before hanging up. The smile he put on your face lingered for a few minutes as you returned to your book.

The next time he called was exactly twelve days later.

“Veterans affairs” you answered, your routine greeting cut short as your eyes were still on your book.

“Hi- I’m calling because uh I still haven’t gotten my benefits check. This is Frankie Morales.”

“Oh Mr. Morales.” You recognized his voice even before he even said his name. You quickly shut your book, pushing your hair out of your face. Had you been thinking about him? No! Okay maybe you stared at his picture for a few minutes longer after he hung up. Yes, it was probably very unprofessional but you couldn't fight the curiosity. You were trying to rationalize the contrasting sharpness and softness of his features with his voice. How it all worked together. How one person's voice could change textures and colors so easily. You wondered what kind of things this man might have seen on the job. Most of the veterans you would help day to day did not have so many redacted missions and deployments. You were in the middle of Narcos season one so you immediately thought of drugs or something equally dangerous. After much pondering, you had come to the conclusion that Frankie Morales was both insanely attractive and insanely courageous. “Still no check, huh?”

“Nope.” He sighed the sound making the phone's shitty speaker crackle as you held it to your ear.

“Let me just check that it was approved...“ you found his profile again and scrolled to the status page. “Hmm... it says it was sent out last Friday after we spoke. That’s so weird...”

“Yeah. Really weird.” He echoed your frustration on the other end.

Typical payroll, you thought to yourself as you rolled your eyes. “I'll get another one sent to you right away. I'll see to it myself.” You tucked the phone under your chin and typed out a short email to Mary in payroll letting her know you'd be stopping by her office to explain the situation. You realized he hadn't hung up yet.

“Sorry for the back and forth.” You said, trying to fill the silence.

“It’s not your fault." The earlier irritation gone. "You’ve been really helpful.” His voice sounded warm and reassuring. Less gruff than it was last you spoke. Instead it was that rich baritone that you caught of glimpse of last time.

You feel your face warm at his compliment. It was this annoying reflex you had. Praise always made you blush no matter what context but it was worse when it came from a (you assume) gorgeous stranger.

“And just to verify that your address is correct- you’re on Maple Lane in Miami, Florida?”

“That’s right.” He confirmed.

“Okay. Sent!” You clicked send on the email, which caused the window to close and reveal Frankie’s profile page again. “I was curious-" You spoke before you really made the decision to speak. You didn’t want to overstep but once again your curiosity got the better of you. Honestly, you were just searching for a way to keep him on the phone. The day had been so boring.

“Your profile says you were stationed in Costa Rica.”

“For a bit.” He replied after a moment. He didn’t sound too defensive but there was definitely some tightness in his answer that made you feel bad for asking. Like you were scratching a wound.

“Did you like it? The country I mean.”

“Are you planning a trip?” He sounds a little amused.

“Yeah- well- kind of. It's more a trip in my head right now. I’d like to go there one day. It looks so beautiful.” You sighed closing your eyes trying to imagine the heat on your skin.

“It is." He agrees. "Really humid though.”

“Mm that sounds nice.” You would kill for some warm weather after such a long winter in DC.

“It was too muggy for me at times." He grumbled. "If you do go, stick to the costal areas where it’s more breezy or else you’ll just be sweating the whole time.”

“I don’t mind a little sweat” you shrugged, still thinking of the awful east coast winter you were currently suffering through. The sexual connotation of what you said hit you hard as soon as you heard the statement in its entirety. You felt your face flush again, though the man on the other end would never know.

“I’m learning Spanish!" You announced loudly trying to move the conversation past your awkwardness.

“Wow. Muy impressivo.”

“Si” you replied but after a moment you admit “I don’t really know what you said.”

Frankie laughed loudly on the other end and you couldn’t help but join in, drawing dirty looks from the elderly lady, Donna, working in the cubicle across from you. You ducked your head behind a stack of papers to avoid her glare.

“Fake it till you make it.” He chuckled.

“Maybe you should help me out.” You took on an indigent but still playful tone. “You sound better than duolingo” Your smile widened when he laughed again. His laugh was what you hoped it would be, by all your assumptions from his picture. It was an unencumbered, unburdened, rich sound with only a hit of roughness from the air behind it.

“Tell me you’re not using that dumb app to learn.” he scoffed, saying your name in an almost scolding tone.

“I’m got my thirty day streak today.” You boasted.

“You’ll be a total tourist if you go by duolingo.”

“But the owl is so cute every time I get something right!” You argued your voice taking on a more childish cadence.

“That’s how they trap you, silly girl.” He teased right back. Usually such a condescending nickname would piss you off but something about the affection behind him using it made you feel very differently. You felt warm like you were proud to be silly as long as it made him laugh.

“Then you saved me just in time, Mr. Morales.” You bit your lip. His scoffing and laughter died down on the other end.

“Frankie” He corrects you.

“Frankie…” You repeated it, smiling at how well the nick name suited the voice over the phone. Honest, sincere, and not pretentious at all. Way better than the pompous guys you know with equally stuffy names like “Edward” and “Christopher.”

“So what do you want to know?” Frankie interrupted your thoughts. “Dime”

You started asking him questions in Spanish to the best of your ability. Granted they weren't particularly probing questions. What is your name? What is your favorite color? What is your favorite animal? What's your favorite book? I am reading Gone Girl. He answered them all with patience and amusement, occasionally interrupting you to correct your pronunciation or explain what a word meant. Every time you’d repeat the word back correctly he would say something like “good” or “there you go” or “you got it”. You hated to admit that his kind words and his praise was doing something to you. You didn't even realize you were clenching your legs together unconsciously, almost in anticipation of his next correction or next answer. His low voice so sweet and encouraging against your ear, more tangible when he was speaking Spanish. You just wanted to hear more of it. Would it be this sweet in other situations? Would it get huskier or rougher? If you closed your eyes it was like he was sitting right next to you. It would be all too easy to slip into that daydream and escape the dull office.

Suddenly out of the corner of your drooping eyes you saw a flashing red light on the phone console meaning another caller was waiting.

“Shoot- i’m sorry, Frankie- I have to take this call.” You shot forward in your chair, legs uncrossing.

“Of-Of course. I should let you get back to work.” He sounded a little sad or so you hoped. You felt bad for interrupting him after you both were having so much fun. You wanted to say he could wait on hold but he killed that idea when he said, "I have work too. Technically I'm five minutes past my lunch break."

Your pout turned to a smile. He was spending his precious lunch break with you? Get a grip! you snapped at yourself.

“You’re welcome to call again if you want.” You threw out the offer in a small voice, scared you would be rejected. You peered over the cubicle wall to see if you were still being glared at. Thankfully Donna was away from her desk. Probably out for a smoke. “It’s really boring here and usually no one calls.”

“Maybe I will.” He replied and you could hear the smile behind those words. You felt your heart clench weirdly in your chest like it didn't know how to process the sudden spike in emotions.

“Bye, Frankie.” You beamed.

“Bye”

This time the smile on your face lasted for hours. Frankie’s laugh echoed around in your head, taunting you, sending your mind to the gutter. His voice went from grit to molasses on a dime. You wanted to be the one to bring out those sounds. You wanted to hear his voice bend and stretch and strain as you fucked him. What the hell is wrong with me? you screamed internally. You had never been so depraved and with a stranger no less! You clearly needed to get laid fast because this much yearning would not end well.

Frankie got the second VA check a few days later and this time he didn’t even feel bad about ripping it in half. He was already reaching for the phone to call you.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: Message to be added ���� no minors please!

[just-antithings]

Some fandoms really are hellscapes and I just dunno what to say. People are getting so weird about headcanons now I fully expect to see 'DNI if you write anything diverting from canon' soon enough. Long story short, I write fics with a certain character as trans because he resonates with me and I like him very much. He is not canonically trans. I keep getting people accusing me of fetishizing him and only headcanoning him as such because he's small and somewhat feminine and I just want to scream 'I am literally transmasculine and have a small, feminine build so please go fuck yourself!" I'm not changing anything about his personality or making him into a caricature of himself, he's still the badass, powerful man he is from canon, but people read 'trans' and suddenly go "hm...seems kinda problematic that you're making him so weak and helpless" when I just wrote about him kicking in an assassin's face. Okay. Sounds like a personal problem, buddy. He's one of the most violent and brutal characters, and he can still be feminine while he does it.

And he -is- canonically gay so people get unimaginably nasty about how I'm erasing his identity...by shipping him with another man who loves and supports him, because that makes sense. This fandom is so so funny because the big preferred ships for antis are the age gap ones since the characters with the same ages are deemed 'abusive' and we can't have that. As a multishipper, I don't care, everyone is gay and the ships are my playground but whew, that sure is hilarious to watch. To argue over shipping pure things when literally everyone in this story has a kill count, most in the hundreds? Funny for a few minutes, at least, then I just go return to my teeny circle of reliable fandom friends like a hermit in the woods. Oh well.

All this from antis who love to shout trans rights from the rooftops. That's fine and dandy but what about how you treat actual trans people? I'd appreciate fewer death threats, thanks. I'm fine, honestly, and I've had a much milder time of it than most but this has been just a miserable experience for a fandom with only a few fics. What are people thinking will happen if you drive away all the writers? It would be nice if people didn't assume bad faith reasons for why people write or headcanon certain things? And for the record, headcanoning something for no damn reason at all is fantastic, too.

.

[antiloreolympus]

10 Anti LO Asks

1. tbh i think the pointed ears on the nymphs is kinda cute, the issue is that rachel and her team cannot keep most of their designs consistent and most are so lazy (ie daphne is just persephone with blue splotches, leto is just hera with black eyes, echo is just female hades, etc) that the features arent really a sign of thought out character design, but rather laziness that even they cant keep straight, as well as showing how lazy it is when only single features can tell anyone apart.

2. if anyone wants to see good versions of taking a webtoon and reworking it for print, go look at hooky, punderworld, and even let's play to see how it's actually done. the LO version is so rushed and lazy it's honestly kind of insulting to how well the other examples did their print versions.

3. It’s a fairly profound realization when you can sit back and recognize that Persephone has almost zero personality traits that aren’t completely wrapped around Hades. When taking a moment to think about what other meaningful relationships Persephone has outside of her love interest, there’s maybe…two (Hecate and Eros…possibly Hera)? I just need to point out that this is highly unusual for any sort of character, especially within a serialized work of art, to possess nearly no identifiable attributes aside from “what will their crush think of them if they do [blank]?” Persephone retains the same lukewarm qualities that early-era Disney princesses hold: interchangeable, formulaic, and malleable enough that viewers can easily insert themselves within the character’s respective roles. Some other anon had mentioned this before, but you could just as easily change Persephone’s name to “Y/N” and practically nothing would change within the story context itself.

4. heres what i dont get. its pretty obvious the first lo book at least is riding off repurposing longer panels as page backgrounds, which i do think is neat, the problem is even by ep 26 (which is where the first book ends) rs stops doing panels like this, and if she ever uses them very rare and still lacking interest. by the time the print version line up with the actual comic, it'll be nothing but a bunch of squished in. static panels with nothing to try and punch it up in the background.

5. itss really weird hera pointed out persephone is young and impressionable and would never argue with hades because of her naive nature and how her youth makes her easy to be pushed around and yet ... hades does exactly that to her and its framed as romantic?? like rachel you know when you say hades shouldn't do that that you actually shouldn't have him do that, right?? like she always setts something up to be disproven (like the age gap or smth) only to play it straight, like???

6. what i dont get of the print LO books is that the logo implies it's a whimsical fantasy, which LO is not, and even the first volume's cover implies its a contrast between the ancient world and the modern when thats not what LO is either. It's aN obvious example of false advertising and promising a viewer something they wont be getting. The second volume cover is horribly designed and lazy, but it's a bit more accurate in telling the viewer LO is just a 50 shades rip off at least.

7. What bugs me the most about LO is the over the top naive personality that RS puts on Persephone; for a goddess who lives with her mother in the farms I guess she could have a more assertive personality giving the context of dealing with the constant feeling of getting married unbeknownst to her or her mother, @a-gnosis comic portraits a more competent and unyielding Persephone, even when it needs to confront Hades, she doesn't fall in love in the way like LO Persephone does, that's a good story.

8. I had to stop reading the most recent fastpass because I couldn’t stop laughing at how some of the hands were drawn. Like, there are panels of Apollo and Zeus where their hands are so out of proportion that they are comically huge in comparison to their tiny heads.

9. I looked at the lo fast pass tag and found an account blaming us antis for effing up the LO tag… Like can you guys take it up to ones who made this app??.. It’s not our fault that tag system is messed up.

10. Is it just me or the humour in lo got super tiring an completely out of place? We are getting same old jokes all the time with "people" being loud and disrespectful to social norms (like Hermes walking in the court as it's a tv show) and every time it's placed during serious events, like what for? Why destroying the mood? Also it got super predictable - who would have know P would ask H to represent her - such complicated plot much suspence. It got super tiring to read now

[willwriteforhugs]

the boy in the bookstore (part three)

in which you meet a suspiciously handsome boy in your favorite bookstore- but are not cultured enough to know his true identity.

part one

part two

ateez scenario

yeosang x (fem) reader

word count: 1.6k

g: fluff, angst if you’re a sensitive bitch

warnings: intrusive thoughts, alcohol, & heavy drinking (please drink responsibly lol)

a/n: parts one and two of this fic are linked at the top of this post. when the whole fic is completed, i plan on posting it in it’s entirety. happy reading!

- allison

part three

over the next few weeks, you and yeosang continue to talk. nothing too serious- just occasional texting and one (1) trip to the bookshop. you can tell he's much busier than he lets on, because he takes ages to answer your messages. at first this stressed you out, but now you suspect it's just his day job keeping him occupied. today, you shoot him a quick text before you leave for class. (7 am lecture. what the hell.)

you: hey, wanna get together this week? it's occurred to me that you're basically my only friend in this fucking city lol

you: and i should probably get out

you: i heard it's good for the soul

you cringe internally. why would you let yourself ramble like that? besides, you don't even like him romantically, don't make him think you do. ugh. maybe stop overthinking, y/n.

you force the embarrassing text messages out of your mind, leaving your small apartment before you can consider just skipping the lecture.

- - - 

as you walk along campus, (post-lecture, thank god) you feel your cell phone buzz in your pocket. you pull it out to check your messages. when you see yeosang's name, your heart skips a beat.

yeosang: good for the soul, huh? where the hell did you hear that

you: idk can't u just let me rant

you hesitate sending that message. you find it odd that you can have such a casual conversation with someone like yeosang. besides, you'd only known him less than a month. how was he so easy for you to talk to?

yeosang: lol okay

yeosang: but yes i'd like to go out but i'm only free tomorrow, does that work?

you: that works fine yea

yeosang: what were you wanting to do..?

you falter again. you had no idea... you hadn't really gotten that far in planning.

you: honestly idrk??

yeosang: well

yeosang: how about we just go get a drink or something

you: like alcohol?

yeosang: yes????

you can't help but giggle. how did he send so much attitude through a text? you let the conversation taper off naturally, and the two of you agree to go get drinks tomorrow evening. yeosang knows a place, apparently.

you set down your phone and sigh.

a beat passes, and suddenly it hits you. was this a date? had you just accidentally asked yeosang on a date??? you curse out loud. does he think it's a date? but he said yes, so he couldn't possibly-

you force yourself to stop thinking. you know that if you don't snuff those thoughts now, you probably wouldn't be able to go tomorrow. dammit, y/n.

deep breath in.

deep breath out.

he's just a friend.

- - - 

you narrow your eyes as you glare at your reflection in the mirror. nope, this top does not look cute on you. why did you ever think it had? you walk back to your closet and dig through the mess of clothes you've created. you've spent the last 30 minutes trying on outfits, unsure on what to wear. you desperately wish you had some girlfriends to help you out- but the closest you have are your coworkers, and you aren't really friends with any of them.

10 more minutes pass, and when you glance at the clock, your heart almost stops. shit. you're gonna be late. you turn in a desperate circle, and finally just shove on a dark green sweater, leftover from last christmas. on top of your loose jeans, you look slightly ragged, but you don't have time to think. you grab your bag and leave the apartment in a rush.

the heels of your boots click as you walk along the road. it's only seven, but the sun has already set, and the streets are relatively quiet.

it only takes you a few minutes to arrive at the address yeosang had sent you. you come to a halt, staring up at the building in front of you. it looks busy, and you can hear the sound of many conversations happening inside.

"y/n-ssi!"

you turn at the sound of your name. yeosang is standing under the awning of the building, wearing ripped jeans and a lazy button up shirt. your heart flutters at the sight of him.

"oh, hey," you manage, walking over to meet him. he nods at you and opens his mouth, about to say something, but he hesitates. after a moment, he says: "you look nice."

heat crawls up your neck, and you look at the ground. "oh. thank you." you glance back up, your eyes flickering to the exposed skin of his collarbone. "you look good too."

you hear his breath catch. another moment passes, and he looks up again. "let's go inside?" he asks.

the two of you make your way into the bar, searching for a table. you manage to spot one at the back of the room. it's a two person table, and it's perfect. you sit down awkwardly, face still flushed. you feel so stupid. this is practically a date. why would he agree to it? you wish you were already drunk.

yeosang sits across from you, and asks what you want to drink. you tell him soju is fine, and he stands up, beginning to walk away.

"wait, hold on! take my card." you say, holding it out to him.

he shakes his head. "no, it's fine. this one's on me."

you begin to protest, but he reaches out and grabs your hand, placing it back on the table. before you can say anything, he walks away, pulling out his own wallet.

you feel like stone. on the table, your hand burns as a result of his touch. you shove your face into your hands.

you don't like him. you don't like him. you don't like him. you don't like-

yeosang's return rips you from your thoughts. he sets three beers on the table, and takes his seat. you look up at him, not sure if you'll be able to survive the night.

"are you okay?" he asks, sounding genuinely concerned. "you seem kind of upset."

you let out a high-pitched giggle, and reach for one of the beers. "oh, i'm fine. totally fine." you grunt, trying to open the bottle. the cap wouldn't budge. you try again, and when that doesn't work, you bring the bottle to your teeth.

yeosang reaches over and snatches the bottle from you. "you're so weird," he mumbles, opening the bottle on the first try. you make a face, and take the drink back, taking a long sip. he cocks an eyebrow, and reaches to open his own.

you guzzle your drink, grateful for the distraction. maybe too grateful, though, because after a moment, you choke on your drink. sputtering, you laugh a little. you glance up at yeosang, and he’s smiling, too. you imagine you probably look stupid as hell, but his eyes sparkle. suddenly, he moves his hand up to your face, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip. 

“got a bit of soju there,” he mumbles, but his hand hovers. 

your face burns, and his does too. but neither of you look away. 

you lean forward slightly, suddenly yearning to close the gap between your open mouths. 

he looks down, leaning back in his chair. the connection breaks.

what the hell? you think. had you just wanted to kiss yeosang? you must be tipsier than you’d thought...

as the night continues, the two of you manage to keep a light conversation going, in between the drinks. twenty minutes pass, and you've already finished two beers. you stand up, ready to order more, but yeosang grabs your wrist. "hey, maybe you should slow down."

you shake your head. all you want is to be drunk right now. your random almost-kiss had your brain in overdrive. everything is stressing you out, and if you don't get drunk soon, you might lose your mind. being around yeosang was too much. you wanted to leave, but you wanted to be with him. you wanted for him to go, but you wanted to see him. you wanted him to stay away, but you wanted to touch him. what was going on? what were these feelings?

your counterpart sighs and raises his hand at the bartender, gesturing for another round.

 - - - 

thirty more minutes pass, and you're now three and a half sojus in, officially drunk. your thoughts spin and the ground tilts, but at least your breathing has evened out. you look up from the grain of the table, and find yeosang staring at you, a crease between his eyebrows.

"what?" you ask.

his gaze just hardens.

you like him you like him, no you DON'T you like him you like him you like him

"i didn't think you were gonna get plastered."

you plop your face onto the table, and he cringes. "well, i am. plastered, that is." you mumble against the wood. 

"mm-hmm. maybe we should go home."

you begin to argue, but yeosang has already gotten up, and is lifting you out of your seat. your whole body flushes with heat.

don't touch me. touch me. kiss me. go away.

he slings your arm around his shoulder and begins to lead you out. you can't help but notice how nice his body feels against yours. you can feel his toned muscles beneath his thin shirt.

on the street, yeosang turns to look at you. "i don't know where you live." he says, more to himself than to you.

you hum, not quite understanding his predicament. you want to sleep. suddenly, a thought occurred to you. "oh, yeosang-yah!"

he starts and turns back to you. "what?"

you force yourself off of him, stumbling towards a bench. he lurches for you, catching you around the waist. "what on earth are you doing?"

"i forgot to tell you." you mumble, lazily trying to push his hands off of you. "i can't handle my alcohol." and that's the last thing you manage before the world goes completely dark.

edit: part four is up now. thank you for reading!

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

based on this hilarious post, by @profoundinqq! and written for @mystybloo. 

sam looks at his brother, a fast-growing-familiar eye crinkling smile making him look perfectly content as he leans on cas, relaxing his weight against him with an arm wrapped around cas's shoulders. they're all drinking — have been a while, but that's not where dean's smile stems from, and sam knows that. he looks carefree, younger, and so happy, and it's a constant sam's been noticing a while now, though tonight, and lately, it just seems normal.

(that's the thing. it is.)

sometimes sam wonders how it all began.

he's obviously ecstatic it did - honestly, he could think forever, and not come up with two individuals more deserving of such profound happiness, as dean or cas. or the love, abound when they're together, so incredibly obvious, and somehow, almost hope-kindling in a ways.

but it doesn't stop him wondering, right now, at this moment, how they finally ended up taking the leap. facing the music, falling into each other's arms, ending their ridiculous, decade-long dance of pining, confessing.

dean's never volunteered the information, and sam's never felt it urgent enough (or himself, earnest enough) to ask cas - but oh, it's probably been buried in the back of his mind for long, bundled with all the other pleasanter questions about life and living it — and today, it leaps to the front when the empty, green bottle spinning ambitiously under everyone's pointed stares, ends up stuttering to a pause, pointed at his brother.

they're playing truth or dare - a significant percentage of their adopted family present, although only a few remaining cause it's past midnight. they're sitting on the floor in a circle, all varying degrees of drunk - and sam winchester seizes his chance.

"truth or dare, dean."

*

dean doesn't really hesitate, which is commendable; he just disentangles himself from being draped over his boyfriend, and takes another swig from his bottle. "truth."

"how did you and cas -" sam pauses. his eyes shift to cas, and the angel faintly smiles back.

"- finally grow a pair?" gabriel finishes for him prematurely, leading to sam glaring in his general direction, because it's a little hard to know his exact coordinates at sam's current levels of inebriation.

"we haven't been growing anything." cas says, a hint of humor in his squint but that's about it. "or pairs of things."

"yeah, sammy." dean agrees, though his is not a wooden face. he doesn't pretend to not understand what sam - or well, gabriel, is going for. "me and cas? we're old news."

"you're a blank page." sam frowns, prissy and self-righteous, and somehow pulling off an annoyed little brother vibe on top of that. fuck that, he's the same distance from forty as dean, just the less prone-to-forgetting-the-reasons-he-enters-a-room side. "with a question mark at the end of the headline."

"how did you end up together?"

it's not his best comeback, but dean rolls his eyes — admission of defeat — with no real passion in the practiced habit. "what do you want to know?"

cas looks at dean with a substantial amount of surprise.

"he gave me a pick-me-up, back in hell." dean throws back, before realizing he's earned eye rolls from almost everyone in the room. sam takes it a step ahead, slipping into bitchface territory, as if to remind dean that he gets to ask these questions now - they're over lying about breaking the world to each other, at this point. they have to be.

another eyeroll, and then dean sighs.

"goddamn saps, all of you." he looks accusingly around the room, meeting eileen, charlie and gabriel's twinkling eyes. "fine. what version you want?"

"well, the long -"

"trick question. there's only one." dean cuts him off, with an age-old rendition of a shit-eating grin. if sam can spend his entire life and then some, perfecting the bitchface, at least dean's got this. "so, uh. me and cas."

charlie giggles, but shuts up immediately when dean starts speaking.

"guess we were playing truth and dare then as well." dean frowns. "man, for a bunch of badass dudes and ladies who save the world, we sure play a lot of middle-school games in the afterparties."

"i like it." cas defends, and that's that on that, because dean strokes cas's knee with his thumb and a smile, and they stare until the fork in the conversation is forgotten and sam clears his throat impatiently. (it's gabriel's turn to giggle.)

"right. right, yeah." dean swallows. "well, so it landed on me, and cas asked me to choose -"

"he dared you to kiss him!" charlie guesses, or actually, declares, beaming.

"no, katherine heigl, this isn't a chickflick."

"if you went for katherine heigl, you should've gone for romcom." gabriel inputs, almost serious for a fraction of a second.

"does it matter?" eileen signs, and sam reads her hands out loud absentmindedly, and with enthusiasm.

"dean, would you just say it minus the drama pauses?"

"yeah, instead of being grossly inaccurate in your movie genre references?" gabriel piles on top of it, and charlie nods in sympathy.

"of course you are, but i think i specified your face was." cas points out, and it's the first time he's spoken up, and dean almost blushes for it.

dean pulls a face. "go to hell, i don't have to take this." but he goes on anyway, cause that's dean, isn't it? "just - i chose truth, okay?"

no one breathes for a moment.

"and cas told me i was beautiful."

there's a gasp. probably charlie — but not completely unlikely to be gabriel.

"yeah, 'kay." dean dismisses, though it's mostly directed at the other four (hunter, hunter, nerd, ex-trickster, not necessarily in that order) who've taken to gushing by now. "and that's it. story over. cas messed up, billion year old angel style, and it led me to realize he was the most adorable dork i've ever loved. or like, the only one. ever."

sam, charlie, eileen and gabriel bat their eyelashes in undisguised wonder.

"you're allowed to disperse to your rooms to cry now." dean retorts, and he's about to add more to it considering he's well settled on the wisecrack wavelength, when cas suddenly interrupts.

with an inscrutable, "no."

"no?" dean repeats, eyebrows raised.

there's a speck in cas's eyes, the curve of his lips too whimsical. it's almost un-cas-like, except no, it isn't. doesn't stop dean from staring anyways - eyes falling to the latter's lips, before returning to his eyes.

"dean, i knew how the game worked."

dean frowns.

"i 'messed up' the rules on purpose." and he accompanies it with the fucking air-quotes, so he might sound completely nuts, but it's definitely still him.

"what does that mean?"

there's pin-drop silence.

"you'd call me adorable when i didn't understand aspects of human behavior or games often. and it always made you smile. so at some level, i wanted that, even when i did understand those things. sometimes, i'm compelled to draw the conclusion, i wanted you to think i was adorable." cas pauses, blinks. "that time, it was an added, and wholly unexpected incentive when you decided to give up on trying to explain it to me, and kissed me instead."

"cas -" dean stares at his angel in gap mouthed bewilderment. he doesn't know what he's supposed to feel right now - though it's hard to feel any kind of manipulated, when cas is being this honest about it. alternatively, when it's gotten him the best part of his life. "you lied to me."

"of course i didn't." the bastard has the balls to sound indignant about it. "your face is exquisite."

"stop that." dean swallows, trying to keep himself from getting flustered. "you literally played dumb."

"stating entirely true facts about your bewitching face hardly sets back my intelligence, dean."

a traitor snickers in the background.

dean is officially too drunk to deal with this. he's going to give it more thought tomorrow - that is, if he remembers it at all. right now, what's way more important, is that his boyfriend apparently flirts by pretending to misinterpret rules, and accidentally compliment dean, and that's the most ridiculous thing dean's ever heard, in a life stuffed to the damn brim with ridiculous things.

"you're so fucking weird, cas."

"no, dean. i'm adorable." cas deadpans at him, and dean lets out a high-strung laugh, short, after which he finds himself able to do little else but shake his head fondly. mostly, at the floor, because if he'd been looking at cas, he'd probably also have been kissing him.

"and you agree." sam points out, to dean, and in return, dean snaps up a look pissed off enough for sam to truly feel sated enough by this ordeal, because he shrugs, and eileen sets the bottle spinning again.

nobody protests.

*

a few chances later, after charlie's rushed off to throw up, and sam and eileen have gone to bed, and gabriel's sort of wandered away at the very least - cas spins the bottle again.

it's just the two of them, so when the bottle points at about forty degrees from straight at dean, they decide to forego asking the lamp in the bottle's true line of questioning, in favor of cas asking dean.

"truth or dare?"

"dare."

"alright, i shall." cas whispers, reaching out to cup dean's face as he kisses him, and pull him closer. and dean goes, obviously not arguing with the concept of cas kissing him, even if he's doing it 'as a dare', in a hilarious, mindboggling, and adorable callback to that time dean realized he was in love with him — because he's a weird ex-angel-who-apparently-understands-humans-now, and also, definitely, the love of his life.

*

("cas." dean psst's, later in bed, when cas is turned away from him, hugging a pillow with his knees. "truth or dare?" cas groggily turns, "truth." dean breaks into a smile. "will you marry me?" cas freezes for a beat, and then drags dean to himself, kissing him with his eyes closed, still stunned, but no less enthusiastic for it. when they separate, cas's cheeks are wet, and dean feels like he's floating. "you know, sweetheart, we can play the old-fashioned way, and you'd still be the most adorable thing in my life." dean mumbles, kissing cas again, this time on his forehead, and in the same, shared breath, cas breathes out, smiling. "yes.")

[aprito]

hello <3 since i got these asks at the same time i decided to combine my thoughts on them in this post. yet another annoying sjw essay from yours truly on this blog 

before i get into these i think i need to preface why im like. i guess overly hyperfocused on a certain unproblematic base (same age au / platonic canon) for them and avoid the ped0philic content like the plague lol

tw for pedophilia ment, rape ment if that makes you squicky. ALSO THIS IS LONG AND RAMBLY

as i’ve mentioned a couple times already, ive been into the ship since i was 12, back when it was very very common to not only post untagged (nsfw) canonverse content of the two in writing and in drawing but also non con and the like, so you can imagine how bad my first impression online was. thinking back on it ...as a child i found it disturbing but didnt really register how problematic it really was?? (i know, but i also lived in the middle of nowhere and had no one explain this to me) 

skip to 2014 aka me coming back to naruto at 17ish and i had kinda become hyper aware of the fact that there was an increasing amount of people online who had come forward with explaining how fictional problematic content, mostly pedophilia, had been used to groom them into starting relationships with adullts. it was also a time where a lot of people didnt believe these victims, not registering how common it was for minors to be online friends with adults who had no boundaries and no qualms exposing them such content. not gonna get into my personal life here but i was lucky to not having gone through this myself. like... it kinda was my first time truly realising how fiction can EASILY be used to manipulate others irl (and yes i will not argue this, if you dont think fictional media can form and manipulate people’s opinions on attitudes, countries, cultures and virtues, pick up a book about the effects of propaganda media at least once please) 

i, being young, still liking the dynamic but not really the romance, would point this out here and there in the fandom and get into fights with grown adults in their mid 20s who assumed i automatically hated the ship(s) and tried to restrict their freedom of speech or whatever, heard everything from the “age of consent doesnt exist in naruto” to the “sasori looks like a child what does it matter” despite people clearly playing on him being older and experienced. it made me so upset that people were just consuming all this content uncritically and exposing children to it tbh?? not really just sos but a lot of minor/adult ships in naruto in general. and thats where i sat down and thought, i do not want to be a grown adult talking down to children that point out how unsafe the fandom is. theyre absolutely right in drawing these boundaries and calling out adults who defend the uncritical consumption and creation of this content. i do not want to consume or create content that predators could use to groom minors, and i absolutely do want to let younger people in fandom know that i am respecting their comfort zones and want them to have a safe and fun experience. after all, naruto is not an adult show and i think a lot of people forget that!!!! i am not perfect in that regard but its something that i, at the age of 23, am very passionate about and strive towards to.

and i guess thats where same age au was born for me and i have been sticking to it ever since. 

so finally we can move to the first question 

aside from the fact that we both dont like canon sos, i dont think it would work out even if i wasnt prejudiced to it anyways. in all honesty, 35 year old canon sasori is not a redeemable character to me, given the fact that he’s easily amongst the cruelest villains in naruto (torturing and killing and taxiderming people for his own fun personal gain, never for a goal that served anyone but himself. how do you redeem having over 300 corpses in your backpack that you felt absolutely no remorse for killing). sasori was legit one of the only cruel villains that didnt had someone else pull the strings, which sends a clear message on kishi’s part, who absolutely loves to redeem villains LOL.

being that old, he obviously had already been very manifested in what he believed in, even if it was shakey, to the point where the first crack in that world view (sakura and chiyo protecting each other) immediately had him give up on his life all together. that, in my opinion, is not a man who’s going to know what healthy relationships would look like, regardless of it being romantic or not. 35 year old sasori to me has the same appeal as an expired can of tuna and he’s probably very happy 6 feet under. he’s supposed to be a failed gaara in that sense that he had no one to look out for him and therefore was never going to experience anything but a bad ending in life. its fine that hes dead honestly, it wraps up his short character development the best IMO.

adding to that, seriously, sakura was obviously interested in knowing why he was that way, and called him out for being seriously fucked in the head, but it’s weird to me that people assume she had any interest in actively rehabilitating him, let alone starting a serious romantic relationship with him. sakura who’s not only very, uhm, immature and straight forward when it comes to her romantic viewpoints also, as a big bootlicker, wouldnt soil her standing in the village by starting anything with a disgraced and far too gone criminal like sasori. shipping that version of sasori with sakura intimately is still going to set her up for a huge power imbalance that would be difficult to handle imo, even if she was the one in the fight ultimately exerting her power over him. i would still look at it and think damn she deserves better than having to play therapist for man like that lol.

additionally, even if you ignored all of this, you cant really ignore that sasori had already known her as a child, and that had been his first and most impactful impression of her. i dont think that sasori would look at 35 year old sakura and see her as a grown woman and not the little green girl she was in the fight. plus, you easily fall into predatory comparison territory between the “childish” and “womanly” and i have seen way too often in fic just being boiled down to her now being fuckable. a lot of of ships do this and i would just like to remind yall thats it not normal for adults to want to start relationships with children they have seen grown up or known as a child when they themselves were fully grown adults. therefore, maybe if sakura hadnt met sasori before it would be less of a problem? but that also obviously defeats the point of the dynamic and the reason he died in the first place. so yeah, it sounds kind of doomed especially if you were to make it romantic. 

WHICH BRINGS ME TO THE SECOND QUESTION

let me preface this that im not fundamentally against age gaps, even if im not super interested in it. after all, colorblind had a 5 yr age gap (with sakura being 21), even if, say, i wrote similar fics today i probably would make it smaller lol. i think it can be handled well if both parties have enough life experience to deal with it, and the author is cautious of where the age gap starts, i think a 10+ year age gap would be fine in a scenario where the younger party (i guess sakura) was at least 25-27ish, meaning she has completed most of her most formative life stages and probably had been in relationships before, meaning she would be able to handle it without having to fear a huge power imbalance. the older the younger party is the less the age gap is going to matter tbh .TsukiHoshino and AngelOfDeath10 both handle age gaps in their fics really well imo, so i do not mind reading about them.

unfortunately, a lot of people in this fandom think making sakura barely "”””legal””””” (18, not even 20 which is hilarious to me because the source material is obviously japanese) because they both cannot stand her being past her “prime years” of being young fertile and fuckable to much older men as well as thinking a 20 year old is automatically old enough to handle that type of relationship. ive seen a lot of unironic takes that believe it will absolve them of callout posts if they throw around age of consent and “shes 18 now suckers!!!” enough lmfao. absolutely hilarious. aging a minor up without aging the adult down seriously reeks of predatory “cant wait until youre 18″ narratives and thats why i find it similarly disturbing as straight up pedo shipping.

ultimately, sasosaku is and will always be a inherently problematic ship in canon, which is why i think it should always be handled a little more responsibly in fandom spaces, ignoring or outright excusing the main problem factor, which is sasori, isnt going to convince anyone that the dynamic in itself is well written and interesting enough to explore in aus, like giving sasori the redemption most of us wanted him to have by aging him down to a point in time where he was still realistically going to allow being positively influenced, similar to gaara. 

so really, what i think is well handled age gap and how most people handle age gap in the naruto fandom are two different worlds at times lol 

tl;dr

canon shippers have never been anything but gross when i was younger and i didnt wanna be like that, even if youre “smart”enough to differenate, actual creeps dont really care and might use your content to blur the lines, sasori isnt rly redeemable so romantic canonverse realistically wouldnt make much sense and is still iffy, age gaps are fine if they are handled well, but given that the dynamic doesnt really need the age gap to still work im not that invested on making that an essential part of my shipping experience.  

thank you for reading and hope this makes sense!

[piccolina-mina]

I have very mixed feelings about the sudden policing of shows and movies for casting “teen” romantic leads whose actors have an age difference. Whether you like it or not, this is how Hollywood works.

Yes, adults are usually cast to play teens to get around working hours, child labor laws and schooling. Yeah, there is something to say about the disproportionate casting of mostly older guys as teens when casting actual teens as female leads.

And yeah, in the past 40 years of film and television some of it has been downright disturbing, but there’s the almost irksome tone policing that’s happening now where we’re hyper-critical of works where romantic leads have real life age differences between actors, even when the actors are both legal, and even when the characters they’re playing don’t have an age gap. 

And people being told they can’t promote or enjoy a work’s in canon love story because of the age difference between the actors portraying the characters. And even comparing or accusing shows who happen to have this type of casting and who have a love story as essentially peddling kiddie/philia, and I just cannot … I can’t. Sorry. No.

Things aren’t taken into consideration such as typically an entire story may be written before casting even happens. Sometimes casting the right person for the role will include someone who isn’t the same age as the character. This is how the acting field functions, and within reason, this is something that all actors, including the young ones and their parents are aware of etc.

I do find it interesting and have noticed an unfortunate pattern that folks are particularly critical of this when it comes to young actors of color as romantic leads, and it doesn’t sit well. Because while the concerns are valid and shouldn’t be discounted, only being this consistently vocal about it to the point of policing fandom and chastising and discouraging fans from daring to enjoy a ship between the CHARACTERS … there’s a lot to unpack there too.

I’ve seen this recently with Never Have I Ever. Maitreyi Ramakrishen is 18, and Darren Barnet is 29. Yeah, no lie, it is hella weird even within the context of the show because of Devi actively seeking out a physical relationship and also Darren LOOKS like a 30 year old man.

I saw it with The Sun is Also a Star with Yara Shahidi and Charles Melton who are like a decade apart in age. But was something I didn’t notice while watching at least.

But I’m also seeing this with Julie and the Phantoms. The show could not get more wholesome and chaste. The romance between Julie and Luke is innocent pining, but folks are still super worked up about Madison being 16 and Charles being 21, and you would think the characters got it on with no clothes in the backseat of a Volvo or something. And I’m just trying to understand what the guidelines are now.

Because there are DEFINITELY some fkd up and problematic age gaps. Brooke Shields’ mother basically p*mped her daughter out doing films like Pretty Baby. It’s grotesque and should be criminal. She was 14 doing s*x scenes. Simonetta Stefanell was 16 doing them and playing Al Pacino’s wife in The Godfather. Kristen Stewart, Drew Barrymore, Jennifer Lawrence, Dakota Fanning (ironically with Stewart) and more have definitely been in some questionable roles doing questionable things with questionable age differences.

But then, specifically teen stuff we’ve collectively enjoyed is open to critique, no doubt, but it’s also not dissected the same way or has the same expectations? And I don’t know.

No one batted an eye over 19 year old Tyler Posey paired with 26 year old Crystal Reed, and it definitely didn’t discourage anyone from enjoying their ship…

Trina Mcgee was 28 when she started playing Angela Moore on Boy Meets World and was even expecting at some point, and Rider was 17, but we weren’t discouraged from enjoying Shawngela (because of that anyway 😒).

Mila Kunis was 15 on That 70s Show with a 20 year old Ashton Kutcher.

Selena Gomez was 16 and Drew Seeley was 26 in Another Cinderella Story.

Andrea in the original BH90210 was in her 30s.

Taylor Momsen was 13 on Gossip Girl (still weird AF casting choice honestly) With 19 and 22 year olds over time.

Claire Danes was 14 to Leonardo Dicaprio’s 22 in Romeo and Juliet. And to 21 year old Jared Leto (which eww) in My So Called Life.

Lyndsy Fonseca was 14 with a 25 year old costar playing teen love interest on Y&R

Peyton Kennedy was like 15 with Sydney Sweeney being 22 years old in Everything S*cks.

Mischa Barton was 17 The O. C. with 24 year old Ben Mckenzie.

And Sasha Pieterse was 14 made out with 23 year old Shay Mitchell in PLL.

Cobra Kai, which is two seasons in now, has a love triangle between Sam, Mary Mouser who is 24, Diego, Xolo who is 19, and Tanner Buchanan who is 21.

I’m not arguing that people shouldn’t feel some kind of way about some casting choices or aren’t entitled to feel a certain way about this. I’m not even arguing that Hollywood doesn’t have an issue here because they clearly do as evidenced by examples above.

But I’m just genuinely trying to understand where we’re expected to be as consumers and fans of fictional works, characters, and relationships (again, within reason) if we’re not allowed (by public opinion and fandom space) to enjoy the fictional stories and relationships, romantic or otherwise because of casting choices…

Because I’ll admit, Devi and Paxton on Never Have I Ever was distracting as hell because Darren has like crow’s feet and everything and doesn’t pass as a teenager even by the absurd tv standards, so I couldn’t get into the pairing.

But I’ve been a diehard Shawngela fan for years, and that age gap between the actors didn’t deter me back then and it still doesn’t now.

And imagine my surprise when I bingewatched one of the most wholesome shows of this godforsaken year only to discover it’s now wrong to enjoy two adorable teens singing to each other lovingly and hugging because apparently there’s a five year age gap between the actors playing them and therefore it’s problematic to like the fictional pairing.

Like, I guess this is controversial, but Tumblr, I’m tired.

[supernaturaldesires]

A Descent Into Insanity - Chapter Two

Based on request by @sweetpotato-97

Could ask for a fic of Yandere Dean with a reader who sees him as a best friend and a form of brother for them, of course in the beginning Dean was not a yandere but he changed with the passage of time?

Note: the reader in a way is innocent and does not know that Dean is in love with them.

Pairing: None (yet)

Characters: Dean & Sam

Warnings: none, other than a slightly protective Dean

Word Count: 1,573

A couple of days after the incident at the bar, the Winchester brothers headed back out on another hunt. You had asked to go with them, but Sam explained that there was another case in Indianapolis that would need investigating once their case was resolved. He told you that there had been at least four cases of seemingly normal people suddenly turning violently on their loved ones, ultimately killing them. Sam asked you to do some more research before they went to investigate, to try and understand what they’d be running into - and promised that you could accompany them on that one.

After spending a day pouring over internet articles you were convinced you were dealing with a siren. The only problem though, was the article didn’t say anything about their weaknesses, only their powers. You did notice, though, that one of the articles you had read was authored by a woman in Lincoln, Nebraska, only a few hours away from the bunker.

You knew the boys wouldn’t be home wouldn’t be home for at least another day, so you decided to pay the woman a visit to see if you could find out anything else from her. You grabbed your phone, a map and a couple of twenties for gas and set off.

When you arrived at the woman’s house, she was a nice enough lady. She invited you in for tea and when you got to talking, it turned out she had crossed paths with John Winchester before. You hadn’t met the man - who was something of a legend in the hunter world - but you’d heard many a story that made you disappointed that you’d never had the opportunity to meet the man, not just because he was Dean and Sam’s father. 

After holding polite conversation with the lady for about an hour, you realised you weren’t going to get any more information than what was in the article, so you said your thank yous and made your excuse to depart. Once you got back into your car, you checked your cell for any messages. Shit. The battery was dead and you’d left your charger back at the bunker. With a sigh, you started the engine and made your way back home.

When you pulled up to the bunker, you were stiff from the long drive and cranky with hunger. You swung the door open and had barely set foot inside when Dean pounced on you, his hands gripping your upper arms and lifting you off the ground, holding you inches from his face.

“Where the hell have you been?” He roared, fury flaming in his eyes. “I have been calling you for hours!”

You struggled against him, but it was useless. Your legs flailed helplessly in the air. “Jesus, Dean, I was following up with a source about this case in Indianapolis. And since when do I have to share my whereabouts with you at all times?”

Dean lowered you to your feet, but pinned you against the wall. “For all I know, you could be in danger,” he growled. “You left no text, not even a note to say where you’d gone.”

“I wasn’t expecting you guys back yet!” You argued, still not understanding why you had to explain yourself. “Will you relax?”

“Y/N!” Sam’s voice came from behind Dean. “See, Dean, I told you she’d be fine. You were so worked up over nothing. Y/N, you should have seen him when he realised you weren’t here. I swear he lost his freakin’ mind.” Dean’s grip released you then, and within seconds he was in his brother’s face. The grin that was on Sam’s face a moment ago suddenly faded.

“Oh yeah, and what if she had been in trouble, Sammy? What if she got hurt, or worse? I bet you wouldn’t find it so amusing then, would you?”

You were a little relieved to see the same confusion that you felt fall upon Sam’s face, confirming that Dean was acting completely unreasonably. “Dude, will you chill? She’s a grown-ass woman, not to mention one who hunted alone for years before she met us. And saving your ass, may I remind you? Give her some cred, yeah?” Dean stepped back from his brother, but the scowl didn’t leave his face. 

"If you’re both quite finished,” you said sharply. “I think I know what we’re dealing with in Indianapolis. So why don’t you go clean yourselves up, then I’ll talk you through what I’ve found out. We can prepare to leave first thing in the morning.”

Dean glared at you before storming off towards his bedroom. Sam scoffed at his older brother’s behaviour before turning to follow.

“Hey, Sam,” you said softly, reaching out and tugging on his sleeve. He turned back to you. “Thanks about that. I didn’t wanna say anything in front of Dean, I know he feels like we gang up on him sometimes. But I appreciate it.” 

Sam gave you a kind smile and a gentle shrug. “Didn’t say nothin’ that wasn’t true.” His smile faltered for a moment and concern tugged at the corner of his eye.

“What’s wrong, Sammy?” You probed. Dean would always poke fun at Sam for being a worry-wort, but you quickly learned that Sam worried based on his gut - and it rarely misled him.

The tall man dragged a hand through his shaggy hair. “I dunno, just Dean was acting a bit weird on the hunt,” he said slowly. “Honestly, I didn’t expect us to be back this early either. But for some reason Dean wouldn’t even sleep while were away. He was constantly checking the time, saying we needed to get back to the bunker. He wouldn’t explain why. But I guess this was our third back-to-back hunt, so he probably just wanted to get back and rest.” You could tell he wasn’t really convinced, so he certainly wasn’t convincing you, but you let it slide. You both shared a concerned smile before Sam turned on his heels and headed to his bedroom.

You followed him down the hallway then took a different turn and stopped outside Dean’s room. You stared at the door for a good five minutes, wondering if you were about to walk into another ambush. Breathing deeply, you knocked gently. “Hey, Dean? It’s me, can we talk?”

A moment later, the door opened and you realised he must have just come out of the shower. He’d thrown some joggers on, but his hair was still wet and there were beads of water dripping down his bare chest. Your mind suddenly went reeling back to that first night you met, when he and Sam took you to the bar to thank you for saving Dean. You found him incredibly attractive. You had watched how each muscle in face flexed and relaxed as he talked, smiled, laughed. Sure, you flirted with him a little, despite the age gap between you. You were closer to Sam’s age, but something in you just sparked with Dean. At some point that evening, when Sam excused himself to the men’s room, you made your move on Dean - some less-than-subtle suggestion that you had a problem with your brake light and could he come look at it. In hindsight, you realised that it was a stupid move - he and Sam had followed you in the Impala back to your motel earlier that day, so he would have known full well there was no issue with your lights. He gave you a soft smile and let you down gently - that you weren’t really his type. That you deserved to settle down with someone, and he wasn’t prepared to be that someone for anyone.

“Did you want something?” Dean’s voice snapped you back to the present and you realised you’d been staring at him in silence uncomfortably long.

“Um, yeah, just that I’m sorry I didn’t text you guys where I was,” you said, toying with a fraying thread on the sleeve of your jacket. You didn’t really feel like you needed to apologise, but you wanted to clear the air with Dean, especially if you’d be going on a hunt together tomorrow. You both needed to be focused. “I understand you were just worried about me.”

Dean sighed and stepped back from the door, letting you in. He scrubbed a hand over his face, looking uncomfortable - as he always did if anyone even breathed the word ‘emotions’. “I just... when we got back to the bunker and you weren’t here, I just panicked. I didn’t know where you were, who you were with. I got sca-” he stopped himself, clearing his throat and straightening up. “Just don’t do that again, ‘kay?”

You nodded and approached him gingerly for a hug. You knew he wasn’t exactly the touchy-feely type. But to your surprise, he welcomed the gesture and embraced you, giving you a squeeze. If you didn’t know better, you could have sworn he just smelled your hair. You stepped back and shook the feeling off.

“Let me go make dinner,” you said with a smile. “I still need to fill you and Sam in on the Indianapolis case, and I know it’s pointless trying to hold your attention on an empty stomach.” You gave him a friendly wink before leaving his room.

Why did you get the feeling he was watching you walk away?

<= Chapter One

Chapter Three =>

Dean tags: @akshi8278

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics​

[starkeristheendgame]

Peter tattooed Tony's name on his ass after a drunken night on his 18th birthday. And then Tony found out.

I had so many ideas for this and I fucking loved this prompt. Honestly Anon, thank you so much for the burst of inspiration! I absolutely love this concept and spent like two-hours just staring into space and internally fic-writing 😂

Its not exactly a ‘drunken night tattoo’ AU, but that’s because any respectable tattoo shop will not tattoo you if you’re drunk, or if you’ve consumed alcohol within the last 12 hours. So in respect of the professionals and in the interest of promoting safety, this is a slightly different base!

TW: Very light D/s Dynamic | Slight possessive behaviour | Under-negotiated (but consensual)

Peter couldn’t even blame being drunk. He wished he could; really. People did stupid things when drunk. It seemed to be an immediate write-off excuse for anything, instantly accepted as a valid reason for any stupid decisions.

Peter had been completely and utterly, stone-cold sober at every point in this process. He’d been sober when he’d scanned one of Tony’s signatures onto his phone. Sober when he’d booked the consultation with InkSpren Tattoo. Sober when he’d walked into the studio a week later in a pair of MJ’s velvet shorts.

He wasn’t entirely nervous. Pain didn’t really scare him as much as he supposed it used to. Especially not pain from a set of tiny, teeny needles. He’d gone with MJ for her first tattoo, and she’d taken it pretty well. Well enough that somewhere around the first hour, she’d begun to snore.

His tattoo artist was named Dave. That was comforting. Dave sounded like a nice name. Normal. Friendly. Guy-Next-Door-Dave.

Peter faltered in the doorway.

Dave was a 6″1 male with a beard and more tattoos than Peter thought possible to fit on one man. He was in the process of sapping on a pair of gloves, and eyed Peter critically when he noticed him lingering in the doorway, before motioning for Peter to join him.

“Lay down on your front. Arch your spine a little. You’re gonna have to pull those down under the cheek,” he instructed, reaching into a small tub to pull out some sanitary wipes. Peter tried not to feel embarrassed as he did as told, crawling up onto the bed and settling comfortably, before he squirmed, tugging down his shorts and his boxers both.

The wipe was cold and Peter huffed out a breath in surprise, nose scrunching as he forced himself to relax again. It was fine. It was a wipe. “I’m going to apply the stencil now. You wanted it dead-centre on the right cheek, yeah, mate?” Dave asked after a pause, and Peter nodded.

It would be more accurate to say that MJ wanted it there. Or at the least… That was the spot she’d chosen, when he’d lost the bet. Or… The pseudo bet. It was better to say that MJ had simply said she didn’t believe Peter would ever do something like this, and.

Here he was.

The stencil felt a little like rice paper. A little wet, and having some strange, scary dude palming his asscheek was definitely an experience, but Peter lay quietly through it, glancing nervously at his phone. 

God. He hoped Mr. Stark was too busy to call him today. Or worse, face-time him. Was Mr. Stark watching him through the camera? Had he hacked the microphone?

“Alright. Get up and have a look. We can wipe it off and re-place if its not right,” Dave instructed, and Peter moved gingerly, keeping hold of the waistband as he shuffled awkwardly over to the mirror and twisted.

There, emblazoned in dark purple on his asscheek, was Tony Stark. In a perfect replica of Tony’s elegant, eccentric scrawl. “He’s gonna kill me,” Peter breathed, staring at the stencil with growing horror. He caught Dave’s quizzical, raised eyebrow, and forced a grin. “Yeah, yeah. Its perfect. Right in the middle there. Great. Thanks.”

He lay back down, and after a brief warning, Dave begun.

“You lost a bet or something, kid? Or are you just…Really into the whole Iron Daddy thing?”

Peter wheezed.

Iron Daddy?!

“Lost a bet,” he managed to hiss out, burying his face into his arms. Oh, god. Thank whatever Deity was lurking up there that MJ wasn’t here to witness that. She’d immediately demand that the stencil was changed. Dave gave an affirmative sound from behind him.

“Why this guy? You a big fan or something? Or is it the opposite?”

“Uh… I guess a fan? I Intern. At SI,” Peter replied, wincing at a particularly harsh nip from the needles. It wasn’t so bad, all things considered. It stung, but it wasn’t the raging fire of pain that some people mentioned when they spoke about getting tattooed.

“Mmph. Must come with a nice paycheque. You gonna show him?”

“Absolutely not” Peter responded instantly, to Dave’s amused chuckle. Christ. Mr. Stark would fire him on the spot. He’d take back the suit. He’d get a restraining order. What mentor wanted their name on their eighteen year old mentee’s asscheek?

Then again.

Tony was egotistical enough that he’d probably love it, and think it was the most hilarious thing in the world, and Peter really wasn’t sure which one was worse. Not to mention that both involved him dropping his pants in front of his boss.

It was quiet for a little while after that, just the buzz of the needle and the odd puff of breath at the occasional sting from the gun.

“You know anything about knitting?” Dave asked after a pause, and Peter frowned, considering. He knew a little about sewing. He’d made his own suit, before Mr. Stark had showed up. Aunt May had taught him back when he’d thrown a tantrum over ripping his favourite shirt as an eight year old.

“Uh… Not really? I mean, I can sew a little. But I’ve never knit anything,” he remarked back, pondering it. Knitting was soft sweaters and thick scarves. It made him think of little old Russian ladies on their porches.

“My Ma wants to knit. Says she’s at that age. Told me to get her some wool and those special needles. I dunno the first thing about knitting.”

And that was how Peter learned that Dave’s Ma was what Peter imagined Ms. Romanoff would be when she was eighty, and that Dave’s main job was actually as a Doggy Daycare assistant at Paws ‘R Us.

“All done,” Dave announced, squirting a weird, green froth over Peter’s asscheek before wiping it lightly with a series of cloths. “Go take a look.” 

Peter obliging, sliding off the bench and twisting to see his butt in the mirror.

“Aw, man. This is gonna be on my mind literally every time I see him,” Peter complained, clapping a hand over his face. There, in what looked like thick Sharpie across his ass, was Tony’s signature. Forever. If he ever died, it would be with this stamped across his butt.

“He ain’t gonna know none, unless you drop your kick in front of him,” Dave shrugged, peeling off the gloves. Peter had to concede that he had a point. He had zero intentions of ever telling Mr. Stark what he’d done, and in the three years they’d known each other, Mr. Stark had never seen Peter in less than a shirt and bottoms.

MJ looked moderately impressed when she pulled the hem of his shorts down, peering at the taped-up tattoo with her phone flashlight. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” she shrugged, flopping back onto her bed and resuming the video she’d been watching on her phone.

Peter shuffled around to lay on his stomach on the bottom of the bed, slapping at her ankle. “Never tell a Peter Parker he can’t do something,” he announced, and MJ rolled her eyes.

“I never said you couldn’t do it. I said it was a stupid thing to do, and you argued it, and then decided it was your new personal challenge.”

Peter paused, then tipped his head. “Fair.”

Hiding it was both predictably and surprisingly easy. Peter spent the next few days sitting very gingerly and working himself up into a lather about meeting Mr. Stark on the weekend. Would Tony somehow know? What if MJ had emailed him to spill the secret?

What if Peter and his big mouth spilled it for him?

Except… It went fine. Tony picked him up in a sleek, red sportscar and they went straight to the Tower. Peter was taking a gap year in order to process what he wanted to do with his future. 

Spiderman suddenly changing locations would be suspicious, and sooner or later, someone would think to check on new students at local facilities. People moving for jobs, that sort of thing.

Mj was just… Refusing to comply with the Government agenda or something like that. Honestly, Peter was thankful. With Ned moving to San Francisco for college, things could get a little lonely.

Bar the odd self-conscious squirm, it went as any other meet-up went. They stuffed themselves silly with food in the penthouse and messed around with tech and prank-called Steve and by the end of the night, Peter had almost forgotten about his tattoo.

The twitchy, nervous fear that Tony would somehow turn around and demand to know why he had his name tattooed on his ass eventually faded, and life resumed as it had before he’d gotten the ink.

Which, of course, is exactly when things had to go wrong.

Really, Peter should have expected it. His luck ran in a pattern, and he should have walked on egg-shells the moment he realised things were relaxed and easy and his tattoo was still a secret.

It had been about a month since the tattoo. When he was alone, Peter couldn’t help but stare at it, running his finger over the shiny, black skin. Tony’s name, emblazoned like a brand across his ass. 

It became the focal point of more fantasies than his ass could keep up with, lazing floppy and exhausted and lube-covered on his bed, his mind reeling.

He imagined Tony tracing the letters with his tongue. Imagined Tony pinning him down and tattooing it himself. Imagined a different world where the branding was deliberate. A mark of ownership. Or a surprise. The look on Tony’s face when Peter would bend over, revealing his name.

And, as predicted, hiding it was no trouble at all. Peter had his own room in Tony’s penthouse, so if he needed to shower or sleep there, he had complete privacy. It helped that the Iron Spider and that Tony’s Mark II for the fabric Spiderman suit fit over his regular clothing now, so he didn’t even have to strip to do his thing.

The one thing he didn’t factor in, was a disastrous inventory day combined with the decision to wear white boxers. There’d been a raid on a medical facility kidnapping people to experiment on and most of the equipment and tech had been turned over to Tony for examination, classification and destruction. Peter was there to help, sleepy-eyed and not quite as focused as he ought to be.

He didn’t check the lid on the canister was tight before picking it up.

He didn’t see the drop of oil on the floor where Dum-E had been trundling around, moving things.

He slipped with a whelp, still clutching the container as he slid and twisted, bumping canister first into the edge of the table. He was vaguely aware of Tony shouting as his vision filled with pink dust that stung his eyes and seemed to cling to his clothes.

“Peter! Jesus H - Get in the med-shower, now! I turned away for five seconds kiddo, how did you -” Tony’s frantic muttering stops and starts as he grabbed onto Peter’s arm, dragging him across the workshop to the tiny little emergency shower stall in the corner. 

Peter could do nothing but stagger along, blinking frantically to clear his eyes of dust and pink.

It doesn’t even fully register he’s inside the stall until the first blast of water rained down on him, cold like ice before immediately coming something akin to tepid. He spluttered, trying to flatten himself back against the wall as his hair fell down into his eyes and the water streamed down his mouth, his hair, his back.

He gasped as the water trickled down his thighs, soaking through the cotton of his sweatpants and making them heavy. His shirt clung to his torso like plastic wrap and stuck-peeled uncomfortably with each heaving, shuddering breath.

“Yeah, sorry. This thing acts for burns too, so. Gotta keep it cool,” Tony murmured from outside the stall, head tilting sympathetically even as Peter scowled at him from under the battering stream. “Take your clothes off,” Tony instructed, turning to look over his shoulder.

“What?” Peter squeaked, eyes widening as he wrapped his arms around himself protectively. Tony glanced back at him with a raised eyebrow. 

“Relax, munchkin. My moves are smoother than that. It was a powder. Its likely it got inside your clothes, too,” he pointed out. Peter wanted to argue. Wanted to say if he just stood here long enough the risk was over, but.

“Turn around,” he huffed adamantly, scowling harder at Tony’s snort. But the genius complied, turning away and folding his arms as he observed the settling dust cloud. Peter counted to ten slowly, teeth chattering under the cold spray before he peeled off his shirt. 

The water on his skin was even more unbearable and he gave a whine of protest as he begun to work at the strings of his sweats, letting them fall with a disgusting, heavy slop.

“I was naked in front of you before,” Tony pointed out conversationally and Peter spat out water, shaking his head before pushing his hair from his eyes.

“That doesn’t count. The armour ripped your clothing off in beta deployment,” he pointed out, though he couldn’t help softening at the memory, snickering as he turned his back to Tony, scrubbing at his body. 

It had been hilarious. The actual deployment had gone fine, it was just when Tony had deactivated it that the armour had shrunk in on itself, taking his beaten old tank top and ratty workshop jeans with it.

“Both were an accident. Both involved one of us witnessing the other in a state of undress. Although my back has been dutifully turned since you commanded it, by the way. And both were equally hilarious in that my own armour undressed me, and you essentially became a - What is that?”

Peter jolted, having sunk into a daydream state of listening to Tony talk as he wiped himself down. He looked over his shoulder to find Tony staring straight at him, expression delighted and curious. Or, rather, straight at his ass.

Oh.

Oh no.

“Nothing!” he yelped, twisting to flatten his back against the wall. He’d left his boxers on for the sake of not trusting that Tony wouldn’t forget his vow of not looking, and had completely forgotten they were white. 

Which also meant that his dick was now flat out bared to his mentor. With a howl of frustration he twisted so he was side-on to Tony, curling up and glowering with all the muted rage he could muster.

“Its a logo. On my boxers,” he ground out.

“I think not,” Tony shot back gleefully, leaning on the protective railing with an absolutely manic glint to his eye. Peter almost groaned aloud, head falling back under the spray. It was too late. He was doomed. His heart begun to pound and the air he was sucking in felt like it wasn’t enough.

“You have a tattoo. On your ass. Right there,” Tony pointed out, as though Peter didn’t know it. Peter tried to glare but it came out feeble, weak. Fuck. He was screwed. So screwed! 

“What is it? Who’s name is it? Its clearly a name,” Tony continued, pestering for the information.

“Go away!” Peter barked lightly, shifting restlessly under the cool stream. Tony just shrugged easily at him and leaned through the gap, hitting the OFF button for the water. He seemed unfazed at Peter’s shuffling or his attempted aggression, smiling at him sweetly.

“You can tell me, or I can ask JARVIS. JARVIS is nice, he’ll tell me.”

And Peter’s blood runs cold, because there’s no doubt that JARVIS will. Peter never swore him to secrecy, and Mr. Stark’s name on his ass isn’t anything concerning to the AI.

“Its nothing! Oh my god, its just a tattoo!” he complained, making a shooing motion at his mentor as he side-stepped his sodden clothing. “Go get me a towel. And clean clothes. Please,” he huffed, fingers digging into his sides where he’d wrapped his arms around himself. Tony gave him a devilish grin, then gestured upwards.

“J?”

“It appears to be your name in your own handwriting, Sir,” JARVIS dutifully responded, his voice ringing like church bells through the room. The silence that followed was deafening and panic seeped like ice through Peter’s veins as Tony’s childish, gleeful look faded into complete, lax shock.

This is it. Everything he’s done, the last two years, the friendships and the Internship and Spiderman being Iron Man’s little tagalong… All gone. He’ll never eat day-old pizza with Clint again. He’ll never have Dum-E running over his foot again. The terror and panic bubbled up before he could stop it.

“Oh my god. Mr. Stark - You can’t - I’m so sorry. I swear, I wouldn’t have gotten it and especially not there but I just - I never thought you’d see it and -”

“Turn around,” Tony cut him off mildly, but his tone was firm. It was enough to snap Peter’s jaw shut as he stared, nails digging into his ribs as he blinked under the droplets that fell from his lashes. He sucked in a breath, staring in confusion.

“…What?” he breathed, pressing back against the shower wall as Tony advanced, unlocking the cubicle door to lean against the frame, eyeing him like a prime cut of steak.

“I said turn around,” Tony repeated patiently, raising one hand to make a little spinning gesture with his finger, as if Peter was a trick dog. Peter shook his head, horror quickly dawning as he realised not only what Tony was asking, but also the fact that if his boxers were that see-through…Facing the man directly was probably not the best idea.

He shuffled to the side as much as he could without baring either delicate matter. Tony’s lips quirked in amusement at this and he hummed softly as Peter shook his head. 

“Mr. Stark, its not - Its just your name, I swear. You sign it like every day, you don’t need to look,” he pleaded, shivering in the cool temperature of the workshop as the water begun to dry on his skin, running down in rivulets.

“I don’t sign it on your ass every day,” Tony pointed out, stepping closer. Peter wanted to stall, to argue that technically Tony hadn’t actually signed his ass, except his mentor was moving closer, reaching out slowly as though he might spook if he moved too fast. 

He was so close Peter could see the flakes of gold in his eyes, could smell the minty-motor-oil combination.

The first brush of Tony’s fingertips had his skin jumping like a colts, the touch so gentle it almost tickled. It was on the arch of his hips, skating the waistband of his sodden boxers before pressing just slightly to encourage him to turn. Tony’s gaze was tipped down, dark on his own.

“You can say no,” Tony reminded him softy, the hungry look in his eyes fading for a brief moment, replaced by something tender and careful. Peter sucked in a breath but didn’t resist as he was spun slowly on the spot, hands coming up to brace on the tiles. 

“How long?” Tony asked after a moment, thumbs pressing into the backs of his hips, breath hot across his shoulder.

“A month,” he managed to whisper, pressing his forehead to the wall as Tony’s thumbs slid along the waistband teasingly, catching and pulling but never dipping it more than an inch. 

Peter shuddered under the gentle touches, lips parting when Tony finally begun to slide the sodden material down his hips, over the large swell of his ass.

“You should have told me,” Tony rumbled, head ducking to mouth a lazy, open kiss to his bare shoulder, his stubble scratching just slightly. Peter shuddered as he felt the fabric slip to under his asscheeks, tight in the groove where it met his thigh but not overly uncomfortable. “Should have shown me sooner” Tony murmured into his skin.

And then the warmth of his breath was gone as he leaned back, and Peter could hear the gravelly, husked fuck that he uttered as he looked down, palm sliding around Peter’s flank so he could swipe his thumb across the dark sheen of the ink. 

Peter held his breath, tensing at the touch, though it didn’t hurt. Tony’s hand left his side to slide down between his shoulders soothingly.

“My name. On that perfect, juicy ass. Branded on there forever,” Tony was murmured, voice lethal and rasped as he stroked over it slowly, reverently. “Does that make you feel good, sweetheart? Knowing my claim is on you? In such an intimate place, too? Did you choose this?” Tony hummed, breath ghosting down Peter’s spine as he sank slowly to his knees.

Peter wasn’t about to let Tony know that actually, stamping it on his ass had been MJ’s idea. Especially not when Tony pressed a gentle, scratchy kiss over the tattoo. 

Especially not when he licked over the letters slowly, palms falling down to cup Peter’s asscheeks firmly. It was all he could do to whine, high and pathetic as he trembled under Tony’s hold.

Tony continued to mouth at the tattoo, lavishing it with nips and sloppy kisses as he kneaded at Peter’s asscheeks, almost distracting him enough to spread them with his thumbs, the kisses slowly travelling right until hot air right over there made Peter jolt, eyes snapping open.

“Mr. Star - Ahhhh-Ohhh,” his yelp faded into a gasp, which trickled into a breathless moan as Tony planted a firm kiss to the swirl of muscle between his thighs, sucking ever so slightly before promptly laving his tongue in a fat, wet stripe upwards.

“No idea what it does to me, kiddo. Seeing my name there. Marked on you forever. Marking you as mine,” Tony spoke against him, licking and kissing thoroughly between his words as Peter scrabbled at the tiles, desperately trying to keep himself from rocking back against Tony’s tongue.

One of Tony’s hands left his ass to stroke across his flank, delicate in its search before wrapping around his cock with a surprising firmness. Peter’s hips immediately jumping forwards into the grip and his moan was staggered as Tony paired it with a thrust of his tongue.

He mewled, embarrassingly high and and desperate as he threw one hand back, sliding his fingers gently into Tony’s hair. It was soft, far more silken than he had expected for something that stuck up in odd places when not professionally attacked by a stylist. 

Tony gave a soft sound of encouragement, nipping at him and sliding his hand up to stroke at the tip of his flushed cock.

“Mr. Stark, please,” he gasped, fingers twisting lightly in the soft, dark locks and hips stuttering minutely between Tony’s hot, wet tongue and his firm, slow grip. He wasn’t going to last; not with Tony Stark finally touching him. Not with the scrape of his stubble and the husk of his voice.

Tony chuckled against him, the vibrations making Peter shudder before he rose slowly, kissing a wet path from the small of Peter’s back to his shoulders, never stopping in stroking him slowly, firmly. 

“So eager, sweetheart. So precious,” Tony breathed against his skin, his hand leaving Peter’s hip to fumbled between them, knuckles brushing the round meat of his ass as he tugged his belt free of its buckle.

The slap of cold metal made Peter jolt, hips bucking in Tony’s grip and wrenching a whine from his throat as Tony squeezed him lightly, dipping his thumb into the tip and pushing at the bead of pre-cum that oozed there. 

“Steady, darling,” Tony huffed into his ear, the smirk audible in his voice. Peter opened his mouth to reply, but then there was the sudden feel of a thick, long cock resting in the line of his asscheeks, heavy and hot and he could do nothing but groan weakly.

“Hush, sweetheart. I’m not gonna take you apart yet. Not here. When I do that, you’ll be on my bed, spread out and sloppy for me,” Tony soothed, jerking him off in steady, tight strokes as he rocked his hips, dragging his cock between Peter’s asscheeks with a soft hiss of pleasure.

Tony flattened against his back, careless of the fact that Peter was still dripping water as he nuzzled into his neck, one hand roaming from Peter’s asscheek to his own cock and back, petting and stroking.

 Peter could feel the slow, hot build of an orgasm coiling in his gut, could feel his thighs shaking with the effort of keeping still as he let his head fall back onto Tony’s shoulder with a feeble  gasp.

Tony pressed open-mouthed kisses to his temple, training down to his neck where he nipped softly as he thrust against him, a seemingly never-ending, thick drag of heavy cock that Peter instantly wished was buried deep within him. 

Tony’s moans were deep, slow things, soft in his ear as he pushed his hips back, arching his spine to give Tony a better, tighter angle.

“Fuck, sweetheart. So good for me. That’s it,” Tony purred, one hand dropping to briefly pinch over his tattoo, speeding up his hand and his thrusts as they moved together. It was Tony’s cock catching on his rim that did it, pressing there briefly as though he was slide right in, paired with the ragged gasp the older man gave at the sensation.

Peter’s hips stuttered forwards and his high moan pitched into a yelp as Tony gave him a rough down-stroke, his cock jumping in his grip before painting the tiles in milky splashes. Peter shook in Tony’s hold, eyes squeezed shut and chest heaving as Tony worked him through it, continued to chase his own pleasure.

“My sweet boy. All branded as mine, coming on my cock and my touch. Look at you, baby. So good. So good, Peter. Fuck. Seeing my name, my writing on your ass… I’m gonna ruin you later,” Tony promised, voice ragged, hand falling from Peter’s cock to squeeze his ass, thumb sliding over the signature as he chased his own orgasm. Peter fell breathless against the cool tile, rocking back against the firm, heavy slide of Tony’s cock.

“Please, Tony. Fuck me. Mark me. Take me,” he rambled, breath hitching as Tony pulled back with a groan, nails digging into his ass. 

The older man looked down, managing to pull his hips back and angle his cock in just enough time to paint thick ropes of cum right over his tattoo, the thick, creamy liquid sliding over the ink wetly. Peter let out another mewl, his cock twitching feebly at the thought as Tony panted behind him.

There was a fumble, the rustle of fabric, and Peter opened his eyes, looking over his shoulder in time to see Tony snap a photo of it. His cheeks burned with arousal and humiliation, but Tony dived forwards, capturing his mouth in a firm, wet kiss. 

Peter was breathless by the time Tony pulled back, the corners of his mouth tingling with stubble burn.

“Marked as mine. Twice,” Tony murmured into his cheek, pressing another soft kiss there.

[singthebodyelectric-tmnt]

I Sing the Body Electric 2

Don

Don slowly sipped his coffee as he watched Leon now openly arguing with air. He’s assuming he is having a tiff with the brothers of his own guests. He glanced at Raphie who was listening to both Leon’s passive-aggressive ranting and Michael excitedly describing his “guests”. Raphie’s brows furrowed in confusion but he doesn’t stop them.

Eh. The big guy can handle it. He then glanced at his own guests; one smaller with olive green skin, one almost as tall as him and had eerie red eyes.

The smaller one was sitting calmly next to him, amused at all the commotion at the table. The other one was chewing on his thumb nervously with his teeth, and glancing at his brothers. (And not gonna lie, his gap tooth is cute. Too bad this Donnie is way too jumpy. Maybe neurotic but Don didn’t want to be an ass and self-diagnose).

“Is it always like this at breakfast?” the older one asked. He was reading a book. An actual physical book. Weird choice but who was he to question the recreational activities of his counterparts? He preferred podcasts, audiobooks, and the theatre. It gave his hands much more freedom to work on his projects. “More or less, yeah,” he took a sip of his coffee. The Donnie with the gap tooth sat next to him, and kept looking nervously at Raphie. Don frowned. Was this Donnie afraid of Raph? “You guys are different species of turtles, right? Your Raphael said he was the eldest as well, so I’m assuming you’re all different ages,” mused Donatello. Don liked this one. He was quite polite for an adult. Not many adults get his respect. “Yeah. Raphie’s fifteen, Me and Leon are fourteen, and Michael’s thirteen”.

The two Donatello's reactions were...interesting to say the least. Donnie’s red eyes widened in horror. A flash of grief crossed Donatello’s face before he took a deep breath and settled on a pained smile. “That’s...that’s really interesting”. Before Don could ask, Leon suddenly stood up. His fists were clenched and teeth were bared like he was furious. Then he tried taking a swing at himself. “Tried” because Raphie was able to stop him in time. Raphie began to mumble soothing words to Leon to get him to calm down. Michael looked terrified. “What’s going on?,” Don said through gritted teeth. He reached out and rubbed his little brother’s back to soothe him. “If you harm the person visiting you, you get harmed as well,” explained Donatello. He snapped his book closed with a sigh. The other Donnie said nervously, “It’s...It’s probably my brother. I mean... Leo...I mean my Leo...sorry”. He chewed on his thumb in worry, staring as Raphie kept talking quietly to Leon. Donatello shook his head, “No...I think it’s mine. He doesn’t know how to handle teenagers well...oh Donnie, you’re bleeding”. Don snapped his attention away from his brothers to stare at his counterparts. Donnie had chewed on his thumb so hard it broke through skin. Donatello gathered cloth and wrapped Donnie’s thumb to put pressure on it, even if his own thumb was bleeding.

Don looked at his hand and there was a thin line of blood that slowly dripped on to his hand. He tsked and grabbed tissue to stave it. “I’m so sorry-” began Donnie. “Hush, it’s fine,” interrupted Donatello. Don opted to not comment on it. Instead he asked, “You both said this isn’t the first time you’ve met other versions of us. Did this whole...situation where I only get to see you happen?” Donatello shook his head, “As far as I know, no. We met our other counterparts physically. This whole astral projection thing is new. The only reason I know about the host-visitor thing is because little Michael over there and Donnie's brother accidentally hit mine while playing yesterday. They all have bruises in the same place”.

Donnie muttered, “See, that doesn’t make sense! Astral projection has no scientific basis. There must be an actual explanation for this”. He began to pick at his arm scales. Don snorted, the others looked at him. “Sorry. It’s…that would be true, except in this dimension astral projection is plausible,” he inhaled in annoyance. “Magic exists here”. Donnie looked like he ate something really sour. Donatello on the other hand looked up thoughtfully. “Magic exists in my dimension as well...so it isn’t far-fetched”. He gently put a hand over Donnie’s who had unwittingly begun to pull at his scales. “If that’s the case, I can believe that would be one of the reasons we connected, Don. I can’t say for sure how Donnie here and the other Donatellos connected to us”. Don hummed. He stood and put his empty plate in the sink. It was Leo’s turn to do the dishes but he decided to help with the burden by preemptively washing the plates … “Would it help the situation if we met face to face? All of us- I mean not all the iterations of us, just our three dimensions” Donatello smiled while Donnie tilted his head. “Maybe it would...are you suggesting building a portal to each other’s dimensions?” Don leaned on the sink. “I insist on it. We each work on a portal on our end then connect it. It should be easy if we work together”. Donnie furrowed his brows while Donatello tapped his book’s spine to his chin. “It’s doable. I can ask Professor Honeycutt and Leatherhead to help me on my end and I already have a fusion generator”. Donnie blinked, “You have a Professor Honeycutt and a Leatherhead too? Um...sure. I’ll have trouble on my end, I’ll probably need Krang tech for this though…” Don nodded, “I don’t know who those are but we have Draxum”. He then turned to his youngest brother, “Michael, can you ask Draxum to visit? I’ll need help in a project and maybe he’ll have answers to our predicament”. Michael brightened the instant he heard Draxum’s name. “Sure!” he chirped. Michael tilted his head to the side and then said out loud, “Baron Draxum’s our creator and our other dad!” There must have been some kind of loud reaction on the other end because Raphie winced and Leon rolled his eyes. Raphie said out loud, “I’ll explain later…” while Leon crossed his arms. It looks like he still doesn’t want to get along with his own guests. Donatello and Donnie looked at Don incredulously. Don shrugged, “He mutated Dad too. Michael’s the only one who calls him “Dad”, don’t worry”. Donnie looked away while Donatello huffed, “That’s...a can of worms we won’t get into now. But I’ll take any answers I can get”. He eyed Leon, “And I’ll talk to my Leo, don’t worry about that”. “Thank you,” Don said, honestly grateful. This Donatello was just as gentle as Raphie, and Don knew it wasn’t a front with how he handled Donnie’s self-harm. He wondered what damaged him to make him this way. Don eyed Donnie. So different from Don and Donatello; skittish, and nervous and is on the verge of lashing out at everything. He wondered what this one had gone through too. Don patted Raphie’s arm. “The other Donnies and I will be in the lab. Call us when Draxum gets here” <--Previous         -o-        Next-->

[fic-for-fic-sake]

Does Your Mother Know

A/N: Peter is 18 in this, nothing inappropriate. Age gap. You’re like 25, he’s 18. Also yes I got the inspiration while watching Mamma Mia. 

Pairing: Peter x reader 

Even though the Avengers now had an upstate facility you were staying at the tower for the time being. You were working on your masters degree in neuroscience at Columbia, so Stark offered an available room in the tower, of which you were grateful. You had cringed at the thought of having to take a car into the city for your classes every other day but Tony hadn’t thought twice about setting you up at the tower, claiming you could keep a watchful eye on everything. 

What you didn’t know, what Tony conveniently forgot to tell you was that Peter was also staying in the tower. He started his freshmen year at NYU for Biophysics. It’s not that you had a problem with Peter, not at all. You had known him since he was 15 and Stark recruited his help at the airport in Germany, but Peter had developed a bit of a crush on you. Which more than weirded you out. He was only seven years younger than you but the thought of dating an 18 year old made you balk, it felt wrong. 

Most times you could steer clear of Peter, claiming you had research to do (which wasn’t completely untrue) or saying that you were going out with your friends when really you were hiding at your friends apartment, avoiding him. After the tenth visit to your friends apartment she officially banned you for your own good. And she was right. You just had to tell Peter you weren’t interested in him like that, it should be easy. 

The next morning you readied yourself to talk to him. Practiced phrases over and over in your head until they sounded right. You wanted to let him down gently, he was still your friend after all. And you wanted to make it perfectly clear that this didn’t have to mean the end of your friendship, you could move past this amicably. All of those thoughts left your mind when you walked into the kitchen to see Peter chugging a glass of water. 

Your mouth went dry. He was only wearing a pair of gym shorts slung lowly on his hips, giving your eyes the perfect chance to glimpse the v that was prominent. You also got a very close look at his abs which were, um, impressive to say the least. You maneuvered your way around him to get a coffee mug and start making your brew for the day, your mind now muddled. He refilled his glass once more and then gently pressed his hand against your lower back before moving behind you, “I’m just gonna sneak by you.” His voice husked in your ear. 

You’re so hot, teasing me. So you’re blue but I can’t take a chance on a kid like you. It’s somethin’ I couldn’t do. 

You coughed to cover up the shock as you filled your mug with coffee. You didn’t bother to say anything, much less risk a glance in his direction, as you added milk and sugar to your drink. You knew what he was playing at, you just shook your head and laughed before turning around to go back to your room, conversation be damned. 

But like the dutiful enhanced human he was, he was in front of you in a second, blocking your path with his lithe but toned body. He leaned against the wall casually, like he had done this hundreds of times. 

“Don’t I get a ‘good morning’?” Peter asked jokingly, cocking his head to the side. You could see mirth in those chocolate eyes of his and you wanted nothing more than to wipe the expression off of his face. You just rolled your eyes as you walked around him, giving his half naked body a wide berth. 

There’s that look, in your eyes. I can read in your face that your feelings are driving you wild. Oh but boy you’re only a child.

You had been around the block enough times to know what that expression meant on a guy. Hell, you had given that expression yourself once or twice, enough times to know that nothing good, or rational, ever followed. You were saving the both of you an even more awkward conversation than the one you had actually worked out in your mind. 

“Good Morning Peter.” You responded in a singsong tone as you walked back to your room, hot coffee in hand. You could hear his resounding chuckle as you closed your door and prepared for the day. 

An hour later, as you were preparing to leave for class you got a text from the Iron Man himself. 

Stopping by later today for a little get together. Nothing major, just a few friends. Tell Pete

You rolled your eyes as you typed your response. For Tony, “little get together” meant the whole damn team. Here. In your apartment. You made sure to have a cleaning crew come by the tidy up while you were out. You were about to send a text to Peter when you literally ran into him while going to the elevator. 

He caught you, hands gently but firmly pressed against your shoulders as he helped you right yourself. 

“Woah, where’s the fire?” He questioned, warm brown eyes meeting your own. 

“Class, and then back early because apparently we’re having company tonight.” You explained to him as the elevator opened and you both walked inside. Peter was standing closer to you than usual but not close enough for you to comment on it so you let it slide, for now anyway. You had enough to deal with. 

That night you had come back to the tower at 6pm sharp. You were thankful that the cleaning crew was gone and left the place looking spotless. You had two hours to go before Tony and whoever else arrived so you took the time to relax and unwind. You played music as you took a shower and tried to pick out something to wear. You weren’t sure what you were in the mood for until you saw the perfect dress. 

It was a button down shirt dress that stopped mid thigh. The best part was that it was in royal blue, Peter’s favorite color. Just because you didn’t want to date him didn’t mean you couldn’t have fun. He sure had a hell of a good time teasing you this morning. It was time to give him a taste of his own medicine. You grabbed a deep tan belt to wrap around your waist and didn’t bother to do much with your hair. You painted your lips a deep cherry color before adding small diamond studs to your ears. You looked at the clock and it read 7:55, perfect timing. 

You came into the main area where Peter was sitting on the couch wearing a striped button down of his own and dark wash jeans. He stood at attention when you walked into the room and you could feel his eyes roam over your body. You gave him a coy smile and fluttered your lashes before the elevator door opened. Tony spilled out along with the team each carrying an assortment of food and drinks. 

Rolling your eyes you made your way over to Tony who was already directing where everyone should place the numerous pizza boxes and different cases of beer, hard cider, spiked seltzer, and other kinds of mixed drinks. Honestly, after the week you had, you were more than grateful for this but you would never let Tony know that. 

“I thought you said a ‘little’ get together.” You said, a twinge of a whine in your voice. 

Tony smiled as he threw an arm over your shoulder and gestured at the team, “There’s only like what, 12 people here. Relax.” He pressed a kiss into your hair before going off and grabbing a slice of pepperoni from Nat. 

You were happy to watch the lovely chaos unfold before you but then Bucky was walking towards you, a hard cider in his hand. 

“Ugh you’re the best I love you.” You moaned to your best friend as you opened the can and took a generous swig. Bucky was your best friend on the team and even though you were glad to be living in the city and thus close to campus, you were bummed that it meant you couldn’t see Bucky as much. 

“Careful sweetheart, don’t let Pete overhear ya.” Bucky teased, opening a beer for himself. You shook your head at his antics, because he knew how much it was on your mind. You, of course, had told him about it and he, being very unhelpful, told you that you could probably stand to get laid. 

“You know what, I take it back, I hate you.” You replied before going into the kitchen closet and pulling out a cooler. Bucky helped you load it up with ice before you took it to where the alcohol was. Bucky made some lame ass excuse about checking in on Steve as Peter headed in your direction. You silently cursed him as he walked away. 

“Mind if I take a beer?” Peter asked, gesturing to the brews in the cooler. 

“Aren’t you a little young Pete?” You teased, reaching inside to get him one anyway. 

“I’m old enough.” He replied brazenly before taking the beer from your hands, letting his fingers brush up against yours. 

Well I can dance with ya honey, if you think it’s funny, but does your mother know that you’re out?

Fine, two could play at this game. You, having finished your cider alarmingly fast, reached down for a spiked seltzer this time, fully aware of Peter’s eyes on you the whole time. 

“It’s getting a little warm in here don’t you think?” You questioned, as you lifted the cool can and pressed it against the column of your throat, moaning a little bit as you did so. Peter’s Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he watched you slide the aluminum across your skin and the trail of condensation it left behind. 

You took that feeling of satisfaction with you all the way to the couch where everyone else was chatting about their latest missions. 

“Ugh I wish I could be on missions with you guys, getting a masters is hard.” 

“But the work you’re doing is literally groundbreaking. I would argue that it’s more important than what we do on the field.” Steve replied, ready to cheer you up, and you were glad for it. 

“I agree, I think you’re doing great work.” Peter said casually, as he sat in the vacant spot next to you, opposite Sam. 

“Hey Pete, how’s freshmen year going? Meet any cute girls?” Sam teased and you internally groaned. You wanted to smack Sam. He knew what he was doing. 

“The girls at school don’t really interest me,” Peter began, placing a hand on your bare knee and rubbing his thumb back and forth across your skin, “I’m into someone else.” 

“Oh yeah.” Bucky teased, eyes narrowing in on Peter’s hand. “What about you doll? You into anyone right now?” Oh you could kill him. You could murder Bucky and you’re pretty sure nobody would stop you. 

“Well...there is someone.” You started, at this Peter’s hand stilled, waiting for your reply. 

I can chat with ya maybe, flirt a little baby, but does your mother know that you’re out?

“Really?” Peter choked next to you. 

“Mhm,” you started, “But I don’t know if I should give him a shot or not?” 

“And why’s that?” Bucky asked, knowing damn well what you were doing. You gave a small smile before you answered. 

“I need someone...with experience in certain things. And he's younger, so I don’t know if he’s qualified for the job. If you know what I mean.” You responded, letting the implication of your words hang in the air. 

Bucky choked on his beer and Peter removed his hand from your leg all together. You smiled. That should buy you some space, or so you thought. Twenty minutes had passed before you got up to use the bathroom. The team hardly noticed, they had picked a movie to watch and everyone seemed pretty glued to the TV. There was only an acknowledgement from Bucky to bring him another beer when you got back. 

You checked your phone in the bathroom and gave yourself a once over in the mirror before you planned to head back out. The only problem was that when you opened the door, a very determined looking Peter was standing on the other side of it. 

“Can we talk?” He asked, voice soft. You conceded and he walked into the bathroom with you before you closed the door again. You turned around to find him staring at you, brown eyes now a liquid amber shade. You didn’t say a word as he moved towards you until your back was pressed against the bathroom wall. He brought a hand up to rest it over your shoulder, pressed against the wall. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, gaze locking with his. 

“I think you know.” Was all he said in response, as he leaned in closer to you. You just shook your head as you rested your hands on the planes of his chest and then ran them up to rest on his shoulders. 

“What do you want Peter?” You asked again. 

“I want you. I want to kiss you.” He admitted. And maybe it was his honesty, maybe it was because you had been teasing each other all day, or maybe it was because you hadn’t had more than one drink in a while, but mostly it was because you wanted to see how far he was willing to take this, so you said, “then do it.” 

He pressed his lips to yours in a gentle, if not unsure, kiss. But you were having none of it. You made up your mind and you were done with his teasing. If he wanted to kiss then you were going to give him the kiss of a lifetime. You threaded your fingers through his hair and pressed your body against his own as you deepened the kiss. You felt his arms wrap around your waist and you moaned your appreciation against his lips. 

You gently coaxed his mouth open with your tongue and wasted no time in exploring every inch of him, enjoying the throaty moan that followed. You walked him backwards until he got the idea and sat on top of the toilet seat, with you in his lap. Your lips never left his as you undid the buttons on his shirt and started to kiss the newly exposed skin, appreciating the deep lipstick shade that marred his otherwise perfect complexion. You moved off of  his lap as your hands found his belt buckle and began to undo it. 

“Woah, are you sure?” He asked, his face flushed and hair mused from your hands. 

Take it easy, better slow down boy, take it nice and slow. Does your mother know?

You cocked your head to one side and rested your hands on his upper thighs before you spoke. 

“Isn’t this what you wanted? I can’t think of another reason why you keep teasing me.” You whispered in a husky voice, looking at him through your lashes. The picture of submission. Before he got to answer there was a knock at the bathroom door. 

“Doll are you still in there? I wanted to make sure you weren’t dead.” Bucky called from the other side and you had to fight the giggle that made its way up your throat. Of course Bucky knew what was happening here. You pressed a finger to your lips for Peter to be quiet before you answered. 

“I’m in the middle of something, I’ll be out in a minute.” You called back. You heard Bucky say something under his breath before you heard his footsteps recede back into the main room. Suddenly you got up from your knees and went in the mirror to wipe off your lipstick and fix your hair. 

“Well, this was fun. Let’s do it again sometime.” You mused to a confused Peter who had a mixture of a shocked and frustrated look on his face. 

“Wait, where are you going?” He asked as you unlocked the bathroom door and made for the hallway. 

“To watch the movie with the team.” You said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “See ya out there.” You gave him a wink before you walked back into the main room and sat down next to Bucky who gave you a knowing smile. Peter came out five minutes later and took a spot on the floor next to Tony who asked him where the hell he’d been. Pete looked like a goldfish as his mouth opened and closed repeatedly, looking for something to say, before he came up with an excuse and Tony went back to watching the movie. 

You were curled into Bucky’s side with his arm wrapped around you when you felt Peter’s eyes on you again, giving you a questioning look. You only gave him a smirk and a wink in return before turning your attention back to the movie. 

Does your mother know, does your mother know that you’re out?

[nicnacsnonsense]

So right now as I sit here procrastinating on the things I’m supposed to be doing is probably a good a time as any to dump my Good Omens Jane Eyre AU thoughts on you all. (Quick side note: Aziraphale, Crowley, and Beelzebub are all female-presenting, she/her for the purposes of this AU.)

I want to start you off with a little backstory. The other day @eunyisadoran suggested to me that Gabriel and Beelzebub would make for a perfect Rochester/Jane Eyre AU. What my mouth said in response was “Sorry, I don’t really ship Ineffable Bureaucracy,” but my brain said, “Wait, shut up a second me; I can work with this.” But as I considered it I decided that while I could see Gabriel as Rochester — Gabriel isn’t someone I’d consider especially Byronic, but if you set that aside, he can still function in the story the way the character needs to — Beelzebub as Jane was not working for me at all. If Gabriel tried to pull on Bee some the shit Rochester pulled on Jane, Bee would just straight punch him in the face. By that point it was getting pretty late, so I fired a message off to Euny about how I’d do it that I’m pretty sure was supposed to be a joke at the time, but the next morning she came back to me super on board for it, so here we are.

Okay, stick with me, cause it’s going to sound weird at first, but I promise it all comes together. As I said, Gabriel as Rochester, but Jane is Aziraphale. Beelzebub is instead Bertha, Rochester’s mad wife. For Aziraphale and Gabriel’s relationship we’re going to take the things about Jane/Rochester that are a bit problematic and amplify them, while dialing down the idea of there being any genuine love there. For Aziraphale Gabriel is handsome and charming, but more importantly he holds a position of power over her, so when he starts showing an interest she subconsciously convinces herself she returns his interest. Meanwhile Gabriel is lonely and mentally exhausted and Aziraphale is emotionally easy for him. She’s attractive enough, she’s there when he wants her, goes away when he doesn’t, doesn’t ask anything of him, and is generally pretty compliant. I wouldn’t say it’s Gabriel’s intention to use Aziraphale like that, but that’s absolutely what he’s doing.

So we get to the wedding scene and the truth coming out about Bee — let’s maybe have Ligur as her brother, since in Jane Eyre Bertha is a POC — and Aziraphale leaves Thornfield. Eventually she ends up at the doorstep of the River siblings: Crowley, Shadwell (young ‘67 era Shadwell, obv, not old man Shadwell), and Anathema. (Which admittedly is a weird group of siblings. I’d probably make Anathema a half-sister, with a Puerto Rican mother.) Crowley instantly gets a massive crush on Aziraphale when Shadwell brings her in, and very quickly falls in love with her. However Crowley assumes Aziraphale couldn’t possibly love another woman, and so keeps pushing Aziraphale on Shadwell, thinking if those two get married, at least Crowley will always be able to keep Aziraphale close by. Meanwhile Aziraphale hasn’t figured out the whole “being into girls” thing yet, but knows she’s hurt by the way Crowley, who is Aziraphale’s dearest friend, keeps pushing Aziraphale away and pawning her off on her brother. Eventually Aziraphale does agree to go marry Shadwell and go to India with him because she’s convinced it her duty and she thinks it’s what Crowley wants. But at the last minute (and with some help from Anathema) Aziraphale realizes she can’t leave the person she’s in love with — her cousin Crowley. So Shadwell goes off to India on his own (and has a terrible time because we hate him), and Aziraphale and Crowley live together as wives with Anathema as their mutual best friend (aside from each other).

But we’re not nearly done yet. First we’re actually going to backtrack some to touch on some Gabriel backstory. I’ve rearranged the timeline a little to lessen the age gap between Gabriel and Aziraphale. Aziraphale can stay 18, but Gabriel I’m pushing down to late 20’s. Part of that means pushing his affair with Céline (who I think we shall leave as Céline) to before his marriage, while he was on break from university. Gabriel was not going to take her baby in — despite her claims that he is the father, he suspects the actual father was her other lover (who Gabriel didn’t know about and dumped her when he found out) Lucian. However, Gabriel’s mother found out about the whole thing and ordered him to take in the child, and Gabriel will argue with absolutely anyone except his mother. No one argues with Mrs. Rochester. No one. And that is how he ended up as the guardian of Adam, who is eight when Aziraphale is hired on as governess.

Gabriel graduates university when Adam is one, and at encouragement from his mother he goes to Jamaica to visit the Masons and potentially court their daughter Bee (apparently God just ships all the angel/demon pairings; all about that balance). They get married and then whoops, turns out “madness” runs in the family. Bee’s behavior starts to become erratic, and she begins losing touch with reality. They had back to England with hopes of better doctors and a cure, but during the voyage Bee’s symptoms continue to worsen and she becomes prone to violent outbursts. It’s so bad by the time they reach England, Gabriel ends up sneaking her into Thornfield at the dead of night. Little three year old Adam wakes up and sees this, but is told in the morning he dreamed it. He still tells the story to Aziraphale when she comes years later, but Adam tells a lot of wild stories and she assumes this is just another one of them.

Backtracking a bit, what Bee has is what we would recognize as schizophrenia and she is currently suffering from a psychotic episode (which are of course not usually violent, but in Bee’s particular case she can be). Unfortunately the doctors weren’t really familiar with that, so they just called it hysteria. It’s all those lady parts, making her crazy, as they do. Bee is prescribed with a frequent regimen of heavy doses of opium, to curb her outbursts. It does calm her down, but turns out one of the more uncommon side effects of opiates is to cause psychosis. So this medication actually exacerbates her psychosis, even if it keeps her calm. So she isn’t so much locked in the room as she is just in a constant drugged out haze — when she isn’t full-on catatonic — completely divorced from reality.

Grace Poole will be played by Madame Tracy, who I realize is pretty different from Grace in terms of personality, but I have my reasons. Tracy is the kind of person who is scatterbrained enough to occasionally forget to give Bee her medication and also kind-hearted and scatterbrained enough to sometimes deliberately skip a dose because she seemed like she was doing better, she was practically lucid today, and I really do feel she gets better quality rest when she’s not on the drugs. Those are the times Bee manages to break out, when the amount of opium in her system has dipped enough to allow her to actually get up and move around independently. Unfortunately she’s still suffering from her psychosis at these times. Mostly she just wanders around confused and getting up to small mischief — breaking things, moving things around, and the like — but she is still violent on occasion.

After Aziraphale and Gabriel’s aborted wedding and Aziraphale leaving, Gabriel snaps a little. He sends Adam away (to visit Grandma perhaps) as well as a good chunk of the servants, and then cuts off Bee’s opium. He claims he’s doing this to punish her for her part in ruining his wedding and his chance at happiness, but honestly the dude just misses his wife. Because he doesn’t see the vacant woman sitting doped up in a chair all day as his wife. At least when she’s off the opium and throwing shit it reminds him of the passion she used to have. At first it does get worse, but after a bit she starts to calm down. Tracy stays with her when she’s upset and stays calm and positive, Bee starts to get familiar with the house, less staff means she’s not running into people she doesn’t know as much. They figure out that most of her violent behavior was caused by her being confused and scared and lashing out. Then the morning she wakes up and is genuinely lucid. After 6 years, her psychotic episode is over. They conclude that while the opium was keeping her calm, it was also worsening her delusions, and resolve not to give her any ever again.

All of this about what happened after she left Aziraphale has had in a letter from Adam, written with help from Madame Tracy and his new tutor Mr. Newton Pulsifer. They have heard of Aziraphale’s new station and improved fortune, and Adam begs Aziraphale, as well as the Misses Crowley and Anathema Rivers, to come visit them all in Thornfield Hall as soon as they can. They all lived happily ever after, the end.