#title from Hardy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

emotionoitme · 1 year

Text

safe in your skin

part two of about a girl

carmy berzatto x reader (no use of y/n)

warnings: friends with benefits, bdsm dom/sub undertones, age gap, alcohol & tobacco use, lots of dirty talk, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), unprotected vaginal sex (use condoms!!), choking, mutual pining

wc: 7.5k

a/n: thank you so much for the support on the last chapter! i was literally kicking my legs twirling my hair reading through the replies. please enjoy some more nastiness!! and lots of yearning ofc <3

title fight - safe in your skin

job hunting was a grueling task, no matter how lucky you get— the girl could feel this physically, shoulders slumped and feet aching. she had dropped off applications at 4 different places that day, eager to start a new job as soon as possible. what she didn’t expect was places seemingly desperate for help saying they’d up to a week to get back to her. she dejectedly checked the time on her phone, strolling down the relatively empty sidewalk. it was a little after 3, meaning she’d have time to check out a few more options before heading home. she wasn’t necessarily enthusiastic about the task, either, searching up bars in her vicinity to take an application to. she finds a smaller looking club on google maps 2 miles away and pulls up walking directions. she was looking for a change of pace, but a club was familiar and she catches a second wind as her steps slow in pace, smelling a delicious aroma heavy in the sunny afternoon air. she raises her head from the phone, looking around to locate the source of the smell. she continues forward, looking in the window of a small business. a makeshift sign taped on the glass reads, “the bear”, name underlined, and “help wanted”. she puts her phone back into her pocket, no longer curious about the club she had found. she opens the front door, entering the small establishment and letting her senses be overtaken by the mouth watering scent emanating from the kitchen. the push of the door rings a small bell, and after being inside alone for a few moments, a tall man comes from the kitchen to stand behind the counter.

“hey, sweetheart, we’re closed for dinner prep. you can come back in an hour.” he tells her, voice booming. she offers him a smile, approaching the counter.

“i’m actually here for the help wanted sign. are you guys taking applications?” she asks, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear.

the man lets out a hardy laugh, “you wanna work here? what, victoria’s secret isn’t hiring?” he asks her, scanning her up and down. her small smile drops, rolling her eyes.

“never mind,” she goes to turn, leave, and take her chances with the club nearby.

“ah, hey, hey, hey, wait,” he calls after her, “i’m sorry, i’m being an asshole.”

she shrugs, not entirely disagreeing. he puts a hand out, gesturing to stay, “wait right here and i’ll get carmy.” the tall man disappears behind the kitchen doors, and she takes a quick opportunity to look around, noting the old fashioned decor, a few parts of the restaurant seemingly in renovation. it was noticeably smaller than her old workplace, but harbored a cozy feel, the bustle of the kitchen softly filtering throughout the lobby. she took a copy of her resume out of the small tote bag she was carrying, setting it on the island in front of her. she hears motion, the kitchen doors swinging open and a man clad in a white shirt and blue apron emerges. he approaches her, separated by the counter.

“hey,” he calls, taking her in, slightly, “you, uh, here to apply?”

holy shit, she feels her throat tighten up, studying his face, strong stature, golden brown curls, “hi, yes i am! my name is -,” she introduces, sticking a hand out.

he takes it, momentarily noticing how cold her hands are.

“carmy,” he returns, “it’s nice to meet you. you, uh, got a resume?” and lets go of her hand.

she hands it to him, “here,” feeling slightly self conscious as he glances over it, thinking, is this supposed to be my boss?

“you have a lot of service experience,” he notes, glancing up at her.

“yeah,” she hesitates, “i’m not sure if that’s what you’re looking for, but i’m a fast learner.”

“no, no, that’s actually what we would need, another front of house,” he responds, “we only have richie right now.”

she feels a light flutter of hope in her chest, encouraged by the reassurance of their lack of competence in the front.

“are you working now? this last job dates back six months,” he asks, eyes double checking the paper. there was the dreaded question. she was hoping he wouldn’t notice, heat growing in her cheeks a bit.

“um, yeah…i actually work over at ricky’s,” she admits, hesitantly. his eyes widen a bit, eyebrows raising.

“i don’t dance, though,” she rushedly clarifies, “i bartend.”

his eyebrows relax, and a smile creeps at his mouth in realization.

“yeah, uh, that’s why i didn’t put it on there,” she says, gesturing to the resume he held, “everyone always thinks i’m a dancer.”

he clears his throat, busying himself with the piece of paper in front of him for a moment before speaking.

“you a student?” he asks, glancing up to see her nod, bright smile adorning her face.

“i’m only taking what i can afford right now, which is like two classes, but yeah,” she explains. he doesn’t have reason for why his tongue feels tied, and the back of his neck hot. he shoves it away.

“well, um, i probably can’t give you more than about 30 hours a week, at least to start. tips are yours to take home but they, uh, probably won’t compare to the tips at ricky’s,” he brings a finger up to his nose, scratching a phantom itch. the girl tilts her head a bit, smiling, “i’ll take that as a challenge,” she quips. a grin breaks his face, not doubting the personable girl.

“so, uh, when can you start?” he asks.

“as soon as possible,” she answers, increasingly eager to quit her bartending job. he looks to the side and behind him, towards the kitchen.

“if you want, i can get you set up today,” he turns back to her, “i think we have some extra aprons in the back.”

“wait, really?” she reassures, him nodding in response. she lets out a small squeak, clapping her hands, big smile on her face.

she’s cute, he thinks to himself, watching her enthusiasm, very quickly trying to shake the thought away. don’t be weird, she’s working for you now. off limits. not to mention he knew he wasn’t exactly boyfriend material, emotionally speaking.

“is this okay to wear?” she asks, gesturing to her outfit and effectively breaking him out of his thoughts. he rakes his eyes downwards over her form, shamefully grateful for the opportunity. hugged by a tight white shirt and baggy jeans that hung to expose a long strip of her lower hips, connecting at her front and lower back. he tears his eyes back up to meet hers.

“yeah, should be fine,” he says, trying to be as nonchalant as possible, “you won’t be working in the kitchen too much at first, so you don’t have to wear a uniform,” he tells her, putting his hands onto the counter, leaning into them slightly.

“and just regular work clothes for my next shift?” she asks, finding herself also leaning forward to press her weight against the edge of the counter. he nods, “yeah,” a smirk creeps at the edges of his lips, “just uh, maybe not ricky’s attire,” glancing at the girl. she giggles. he thinks it sounds like bells chiming.

“what?” she tries to sound surprised, “how am i supposed to make the same tips then?” a smile plays on her lips, meeting his eyes. he lets out a laugh, studying her face.

“i think you’ll find a way,” he responds. the counter space between the two seemed much smaller than earlier, as now he could see her face in much finer detail. he studies it, briefly, then tears his eyes away, forcing himself to step back. he clears his throat,

“follow me,” and begins walking towards the kitchen, “we’ll try and find you an apron. and introduce you to everyone.”

a slight feeling of nervousness as she trails behind, unsure what “everyone” will entail.

“okay,” she replies, and steps behind the counter.

—

he finds himself in his apartment that night, halfheartedly watching a rerun of an old sitcom on his small tv, his mind wandering back to her time again. he was oddly intrigued by her, wanting to get to know her better. it wasn’t just a physical thing—although she was easy on the eyes— it was her demeanor, sweet and gentle, that somehow immediately smoothed his edges. the staff all took an instant liking to her, welcoming her into the kitchen enthusiastically. sydney seemed happy to have another young woman in the restaurant, tina asking her about her university, richie making the occasional snide comment, but undeniably taking a liking to the new colleague. she made her way around the register system surprisingly fast without training, seamlessly taking orders with the exception of a few brief pauses. carmy kept an eye on the girl throughout the rest of the evening in case she needed him, watching her quickly adapt to the shift of environment. the dinner rush moved shockingly smooth, the large tip jar, empty while richie was manning the front, was halfway full at closing time. he was admittedly impressed with the young woman, trying hard to mentally discern between admiring and enamoring. it was almost as if a bright light had graced the restaurant that evening, leaving carmen with a lingering warm tingle throughout his body.

he looks around his dark apartment, messy and congested, cigarettes overflowing the ashtray, dishes piling the sink. letting out a deep sigh and running his hand through his curls, he stands, shutting off the tv and making his way to the bedroom. he could clean everything up tomorrow, not that it would make much of a difference, he thinks. although the booming launch of the bear was incredibly uplifting to the chef, reassuring him of the sacrifices he made to keep mikey’s restaurant running, there was still a void carmen felt deep in his heart, growing increasingly apparent in his solitude. he often felt trapped inside of himself, wondering if this was just something he would have to learn to deal with, destined to be defined by his profession, wishing there there was a way he could give into his personal desires while maintaining his professional growth. he crawls into bed and shuts off his lamp light.

you can’t have your cake and eat it too, a saying he heard from his mom as a kid. he shuts his eyes.

—

fuck. she takes an uneasy breath, staring at herself in the bathroom mirror. turning on the faucet, wetting her palms in cold water and bringing the shaky hands to both sides of her face.

why am i so nervous?

she wondered if everyone felt this way before a hookup, focusing on deep breaths to calm her nerves. she wasn’t used to this. she had only ever been intimate within relationships, not having experience with casual encounters, nevertheless ones involving her boss. she knew it was a risky pursuit, especially for being a girl with an easily breakable heart, having shed many tears over lovers prior. nevertheless, something about the pull she felt to carmen was magnetic. he was strong, dominant, confident in his work, yet deeply complicated, a dull sadness within his striking eyes. he seemed the type of person to consistently be bearing the heaviest load on his back, and she had an inexplicable urge to relieve him of this, even if only for a moment. she wanted to watch him in bliss at her own control. just have to make sure it doesn’t go too far, she consistently reminds herself. she studies herself in the mirror, skinny straps of a short white sundress peak out from underneath her hair. a dress she specifically chose for him, adorning her exposed chest with a simple gold necklace. she ultimately was aiming to be comfortable for the night, yet each item was intentionally selected with a certain set of eyes in mind.

i can do it. i’m going to have fun tonight, she tells herself, and potentially fuck my incredibly hot boss, warming at the thought, then i’m never ever gonna think about him again, she internalizes, having had enough with wasted energy on dead end flings.

she smoothes out the white dress, satisfied with how it hugs her figure, then exits the small bathroom, making her way into her living room. the clock in the adjacent kitchen reads 11:13, and she makes her way to the large window to watch for carmy’s car. she felt erratic, heart palpitating in her chest at each set of headlights that drove by. she opens the window a few inches, breathing in the warm summer night to try and calm her increasing nervousness. it does work, a bit, and she’s able to even out her breathing before leaving. after a moment, a car slowly drives up to the pavement in front of her apartment and stops, engine idling. her phone vibrates on the counter, and she picks it up.

carmy: i’m here.

her heart does a leap in her chest, grabbing her keys and turning off the light before opening her front door and walking outside, locking it behind her. she feels slightly self conscious in the headlights while approaching his car, hearing the click of the passenger’s door being pushed open for her. she grabs the door, pulling it all the way open.

“hi,” she greets, a bit shy.

“hey,” he replies warmly, silently taking her image in. she climbs into the car and shuts the door behind her, noticing the clean car’s lack of trash and empty ashtray, differing from the previous night. she meets his eyes, a fluttering in her chest. he looks tired, lids low and white shirt wrinkled, but still has a spark in his eyes, clearly admiring the girl’s presentation. he turns his head back in front of him, breaking the eye contact and putting the car into drive.

“how was close?” she breaks the silence with, noticing the way his eyes flicker back over to her.

“long,” he admits, “harder without you there.”

her heart jumps against her ribs, face growing warm at the slight praise.

“what? you mean richie isn’t the best front of house closer ever?” she feigns surprise, smiling at the thought.

he lets out a scoff, shaking his head, and she softly giggles at this. the lull of the tires against the road fills her ears, noting the limited cars out at this time. her nerves have significantly calmed from before, but she still feels a knot in her stomach, amplified by the light smell of his cologne within the confined space.

“are you, uh… are you hungry?” he asks her, eyes trained front. she pauses a moment, debating whether she is hungry or the gnawing feeling in her stomach is from nerves alone.

“yeah,” she replies, “i am.” she wasn’t going to turn down a personal meal from a world class chef, and the thought of him cooking for her before anything else spreads a warmth throughout her chest.

“good,” a small smile on his face, “i’ll make us somethin’.”

carmen couldn’t help but feel excitement bloom in his chest at the prospect of spending time alone with the young woman, having spent the day at the restaurant mentally preparing for the night. he had been chopping onions before the dinner rush when she closely brushed behind him in the confined space. he was able to smell her sweet perfume, triggering an image of her to flash across his mind— kneeled, lips parted, face flushed, chest bare, leaning into his hands— the knife slipped and he sliced the side of his finger, cursing an obscenity as soon as it happened. he dropped the knife on the cutting board, walking over to the sink, mentally cursing himself for allowing the to perverse thoughts to bleed over into his work, as he promised himself many times they wouldn’t. the bleeding of his finger had stopped quickly under the cool stream of water to reveal a small nick. he was able to put a bandaid on it and get directly back to work, but it plagued him a bit. he wondered if would he be able to maintain the professional kitchen environment in the long run, once the two were satisfied with the fun they’d had. it had proved difficult so far, thoughts of her swarming his head uncontrollably since she had stepped foot into his restaurant.

the car slows, pulling up to the curb outside carmen’s apartment complex. he pushes the gear shift into park, turning off the engine.

“this is you?” she asks, to which he nods. “you live closer than i thought you did,” she chimes, opening the door to step out of the car. she smooths the white dress, glancing around the complex. he comes up behind the girl, pressing a hand to the small of her back.

“this way,” he says, ushering her forward. she can’t help but focus on the warmth of his hand, large and encompassing against her thinly clothed skin. they enter the building, taking the long flight of stairs up to his home, carmy desperately trying to look anywhere else besides the length of her legs leading up to the soft skin of her ass, fully visible as she climbs in front of him. they speedily make it to the top, carmen rustling in his front pocket for the keys. he swings the door open to a dark room, stepping in and flicking on a lamp switch. she follows him in, eyes scanning her surroundings. it was clean and tidy, with piles of various cook books stacked on side tables and a knitted green blanket draped over the old couch. the place smelled like him, and she feels her muscles relax.

“i know it’s not much, but uh,” he shuts the door, “make yourself at home, please.”

she gives him a big smile, “it’s cute. just what i imagined,” and puts her belongings on a side table, walking around to examine the space. he feels the edges of his lips twitch at her response, watching her look at the scarcity of the place. she spins around, facing him, “you’re really clean, too.” she sounds impressed.

he smiles at this, appreciating the assumption.

“it’s not always like this,” he responds truthfully. she lets out a soft laugh and saunters over towards the kitchen island, pushing herself up to sit on the stool he had. he walks to the opposite side of the counter, opening the fridge to gather various ingredients for their dinner.

“what are you gonna make?” she curiously asks.

“just uh,” he pauses, looking for an item, “something quick.” he straightens, carrying the ingredients to the counter. he meets her eyes, the two separated by a few feet of laminate, and he feels his chest constrict under her gaze. “some roasted chicken and veggies, with a garlic herb butter,” he turns back to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of unopened wine, beginning to look for a corkscrew.

“fuck,” she breathes out, “that sounds so good.”

carmy tenses, stilling for a moment. he loved the way her voice sounded, wanted to hear more. it was apparent he was tightly strung from the grueling week, feeling reactive to everything she said. he pulls the corkscrew out from a drawer, opening the fresh bottle and grabbing two glasses.

“you want some?” he asks her, holding it up.

she nods, “yes, please,” eager for a bit of liquid encouragement. he fills the two glasses halfway, handing her one and bringing the side of his glass to clink against hers.

“cheers for making it through the week,” he toasts, earning a giggle from her.

“cheers! and,” she continues, tilting her head, “cheers for richie not seeing my tits when i was in your office,” she grins and takes a slow sip of the wine, maintaining their eye contact. he lets out a breathy laugh, raising his wine glass to his lips, “yeah, i’ll cheers to that,” and drinks, the red wine dry on his lips.

with both of their plates empty and the girl’s warm praise still lingering in the room, carmen drinks the remaining wine from his third glass, feeling calm and airy. the apartment is hot and fragrant from the cooking, and the young man notices a pinch of want in the back of his mind, wondering where he had put his cigarettes.

“do you mind if i go smoke?” he asks her, wine weighing on his tongue. she smiles a bit, shaking her head.

“i’ll go with you,” her voice a bit lower and more drawn out than he would regularly hear it. he nods, standing and walking towards the bedroom to look for a pack of cigarettes.

“i don’t have a balcony,” he calls from his room, opening his nightstand drawer, “but we can step out onto the fire escape for a bit,” he grabs his carton out of the dresser. carmy walks back into the room to find the girl standing, peering out his window at the black grated fire escape structure. he leans beside her to unlock the window, pushing it open. he puts one leg through, ducks, then steps out, offering a hand for the girl. she takes it, hand small in his, and repeats his actions, noticing a definitive impairment as she joins him outside.

the night was warm and humid, chicago air damp with the summer monsoon. it smelled good outside, though, air fresh with recent rain, a mellow hum of cicada sounding throughout the trees. carmy flips the carton open, placing a filter between his lips and illuminating his face with the orange of the lighter’s flame. she runs her eyes over his features while they’re briefly lit up, finding herself in a close proximity to him, the two leaning up against the iron railing. she brushes her hair back behind her shoulders, watching the man smoke. the few glasses of wine she had clouded her previous anxieties. she genuinely couldn’t remember what she was worried about now, thoroughly enjoying the sight of the man in front of her. she leans into him, pressing the side of her hip into his thigh, arm flush against his.

“can i have some?” she asks, staring up at him, glancing down at the cigarette. she didn’t know exactly what it was, the alcohol or him looking so attractive with a cancer stick in his mouth, but she felt compelled to give it another try, having a distaste from previous experience. he turns to face her, gazes locking, a glint of surprise behind his eyes.

“sure,” he answers, remaining still, pointer and middle finger loosely grasping the cigarette. he glances at her expectantly and she leans over, bringing her mouth to the filter, lips brushing the tips of his fingers. she sucks, carmen watching, completely entranced, then stands upright again, exhaling the smoke with a slight furrow in her brow. the man lets a slight smirk break his face, bringing the cigarette back up to his mouth and inhaling. he studies the dark street behind his building, sporadically illuminated by the soft glow of a street lamp, tiredness catching up with him. she keeps her eyes trained on the man, trailing from his face down his body. she stops at his arms, admiring the sheer strength of them, tracing her sights over his various tattoos. she almost felt overtaken by want in that moment, darting her eyes back up to his lips wrapped around the cigarette. the young woman leans into him further, more of her body touching his and now facing him directly, tipsiness slightly clouding her rationality.

“carm,” she breathes out, immediately catching his attention. he gazes down at her, cognisant of her breasts pushed against his side, studying her face to find desire written across her features. she brings a hand to his chest, leaning up and gently kissing his neck. she feels his sharp intake of breath under her body, and she smirks at this, placing a few more gentle kisses around the side of his neck. the two had a strict rule about kissing on the lips, but never made the clear distinction to forbid all types of kissing, carmy not daring to protest. his eyes fall closed, focused on the heat of her lips against his neck, the weight of her body on his. he throws the cigarette to the ground, wrapping an arm around her, sliding his fingers up her back and to the base of her skull, carding his fingers through her hair. she nips his neck suddenly, causing him to instinctively tighten his grip, pulling the hair, emanating a breathy moan from the girl. his mouth falls open, a smirk playing on the edges of his lips. wrapping his other arm around her back, hand grabbing her hip, he pulls their bodies closer together. carmen’s tight grip doesn’t falter, pulling her head back to see her face, her eyes trailing upwards to meet his. she studies his blown pupils, him drinking her in as if she were a desert oasis. her face is flushed, lids heavy, eyes locked onto his. he leans in and pulls her simultaneously, lightly putting his forehead against hers, noses touching, lips twitching. she can smell the smoke on his breath combined with his fresh deodorant. she finds herself completely intoxicated by this, tightly shutting her eyes, unsure of what she’ll do if she continues to stare. she feels his breath, warm on her lips, so desperate for contact.

“you like this, don’t you?” he asks, voice a low rumble.

she gently nods, nose brushing against his, not trusting her voice. a slight tug makes her softly gasp, eyes snapping open. he pulls away, but only slightly. “answer me,” the sound of his voice weakening her knees. he scans his eyes over her face.

“yes,” she breathes out, sounding far more sultry than she intended, “i really like it, carm,” she admits, tone needy. he pulls away from her completely, the girl missing the warmth from his face almost instantly.

“get inside,” he growls, releasing her hair and removing his arm, leaning over and shoving the window open.

she takes a second to collect herself, almost dizzy from the eye contact and the growing heat under her dress. she puts her hand on the window ledge, climbing back into the apartment as quickly as she could. carmy follows behind, shutting the window halfway. he eyes the girl, standing by the edge of the counter, then walks past her to the couch, sitting in the middle, leaning back. she shifts, unsure of what to do, her hazed courage of earlier fading.

“c’mere,” he gestures her over.

she slowly walks towards him, coming to stand in front of him in between his seated legs, front of her shins bumping into the sofa. he leans forward, bringing his strong hands to caress the back of her thighs, admiring the silkiness of her skin, trailing his palms up and towards the curve of her ass, softly kneading the skin, then stopping.

“take this off,” he commands, squeezing. her face reddens, inching her hands down to the hem of her dress, slowly pulling it up her thighs. she pauses, before flipping the edge up over her head, taking the dress off completely. he softly groans at the sight, fabric removed to reveal her bare body, clothed only by a pair of skinny black panties. she drops it on the floor, shyly bringing her arms up to cover her breasts. he leans closer to her, pressing a kiss to her navel, bringing his hands up to grab her hips. he marvels at her exposed skin, feeling close to primal with desire, tempted to pull her onto his lap and shove the panties to the side.

should i?

he glances upwards at her, a smile creeping at the edges of his lips. he slides his left hand down to her the back of her lower thigh, then quickly pulls her body towards him, the girl letting out a sound of surprise, straddling his lap. he pushes her knees open more, hand trailing towards her inner thigh, stroking the soft skin, moving closer to kiss her neck. she lets out a quiet, “yes,” as she leans into the man’s touch, hoping for some release. his fingers brush against the fabric of her clothed mound, making her buck her hips forward a bit.

“want me to touch you?” he asks her, voice low in tone. she quickly nods her head, biting down on her lip to prevent any escaping noise. he brings his pointer finger to her clothed slit, dragging it up and down over the sensitive area a few times, noticing the abundant slickness beneath the fabric. her eyes flutter closed, cherishing the delicate contact, craving far more. carmen watches her closely, pulling his hand away. her brow furrows, to which he smiles. bringing his left hand from her thigh, he grabs the black panties and pulls them to the side, exposing her glistening core. he groans at the sight, the girls face flushing, bringing his thumb to rest on her swollen clit, unmoving. she whimpers at the sensitivity, bucking her hips forward once more, to which he tightens his grip on her thigh in response. he starts rubbing small, torturous circles with his thumb, thoroughly enjoying the reaction of her body, heat eminating from between her legs, juices dripping down the insides of her thighs and down onto his pants.

“you’re fuckin’ soaked,” he tells her, cock straining against his pants. she’s too embarrassed to respond, closing her eyes and throwing her arms over carmen’s shoulders, resting her face in the crevice of his neck as he continues his circles at a faster pace, dipping his middle finger down to rest against her opening. she kisses his neck, needy for more and tired of waiting, giving a thrust of her hips to sink herself onto his finger. she releases a drawn out moan, clenching around the soaked digit.

“fuck,” he curses.

a sharp smack lands on her thigh, the girl softly whimpering in response, coming back up to meet carmen’s eyes. he has a stern look on his face, a glint of enjoyment present.

“you want me inside of you that bad?” he questions, beginning a soft curling motion with his finger, loving the way she begins to fall apart.

“yesss,” she pleads, breathing heavily, trying to get closer to him, her hand coming up to the base of his neck to anchor herself. he increases the pace, bringing his thumb back to circle the bundle of nerves. feeling her relax at the pleasure, he pushes a second finger into her, marveling at the hot constriction of her walls. his pulses become rhythmic, middle and ring finger fucking into her, a wet squelching sound beginning to fill the room. her panting moans uncontrollably increase in crescendo, quickly clamping her teeth down to bite her lip, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of watching her come undone. he studies her face, closely— eyes screwed shut and head thrown back, trying to seem less affected by his fingers than she obviously is.

his eyes trail down to her bare chest, nipples perked.

jesus christ

carmy slows the pace of his fingers, thrusting them deeper now. he shifts, bringing his lips to brush against her right breast, trailing upwards to her nipple, gently sucking the bud into his mouth.

her teeth release from her lips, letting out a whimper from the pleasure.

he smirks a little, motivated from the noise, taking his fingers almost completely out and easing them back in entirely. his thumb continues its feather like circles around her clit, carmy teasing a gentle bite to her nipple. obscene sounds plentifully spill from her mouth, leaning forward into him as he comes up from her breast. her eyes open and lock with his,

“oh my god, yes,” she cries, breath increasingly heavy, his slow fingers bringing her to the edge. a smile pulls at the corners of her mouth as he continues the same movements, watching her approach her climax, eyes shutting tightly, head leaning back.

“please don’t stop,” her words come rushed, “i’m-“

he withdraws his fingers from inside of her, removing his hand from her warmth completely. she lifts her head immediately and looks to the man, confusion and frustration apparent on her face. he lets his smirk grow.

“what?” he asks, watching her brows furrow further, “did you think i was gonna let you cum?” he asks as he grips her thighs.

“you’re cruel,” she whines, head falling against his shoulder.

“yeah?” the smirk on his face was prevalent in his tone. she shifts the placement of her head and comes to gently kiss the bottom of his neck, the hand resting on his chest slowly inching down his stomach and caressing the skin that meets the edge of his pants.

“yeah,” she responds. another kiss to his neck, this one higher up. she sits up slightly to move her hands lower, unbuttoning his pants and pulling the zipper down. she goes to greedily pull the waist band of his underwear, and he stops her, grabbing her wrist.

“get down on your knees,” he commands, voice rough. she feels a surge of excitement run through her, easing herself to the ground between his legs, eager to inflict on him the pleasure she endured moments earlier, a dull ache residing in her core. she helps him pull his jeans down around his ankles, him kicking them off completely. she runs her hands over the tops of his strong thighs, then bringing her lips to trail kisses from his lower to upper thigh, teasing closer and closer to his clothed bulge, straining against the fabric. he sits up, slightly, pulling his shirt off over his head. she could swear her mouth watered at the sight, shamelessly gawking at his broad muscles completely exposed, along with tattoos she’s never had the pleasure of seeing. she rubs the palm of her hand over the solid bulge, inching towards the waistband of his briefs. in a fluid motion she quickly peels them towards her, carmy’s cock springing from the confinement and slapping against his stomach. she can’t help but let out a soft moan at the sight, bringing a hand up to grasp the base of his cock, thick and heavy in her hand. the young woman marvels, a bit.

“it’s big,” she observes, glancing up at him, then back down. she slowly jerks her hand up and down a few times, nervously eyeing the length. she leans forward, placing a hand on his thigh, and licking a long stripe up the side of his cock, then softly kisses the tip, brushing the head against her plumped lips. she looks up at the man’s face, jaw clenched and eyes completely fixated on her. she flattens her tongue and licks the head of his penis, swirling it around the tip. when she locks eyes with him and grins at him, tongue on his cock, he nearly explodes, throwing his head back against the couch and groaning. she presses her bare breasts against his thighs, now engulfing his length in her mouth, slowly moving up and down, hand wrapping around to stroke what she can’t fit. he grunts, bringing his hand up to his mouth, biting his knuckles for composure. she falls into a pace, saliva coating his cock, dripping onto his stomach. she forces her mouth down deeper onto him, gagging, tears brimming her eyes.

“fuck!” he exclaims, jolting forward. he grabs her hair, gathering it with his hands to keep it out of the way, using every ounce of resistance he has to keep from pushing her head down further onto him. she sinks her mouth lower, bobbing her head and quickening her pace. he tightens his grip on her hair and says her name. she looks up in inquiry, releasing him from her mouth with a wet pop. she continues to stroke his length, meeting his eyes.

“stand up,” he tells the girl, her immediately complying and getting up, wiping the spit away from her mouth. he comes to lean forward, eye level with her stomach, hooking his fingers into the sides of her panties and removing them altogether. he looks up to her.

“go get on the bed,” watching her quickly nod and turn towards his bedroom, standing and following the girl, both of them stark in their nudity. his eyes fall to her round ass, bringing a hand up to give it a small smack. she lets out a little yelp in surprise, turning over her shoulder to find a grin on his face. upon entering the dark room, carmy walks to the end of the bed, switching on a lamp on his dresser. the girl crawls onto the bed, flipping to lay on her back, resting her head on his pillow. she watches him from across the room, raising a knee to stack and bringing her hand up to her chest. she runs her thumb over her perked nipple, tracing her free hand down her navel to the crease of her thigh, staring at the man. he turns to her, raking his eyes over her laying form. her hand shifts lower, fingers brushing over her slickened clit, letting out a soft gasp. she arches her back slightly, rubbing small, soft circles over her sensitivity, locking eyes with the man.

jesus fuck, he internalizes, praying to god this image would remain forever burned into his brain, cock twitching.

there was something about the man that completely diminished her inhibitions, allowing her to fully submit to her desires and finding her brain instantly numb at his control. she tweaks her nipple, letting out a moan, face flushing, lips parting to speak.

“come fuck me already, carmy,” she breathes out, movements faltering. he immediately reacts, getting onto the bed, hands hooking under her thighs and pulling her lower body flush to his, his cock laying over her pelvis.

“can’t wait anymore?” he asks lowly, fully knowing his own desire is immeasurable, desperate to be inside of her.

“no,” she whines, bucking her hips and unintentionally spreading her slickness over the bottom of his length. he lets out a strained breath, running his thumb over her hipbones, grip tightening. he pulls back, then slowly thrusts forward to glide through her folds, feeling her grow increasingly wet. he moves back slightly, now gripping his cock and giving it a stroke, pressing it against her opening. he shifts his hips, slowly inserting the head. he looks to her, meeting her eyes.

“this ok?” he asks, scanning her face, watching her nod enthusiastically.

“put it in, please,” she pleads.

he pushes his hips forward, sinking inside of her inch by inch. the two watch the sight, entranced, a harmonious moan ripping through the both of them. buried to the hilt, carmy pauses, coming forward to lean over her— resting his right forearm by her head, his left arm wrapping around her leg and hoisting it up over his lower back. she wraps her arms around the back of his neck, pulling him in further. his thrusts start slow and shallow, face buried in her neck, almost in disbelief of the pleasure, so much better than those dreams. he bottoms out, hearing her gasp.

“you feel,” she breathes out, “so good,” her eyes screwing shut. he thrusts, again, slowly, moving his hand to grip her ass.

“fuck, baby” he groans into her neck, hips working at a delicate pace. she clenches involuntarily at the name, eager for more, urging him closer with her leg. he recognizes the cue, bringing his leg in closer, pulling out almost completely then plunging back into her. she pants, bringing a shaky hand up to grab his sturdy bicep for stability, feeling his strong muscles ripple underneath her grip. he bites down on his bottom lip, face and chest flushed as he pulls his cock back out of her tightness, thoroughly enjoying the view. he snaps his hips forward, the girl crying out, squeezing his arm tightly. carmen settles into a heightened pace, the depth of his cock igniting a fire within the girl. she moves a hand down and circles her sensitive clit with two fingers, feeling her orgasm already rapidly building as he lifts her lower back slightly off the mattress, driving into her harder. breaths grow heavy, the room gets hotter, skin slaps against skin. he brings his hand up to the side of her face, coming to hover above her, locking eyes. her whole face is flush, baby hairs sticking up, a wild lust in her gaze. carmy snaps his hips harder.

“you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he tells her in pace with his thrusts, the girl letting out a moan in response, ripping her hand away from her clit as to not fall over the peak. everything is almost too much as the man relentlessly fucks her, savoring every sound, feeling, sight, not knowing if this would ever happen again. her climax approaches closer with each strong thrust of his hips, and she feels compelled to ask permission.

“carmy,” she whimpers, “can i please cum?”

he groans, moving his hand to rest on her throat.

“hold on baby, almost,” he grits through his clenched jaw, driving his cock deeply into her, slick juices spreading everywhere. she brings her hand to the back of his neck, grabbing his curly brown locks and tugging. he lets out a sharp breath at the action, hammering his hips against her, hoisting her leg a bit higher. his thrusts stutter, feeling himself grow impossibly closer to the edge. her moans become a chorus of “please, please, please,” desperate to cum around his cock. he grins slightly at her anticipation, lightly putting pressure against her throat.

“you gonna cum for me?” he growls, feeling himself approaching his own orgasm. she nods, tears brimming her eyes, face contorted in pleasure. his simple words snap the final string holding her together, and she comes undone with a loud cry, digging her nails into his back. the pleasure feels white hot throughout her body, waves of euphoria overtaking her. her body shivers, the clenching of her heat around carmen is enough to push him over his edge as he lets out a strangled moan, hot cum shooting into her, cock pulsing against her walls. they both lay there still, riding out the aftershocks together, bodies flush. they both catch their breaths for a moment, basking in the warmth of each other. carmy pushes himself up onto his forearm, grabbing her face with a strong hand and planting a kiss on her cheek, then one on her forehead. she tries to ignore the butterflies that erupt inside of her. he reaches over to the nightstand, grabbing a few tissues, then slowly pulls out of her, his cum spilling down the curve of her ass. he gently cleans her up with the tissue, walking to the bathroom to throw them away once she’s dry. he returns to his room to see her sprawled onto her side, laying over his pillows. he joins in, laying next to her, scooting his strong arm under her head. she scoots closer to him, hand on his chest. he’s warm, smells good, feels safe, and she finds her eyes close for a moment.

“i’ll leave in just a sec,” she tells him softly, “i’m just so comfy.”

he wraps his other arm around her, kissing her forehead once more.

“stay the night,” he suggests, knowing it’s for a selfish reason, currently unable to fathom sleeping in a cold and empty bed without her presence. she happily hums in response, snuggling closer, already feeling herself drifting off. he closely watches the girl laying in his arms, eyes flickering over her face. he admires her features up close, examining what he’s usually too far away to see, running his eyes over a few faded freckles, the light peach fuzz on her cheek, the glimmer of a golden nose ring. he feels a twinge in his chest, resting his forehead against the sleeping girl’s, her deep breathing melodic to his tired ears. carmy knew deep down he wouldn’t be able to entertain this forever, opting to cherish the feeling of her against him while it lasts. he reaches to the foot of the bed, pulling a throw blanket up over the two of them, not bothering to shut off the lamp. he feels a sweet relief once he pulls her into him once more, nuzzling his nose into her hair. he shuts his eyes, the events from the day catching up to him.

he finds the last thing he thinks about before drifting into sleep is her, sweet and airy, breathing in her scent closely. he hears a dreamlike giggle, reminiscent of bells chiming, and smiles softly.

—

i hope you enjoyed! writing for these two gives me the butterflies fr

chapter 3 hopefully in the works! <33 if you enjoy please let me know :)

part 3 - human, for a minute

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto imagine #the bear imagine

2K notes · View notes

savkirschtein · 6 months

Text

AOT character & their personal fashion styles

characters : Eren Jaeger, Mikasa Ackerman, Armin Arlert, Jean Kirschtein, Connie Springer, Sasha Braus, Marco Bodt

warning: all of these are just purely based off of my personal insight and views of the characters and how i think they’d dress today

🪩🥡🪐🎸🎧

Eren Jaeger: 🎱🌪️🩻⛓️

based off of season 4 Eren

i picture Eren in todays world really rocking with a minimalist street style

he’s all for comfort and breathability in his clothing and his style reflects that

a closet full of loose fitting boxy t-shirts

LOVES the cold months so he can layer his hoodies and leather jackets

while also sporting the slutty tightly fitted black shirt grey sweat pant combo every now and then

maybe even just walking out his apartment with a wife pleaser and baggy jeans on as a fit alone

all paired with sneakers, small silver hoops, and a chain of some sort

Mikasa Ackerman: 🍒💿📷🃏

we all know for a fact that Mikasa can DRESS

she just has an eye for fashion and has a unique style of her own

one that isn’t over the top, in terms of being a spectacle, but just well put together and tailored to HER. a girl you 110% give a second glance

she is a girlie who LOVES wearing any skirt whether it be long, midi, mini or knee length she LOVES them

most of her pieces are pretty free flowing with lots of different silhouettes

absolutely loves a good leather boot, pair of mary janes, or platform loafers

she literally could wear a trash bag and make it look like it’s the next trend

and has a huge collection of baggus

Armin Arlert: 🎧📘🍵☁️

Armin will literally never be free of the soft light academia aesthetic

the cable knit sweaters, soft cardigans, and sweater vests will forever have a hold on him

but what college boy Armin loves more than anything is a good quarter zip or quarter button up

or a nice casual white and blue striped button up

almost all of his clothing is soft and warm materials

definitely withholds the cute boy in the library title

Jean Kirschtein: 🪐👁️‍🗨️⚡️🌉

will live and die on the hill that Jean is a Carthartt guy

his look is a casual-relaxed but clean one

he’s all for clothing that is durable and will last him forever

Jean’s style is honestly super basic but NOT boring

although Jean’s style isn’t one that is made to make it hard to look away from its one that really just compliments him well

loves a good hefty Dickies or Carthartt jacket, basic white t-shirt, or a loose button up over a tank top

while wearing a variety of rings, with small hoops and a chain

his clothes compliment his strongly built and lengthy body well, which is why although they are basic, it isn’t boring

Connie Springer: 🎧💽☄️🩻

Connie is a literal fashionista

he probably is tiktok famous for his fit check videos and adventures at the thrift stores

the street style aesthetic was MADE for Connie

knows how to put pieces that may not look ideal together into a cohesive fit

LOVES JORTS and swears he made them trendy again

and wearing jerseys of teams he has no clue of , but it’s for the fit so who cares

Sasha Braus: 🍰🪩🗽🧸

the DEFINITION of downtown girl or coming of age movie in a city aesthetic

Sasha lives for the nostalgia of 90s pieces and it shows in her clothing

comfort is also a huge factor that plays into Sasha’s outfits

color is another component that makes Sasha’s outfits HER outfits

LOVES a good brown leather jacket

Sasha honestly though has a hard time sticking to just ONE specific style and will wear whatever feels good for her

Marco Bodt: 🍙🪴♠️🍊

Marco is a soft boy at heart but he’s traded in the traditional sweaters vests for hardy collared jackets

he absolutely LOVES PLAID

and loves layering his button ups with his worn out thrifted jackets

has a more warm palette in terms of colors and leans more towards earthy tones

super casual in his shoes though sticking to good tried and true high top converse, sambas, or loafers if he's feeling fancy

#eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #armin arlert #connie springer #jean kirstein #sasha braus #marco bodt #aot modern au #aot x reader #attack on titan headcanons #aot college au #Spotify

269 notes · View notes

satuguro · 1 year

Text

*ೃ࿐TO FAULT A NET

[ ACT I: KEEP YOUR FRIENDS CLOSE ]

spiderman! ethan landry x black cat! reader

#SYNOPSIS— you stumble across a murder, ethan has daddy issues, you think spider-man's an easy fight, and spider-man makes a deal with you.

#CONTAINS— enemies to lovers, slowburn, antihero&vigilante reader, familial issues, gore, blood, murder, death, sexual/suggestive content (in this part & some other parts), reader is overly flirtatious

#AUTHORSNOTE— is anyone really surprised that i started a new series? no, but i will warn you rn that this series won't be incredibly accurate to marvel and scream (obviously), so if that bothers you, don't read!

your feet moved quickly as you ran from rooftop to rooftop, the sound of distant sirens moving father and farther away from you was like music to your ears. it would've calmed you down— maybe even slowed your running —if it weren't for the fact that you had a shadow. a comically dressed shadow in red and blue.

the continuous sounds of webs being shot at you was the only thing keeping you running towards nothing. running away from the metropolitan museum (which you didn't even steal from, by the way) with some insect man close to your feet.

"hey, wait! lady, stop!"

and he wouldn't shut up. constantly calling at you, trying to catch your attention like some fanatic. it would've almost been cute if you weren't avoiding capture.

you didn't even turn back to look at him, forcing your body to move faster and faster until your momentum was stopped by a web hitting your ankle. you growled in annoyance, reaching down with your unsheathed claws to cut yourself free from the webbing, until you were harshly pulled onto a roof by the masked hero himself.

you laid on the rooftop, staring up at new york's very own spider-man (who was never a problem until a couple months ago, when he seemingly appeared out of nowehere). covering your obvious discontent, you smiled a malicious smile. "hi, spider," you said, before kicking his knee back and forcing him to fall. his groan of pain met your ears as you threw a punch at his face, one he quickly dodged.

"are you another hero?" he asked between kicks and punches, completely ignoring the fact that you were both in a fight. it didn't seem like much of a problem for him, as he was far too focused at multitasking between asking you personal questions and dodging your attacks. "i take that questions back— if you were, you wouldn't be attacking me right now," another dodge, "but you brought that painting back to the museum! but you also stole it so it's a bit of a question of morality, so i think i have to turn you in—"

you grabbed his arm and pinned it behind his back, your other hand coming up to wrap around his neck. your sharp claws dug into his neck, making him hiss in pain as you leant in close to his ear. "do you really think you can turn me in?" your hand let go of his neck but remained close to his face, your pointer finger coming to play with the edge of his mask. you pulled it up, only making it halfway up his face, before he broke free from your grasp.

but once he turned around, you were already gone.

some say that when your father died, the rich people of new york were finally able to breathe. finally, their endless valuables were finally safe, their priceless collections of stolen art, their rows of cars enough to pay any college kid's tuition, and their bank accounts were now all free from his iron grasp. gone was the man who had taken what he wanted and got it, gone was any trace of his legacy or his family; walter hardy was dead.

he always claimed that of all the valuables in his hands had taken, you were his most prized possession. the one person he would lay down his life for, and to have him gone.. it was all too unfair. all too wrong for him to die trying to get back to his daughter.

so that was why you had taken his place. black cat no longer became something policemen and journalists used to reference your father. that title was something you chose to share with him, because as policemen talked over their little radios about the burglary on west 81st street, you were already miles away, listening to their pathetic voices over the radio.

it was halloween in new york, and while many homeowners chose to stay home and tend to their candy duty, others were off partying at their friends' houses, oblivious to the fact that you had already deactivated the alarm to their home. three houses in the span of one night; you were sure that your greed would be your downfall one day.

but as you raised your hand up to the moon, watching how the rays of light danced along your wrist, you knew in your heart that your greed ran deeper than simple wants. you had your reasons.

a blood curdling scream met your ears, making you hurriedly shove the jewels into a pack and unsheathe your claws, ready to attack. walked near the edge of the building, the squelching sound of blood reached your ears, making you all the more on edge as you peered off the side just in time to watch a man shove a mask (the same mask from that one movie, stab) into his bag and turn a corner.

your eyes focused on the woman in yellow, dead and seated against the wall with blood pouring from her chest like a fountain. not a sound was made as you climbed down the wall and landed on your feet, cautious as you stepped closer to the unresponsive body.

"fuckin' asshole," you murmured as you observed the body, eyebrows furrowing. the woman, blonde and pretty, looked familiar to you. leaning down to take a closer look at her face (and careful not to step in the growing pool of blood around her), your eyes widened when you fully took in your features.

that was a film professor at your college.

wordlessly, you pulled out your phone and called a number you've never typed in your life.

"manhattan police department," the policeman stated.

"laura crane was just murdered in front of a manhattan bar." and with a click, you hung up.

the sound of that familiar thwip and landing feet made detective bailey roll his eyes in annoyance. just when they had gotten the reporters and journalists in control— a certain masked individual just had to make an appearance. "you aren't supposed to be here," he said in annoyance, turning to look at the masked hero.

"don't you know my m.o by now? like, isn't that your job?" spider-man asked with a cock of his head, obviously enjoying his teasing. "but you can't really.. not allow me to be here. i'm here to help, after all."

"i'm not letting some kid help," detective bailey practically growled, but the hero was already pushing past him to look at the body.

from beneath the mask, ethan hid his shock at the sight of one of his college's professors, dead and staring blankly into empty space. as if constantly being around his estranged his father wasn't enough; now a professor from his college was dead.

"what? bug man finally ran out of things to say?" detective bailey asked snarkily, making ethan snap out of his stupor.

"no, da— detective," ethan said in a faux matter-of-fact voice, squatting down to look closer at the dead body. he almost cringed at the slip up he just made; if only his father knew. "can't a man observe in silence?"

it wasn't like ethan had planned his superhero life out. he had moved to new york right after his brother's death for college, and being desperate to leave his brother's horrible crimes behind, he changed his last name. calls to his dad and his sister became texts. visits became nonexistent. even after he was bitten and took on the superhero roll he was desperate to move on, and right when he believed he finally was, his dad and sister moved to new york.

ethan didn't tell any of his friends that he was related to richie, nor did he tell them that he was the detective's kid. all they knew was that quinn was his sister, and while it hurt to pretend as though richie never existed, it was for the best. he left that life behind him, and quinn seemed to respect that at least.

"how'd you find her?" ethan asked a nearby cop.

"anonymous tip around the time she was murdered."

his eyes took in the gruesome scene in front of him. his eyes drifted to professor crane's blank face, before following the splashes of blood on the brick behind her. his eyes squinted as he continued to look up the wall, the dots connecting when he saw familiar claw marks above the body. they were faint, so faint, that if ethan hadn't seen them before, then he was sure that the police wouldn't have.

he raised his hand, and with another thwip of his webs, he was gone.

ethan was searching for any sign of you. a part of him hoped that you weren't within the confines of your home hiding behind your civilian name. there was a possibility that you helped kill the professor. maybe you were an accomplice. regardless of your role in it all, ethan was sure that you had seen something and chose to keep it to yourself. you had your own reasons for doing so; you believed you were far more clever than anyone. maybe you were.

the scratches on the walls were something you left behind. ethan knew that; he had literally been choked by those claws of yours when he first took up his job as a hero. he didn't want to believe that you you were quicker than him, but the fact that you had gotten away.. to say that he wasn't annoyed by it would be a lie.

he later learned who you were because of his father during one of their awkward dinners. the black cat.

he hadn't invited quinn this time. it was as though he was trying to strictly have some father-son time with ethan; some pathetic attempt at reconnecting, he assumed. if reconnecting meant taking him out to a thai restaurant and only talking about his job or richie and never asking ethan anything beyond the, "how's college?" question.

but something within his father's ramble about work had caught ethan's attention. home burglaries were a huge problem, that much ethan knew, but this had been the first time he ever heard his father talk about it; much less talk about who he suspects had done it.

"they call her black cat. witnesses have only ever seen enough of her to know she's a lady—"

"who do you think she is?" ethan asked, unable to stop himself as he leaned forward in his chair. so that was who he caught running along the roofs of new york. the one person who had gotten away from him.

"some fan of the original black cat, walter hardy. either that," his father put a forkful of pad thai in his mouth, chewing and swallowing, "or his daughter. there's no record of them, though."

"do you think they're the ones who stole from all those houses?"

"that's all i'm saying about the subject, ethan," his father said sternly, looking him up and down suspiciously. "just eat your food."

it didn't take much for you to catch yourself up on the stab murders. you had only heard a little bit about it; not because you lived under a rock, but because you didn't care. not until now, at least.

tara and sam carpenter. tara was in your psych class at blackmore university; you had talked to her enough times that she was probably the closest person you had to a 'friend,' as off as it sounded. you had a similar humor and she wasn't the type to pry over your past (which made sense now, after you scrolled mindlessly through your phone to catch up on the continuous murders).

that was why you were watching their apartment building from the building right in front of it. you had only seen them through their window, but at least you knew they were alive. on any other day you would've called anyone in your position creepy, but you considered this to be lawful stalking.

truthfully, you weren't sure why you were doing this. maybe you had gotten soft ever since you started college. maybe you were bored.

you toyed with a golden locket you had stolen that night, eyes set on their forms moving in and out of sight. you were so focused on them, something akin to worry thrumming through your veins until a web hit your back and dragged you away from the edge of the building. your back scratched across the roof floor, and as you looked up, you saw the familiar red and blue suit you had only ever seen from afar.

“hi, kitty,” spider-man said, almost smiling.

you practically hissed at the sight of him, your hands making quick work of unsheathing your claws as you narrowly dodged another web. you moved quickly and kicked him in the face, letting him hit the ground for just a second before you were straddling, legs tight around him as you grabbed his hands and held it above him. your claws came close to his wrists, the shining metal threatening to break and hurt his web makers.

"oh, spider. i didn't know you liked me enough to stalk me." you smiled wickedly, pressing the metal closer to his wrists. you could feel something bulky underneath his suit, and your malicious grin only grew as you pressed harder against it.

"i don't like you," the super hero said annoyedly, making you scoff in amusement.

"are you sure?" you leaned closer to him, practically touching your nose against his mask. "then why aren't you fighting back right now?" you sent him one last grin before your hand left his wrists. you stood up, not even bothering to offer him a hand as you let your claws come out fully, one of your hands reaching for your gun. "what do you want?"

"i needed to ask you questions about the murder of laura crane," spider-man grumbled, standing up and crossing his arms at you. he looked at the apartment building before glancing back at you, the eyes of his mask narrowing. "why're you watching tara and sam's apartment?"

"why do you know that tara and sam live there?" you fired back, raising a brow. it was moments like these where you were happy you had a mask that at least covered half your face; the more you heard the spider-boy speak, the more you noticed how young his voice sounded. what if he went to your college? what if he was friends with them?

"because based on their history, they're vulnerable to attacks. i know that— being the friendly neighborhood spiderman ‘n all," he said, and you swore he rolled his eyes. "but it doesn't make sense for a criminal like you—"

"that's unnecessarily rude."

"to be watching them.” he looked you up and down, eyes seemingly lingering on your grappling hook and pack of god knows what that were strapped to your sides. the hero’s head then snapped up to look at you. “did you kill her? laura crane?” even he seemed unsure by his own question, the uncertainty in his tone making you shrug nonchalantly.

"do you think i did?" you asked, "you seem unsure yourself."

a pause. "no, i don't. but you know something, and you need to tell me what it is."

you glanced at the apartment building before looking down at your nails, absentmindedly observing them. "what's in it for me?" you asked, not even looking up at new york's favorite hero.

"i don't bring you to the police."

"as if you could do that before," you scoffed, rolling your eyes. you heard him exhale slowly, a smirk appearing on your face at the sound. you were getting to him; with every snarky comment, you pissed him off more and more. and the sadistic part of you loved it. "don't you remember? you couldn't even catch me the first time. sad, isn't it?"

"i'm not gonna make that same mistake again," he said firmly, walking closer to you. stiffly, he brought his gloved hand out. "you tell me what you know and you help me—"

"well, don't word it like that," you muttered. "i'm only telling you information, spider. i'm not being your stupid sidekick."

"you aren't," he said, "but since you're such a well known felon, you could help me figure out who's the murderer. see if they're a criminal, if they were hired by anyone, anything." he sighed. "you help me, and i let you go. deal?"

warily, you looked at him up and down. you weren't one to make deals with anyone, much less a masked hero who was loved by practically everyone. but you found yourself wrapping your black gloved hand around his and shaking it once. "fine."

ACT II, ACT III, ACT IV, ACT V, EPILOGUE

#AUTHOR'S NOTE— feel free to ask to be on the taglist! i'm also sorry for all the typos lol

#scream 6 imagines #scream 6 smut #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry imagines #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry #ethan landry x you #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry x y/n #scream fanfic #scream 6 fanfic #ethan landry fanfiction #to fault a net—!#scream 6 imagine #scream vi imagine #scream vi smut #scream vi imagines

1K notes · View notes

soracities · 1 year

Note

would you be willing to share books or poems with your favorite or even pretty writing / prose? thank you 😊

oh Absolutely

books!

A Moth to a Flame, Stig Dagerman

For Two Thousand Years, Mihail Sebastian

The Bloody Chamber, Angela Carter

Her Body and Other Parties, Carmen Maria Machado

The House on Mango Street, Sandra Cisneros

The Waves, Virginia Woolf

Mrs Dalloway, Virginia Woolf

The Sea, John Banville

The Tenderness of Wolves, Stef Penney

Possession, A.S. Byatt

The Memory Police, Yoko Ogawa

The Thirteenth Tale, Diane Setterfield

The Book of Delights, Ross Gay

Wide Sargasso Sea, Jean Rhys

i am lewy, Eoghan Ó Tuairisc

A Tale for the Time Being, Ruth Ozeki

Seiobo There Below, Laszlo Krasznahorkai

The History of Love, Nicole Krauss

The Carpenters Pencil, Manuel Rivas

Books Burn Badly, Manuel Rivas (full disclosure: the language in this book is HARD)

How the Soldier Repairs the Gramophone, Saša Stanišić

From A to X: A Story in Letters, John Berger

Tess of the d'Urbervilles, Thomas Hardy

A Thousand Splendid Suns, Khaled Hosseini

Still Life with Oysters and Lemon, Mark Doty

The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Milan Kundera

Paris, When It's Naked, Etel Adnan

A Ghost in the Throat, Doireann Ní Ghríofa

Four Bare Legs in a Bed: Stories, Helen Simpson

South of the Border, West of the Sun, Haruki Murakami

A Field Guide to Getting Lost, Rebecca Solnit

Perfume: The Story of a Murderer, Patrick Süskind

The Things We Don't Do, Andrés Neuman

We Love Glenda So Much and Other Tales, Julio Cortázar

Letters to a Young Poet, Rilke

All We Saw, Anne Michaels (poetry)

Collected Poems of Vasko Popa, Vasko Popa (poetry)

Barefoot Souls, Maram al-Masri (poetry)

Without an Alphabet, Without a Face, Saadi Youssef (poetry)

poems!

"In Spite of Everything, the Stars" by Edward Hirsch

"I Can Tell You a Story" by Chuck Carlise

"The Roses of Saadi" by Marceline Desbordes-Valmore

"The Stare" by Sujata Bhatt

"Stolen Moments" by Kim Addonizio

"Moonlight Sonata" by Yannis Ritsos

"No Title Required" by Wislawa Szymborska

"I Sleep A Lot" by Czeslaw Milosz

"Prayer for the Mutilated World" by sam sax

"Try to Praise the Mutilated World" by Adam Zagajewski

"I Cannot be Known" by Paul Eluard

"The Cinnamon Peeler" by Michael Ondaatje

"Filling Spice Jars as Your Wife" by Kai Coggin

"Persimmons" by Li-Young Lee

"This Room and Everything in It" by Li-Young Lee

"When We With Sappho" by Kenneth Rexroth

"On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous" by Ocean Vuong

"Not Even This" by Ocean Vuong

"Elegy of Fortinbras" by Zbigniew Herbert

"Wedding Poem" by Ross Gay

"Transformations of the Lover" by Adonis

"Cloves" by Saadi Youssef

"Punishment" by Seamus Heaney

"I've Dreamed of You So Much" by Robert Desnos

"Bleecker Street, Summer" by Derek Walcott

"Cave Dwellers" by A. Poulain Jr.

"De Humani Corporis Fabrica" by John Burnside

"The Great Fires" by Jack Gilbert

"The Forgotten Dialect of the Heart" by Jack Gilbert

#ask #anonymous #book recs #poetry recs

800 notes · View notes

nova-amor · 1 year

Text

𓈒∘☁︎ ◜ 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 ◞

𝐜𝐰 — 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐫!𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐩𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 [𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.], 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥 [𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫], 𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 — 𝟏.𝟖𝐤

"what the fuck was that?" choso hisses through gritted teeth, pinning you to the farthest corner of the bar. his hands are on either side of your head, palms pressed hard to the wooden walls behind you. "what the hell do you think you're doin'?"

you're clutching a brown beer bottle close to your chest, the cool condensation dampening the fabric of the black crop top you're wearing. choso is seething— golden eyes narrowed down at you, cheeks reddened with anger, muscles tensed; he looks like his head is about to implode and you’re loving every second of it. like the good person you are, you fight back a smirk, bucking your hips into choso's front, your legs intertwining with his. and, you’re just loving every second of this moment.

"what?" you tease, your eyes glimmering with a sense of mischief that doesn't go unnoticed by the man. "they play really good music here on the weekends, can't help that i want to dance to it."

"you were dancin', huh? so shaking your ass against a complete stranger in front of me is dancin' to you?" choso is on the verge of exploding, his knuckles growing white beneath the fabric of his motorcycle gloves.

choso fought to restrain himself from going over and punching the man that you had been entertaining just seconds before, he knew better than to get into a bar fight on his own. even if he knew he could take on multiple men at the same time.

"you like pissin' me off, baby? like makin' me jealous so that i can take my anger out on you later?" choso ranted, his eyes darkening as he lifted his hands off the wall. his strong arms wrapped around your waist, pressing your body tightly to his. you could feel his erection poking at your pelvis, straining against the tight fabric of his black jeans. "do you know how crazy you make me? i hate it when you act like a little slut in public, fuckin' hate it."

you tilt your head back to meet choso's gaze, one of your hands resting at the top of his shoulder blade. the pad of his motorcycle jacket is rough against the soft palm of your hand, well-crafted and hardy material designed to protect him from asphalt burns and other injuries. you loved seeing choso in all of his gear, the full blacked-out outfit making your pussy clench whenever he rode to meet you somewhere.

"we're just friends, choso," you whisper to him, voice heavy with desperation for him to claim you. you two had spent months running circles around one another, unable to put a solid title on the relationship you had regardless of the true feelings you held for one another. "there's no reason for you to be jealous when i'm not your girl."

choso rolls his eyes, pulling away from you like you were acid-burning his skin. he gnaws on his bottom lip, a habit he always did whenever he was deep in thought. and, before you could get a grasp on his actions, choso snatched the bottle of beer from your hand and gulped down the rest of it, tossing it into the bin next to you when he was done.

with a low "we’re leaving", choso snatches your wrist with his large hand, the rough padding of his gloves digging into your bare skin as he drags you out of the bar. the two of you earn confused and irritated gazes as he shoves through the crowd on the dance floor, pushing past everyone with long strides and little regard for those around him.

"choso, what the fuck!" you snap at him as soon as the two of you are out of the door, his hand finally releasing you as he stalks over to his motorcycle. it's an all-black yamaha r7, matching his riding attire with hints of silver along the handles and mirrors. "where the fuck are we going, choso?"

he snaps his head over at you, throwing his long leg over the bike with ease. he's glaring at you, his mouth curved down with a sneer yet he holds his helmet out to you, silently commanding you to get on the bike.

"home," he says, his voice low and gravely. he tilts the bike upright with the support of his strong legs, the motorcycle roaring to life, the smell of its exhaust filling the open air. "you wanna be my girl, right? so get on the fuckin' bike and i'll show you how to be."

without a single moment of hesitation, you throw the helmet on, the foam pads squishing your cheeks. with the help of the footpeg, you climb onto the back of the bike, wrapping your arms tightly around choso's waist like the many times you had done before. his hand pats your interlocked hands as a warning before he revs the bike, peeling away into the night.

"choso," you call out as he strolls into his apartment, the garage door lowering behind you. he completely ignores you, abandoning you in the garage, the door slamming shut behind him. "can you wait for a damn second!"

you hook the helmet onto the footpeg, making sure it’s secure before following after choso. he shrugs off his motorcycle jacket, tossing it onto the kitchen countertop before removing his gloves.

"what the hell is your problem?" you snap at him, crossing your arms over your puffed-out chest. you're beyond frustrated with him and his silence. you wanted to fight him, knock some sense into him with the way he's treating you.

with long strides across the kitchen floor, choso picks you up by your waist, biceps flexing as he easily plops you down to sit on the edge of the kitchen counter. he stands between your legs, glaring down his nose at you.

"you're my fuckin' problem," he growls, dipping his head down to your neck. his kisses are hot, open-mouthed, and wet— sucking and biting at the delicate column of your neck. "talkin' about wanting to be my girl and then slutting yourself out whenever we go out," he sucks at the sensitive point underneath your ear. "you've always been my girl, baby; thought i made that clear when i started bouncin' ya on my cock months ago."

your head rolls back, brows furrowed as you arch your neck further to the side, allowing choso to stake his claim on your skin through bites and hickies. your brain is reduced to mush as he drags the flat of his tongue from the crook of your neck and up to the hinge of your jaw. your fingers lacing themselves into his hair, tugging and pulling at the silky strands, earning a hiss from deep within his throat.

"never gonna share you; no one gets to use you the way i do," choso bites at your neck before pulling away, his black pupils blown out as he peers down at you. his lips are bruised, cheeks flushed from abusing your skin to his liking. you can only imagine the bite marks and bruises that decorate your neck. "no one knows your body like i do; doesn't know how to make you moan, and beg, and turn you into a messy puddle that can barely form a sentence."

your clit throbs against the cloth of your panties, your underwear soaked thoroughly with your arousal. choso never really spoke during sex, rarely spoke in general, yet whenever he did, it was either to say a joke or command authority over your friend group whenever they got a little too rambunctious. the switch in his behavior caught you off-guard, but you weren't one to ever complain. you liked it when he took charge.

"no one knows how much you like it when your nipples are pinched," he tugs your crop top up, prying your breasts from the confines of your bra, spilling them out into his warm hands. he tugs and rolls the sensitive buds between his fingers, a series of moans bubbling from your lips. "such pretty fuckin’ tits, baby, fuckk," he mumbles, admiring the view.

"no one knows how wet you get when i play with them, bitin' and suckin' on them 'til their bruised and puffy," he dips his head down to capture one of your nipples between his teeth, sinking his pearly whites into the soft flesh. a cry rips through you when he pulls at your nipple, harder and harder until he lets go with a ‘pop’. "bet you're fuckin' soaking already, baby. let me pull these jeans down and see,"

you shuffle atop the countertop while choso helps to pull your pants down, the cool surface causing a shiver to run down your spine as your bare ass cheeks make connect with it.

"i was right, huh? got niagara falls forming in your panties, baby," choso kneels to the ground, inhaling the musky scent of your arousal through the soiled cloth. his nose nudges against your clit, tongue teasing at your entrance, soaking your panties further with his saliva. "no one could make you get this wet but me, ain't that right, baby?"

"yesyesyes—" you're breathless, too far gone to form a proper thought. your hands grip choso's hair, the only support tethering you to the earth. "fuck, cho, please need your mouth— need ya t’ fuck me with your tongue— needs it s’ bad—"

choso chuckles, standing up to press a sloppy kiss to your lips. his tongue invades your mouth, the pink muscle scouring every crevice and cementing his claim all over it. he tugs your panties down to your thighs, rubbing your clit around his index and middle fingers before dipping a single digit into your wet heat. he slips into the tight ring with a grunt, poking and prodding against the tight clench of your walls grasping at his finger.

"so fuckin' tight, lemme hear them pretty moans," he slips another finger deep inside of you, scissoring and hooking them into your gummy walls. "wanna hear how needy you get f'me."

choso strokes at every inch of your cunt, pulling moan and moan out from you with little effort. you're putty in the palm of his hand, allowing him to mold you around to his liking. his nose is pressed to your neck, peppering kisses and bites along the path, drenching your skin with his saliva.

"remind me who fuckin’ own this pretty pussy, baby," he curls his finger into your spot, your thighs trembling as your walls squeeze harder around him. you could feel peak coming along, so close and just barely out of reach. "tell me what i want to hear and i'll let you cum, can feel your pretty little walls clinging to me— i know you’re fuckin’ close."

your eyes flutter shut, mouth agape as choso’s name leaves your lips like a prayer. "i'm your's, i'm your girl," you moan, choso chuckling at how fucked out you sound, so pathetic and desperate for release. "no one else's, cho, you own this pussy, was made for you and only you."

"that's my good girl," choso purrs, slipping another finger deep inside you. the stretch is sweet, your hips bucking to chase after the sweet release he had promised you. "cum on my fingers, baby, cum for me."

your release hits you like a freight train, gushing all over his hand and pooling on the countertop below you. choso chuckles as your cunt milks his fingers, grasping and clinging to him as your body quivers against him. you swore you caught a glimpse of heaven.

"that’s my good girl," choso retracts his fingers from inside of you, your body feeling so empty with the absence of his touch. he presses his fingertips to your lips, your tongue poking out to lap at his fingers, humming at the taste of yourself. "that's it, baby, be my good girl. clean my fingers up and i'll give ya some cock as a reward, okay?"

749 notes · View notes

anniebeemine · 2 months

Text

Blue Velvet- s.r.

bluer than velvet was the night

summary: Spencer had no idea he could fall for a coworker, nor could he think straight at seeing her in that dress. Pure fluff and self indulgence. Inspired by the Lana Del Rey cover and I Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore by REO Speedwagon.

Word Count: ~4,802

Spencer weaved through the crowd gathered in the main ballroom. The annual FBI gala was the talk of the year. He never cared for it before, making excuses to avoid going, but he made a promise this year. It’s his tenth year anniversary since joining and he was going to be honored with a gift.

“Pretty boy, you clean up nice,” Derek chuckled as he caught Reid’s sleeve.

“Hardy, har, har,” he replied. “Where’s everyone else?”

David raised an eyebrow. “Looking for someone specific?”

“Someone named Y/N?”

“No!” Spencer said, a little too quickly. “Maybe. She said she was running late and I want to make sure she made it.”

There was no way in hell Spencer would stay for long if it wasn’t for you. During your time on the team, you’d grown close. It was on one of those rare quiet afternoons that you discovered your shared interest in the genre.

"Do you like science fiction movies?" you had asked one day, scrolling through the TV guide during a rare moment of downtime during a case.

Spencer had looked up from his research, his eyes lighting up with a hint of excitement. "Actually, yes. I find them fascinating—exploring hypothetical futures, advanced technology, and ethical dilemmas."

And so began your tradition of movie nights, where you'd take turns picking films from the vast world of science fiction. From classics like "Blade Runner" to newer releases exploring the complexities of artificial intelligence and space exploration, each movie sparked lively discussions that ranged from scientific theories to philosophical debates. On weekends when the BAU was quiet, you and Spencer ventured out beyond the confines of the office and his book-lined apartment. Running errands became a joint endeavor, transforming mundane tasks into opportunities for laughter and camaraderie. Grocery shopping turned into a quest to find the most obscure ingredients for Spencer's latest culinary experiment—often inspired by a scientific study or a quirky fact he'd read.

"I read that turmeric has potential neuroprotective properties," Spencer had mused one day in the spice aisle, carefully examining the labels on various jars.

"Does that mean you're going to start making brain-boosting curry?" you teased, looking at the options.

"Maybe I'll give it a try," he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Switching up the recipe?"

You nodded. "Since we have dinner all the time, I thought I'd use you as a guinea pig for new recipes."

Spencer grimaced. "Anything for research, I guess."

You also discovered a shared love for exploring quirky bookstores tucked away in hidden corners of the city. Each visit was a treasure hunt for obscure novels, scientific journals, and occasionally, a rare first edition that would send Spencer into a state of quiet excitement. You'd spend hours browsing together, exchanging recommendations and discussing everything from literature to astrophysics. One particularly memorable afternoon, you stumbled upon a small independent bookstore that seemed frozen in time, its shelves packed with a dizzying array of books. Spencer had eagerly led the way to the science fiction section, his eyes alight with curiosity as he scanned the titles.

"This place is amazing," you murmured, running your fingers along the worn spines of old paperbacks.

"It really is," Spencer agreed, his voice tinged with genuine admiration. "I could spend hours here."

And spend hours you did, lost in the world of words and ideas, until the setting sun cast long shadows through the dusty windows, signaling it was time to reluctantly leave the sanctuary of books.

As the weeks turned into months, your friendship with Spencer unexpectedly deepened. Beyond the crime scenes and the high-stress situations, you found solace in each other's company, whether it was watching a thought-provoking sci-fi movie, embarking on an impromptu culinary experiment, or simply sharing a quiet moment of reflection in the presence of books. Spencer had spent the last few months avoiding questions about your friendship. The two of you would often text casually, making plans with each other more often than with the rest of the team. Prying eyes and curiosity had won over a team member or two. Your friendship had evolved into something deeper. You shared jokes and swapped books every few days. He’d spent hours thinking about his feelings. He dissected every time you’d touched.

The first time he felt a pang of the feeling he couldn’t describe was in Missouri.

The two of you were trying to navigate alongside a creek. Two campers had seen a canoe floating down the creek. The color matched a photo of the missing victim. Your boots crunched softly over the rotting leaves. The recent rainy weather made the ground unstable. According to park rangers, there’s usually an uptick in people slipping into the water. Spencer’s eye caught a flash of red amongst the brown and gray environment. You had gotten so caught up in the excitement for a clue that your foot teetered over a root. You began falling forward but Spencer was able to grab your arm. He attempted to brace himself, taking a step back. Instead, he took his own tumble, steadying himself against a tree. Your eyes had met for a moment. He could see the gratitude in your eyes.

“Thanks, Reid,” you murmured, brushing your hands off. You patted his arm in appreciation, turning back to the task at hand.

Spencer let you go slowly, the pat you’d given his arm still feeling heavy against his skin. You reached the canoe before he could properly think about it.

The second time he felt that dip was in New York City. A case had dragged them out to the city and the weather kept them there for an extra day. The BAU found a small restaurant around the corner from the hotel. You’d sat at other ends of the table, chattering with the team. At the end of the night, you’d psst at him to stay back.

“What?” He asked once the team had walked away.

“I got these tickets for you.” You held up two tickets to a theater in Lower Manhattan. There was a screening of a foreign film Spencer had spent weeks begging you to watch. You just couldn’t shell out the $14.99 to watch it at home.

“How did you get these? I checked earlier and they were sold out!”

You smiled. “I’m not going to lie, I had to beg for these from some lady on Craigslist.”

“Thank you!” He gushed. “Care to join me?”

“Me?”

His smile faltered for a second. “Yeah, Y/N. I don’t think anyone else would like it.”

After the film, hours slipped by as you talked about the film. The conversation flowed effortlessly, passionate about the film and it’s camerawork. Morning dawned and you’d woken up on the bed, facing the window. Spencer laid beside you, facing the opposite wary. You had plans to sightsee with Emily and JJ while Spencer wanted to visit a library or two.

A tap on the microphone on the small stage brought Spencer back to the gala. Derek chuckled, apparently having tried to pull him into the conversation with Rossi. The music resumed after the introductions. Spencer moved around the room, mingling with a few departments from the FBI. He caught sight of you through a few people. He began making his way towards you, stopping as he finally caught a full view of you.

He found himself speechless as the way the blue dress fell over your body. The thin straps and cowl neckline framed your face. Your hair fell elegantly, loose waves traveling down your shoulders. The deep blue fabric shimmered under the dim lighting. Spencer took note of how the dress complimented your figure, showing off every curve and bump. You were talking to a man, older. Spencer was completely mesmerized by how you listened so intently, brows furrow and making direct eye contact. So relaxed, yet so professional. The burning sensation in his stomach returned. Only now, he could pinpoint his feelings.

I’m in love with my best friend

Spencer took a deep breath, turning away. He found himself at the bar, a voice ordering for him. “Ice water!" Morgan clapped Spencer on the back. “Everyone saw that, lover boy.”

Spencer could feel his cheeks burning. Perhaps water would be better than alcohol. Taking the glass of ice water offered by the bartender, Spencer took a slow sip, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat and calming his nerves. He appreciated Derek's attempt to inject humor into the moment, yet beneath the surface, a storm of emotions churned—a turmoil he couldn't easily articulate.

Derek, sensing the shift in Spencer's demeanor, paused for a moment, his playful expression fading into one of concern. He studied Spencer intently, noting the furrow of his brow and the uncharacteristic quietness that had settled over him.

"Hey, man," Derek said softly, his tone gentle now, devoid of its earlier jest. "You okay?"

Spencer hesitated, the weight of his confession still heavy upon him. He glanced at Derek, grateful for the genuine concern mirrored in his friend's eyes. "I… I don't know," he admitted quietly, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Derek nodded understandingly, sensing the gravity of the situation. "Talk to me, Reid," he encouraged, his voice low and supportive. "What's going on?"

Spencer took a deep breath, his thoughts racing as he struggled to articulate the tumultuous feelings swirling within him. "It's just… I've realized something," he began slowly, his words carefully chosen. "About Y/N." Derek waited patiently, sensing that this was more than just another case of Spencer overthinking. He knew that when Spencer spoke with this level of introspection, it meant something profound was at play. "I think… I think I'm in love with her," Spencer admitted quietly, his gaze dropping to his hands as he traced the rim of his glass. The admission hung between them, vulnerable and raw.

Derek's expression softened, understanding dawning in his eyes. “Yeah, we know, kid.”

“Then why didn’t I?”

Morgan shrugged. “You like her, and you’re scared.” Derek leaned forward slightly, his voice low and earnest. "Listen, man," he began, his gaze unwavering. "You're a great guy. Smart, kind, thoughtful—you've got so much to offer. Y/N is lucky to have you in her life."

Spencer swallowed hard, the weight of Derek's encouragement settling warmly in his chest. He had always valued his friend's opinion and respected his insights. Hearing Derek affirm his worth, especially in the context of his feelings for you, gave him a newfound sense of courage.

"You've gotta man up, Spence," Derek continued his tone firm yet supportive. "Life's too short to hold back. You know what you want—now go out there and get your girl."

Spencer nodded, a determined spark igniting in his eyes. He knew Derek was right. It was time to confront his feelings head-on, to take the leap of faith he had been avoiding for too long. You deserved to know how he felt, and he deserved the chance to see where their relationship could go.

"Thanks, Derek," Spencer said sincerely, his voice tinged with gratitude. "I needed to hear that."

Derek clapped him on the shoulder, a reassuring smile spreading across his face. "Anytime, kid. Now go make a move before someone else beats you to it," he teased lightly, the familiar twinkle of mischief returning to his eyes.

Spencer waded through the crowd. He reached you almost immediately. You smiled, quietly stepping away from the conversation to talk with him. “I made it! Sorry for not telling you earlier that I was late. Time just got away from me.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad you’re here.”

You smiled, looking around. You swayed along to the music.

“Hey, Y/N.” He blinked momentarily, lost in your eyes. “I… I just wanted to-” he huffed. “I’m sorry I’m not making any sense.”

You shook your head. “Take your time,” you said softly. “We have all the time in the world.”

He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "I wanted to say that… um, you know, I really enjoy working with you. And… and I value our friendship a lot." His words stumbled over each other, forming a disjointed confession that fell short of what he truly wanted to say.

Your expression softened, a gentle warmth in your eyes as you nodded. "I feel the same way, Spencer. You're a great colleague and friend."

Relief washed over him, mingled with a pang of regret at his inability to articulate his deeper feelings. "Thanks," he managed, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "I… I should go."

He was gone before you could respond. He sat down at the BAU table, trying to forget what just happened by half listening to a discussion over the appropriate level of drunk for a work function. As the evening progressed, Spencer found himself increasingly restless. The encounter with you replayed in his mind, each word scrutinized and analyzed. He was on the verge of getting up and leaving when the awards ceremony began. The room quieted as the host took the stage, announcing the start of the awards. Spencer shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the idea of being celebrated the furthest thing from his mind. He scanned the crowd, his eyes seeking you out, but you were nowhere to be seen.

"And now, for the recognition of ten years of service at the BAU, we honor Dr. Spencer Reid."

The applause was thunderous as Spencer's name was called. He stood, a mixture of surprise and pride swelling in his chest. His colleagues clapped enthusiastically, their faces beaming with admiration and support. He made his way to the stage, accepting the plaque with a humble smile.

As he stood there, the applause continued to fill the room, a tangible expression of the respect and camaraderie he had earned over the years. Looking out at the sea of familiar faces, he saw Derek, Hotch, JJ, Emily, Rossi, and even Garcia, all cheering him on. The moment was bittersweet, filling his heart with warmth and gratitude, yet tinged with the absence of the one person he longed to see.

He stepped down from the stage, the applause still echoing in his ears. As he returned to the BAU table, the sense of accomplishment was overshadowed by the lingering ache in his heart. He scanned the room once more, hoping to catch a glimpse of you, but you were still missing.

Derek leaned over, his voice low. "You did great up there, man."

"Thanks," Spencer replied, his voice distracted. "But I didn't see Y/N."

Derek's expression softened. "She's around here somewhere. Don't worry, man. You'll get your chance."

As he pressed the button and waited for the elevator, his mind was a chaotic blend of thoughts and feelings. He clutched the plaque, a tangible symbol of his dedication and hard work over the past decade. But his thoughts kept drifting back to you, the one person he hadn't seen since his awkward confession. The elevator arrived with a soft ding, and Spencer stepped inside, leaning against the cool metal wall. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

Just as the doors began to close, a familiar voice called out. "Hold the elevator!"

Spencer's eyes snapped open, and he instinctively reached out to press the 'Open' button. The doors parted again, and there you were, stepping inside with a grateful smile.

"Thanks, Spencer," you said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I was starting to think I'd be stuck here all night."

Spencer's heart raced as he tried to compose himself. "No problem," he managed to say, his voice steady despite the tumultuous emotions swirling inside him.

The doors closed, and the elevator began its descent. The two of you stood in comfortable silence for a moment, the only sound the soft hum of the machinery.

"So, how did the rest of the night go for you?" you asked, breaking the silence.

"It was… nice," Spencer replied, his mind still processing the evening's events. "But I needed a break. It was a lot to take in."

You nodded in understanding. "Yeah, these events can be overwhelming. I get it." You fiddled with your dress. "Thank you for coming."

Spencer glanced at you, noticing the way the dim light of the elevator highlighted your features. He felt a surge of affection and determination. This was his chance to tell you how he felt, to finally be honest with himself and with you. Before he could gather the courage to speak, you looked at him with a hopeful expression. "Hey, do you think you could give me a ride home? I wasn't really in the mood to stay any longer, and I could use the company."

Spencer's heart swelled with relief and excitement. "Of course," he said, his voice warm. "I'd be happy to."

The elevator reached the ground floor, and the doors opened to the quiet lobby. The two of you stepped out together, walking side by side toward the exit. The cool night air greeted you as you left the building, a refreshing change from the warmth of the gala. Spencer led you to his car, unlocking it with a click of the remote. You both settled into the seats, the familiar scent of the car bringing a sense of comfort. As he started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, Spencer stole a glance at you, his resolve strengthening.

The drive was mostly quiet, the city lights casting a gentle glow on the streets. Spencer's mind raced with thoughts of how to start the conversation, but every time he opened his mouth, the words seemed to vanish.

Finally, you broke the silence. "Spencer, I just wanted to say thank you for being such a good friend. You've been there for me in ways I can't even begin to describe."

Spencer's grip tightened on the steering wheel. This was his moment. He took a deep breath, summoning all the courage he could muster. “I really appreciate you too, Y/N.”

You grinned at him. “Take a left on Wilcox Ave.”

“Your apartment is a right turn?”

“Just do what I say,” you smiled.

Spencer followed your directions, curiosity piqued as he navigated the quiet streets. The city lights gradually faded, replaced by the serene darkness of a park. He parked the car, glancing over at you with a mixture of confusion and anticipation.

You stepped out of the car, taking off your shoes and feeling the cool grass beneath your feet. Spencer hesitated for a moment before following your lead. You wandered toward a pond, the full moon reflecting off the still water like a mirror. The air was crisp and refreshing, filled with the subtle sounds of nature.

"This is beautiful," Spencer murmured, taking in the tranquil scene. You smiled, looking around. "I come here when I need to think. It helps clear my mind."

Spencer watched as you walked closer to the pond, your silhouette framed by the moonlight. He felt a rush of affection, the moment surreal and perfect. You turned to him, your eyes reflecting the same light as the water.

"Do you remember that episode of Star Trek we watched last week?" you asked, your voice breaking the silence.

Spencer nodded, stepping closer. "Yeah, 'The City on the Edge of Forever.' One of my favorites."

You sighed, a small frown forming on your face. "I didn't really get the part where they had to let Edith die to restore the timeline. It seemed so cruel."

Spencer's heart ached at your words, understanding your confusion. "It's a pivotal moment in the series. It shows the complexity of time travel and the moral dilemmas that come with it. Sometimes, to preserve the greater good, difficult choices have to be made."

You nodded slowly, processing his explanation. "But still, it just felt so unfair. She was such a good person."

"She was," Spencer agreed. "And that's what makes it so impactful. The sacrifice was necessary, but it wasn't easy. It makes you question the cost of doing the right thing."

You sat down on the grass, looking out at the water. Spencer joined you, feeling the cool earth beneath him. The conversation flowed naturally, shifting from Star Trek to other shared interests. You laughed and debated, your voices mingling with the sounds of the night. As the time passed, Spencer felt a deep sense of contentment. This was what he cherished most about your friendship—the ability to connect on such a profound level. He glanced at you, your face illuminated by the moonlight, and felt a surge of emotion.

"Y/N," he began softly, his heart pounding. "I need to tell you something."

You looked at him, curiosity and warmth in your eyes. "What is it, Spencer?"

He took a deep breath, summoning all the courage he had. "I value our friendship more than anything, but I also have deeper feelings for you. I've been trying to sort through them, and I realized that I'm in love with you."

You paused, your eyes widening in surprise. Spencer's heart sank, misinterpreting your silence. "I-I'm sorry if I crossed a line," he stammered, his voice shaky. "I didn't mean to make things awkward. Forget I said anything."

Before he could turn away, you reached out, gently cupping his face in your hands. Without a word, you leaned in and kissed him softly. The world seemed to stop for Spencer, his mind reeling as he processed what was happening.

When you pulled back, your eyes were warm and tender. "I knew," you whispered, a soft smile playing on your lips.

Spencer blinked, his mind struggling to catch up. "You… you knew?" You nodded, your smile growing. "Yeah, I did. And I feel the same way."

A wave of relief and joy washed over Spencer. "But how did you know? And how did everyone else know before me?"

You laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears. "You're not exactly subtle, Spencer. The way you look at me, the little things you do… it was pretty clear."

Spencer felt his cheeks flush, a mix of embarrassment and happiness. "I thought I was being discreet."

You shook your head, still smiling. "Not at all. But it's okay. I like that about you."

Spencer's heart soared, the weight of his unspoken feelings finally lifting. He pulled you into a hug, holding you close as the moonlight bathed you both in its gentle glow. As the first light of dawn began to break, you stood up, brushing the grass from your clothes. "We should probably head back."

Spencer nodded, standing up and following you back to the car. The drive back was quiet, but this time the silence was filled with unspoken promises and a newfound understanding.

When you finally reached your apartment, you turned to him, your expression sincere. "Thank you for tonight, Spencer. And for being honest with me."

Spencer teetered on his toes. “Is it okay if I kiss you goodnight?”

You nodded, snaking your arms around his neck. His hands landed on your hips, lips catching yours. He pulled back. “That dress looks amazing on you.”

“Thank you,” you blushed. “Goodnight.”

Spencer let you go, taking a few steps backwards. “Goodnight.” You unlocked your apartment door, stepping in. You peeked through the door, watching Spencer push the elevator button. “Though,” you said, “I do need someone to help me take it off. Or else I might have to wear it to work on Monday.”

Spencer turned around, his eyes widening slightly. “It’d be a shame. You look amazing.”

You gave him a playful smile, opening the door a little wider. “Then come on in, Doctor.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, his mind racing with thoughts. But the invitation in your eyes was clear, and the warmth in your smile reassured him. He stepped forward, crossing the threshold into your apartment.

The door closed behind him, shutting out the world and leaving just the two of you in the cozy, dimly lit space. The air was thick with anticipation, but also a comforting familiarity. You turned your back to him, sweeping your hair to one side. "The zipper's a bit tricky," you said softly.

Spencer approached slowly, his hands trembling slightly as he reached for the zipper. He carefully pulled it down, the sound loud in the quiet room. His fingers brushed against your skin, sending shivers down both your spines.

"There," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned to face him, the dress slipping slightly off your shoulders. "Thank you," you murmured, your eyes meeting his.

Spencer felt his breath catch in his throat, the moment charged with unspoken emotion. "You're welcome," he replied, his voice husky.

You took a step closer, closing the distance between you. "Spencer," you began, your tone serious now. "I meant what I said earlier. I do feel the same way about you. I just didn't know how to tell you."

He reached out, gently cupping your face in his hands. "I'm glad you did. And I'm glad I finally found the courage to tell you."

You smiled, leaning into his touch. "So what now?"

Spencer's heart raced, but he felt a newfound confidence. "Now, we see where this takes us. One step at a time."

You nodded, your smile widening. "I like that plan."

Spencer leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in this perfect moment. When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, but filled with a sense of rightness.

"Stay?" you asked softly, your eyes searching his.

Spencer nodded, his heart swelling with affection. "I'd love to."

You led him further into the apartment, the future uncertain but promising, filled with the possibilities of love and discovery. As the night wore on, you both knew that this was the beginning of something beautiful and real.

Bonus: “She left without her purse?” Emily asked, slightly hungover from the night before. She squinted, holding a hand up to shield her from the sun.

Derek shrugged. “Reid didn’t answer this morning when I stopped by. He was a mess about Y/N and he just disappeared.”

“Do you think there’s something wrong?”

“Let’s find out.” Derek knocked firmly, but there was no answer. He knocked again, louder this time, but the silence from the other side of the door persisted.

Emily exchanged a worried glance with Derek. “Maybe she’s just asleep?” she suggested, though she didn’t sound convinced.

Derek sighed. “Or maybe she’s avoiding us. Either way, we need to make sure she’s okay.”

Just as they were about to knock again, Spencer swung the door open. hand. Before he could greet them, you came around the corner, your hair tousled and wearing one of Spencer’s oversized shirts.

“Is it the pancakes we ordered?” You asked cheerfully, but paused when you saw your guests.

Derek smirked, holding up the purse. “Nope, just your friendly neighborhood FBI agents, returning a forgotten item.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, thank you so much! I completely forgot about it.”

You must have left it at the table when you spotted Spencer by the elevator.

Emily grinned, stepping forward. “Mind if we come in?”

Spencer hesitated for a moment before stepping aside. “Sure, come on in.”

They entered the cozy apartment, taking in the relaxed atmosphere and the aroma of fresh coffee. Derek and Emily exchanged amused glances at the sight of Y/N and Spencer clearly having spent the night together.

Emily nudged Derek with a knowing smile. “Well, this is cozy.”

You blushed but didn’t seem embarrassed. “We were just about to have breakfast. Would you like to join us?”

Derek shook his head, still smirking. “Thanks, but we’ve already eaten. Just wanted to make sure you got your purse back.”

Emily’s eyes twinkled as she looked at Spencer. “We also wanted to check on Reid. He kind of vanished last night.”

Spencer cleared his throat, trying to maintain his composure. “Yeah, sorry about that. It was a… complicated night.”

Derek chuckled. “No kidding. But it looks like it all worked out.”

You smiled, slipping your hand into Spencer’s. “It did. Thanks for bringing my purse, though. I would’ve been lost without it.”

Derek and Emily shared another glance, then Emily pulled out a ten-dollar bill and handed it to Derek with a smirk. She muttered something quietly.

Derek’s grin widened as he took the bill. “Make it ten.”

“Deal,” Emily replied, shaking his hand.

Spencer and you exchanged confused looks.

“What’s that about?” Spencer asked.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Derek said, still smirking. “Just make sure to invite us to the wedding.”

#spencer reid #spencer reidx reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

131 notes · View notes

whatdoeseverybodywant · 2 months

Text

There is nothing left for Jey to do on Raw… we know he not getting another title shot, especially from Sami so from now, until he gets thrown back into the bloodline story he will be in dumbass matches that do him no good…

Shoulda just drafted his ass to SD and let him take the title from Logan Paul… but hey, what the hell do I know? I’m just a fanfic writer 🤷🏽‍♀️😒

Matt and Jeff Hardy were single champions so why tf can’t Jimmy and Jey have a couple of single title runs???

All they want that man for is his entrance and it’s sad. Homie has had the most matches out of ANYONE on the entire WWE roster and yall wanna keep him off the one of the biggest PLEs of the year?

FOH

And when Jimmy does come back.

Work on his damn character! We get it he’s a player hater but damn, can we get some fucking story progression! Like WHY did he go back to Roman? That shit made no sense…

Jimmy can still be goofy but he can win matches too! He doesn’t need to be SmackDowns resided bitch boy shits weird,

when it comes to The USOs it seems like creative doesn’t give a fuck. Them men have been busting their asses for 14+ years.

14 years of GREAT proms , GREAT matches just for them to be reduced to Yeet vs No Yeet?

I HATE BEING AN USOS FAN RIGHT NOW! I WANT BETTER FOR OUR FAVES AND IT LOOKS LIKE WERE NOT GON A GET IT NO TIME SOON.

#wwe #jey uso #Jimmy uso #the USOs

90 notes · View notes

modrntravlr · 9 months

Text

i drew curtains closed - alec hardy

Alec Hardy x GN!Reader

cw: vague references to sex (like the vaguest) during literal showering together

summary: When Alec finds out you've been sick after not seeing you for a few days, he takes a step back from work to comfort you and nurse you back to health.

Title from The Great War by Taylor Swift

wc: 3.1K

In all honesty, Alec had been planning on paying a visit to your flat that evening since he woke up that morning. He had spent yet another late night at the station, swearing he was close to a break and would come across something he had missed if he only put in a couple more hours of reviewing the statements he and Miller had taken so far. It was by no means unusual behaviour from him, but since you two had started seeing each other, he tried his best not to go more than a day without taking a break to see you, even if it meant just grabbing a quick lunch together, and if he didn’t get to see you today, it would’ve been his third full day away from you. Just like he did every morning, he sent you a message, this time ending it with the promise of seeing you that evening, even if it meant showing up at your doorstep long after the sun had gone down. He knew it was unfair to you, being put on the back burner simply because he was in the midst of one of his unhealthy work obsessions.

As far as Alec was concerned, the morning passed by as normal as any other morning would. He got ready for work as quickly as his body would allow him to, and set off back to the station, after only a couple hours of sleep, where he met up with Miller and the rest of his team, debriefing them on his findings from the night before and calling out assignments. He and Miller would be out most of the day, poking around every crevice of the small town that they could find, leaving no stone unturned. Also like most mornings, he kept his phone in his coat pocket, never taking it out knowing that any calls or messages from his team would come through Miller. It wasn’t until they finally decided to take a break to grab some lunch that he gave his phone a thought, pulling it out to see if he had received any calls or messages from either you or perhaps Daisy. Like most days, there had been nothing from Daisy–she only seemed to reach out to him when she wanted something, or had gotten into a fight with her mother, pleading for him to side with her and tell Tess that she was being unreasonable, even though she knows he’d never contradict her parenting decisions. Unlike most days, however, there hadn’t been a reply from you to his message that he had sent that morning, nor had there been a missed call or voicemail. Despite being a bit unusual, Alec didn’t give too much thought to it, quickly deciding you must have slept in late and had to rush off to work, or maybe your work day had just been busy, leaving you with no time to check your phone or fashion a response. He returned his phone back to its usual space in his coat after sending another short message letting you know he still had every intention of seeing you that evening.

The afternoon had been just as normal as the morning. Some people from his team had come across a witness that they had initially missed, and they without hesitation went to the station and gave Alec their official statement. With a success like that and eager to see you, he sent his team home early with the promise of a hard day’s work tomorrow before returning to his office to finish up the last of the urgent paperwork regarding the witness statement and tidying his desk. When all work was accounted for and all sensitive documents filed away under lock and key, not to be surveyed until he returned to them in the morning, he left the station. As he got into his car, allowing the engine to warm up and tossing his coat into the passenger seat, he once again pulled out his phone, this time finding a message from Daisy asking if he could please convince Tess to give her permission to go to a concert that weekend with some friends from school, to which he replied he was not in objection to, however her mother, as always, had the final say. To not have heard from you for one morning was one thing, but to not have received a reply well into the afternoon was certainly another, and certainly not something you’d have done under any normal circumstances. Alec would’ve been lying if he had said the first thing that ran through his head wasn’t that you were more upset by his neglect of you over the previous few days than you had let on to, leading you to now ignore him, but the thought left him nearly as fast as it had come. He knew for a fact he was no stranger to bottling up his true feelings, refusing to communicate, but he also knew that you certainly were not the type. The two of you hardly ever had any arguments or miscommunications, but that was all attributed to the fact that you insisted on making your feelings, wants, and needs known, thus forcing him to make an attempt at getting into the habit of doing the same. He was sure that if you truly had been so upset by his absence, you would have told him before it got to the point of feeling the need to ignore him, meaning your silence had to be the result of something being very, very wrong.

He wasted no more time once coming to his conclusion, and drove as fast as the traffic allowed him, not even bothering to stop at his own home first to change clothes into something more casual and comfortable. When he finally arrived, he found your car parked outside in its usual spot, although not unusual for the time of day, as you were usually out of work by this particular time. He jogged up the steps to the front door, knocking, and calling out your name, announcing his arrival, only to receive no response. You’d not yet given him a key to your flat, but the two of you had been seeing each other long enough that he knew where the spare key was hidden, and on many occasions, and with your general consent, he had let himself in while you were both out and at home. He waited a moment before knocking again, and when he was met with silence once more, he decided to retrieve the spare key. Your flat was nearly always tidy, hardly ever a thing out of place, but when he walked in, it seemed eerily even more put together than usual, almost as though not a thing had been touched since the last time he had come over. He called out your name into the silence once more as he began to move around the flat, finding no sign that you had sat on the settee, or turned on the telly, or even grabbed a snack from the kitchen upon arriving home from work. Finally, he worked his way over to the bedroom, where the door was open, but barely a crack, gently pushing the opening wide enough to allow him to look inside, and saying your name, almost whispering. It was finally here that he found you in bed, underneath the covers and fast asleep. He walked in quietly and sat on the edge of the bed, reaching up with his hands to brush the stray hairs away from your face and patting them down into place. You were here, safe in bed, and breathing.

He sat there for a moment, gently caressing the parts of your hair and cheek not being obscured by the blankets that had seemingly been tucked all the way up to your chin, and since shifted upwards. He tried his best not to disturb you, but eventually you began to stir and soon woke up. Not even a little bit startled by his presence, you groggily mumbled something incoherent, leaning into his hand which hadn’t left your face.

“Hello, darling,” he cooed, continuing his movements only now in your hair. He was met with a groan and mumble once again. “Sorry I haven’t been by in a while, but I’m here now,” he finished. Eyes still droopy with sleep, you blankly stared at him through half closed eyelids. His face took on a worried look, and as he was about to ask if you were alright, you suddenly turned over, letting out a dry cough into your pillow, trying to shake it to no avail for much too long for Alec’s taste. He stood up, announcing he would get you a glass of water before leaving the room in a hurry and returning a few moments later, at which point your coughing had stopped. He helped you sit up properly before handing you the glass giving you a moment's silence to drink and recover from the fit. When you were satisfied, you dropped the half-emptied glass down onto the bedside table, hoarsely forcing out a thanks, trying not to trigger another coughing fit.

“Oh, darling, are you feeling alright?” he asked, returning to his previous spot on the bed.

You shook your head no in reply, before beginning to talk again. “I’ve been feeling a bit off the past couple days now, but it was worse this morning when I woke up. I had to call in sick,” you explained with a raspy voice, painful and strained from the sore throat you’d had all day. He reached out with his hand, taking yours as he began to rub circles into the back of it with his thumb. Staring down, and intently at the touch, he frowned, before speaking. “I should’ve been here,” he nearly whispered, voice dripping with sorrow. “There was nothing you could’ve done,” you offered, tightening your own grip on his hand.

He stood up eventually, and after having been informed of your symptoms, made his way towards the bathroom, pulling pill bottles out of the cupboard, as well as refilling the glass of water. A headache, which had been one of the worser symptoms, prompted him to pull the blinds closed, and shut the drapes before switching off the overhead lights, which he had turned on when he first walked into the room. Once the pills had been taken, and you were laying back down under the covers, he made his way back to the kitchen, rummaging through the pantry. He had never really learned how to properly cook, and never really felt the need to, but in that moment, as he realised he would have to make due with a can of soup that required nothing more than being heated on the stove, he wished he had learned, if only to be able to make you a proper one. Leaving the soup to heat up in the kitchen, he returned to the bedroom, and opened up the wardrobe, as quietly as it allowed, so as not to disturb you. He didn’t occupy much space in your flat yet, not that he occupied much space in his own home apart from work related documents and files and evidence, but he did have a small section in your wardrobe that was home to a few changes of clothes, although you left plenty of room for him if he ever wanted to add more to it. He silently slipped out of the suit he had been wearing all day and into his more comfortable clothes before returning to the kitchen to see to the soup.

He prepared a small tray with a bowl of the soup along with some soda crackers he had found while he had been looking through the pantry. Alec Hardy was the last man on Earth who would be caught in bed before the sun went down, but tray in hand, he cautiously slid onto the bed, careful not to spill anything before handing it over to you as he tucked himself under the covers and pressed up against your side, wrapping his arm around you. You ate the soup, grateful that Alec had prepared it for you, as he cooed at you, still apologising for his absence, and promising he’d stay with you through the night, occasionally helping himself to a soda cracker or a spoonful of soup as well. When you’d had enough, he returned the tray back to the kitchen before returning to his own spot in bed, this time with the promise of sleep on both of your minds. It was early in the evening, but he had only slept a couple of hours the previous night, and in all honesty he truly was exhausted after pushing himself to the brink over the past few days. If your body was insistent on getting some more rest, he figured he might as well sleep for a bit as well.

The two of you had lulled into an easy sleep, and awoke a few hours later, the winter sun having already set. The medicine and the soup had eased the symptoms a bit, but you definitely weren’t anywhere near back to normal just yet. Feeling better rested himself, Alec on the other hand was ready to jump back into his work, body and mind already conditioned to run on minimal hours of sleep at a time, but he’d be damned if he left your side anytime before he absolutely had to go into the station to meet his team in the morning. “I feel much better now thanks to the soup, I hadn’t had food in all day,” you whispered, still laying in bed, curled into his chest. “I think I need a shower now though, I didn’t have much energy for that today either and I haven’t had one since I got home from work yesterday,” you continued, making a slight half-hearted effort to move away from him. He stood up then, holding his hand out to you as you soon followed after him. Hand still in his, and with a quizzical look on your face, he led you to the bathroom, letting go of your hand to make his way towards the shower, turning the water on. When he turned back around, he reached for the hem of your shirt, hand resting on it with a questioning look on his face awaiting your approval to continue. When you didn’t protest, he continued, pulling your shirt and remaining clothes off of you, with gentleness and care before repeating his ministrations on himself.

Fully undressed and under the warm spray of the water, Alec, considerate as ever, massaged your scalp, working your scented shampoo through the roots of your hair as you relaxed into the heat radiating through the room from the hot water. When your hair was clean and the water had washed away the shampoo, he took to a washcloth, rubbing slow and gentle circles over your skin. Alec wasn’t a greedy man, you had learned early in the relationship. He loved and appreciated every inch of you, worshipping it when given the opportunity to, but in moments like these, any lingering touches his hands may have made left behind only warmth and comfort, never once begging for something more, something you probably couldn’t and wouldn’t give him in your ill state, something he would never dare ask or expect you to give him in it. When he had finished working his way down your body, and as the warm water was beginning to turn cold, he gave you a moment more under the water to rinse away the remaining soap before quickly and carelessly cleaning himself off. Unlike you, he had showered that morning before returning back to the station, but he had no interest in taking a moment to relax into the warmth. He did what he had to do to be decent and presentably clean, but he took it no further than that apart from the times when in health, you had been the one to coax him into a shower or bath, taking time to thoroughly massage the knots out of his muscles and work over-priced, fragranced soaps into his hair and skin that he otherwise would have never thought to use himself.

When he finished cleaning himself, he shut off the water, quickly reaching for your bath towel and wrapping it around your dripping frame, hoping to shield your skin from the cold air before reaching for a towel of his own to wrap around his waist. He abandoned his focus on his own towel soon after, instead focusing on drying you off first, patting away the remaining water still dripping from your hair and down your skin. Not until you were both content did he hastily repeat his actions on his own body, eventually leading you back out to the bedroom, sitting you down at the foot of the bed. For the second time that evening, he made his way over to your wardrobe, this time pulling out a set of clothes from your own section and passing them over to you, allowing you to dress yourself while he did the same for himself. He returned to the bathroom, hanging the towels to dry and grabbing your hairbrush off the counter before once again going back into the bedroom joining you on the bed. Brush in hand, he beckoned you over to him, and you allowed him to settle you in front of himself, back towards him before he slowly and gently began to work the brush through your hair, beginning at the ends before making his way up to the roots. You hummed and sighed in content, sinus now feeling much more clear after the hot shower. When he was happy with his work, he placed the hair brush down onto the bed side table, moving back to lean against the head of the bed, pulling you along with him. Adjusting both you and himself, he pulled the covers up around the two of you as he held you against him, half clinging to his side and half on top of him.

“Thank you,” you whispered, leaning into his embrace, burying yourself into him.

“For what?”

“Taking care of me,” you replied. He didn’t reply, choosing instead to plant a kiss into your hair.

#—︎ my posts ☕️#fanfic #alec hardy #alec hardy x reader #broadchurch #david tennant

215 notes · View notes

linkspooky · 1 year

Text

Dr. Venture vs. Enji Todoroki: How to Write Bad Dads

This is a post comparing two shows about two abusive dads who are the main characters instead of their children. My Hero Academia is a Shonen jump manga that takes inspiration from American comics and shonen manga. Whereas The Venture Bros is an adult swim cartoon that started out as a parody of Johnny Quest, and grew into a seven season long character study of former child star Rusty Venture.

The idea for this post came from the fact that I've noticed a common hot take from MHA fans that Endeavor's redemption arc is bad because it's wrong to make an abuser the main character.

I've always disagreed, and used The Venture Bros as an example of a show where making an abuser the main character works. Rusty is actually a well-liked character in the venture bros fandom. So my question is if these characters are both abusers why is one of them generally accepted and the other one so controversial?

Before we begin I want to say this is a story with fictional characters. Don't bring real life into the equation. We are doing literary criticism here and only talking about the events that happen in the story.

Anyway, My Hero Academia and The Venture Bros seem like the weirdest shows to compare but they are actually pretty similar. They are both comic book shows that are commentating on the comics they're inspired from.

What My Hero Academia is to Spiderman and Dragonball Z, Venture Bros is to Tom Swift Novels, the Hardy Boys, and old Hanna-Barbera Cartoons. They also make the decision to focus on the characters as people rather than heroes. They are telling the stories of real people that exist in a world overflowing with both heroes and villains.

1. Meet the Venture Brothers

If you've heard of the Venture Bros then you've probably heard of the premise that it's an adult parody of Johnny Quest. Johnny Quest for those of you who have a life and therefore haven't seen every old Hanna-Barbera Cartoon like I have is a show where eleven year old Johnny Quest travels around the world with his super scientist father Dr. Benton C. Quest and their bodyguard Race Bannon, going on adventures in Jungle Ruins or fighting villains.

In the Venture Bros the main character Dr. Thaddeus Venture is an emotionally abusive and neglectful father who constantly exposes his sons to danger in his trips around the world. Their bodyguard Brock Samson is a ultra violent and is basically a thirteen year old's idea of what a cool manly man is. The titular Venture Bros, Hank and Dean Venture are sheltered children who are constantly being chased around by men in costumes trying to kill them.

So the basic premise of the show lies in it's dark deconstruction of shows like Hardy Boys, Johnny Quest, these Tom Swift-esque stories where young boys go on adventures by showing the real dangers that children would be exposed to in that kind of life.

Between Johnny Quest, the Hardy Boys, and Tom Swift, what is up with these pie-eyed youths chasing pirates and international diamond thieves and stuff like that? They would get their throats cut the minute that stumbled upon a hideout. And that would be the gag. - ART AND MAKING OF THE VENTURE BROS.

The show does explore Hank and Dean's trauma, but despite the title of the show they are not the main characters. The protagonist is Doctor Thaddeus Venture who himself is other victim of the Boy Adventuring Lifestyle.

Dr. Venture: "Who was, for 43 years, the only son of Dr. Jonas Venture? Who, from the ages of 3 to 17 accompanied him on hundreds of adventures the chilling memories of which rouse him from sleep in a cold sweat to this day?"

Thaddeus used to travel around the world with his father the super scientist Dr. Jonas Venture who was a far more successful super scientist and hero. He's the former star of the "Rusty Venture Show" a cartoon based off of his travels with his father.

Jonas who continually neglected and gaslit him throughout his childhood to the point of not allowing him to go to therapy. He gaslit him so hard there's a scene where he literally pretends to be Rusty's therapist to tell his son to stop complaining.

Rusty: "So I don't know. Sometimes I wish I could just be a normal kid and go out and play with kids my own age and stuff. The only people I get to hang out with are grown ups. The only time I get to leave the compound is to go someplace creepy, like the Bermuda triangle, and then I get kidnapped, by grown ups. And I'm not even sure I want to be a super scientist when I grow up anyway, but I feel all this pressure because of my fa-It feels weird telling you this stuff." Jonas: "Remember Rusty, in here I'm your doctor not your father. Now let's get back to it shall we. You were telling me how you're ungrateful for all the opportunities your father's given you and you blame me for all your problems."

Rusty is both a washed up child star, and a faiilure to his father's legacy. He never formed an identity outside of being the star of the Rusty Venture show or the son of Jonas Venture. He drags his kids all around the world on crazy super science adventures because that's what he knows.

The central premise of the Venture Bros is that Rusty is basically stuck and cannot meaningfully grow up into an adult and his own person, despite the fact he is now a single father trying to raise two sons. The central theme is about three generations of one family, and what it says about the complicated nature of family itself,

As Rusty is both the victim and the perpetrator of the abuse it makes sense he is the main character the story centers around because he's the central link between Jonas and the Twins.

The themes can be summarized in one line said towards the end of the show:

BEN "Just a watch. Tells the time in two time zones. That fourth hand there? Little date window? Those are called complications. Complications make a watch special. More complications the more value. Read the engraving Jonas put on the back there. Elige Tua. It's Latin for Choose your family. Blood doesn't make a family, love does. Choose your family and remember that complications make it special."

In other words it's a seven season long show on how family is complicated.

2. Keeping up with the Todorokis

My Hero Academia is about a lot of things, but the central premise is that in a society where he quirk you were born with can determine a lot about your life, one boy without a quirk sets out to prove that anyone can be a hero.

If Complciations make it special is the central theme of Venture Bros, then the central theme of My Hero Academia is two sentences. "All People are not created equal" and "Anyone can become someone's hero" both said at different points in the story. The story itself is about Deku's attempts to overcome the first statement, that he was not born equal but he deserves to be a hero as much as anyone else because he represents the true spirit of heroes. That heroes don't just show up to beat the big bad, a hero saves people.

The story isn't just about Deku though. We're not even going to talk about Deku in this post, but rather the Tritagonist Todoroki Shoto.

Todrooki is introduced as a foil to Deku someone who is born with an extremely powerful quirk, but who's been groomed from childhood to be a hero.

Shoto's father Enji Todoroki is All Might's ultimate rival. In the world of MHA hers are highly commercialized and ranked by popularity and achievements and Enji has been number two his entire life. He decided to conceive of an heir that could surpass All Might instead.

He purchased a wife with an ice quirk for an arranged marriage to selectively breed for a child with a fire and ice quirk. When Shoto was born he raised Shoto up as a hero, forcing him through grueling training sessions from a young age, and beating his wife when she tried to intervene for Shoto's sake.

That's a lot and I didn't even cover all of it. After this reveal of Shoto's backstory, Enji seems like he's only going to be a one note abuser to give Shoto a tragic backstory to angst over.

However, later on in the show Enji ifinally becomes the number one hero only to realize how empty his lifelong dream has been. He feels remorse for the family he destroyed in pursuit of that dream and starts wanting to make ammends. After this , Enji basically becomes the second most important character of the "Todoroki Family" arc. . A lot of focus is put on Enji's attempts at atonement to the point where some accuse him of stealing the spotlight from his victims.

These two families have a lot in common. They are basically families who are not allowed to have normal lives because the patriarch of the family is a costumed hero. The hero is also someone who is generally well-respected and is considered extremely successful in their chosen career, but are terrible to their family members. They are a hero to the world and a villain to their own family.

If there is a central premise to the Todoroki Family outside of MHA's analysis of what exactly makes a hero, it's this:

Todoroki Shoto: "As a hero this endeavor guy is pretty darn amazing. But it's just like Nasu said. I'm not ready to forgive you... for abusing mom. So, heroics aside. What sort of dad are you going to be? That's what I want to find out?"

The challenge is if Endeavor can choose his family over being a hero.

You can se the parallels in Venture Bros, as Rusty's main struggle is to try to be a father to his twin sons and help them grow up while at the same time struggling in this dangerous worlds of super science. Rusty is a super scientist constantly getting chased around by guys in costumes, but he's also a normal father trying to raise two sons into adulthood with basically no idea what he's doing because he doesn't have a frame of reference for how fathers are supposed to act or what a normal childhood would even look like.

The comic book super scientist, and the comic book hero are expected to act like real fathers to their sons.

However, as I said above in Rusty's case it's pretty uncontroversial that he is the main character of his story, whereas Enji starts fights within the fandom very time he appears onscreen.

Why is this exactly?

It's not because it's offensive to have an abuser be the main character, but rather how these characters are written and how well they fit into their stories. As I said Rusty is naturally the main character of his story because he's the central link in the chain of abuse, but should Enji be the main character of the Todorokis? Does he fit as well as Rusty?

3. Who's your Daddy?

So as stated above Enji and Rusty simultaneously exist in worlds where heroes exist and yet they are also normal people who are expected to provide for their families and raise their kids. They both exist in what is basically the marvel universe, though in the case of Venture Bros it's the Marvel Universe fused with old Hanna-Barbera cartoons.

Because of this world some of the things both Enji and Rusty do are things that have no real life parallels. For example Rusty once created a machine using the soul of a dead orphan as a power supply. You can't do that in real life so I'm not going to use that as an example.

Both of these stories are drawing on real life parallels of parental abuse I'm going to be talking about those to tell what kind of neglectful parent each is.

Rusty raised Hank and Dean Venture as a single parent with the assistance of their body guard Brock Samson. They live on the Venture Compound and only leave when Rusty needs to take a trip around the world. Obviously, there's not many real life examples of parents taking their kids into egypt to fight mummies.

However, Rusty's main flaw as a parent is how much he shelters his children not allowing them to make their own choices. They are homeschooled until they are eighteen and almost never allowed to leave their home unsupervised. Rusty could be compared to a helicopter parent that feels the need to micromanage every aspect of their child's lives, sheltering them so much they're unprepared for the real world.

Rusty is a weird combination of controlling and neglectful, because while he doesn't let either of his childre go to public school aor interact with kids their own age, he constantly exposes them to danger. He is often disinterested in his kid's lives and puts most of the burden of protecting them and raising them on his bodyguard Brock, while he chases after whatever super-science project is occupying him at the moment. He's neglectful to dangerous extents too considering they're always getting cahsed around by crazy men in costumes.

Also, he lets them die a lot.

Hank and Dean have died several times over, only to be replaced by clones that Rusty grew in a lab with all the same memories. Once again there's no real life parallel to this, but it's interesting in the context of the show itself.

How do these children survive being chased by villains and constantly kidnapped? The answer is, they don't.

They die, and then Rusty just clones a new pair of boys. That in itself should make Rusty irredeemable but the show presents it in a more ambiguous light.

Dean: "You're telling me I'm a clone, that I'm not even Dean, that I'm some stupid science experiment." Ben: "No, no, no. You're Dean. There's no other Dean, you're it, flesh and blood. Look I was conceived in the back seat of a packard, you were conceived in a tank. So what?" Dean: "So I have no mommy? No nothing!?" Ben: "Dean, you have it all wrong. You have a mommy, and your dad is your dad. They made you by getting drunk and forgetting to wear a condem like everybody else, and your dad loved you so much that when you got a boo-boo, he kissed it and made it all better and made it go away." Dean: "You brought me back to life." Ben: "Yeah okay, well you and your brother had some pretty big boo boos. Have a kid one day, Dean. Hold it's lifeless body in your arms, and then tell me how wrong it is. Jonas, me, and yes your dad, saw it as nothing more than a fucking band-aid for a really big boo boo."

In the story itself it brings up the argument that if any parent was holding their dying child in their arms they'd want to bring them back somehow. That in the logic of the show it's the same as using magic to revive someone from the dead. At the same time it's not because Rusty's let his sons die multiple times and never changed his lifestyle because he can just keep replacing them with clones.

Super-science aside, it is kind of a metaphor for Rusty's parenting as a whole that his sons have been cloned and replaced so many times they're perpetually sixteen and never allowed to grow up. Rusty's so neglectful he's never taken an interest in raising them and this is the result, they literally do not grow up.

It's also probably relevant to mention that Rusty himself is a clone and died and was replaced multiple times much like his sons, and the technology for cloning Hank and Dean was invented by his father Jonas.

However, after season 3 the cloning lab gets destroyed, and the body guard Brock leaves the family. With the safety net removed Rusty actually starts taking a more active role in both of his child's lives. This is basically a mirror to Endeavor's moment of realization after getting number one hero that his entire family has grown up without him and they all resent him.

Season four onwards Hank and Dean develop into their own people outside of Rusty. He responds to them in different ways but he's actually parenting them this time instead of shoving them away like annoyances. Hank becomes rebellious and fights back against Rusty for a long time after Brock leaves because he no longer has a role model and Rusty's response is to always get strict and punish him.

Whereas when Dean rebels not only does Rusty tolerate it, he also spends a lot more time in Dean's life trying to push him into the direction of being a super-scientist like him, supporting his efforts to go to college, while basically ignoring Hank. It's a running gag in the show that Dean is obviously Rusty's favorite, but even when playing favorites Rusty by this point in the show has reasons for why he's making those parenting choices.

Rusty: "Dean believes in this crap! He should have been Rusty Venture, Boy adventurer. Hank got this life thrown at him. And he fights against it. Just like I did."

Rusty playing favorites comes from an attempt to overcorrect for both children. He rejects Hank because he believes Hank doesn't want to be a boy adventure and therefore pushing Hank away from his family and the Venture lifestyle is what he needs. Whereas, he believes that Dean embraces the super scientist lifestyle and he tries to mentor Dean into another scientist like himself therefore he gives Dean most of his attention because he thinks Dean needs that guidance from him.

Of course, Rusty is totally wrong about his sons. If anything Hank is the one who wants to be an adventurer whereas Dean just wants a normal life away from his crazy family but parents often misunderstand their children. He's not actively malicious, he's just misguided in what he thinks is best for each of his sons. He's not really even playing favorites in this case he's choosing to parent his sons differently based on what he thinks is best for each of them, it's just in this case father doesn't know best.

Rusty isn't a stagnant character, but also there's no big redemption arc for him the way there is Endeavor. Rusty never narrates about how he needs to atone for his past mistakes. The result is Rusty is a far more amoral character than Endeavor because he's not trying to atone but the narrative also isn't trying to spin Rusty in any way. It's just showing you Rusty as he is, and with all the bad things he does he's still capable of loving his sons.

The question isn't really "Is Rusty redeemable?" but "When is Rusty gonna grow up?"

Then there's Endeavor (everyone starts booing) who is simultaneously a much better, and far worse person than Rusty.

Enji is honestly more comparable to Jonas, an incredibly successful hero who built a career and an empire in heroics and fame and then tried to force his son into that same lifestyle.He's the exploration of that same idea a supposedly great man with skeletons in his closet. Enji technically has saved thousands of people (such as Hawks one of the other main characters). A person who is so good at playing the role of a hero no one would ever expect there are skeletons in his closet.

"Rusty's father was more successful than you could ever imagine. Jonas Venture Sr. was a manipulative narcissist admired by the world for his scientific accomplishements and his hyper-masculine James Bond meets Doc Savage public persona. He's a geniuine villain who was able to take everything he wanted from the world by seamlessly fitting into the role of everyone's hero." [Source]

Jonas is like showing everything nasty about using someone like James Bond as a male power fantasy. He treats women like objects, he thinks he's aboe good and evil, he's effortlessly charming and suave and uses that to get what he wants out of people. Enji similiarly is everything that is wrong with the ideals of hero society. A society that glorifies flashy, strong quirks that are the best for taking down villains. The only person who even seems to care that he's number two is Enji himself, beause Enji is otherwise rich and succesful, a pillar of the hero community, and allowed to get away with a lot because of his position and influence.

Enji is at least a better hero than Rusty, because Rusty is an incompetent mad scientist who does stuff like mutate college interns into four armed freaks and build death rays.

However, as a parent strip away his status as a hero and Enji is little more than a show parent, pushing his children into a life they don't want in an attempt to live vicariously through them. Once again, resembling Jonas more than he really does Rusty. As Jonas forced Rusty to be a boy adventurer, and then made a cartoon out of it to make money like any show parent.

It's also the idea that generation put that kids into films and it was a very horrible selfish thing to do, they were doing trying to live out their own lives through their kids. That didn't exist before that was something that boomers brought to the world. "Oh I can't be these fun new things I'll make you be it." I think Jonas was a pioneer of throwing his kid at the world. I think Jonas was something of a boy adventurer himself, and made his kid be it. But also put his kid on TV to cash in the residuals. Jackson Publick, DVD Commentary

As stated above Enji gave up on his ambition to be the number one hero and so he decided to create a son with the right quirk to surpass All Might. He then pressured a woman into an arranged marriage, basically purchasing her from her parents and conceived four children until he got his designer baby.

Chapters 301-302 the wrong way to put out a fire, detail the slow descent of the Todoroki Household from Enji entering an arranged marriage with bad intention to create an ideal child to be heir to his legacy, into a full on child abuser. Enji is written like a normal person falling into a cycle of abuse, he never intended to hurt his children at first. Abusers aren't evil monsters, they're just people. Most abusers don't even think of themselves as abusers.

In fact he's shown positively bonding with his first born son who seems eager to learn to use his fire based quirk. He even mentions that he was alright at the time with the idea of Toya being the one to succeed him and letting go of his quirk experiment.

Enji only had kids to carry on his legacy, and only bonded with Toya because Toya was eager to participate in the training and become his heir. However, to give Enji some backstory it's quite clear the death of Enji's own father at a young age left him with no idea on how a father should act.

At a young age Enji witnessed his father attempt to save an innocent girl only to end up a burnt up corpse, and probably at that point conflated strength with being a good father. If his father had been strong enough he would have survived and continued to be a father to young Enji. At that point it's almost understandable that Enji thinks in his mind that earning his keep as the patriarch of the family, and being a powerful hero who will come home alive is the same thing as being a good father.

So Enji conflates masculine ideals of strength and heroism with being a good father, all the while not actually showing up to parent his kids. When Toya seemed like he could live up to Enji's expectations and be strong as a successor everything seemed fine.

However, Toya turned out to be disabled at which point everything in the household began to spiral out of control. After learning Toya could not use his quirk without burning himself, Enji tossed Toya aside and left raising him entirely up to Rei and then pressured her to have more children until one with his ideal quirk would be born.

Toya did not like his father ignoring him and began acting out for his attention. The response of everyone in the household was to politely tell Toya to shut up, because Enji while not being a parent is the money maker and authority in the household no one can stand up to him. When Toya's acting up got too out of hand, Enji would even hit Rei instead of just personally dealing with his son.

At the same time Shoto was finally born and being given his perfect heir after four attempts, Enji eagerly began training him. When Shoto resisted him, Enji stepped up to threats of physical violence and long grueling training sessions to force him to learn. All the while Toya continued to mentally spiral.

One day after his flames turned blue Toya asked his father to meet with him on Sekoto Peak. However that day Enji didn't show up, and Toya lost control of his flames starting a massive forest fire that killed him. Rather than changing anything after his firstborn's death, he doubled down and pushed Shoto even harder.

While being a far worse person, as a parent Rusty is far less malicious. He neglects his kids similarly to Enji at first, but when the safety net is removed and he can't keep cloning them anymore he actually does start taking a personal interest in their lives. Maybe it's too little too late because it's the 14th version of Hank and Dean but he does hear the wake up call and change his ways as a parent.

Enji always doubles down on ignoring his sons in favor of heroics when given the chance to be a father.

Even post redemption arc Enji behaves in the same way. There is no point in the story so far where Enji actively chooses to help or be a parent to one of his sons, when he can choose to be a part of a big important battle instead. Let me break out the list:

In the Pro Hero Arc Shoto sets the challenge for Enji to show what he can be like as a father rather than a hero.

In the internship arc Enji trains Shoto up as a hero but not a father. When he brings the family home to dinner they're attacked by a villain and Enji stands and watches as his son Natsuo gets kidnapped y a villain because he felt like it would be too awkward if he saved Natsuo because then Natsuo might feel inclined to forgive him.

In the War Arc aftewards Toya is revealed to be alive the entire time, and when given the chance to see his dead son come back to life, Enji not only does nothing but he sits and watches as his oldest son tries to kill his youngest without trying to talk to or appeal to Toya.

After the war arc, Enji doesn't bother looking for Toya and goes back to his job as a hero hunting down AFO. He also makes a promise to Shoto that they'll search for Toya together, only to break that promise multiple times.

In the second war arc, when Enji is given a chance to face Toya face to face, he instead sends his other son Shoto to fight him, while Enji fights against the big bad instead as the number one hero.

When Toya is literally dying and about to burn himself alive in front of him, Enji who has chosen to run away from Toya too many times by this point picks the murder suicide option and chooses to try dying with his son in a heroic sacrifice.

Every single chance he is given to act like a father, he acts like a hero instead. Enji Todoroki never steps out of the role of the hero Endeavor. Internally he's changed, yeah. He's remorseful now and realzies what he's done wrong. However, externally he hasn't. He doesn't do anything different. He neglected his family for his job his entire life so his way of making it up to them is... to keep going to his job.

The problem isn't whether or not he deserves to be redeemed, but rather that there's no change in his actions. Endeavor at the beginning of the story would have shown up to fight AFO in the war arc too, because being the hero is what he does. It's the only thing he does. The story never asks him to be anything other than a hero.

Which is I think a fundamental difference in Rusty and Enji in how they're written. Rusty is a flawed parent, but he's still a parent.

He does favor Dean over Hank, but that favoritism takes the form of him giving Hank more chores when Hank acts out, but when it's time for Dean to rebel giving him space and letting him have his own separate room in the attic. It's Rusty letting Dean have access to the family checkbook so he'll have spending money at college, but cutting Hank off from the checkbook because they agreed if Hank didn't want to go to college he needed to find a job to support himself.

Rusty is parenting these children. He's parenting them very badly, but he's still their parent. Enji never wanted to be a parent to begin with, he wanted to be his kid's abusive gymnastics coach. He wanted a prodigy that he could push and push until they won gold at the Olympics.

If you ignore the fantasy elements then you're left with how these men are shown interacting with their kids in their day to day lives.

Rusty has absolutely no idea what he's doing, so even when he has good intentions he screws up. However, he is making an effort to guide these kids.

Enji was an intentional manipulator more in line with Jonas. He controlled everything in the household, and was actively trying to groom Shoto into someone who would obediently carry on his legacy. He made the choice to isolate Shoto from his siblings so he'd have more control over him. Rusty keeps Dean and Hank away from kids their own age and from having a normal life because he never had a normal life. He doesn't even know what a normal life looks like.

Enji for most of his life didn't want kids, he wanted heirs. He even purchased a woman so his heirs would turn out with the right genetics, and tossed aside the ones that were disabled or born with the wrong quirk.

Rusty made the decision to become a parent on his own. In the last twist in the series it's revealed Dean and Hank had no mother. They were conceived in a test tube, raised in an artificial womb by Rusty himself. He is both their father and their mother. Kids were a deliberate decision on his part. He wanted to have a family, probably because his own childhood was so deprived of any familial love.

Dean: Okay, so who is our mom? Rusty: Seriously, Dean haven't we had enough family history for one day? I don't even know who my mom is. All you need to know is that the person who gave birth to you. I promise they do.

Remember as stated above the central thesis statement of Venture Bros is "Elige Tua - Choose your family". Rusty chose to bring those kids into the world because he wanted to be a father, it's an active choice his character makes.

Whereas the central statement of Endeavor's arc is "So, heroics aside. What sort of dad are you going to be? That's what I want to find out?" but we never witness Enji doing anything outside of being a hero.

Even post-redemption the only time he ever spends with Shoto is when they're either doing quirk training or working as heroes together. Toya as a character presents this challenge to him, because he's Enji's son, but he's also a villain who's killed innocent people. If he's acting as a hero he has to put a stop to Toya, but a father is supposed to put the safety and well-being of their children above everything else.

We never see Enji make that choice to be Toya's father over a hero. Which is why in story he comes off as a worse father than someone like Rusty, because he never makes any attempt to emotionally bond with his children.

Rusty will sit Hank and Dean down and tell them stories from his childhood. He'll find common ground with his sons to bond over because they've both been subjected to the boy adventurer lifestyle.

Rusty: Dean what are you doing? Dean: Hyperventilating into my knees. That smell a little like spit up... because I spit up a little. Rusty: Dean, you just baby burped onto a speed suit. Not a super scientist alive that hasn't coughed a little acid onto his speed suit. Dean: Really? Rusty: Why do you think these things are like 95 percent polyester? You can clean off fear-vomit with a wet nap. Dean: I thought you were used to this. Rusty: Dean I remember when the action man would wake me up with a gun pointed at my head. He'd just hold it there and pull the trigger. I'd hear the click really loud because it was right against my forehead. Dean: So it echoed. Rusty: Right, it sounded like he snapped one of my teeth out. Click! Then he'd go, "Not day Rusty. Not Today." Dean: Golly, and you took it because you had to? Rusty: No Dean, I took it because I was Rusty Venture. Boy adventurer. I didn't ask for this life, Dean, but it's mine. Sure, I fall down in the Speed Suit but I get up and Wet-Nap my puke off.

We never get any moments like this with Endeavor and his kids.

He only goes so far as apologizing for his past abuse. Yes, maybe it's cathartic hearing an abuser apologize for what they've done but that's not the question the story was asking. It wasn't asking "Can Endeavor be forgiven?" It was asking "What sort of dad are you going to be?"

The narrative challenged him to learn to act like a father to his family, and he never did. He stayed in the role of hero from beginning to end. It might be cathartic for his victims to hear him say sorry, but it's not good for Endeavor as a character because he hasn't changed and we've learned nothing about him. We already knew he was sorry at the beginning of the arc. Endeavor is sorry and knows he's done something wrong has already been established, but by Endeavor stepping out of the role of hero and acting like a father we could have learned something new about him or his character but no he stays the same from beginning to end.

They're both awful people but at the end of the day Rusty is a father, and Enji is not.

Stories are kind of like essays your English teacher used to force you to read. You need to make a thesis statement in the story itself, and then have evidence to support that thesis statement. The theme of Venture Bros is choose your family, and family is complicated, and in support of that theme we have Rusty choosing to connect with his sons. Jonas is basically nothing more than Rusty's biological father. Rusty's chosen a different way to connect with his sons, and he is their dad, and they can bond about the complicated lifestyle of being a Venture together.

The actions Enji takes in his story don't line up with his thesis statement. The Todoroki Family subplot is supposed to be about how one family was messed up because Enji only chose to have a family to further his career as a hero, and choosing his career again and again made things worse. The thesis statement was that Enji needed to choose to be a dad, but he's never shown doing that in the story.

So Enji as a character seems like he doesn't fit in with his narrative. Which is what I said at the very beginning about Rusty and why he works as a main character. Rusty is the center, because he's had this horrible life inflicted on him by his father, and he's in the process of raising his sons but he still has a chance to choose to be better.

Enji could also work as the center of his story, he has a chance to choose his family over his work as a hero, but he's ultimately not the one who does that, it's Shoto. Which yes Shoto is the main character of the Todoroki plotline, but by the end Enji's gotten as much screen time as his son. If the plot was going to focus on Shoto and his choices to begin with then he should have been the central point. You spent a lot of in story time asking this question with Enji on whether or not he's going to be able to choose to be a father over a hero, and who Enji is outside of being a hero only to not give the audience any answeres.

This again has nothing to do with Enji the person and whether I think he's likable or not, because Enji's a fictional character. He's an idea. If writing is communication, then a writer is trying to communciate some idea with every character in their novel. We're asking what is the author trying to say with Enji, and do they do a good job of getting that message across?

4. What's the Big Idea?

So the above section was mainly about the personal arcs of each characters: How do both of them fail at fatherhood and do they learn to be better fathers over the course of their narratives?

However, these characters are part of a much bigger world. How a character interacts with both the world around them, and the extended cast of characters is another way a story relates it's theme.

Venture Bros and My Hero Academia both exist in comic book worlds. There are people running around in costumes calling themselves heroes and villains and fighting each other on the streets.

In My Hero Academia heroes are basically professional athletes who sell sports drinks and pose for ads and compete for rankings on a big board, and heroics for the most part has been reduced to a day job for people with particularly powerful quirks. Heroism is an entire industry that's for profit, and run by the shadowy hero council who has far more power over their society than they let onto. You could compare Endeavor being the top hero to him is like a combination of being the best pro athlete, and also the best salaryman ever.

Ironically, the worldbuilding of Venture Bros is pretty similar. In Venture Bros. the villains are all unionized. There is a super villain trade union. It's a secret organization known as the guild of calamitous intent, which makes villainy into a bureaucracy.

All villains in the world have to register with the guild. If you're a part of the guild you receive the protection that the guild offers, as long as you follow the guilds rules and regulations. There's lots of small rules, like you can't torture someone who's having a medical issue, and if you're fighting a good guy and they have a doctor's appointment you have to let them go.

They even rank heroes and villains by their threat levels called "EMA LEVELS (equally matched aggression) and then assign you a hero who's about your equal so you won't get killed by someone way stronger than you. The guild basically decides who you're allowed to fight as a villain and picks a hero for you. The act of being someone's arch villain is called "arching" you show up to harass them once a week like a Saturday morning cartoon villain, fight them, then do it again next week. You're not allowed to kill your hero and you're supposed to follow specific rules. The tradeoff is the heroes won't kill you either, because you have guild protection.

The Monarch: I don't know, just keep it cat and mouse not cat and missile. JJ:: So it's a game? We fake fight? That's ridiculous. The Monarch: No, it's like fencing, it's about the art of the fight. JJ: Well, I'm about to deliver my killing stroke. Then what? Dr. Girlfriend: Then the guild steps up their game. You throw a rock, they throw a knife. You throw a knife, they come to your house when you're sleeping and murder your family. The Monarch: Look Dr. Venture you call the guild and you get the damn rulebook, I'll be waiting.

The justification for why the guild exists is that in world if you didn't give the villains a system with a bunch of rules, then you'd have a bunch of crazy people in costumes running around causing havoc.

Brock: You wanna what? Shoot him? And all his men and his wife? You could steal his cattle, too. Maybe burn his village down? JJ: It's an antiquated system. I mean my father did this fake arch enemy nonsense in the sxities. Maybe my brother is good with this namby pamby guy in a costume chases you around nonsense, but I'm not. Brock: Hey no disrespect Jonas, but it isn't so easy. These guys like their system. It's what they do. You take that away and you're looking at a bunch of pissed off nut bags with ray guns, and giant -- i don't know, a giant octopus / tank with laser eyes.

The villains and the OSI (who are like the GI JOE) of this world have signed a very long and detailed treaty that keeps both sides in a cold world stalemate and lets them fight every week like how the good guys and bad guys fight constantly while maintaining a status quo where neither side wins.

In MHA heroics is a commodity. It's commercialized and sold to the public. Heroes are like professional athletes selling you sports drinks, it's a spectacle to the public, and it's even intentionally made to be that way by the Hero Commission who use heroes as a bright shining light to distract the public while they do shady things like assassinate antigovernmental protestors from behind the scenes. The entire of hero society in MHA is built on the spectacle of heroes.

In Venture Bros heroes and villains are a spectacle too. It's just a job to them. Heroes and villains both show up to work, get in their costumes, fight each other and then go home. In Season 6 of Venture Bros, a parody of the Avengers is actively charging people to provide their services as heroes in the city of New York and you have to sign up for a protection plan if you want to get saved. Then the local mob boss takes a cut of the protection money they're charging.

In both settings the ideas of heroes exist, comic books exist, but the heroes themselves are incredibly mundane, they're just people showing up to jobs and making money for the most part. The only difference really is that in MHA the villains are societal rejects and trauma victims, whereas in Venture Bros they've unionized. In Venture Bros the villains and heroes basically fake fight under strict rules. Even in MHA though the villains need to exist in order to give the heroes someone to fight in front of the public. "Villain" is an actual legal term for a certain kind of quirk criminals with more than three strikes who gets sent to a super max prison if they're caught.

Both of these works are making comic book heroes and villains seem a lot more mundane by deconstructing them with this layer of realism. By making the roles of "hero" and "villain" seem much more mundane, and therefore more human, it also asks us to look at the characters who call themselves heroes and villains as human beings.

The Venture Bros like many richer takes on superhero stories really likes to play with the concept of identity. It's the idea that Good and Evil, Heroes and Villains, are just roles we play. They're not something fundamental or innate they're constructed by the world around us. In the show the main villainous organization the GCI is really just a bureaucracy of larpers sustaining their violent rolelplaying through organized crime. Rich and powerful lunatics who built the world around a game they wanted to play. There's really nothing of substance keeping Rusty on the "Good Guy" side. The good guys are also a mix and match. Shield, GI JOE, FBI. Another exmaple of people who never grew up. Only these people are running things, playing out their childhood power fantasies. They're barely less insane and blood thirsty than the bad guys. So what's even the point of being a good guy in the first place? That's the world Rusty is caught between...[x]

MHA and Venture Bros are both works that feature societies that divide people into two distinct categories "hero" and "villain" and then go on to show that these two categories are not as black and white as they would like us to believe.

Venture Bros features Brock Samson, a character who is ostensibly on the side of the good guys who also highest body count of nameless henchman who we see him gleefully kill onscreen over and over again. There are members of the OSI who are just as trigger happy as the guild so what's the difference between them besides what they've decided to personally identify as? On one side you have the Larpers who are roleplaying villainy, and on the other you have the military soliders who think they're real life GI JOES.

In My Hero Academia you have heroes who are essentially state sponsored peace keepers who suppress anyone who disrupts the status quo with violence, and villains who are rejected from that status quo who eventually turn into violent terrorists. While yes heroes have the responsibility of protecting innocent civilians, most of what heroes do is fight villains, in fact heroes with quirks suited to rescuing people aren't nearly as famous as ones with flashy violent quirks like Endeavor.

You have two sides and one calls themselves villains and the others heroes, but they both use extreme violence as a way to accomplish their goals.

Rusty and Enji are two characters who are caught between these two categories which aren't as distinct and separate as we'd like to believe they are.

Enji is basically the first deconstruction of heroes in MHA. He's a hero who's not interested in saving people, but instead wants to be the strongest and does everything in pursuit of selfish glory.

He's simultaneously the hero with the single most resolved cases in history, but at the same time he's always number two to All Might because he's not "super" enough of a super hero. In a manga where Deku's natural desire to save others make him a candidate to b ahero even without a quirk, we have a character who's a hero for purely selfish reasons. One that only cares about having the strongest quirk because being the best is all that matters to Enji.

In many ways the way Enji treats his family is more like a villain than a hero. Main villain AFO himself comments at one point he wasn't able to manipulate Toya, because his father did too good of a job manipulating him already. In fact you can draw a parallel between his actions of manipulating and grooming Shoto to be his heir, to how AFO raised orphaned child Shigaraki Tomura as his successor.

This is a good use of Enji's character, because making it hard to label him as hero and villain makes us think about who he is as a person instead.

There's an entire episode of Venture Bros dedicated to a villain Mentor named Dr. Henry Killinger, showing up and basically mentoring Rusty Venture when he's at a low point. He gives Rusty money, workers, gets his business up and running again and at the very end reveals that he's setting Rusty up to be a villain to arch his brother as a hero. Rusty is tempted with the idea that he'd make a much more successful villain than he ever would be a hero (because as a hero he's kind of just a loser) but he still chooses to be a hero at the end of the story because he doesn't want to fight his brother.

At which point his mentor, all his hired men, all just walk off and he loses all the money he would have gained and he goes back to being a mediocre super-scientist.

"Doc has the whole thing laid out for him clear as day. This role is here for you. Waiting for you to claim it. You have your nemesis. You have your means. You have the ability and the pain. You can do this and you'd be good at it. And Rusty can look at all of that, everything he's been through and say, "Yeah... but I don't wanna be evil." [x]

Rusty walks away from the chance to be a villain, but he's not exactly a hero either. He runs illegal cloning farms, he does lots of unethical scientific stuff and he's not even remotely the hero his father was considered to be.

Because he doesn't fit well into the category of hero or villain, the show instead asks you to evaluate who Rusty is as a person. He's one of the few characters in the show that's capable of stepping out of those categories.

"That's the great thing about him. Sometimes being disillusioned just means you can see through the whole thing. Sure the whole super science villain game feels stupid. It's not going anywhere. No one's accomplishing anything. It's all violence and roleplay. But at the end of the day it's still real. And it still means something to us. Choosing to be a villain means choosing to be a bad guy. It means relinquishing the premise that you could ever do better, ever actually help anyone. And that's not who Rusty is. He's a scum-bag, but he's a grown up. Even in a show with brilliant characters, old pros, and actual supermen, Rusty is the adult. And adults don't put on rubber masks and terrorize people for fun because that would be fucking silly." - [x]

Rusty spent his entire childhood being terrorized by guys in costumes, so he's now the cynical straight man pointing out how ridiculous this all is. He's the one normal person among the crazies.

Rusty is just too incompetent to ever be like his father. Jonas Venture is scum bag, but he's also a well-respected scientist and a world wide hero. Everyone in the scientific community thinks that Rusty is a joke, and his friends just barely put up with him

Jonas gets away with it because he perfectly fit what society's idea of a hyper masculine strong hero was, and no one questioned it or how he treated his son, whereas because balding, impotent, pathetic Rusty falls so short of toxic masculinity's standards he doesn't get the same respect or leeway that Jonas did. Jonas Venture continually got away with murder, and Rusty can't get away with anything.

He's a pill-popping, middle aged man who ran his father's business empire into the ground who continually gets laughed out of any scientific conference he tries to attend.

He can't be a hero. He can't be his father. He fall short of toxic masculinity's standards. He falls short of everyone's standards. The only way in which he's better than Jonas is that he's a much better father to both of his sons. His greatest triumphs as a character come from bonding with Hank and Dean. Jonas for all his accomplishments wasn't capable of bonding with Rusty because he didn't really care about anyone but himself. Jonas Venture is someone who perfectly fit society's standards of toxic masculinity, but he wasn't a person outside of that.

"Jonas Sr realized this too, but to him, it was a joke. To him it meant being above everyone. Rusty can't be above everyone so he has to meet them at eye level. Part of the bitterness of growing up is realizing that we're all just chidlren who got old. No one knows what they're doing and when you come to terms with that you can look down on people or give them the respect everyone deserves. How you treat children says a lot about how you treat people which in turn says a lot about you." [x]

Now returning to Endeavor we run into the same problem that we did earlier. This whole post is comparing Rusty and Endeavor because they are the protagonists, but Endeavor is far more like Jonas. He's someone who sees through the hero system and only cares about climbing to the top out of his own self interest. He knows it's a game, but he wants to win at the game.

Enji even sort of looks like Jonas.

They're both extremely bulky men at peak levels of physical fitness. Meanwhile Rusty is a balding, short and out of shape middle aged man.

In story Jonas is still widley beloved by the public and is constantly praised, while no one but Rusty is aware of his faults, but there's a reason for that. Jonas is someone who is basically allowed to do anything he wants, because the patriarchy means all of society is built around letting men like Jonas succeed.

Jonas is also someone who literally uses his position as a hero to manipulate people into getting what he wants and glorify himself.

Jonas can casually destroy people's lives, all while still believing he's the good guy because in his world being good guy is just a role to play and he plays it well. One of the best three episodes of the series is the Morphic Trilogy, the opening to season 7 where some of Jonas's past crimes are revealed.

In the past he tricked a married man into making a sex tape with him, and then when that man Don Carraldo aka the Blue Morpho turned out to regret that, he used the tape to constantly blackmail him into doing his dirty work. Killing people in secret while Jonas Venture remained Squeaky clean. After years of being forced to act as a mercenary for Jonas, the Blue Morpho died in a plane crash. Jonas then revived his best friend as a cyborg. He got bored of his new cyborg within a few months and reassigned him to babysit his son Rusty. The cyborg glitched and started to strangle Rusty and then he snaps his friends neck, and throws the cyborg away in the garbage.

Jonas can just completely destroy a man's life because he can. Because everyone around him enables him and no one is going to stop him. Because this is how people in power act when they're given too much power. Because might does not make right.

He's the gold standard. He's the ideal. Who would question him?

Enji occupies a similar position in the story, where he fits the role of a hero so well that even when his family abuse is revealed to the public basically every character and their mom is tripping over themselves to defend him.

Jonas is constantly praised in story years after his death and every bad thing he's done is swept under the rug, but that's because number one Jonas was a manipulative monster, and number two it shows toxic masculinity is a false ideal. This is how Jonas who everyone thinks is the ideal man's man, really acts. This is what he gets away with it, because the thing society glorifies are toxic and bad.

When people bend over backwards to defend Endeavor what does it say exactly? Because we're supposed to believe that Enji's willing to work for redemption even if people don't forgive him. We're not supposed to think Enji is a manipulative monster intentionally twisting people around his finger like Jonas was.

There are some ways Enji is like Jonas, especially in his backstory. He did use his money and influence to buy a woman. Rei was definitely not going to get the option of divorcing him if she actually wanted to leave.

However, in the present time we don't see Enji doing the kind of manipulation that Jonas does, because really he doesn't have to. Hawks does it for him. There is a character in the narrative named Takami Keigo / Hawks who is a little boy that Enji indirectly saved as a child by putting his father in prison. Because of this he is obsessed with making Endeavor live up to the hero he imagined him to be when he was young, and does everything he can to prop Enji up behind the scenes and make him look like that hero to the public.

Hawks is a whole other can of worms, but in effect what this means is there is someone manipulating public opinion in favor of Endeavor so he'll be able to shine in spite of the numerous skeletons in his closet, it's just not Endeavor himself. Hawks also takes away a lot of the active decisions on Endeavor's part. When Endeavor chooses to ignore Toya in the latter part of the story, it's not Endeavor's choice, he's just following Hawks plan to fight AFO. When Endeavor makes a public apology, Hawks is the one who wrote it for him.

The result is that Endeavor comes off as less of a Jonas, after all Hawks is the one manipulating his public image. On the other hand, he's also less good of a character because he's not making choices anymore. It'd be better If Enji was trying to manipulate the public into forgiving him in the wake of his scandal, because that'd be an active choice on his part. When a character makes a choice it tells us something about who that character is.

Horikoshi doesn't want us to think that Enji is the kind of selfish monster that Jonas is, but then who is he supposed to be?

The entire point of this post is to compare Enji to Rusty, but Enji's far too successful to be Rusty. Rusty is a failure in basically everything he set out to do in life. He's the butt of the series jokes. He's the victim in as many ways as he's the perpetrator. He had a lot of money and then wasted it all. None of his inventions are succesful. The scientific community thinks he's a joke, or they don't even know who he is. Women won't even go near him. No one ever defends him. At no point in the story does someone stop and say "Hey, Hank I know your dad's an asshole but he's really good at science so that makes it okay."

Rusty's such a failure at being a hero that he's forced to be a person. He's as equally narcissticic and toxic as his father, he treats women like objects for sex and comfort like his father does, he just doesn't get away with it. You can't point to some heroic feat of his that justifies his toxic behavior because he doesn't have any.

The story however can't stop singing Enji's praises for what a good hero he is. He's never forced to step out of the role of hero and be a person like Rusty is, and because of that the message of his character becomes confused.

Are we supposed to think he's a manipulative narcissist like Jonas is? Are we supposed to think he's an incredibly flawed individual trying to figure out how to be a father late into his kid's lives like Rusty?

Rusty has a clear role in his story, and what the author wants to say with Enji is unclear.

Everyone praises Jonas to death and no one can see him for the terrible purpose he is, because that's the point. Venture Bros is about failure. It's about the death of the space ag optimisme. It's about how much the boomer generation sucked.

From the Radiant is the Baboon Heart Commentary. Question: Did Jonas only keep Rusty around for the press and his cloning tech or did he actually care about him? Answer: . The show has a villain called the monarch, but if you watch all the show the villain is Jonas Venture Sr. He is a bad dad. What you need to realize is that in this kind of baby boomers gen x millenials kind of thing we are of the generation that had bad parents. For the good and the bad of it. The good was we were all left alone by our parents, and we had a freedom in our thought that I don't think the millennials have. Because we made the millennials, and we were like You know what Our parents suck and we're gonna be great parents." And they helicoptered them and they gave playdates. [...] I did hate the boomers, they were awful fathers they were terrible people they did horrible things to our world, and at the time they were celebrated as good people. They were a bunch of hippies and they failed and they did everything wrong that they wanted to fix [...]. You and I are lost people we observed our generation. We are fully aware of it. We observed our parents generation. My actual father was a classic distant father, very bright had a lot of work to do, but I observed that generation and the way that toxic masculinity was set in stone. Just branded onto their tombstone. Toxic masculinity. Our generation grew up wanting to be adults, childhood was something that was not examined. When people were growing up we wanted to be grown ups, we wanted to wear suits, it was something you guys don't have. It was a very different way to grow up. So we wanted to be like this generation that immediately we looked at and went oh my god they're monsters. So Jonas Venture Sr. is a monster.

Jonas is a commentary on how much the boomer generation is glorified, and how much they suck if you look at them critically at all. It's written by authors who were observing basically three different generations of parenting, the way boomers parented, the ways Gen-Xers did in response to that and now the way millennials act as they reach adulthood. Rusty can't escape Jonas' shadow because Toxic Masculinity is set in stone.

The role of Jonas in the story is to serve as an antagonist to Rusty and be the cause of Rusty's struggles, and also his impetus to change because Rusty doesn't want to be like his father. Rusty and Jonas both exist as characters to show the author's observations on parenting through the generations, and yeah it's a very american idea of parenting and family but it's you know... a cartoon made in america.

What is Endeavor's role of the story? If he's a criticism of toxic masculinity he's not criticized enough, because the story spends just as much time glorifying him his obsession with strength and power as it does criticizing him. There's no scenes like this for Rusty to show off how cool he is, or how determined. The story wants you to believe that there's something redeeming in the fact that Enji is always struggling to be the greatest, even though his obsession with being number one is what caused him to abuse his family in the first place

It's criticizing and praising Enji's obsession with power in the same breath, because My Hero Academia can't fully deconstruct toxic masculinity the way that Venture Bros can. It keeps trying to find something redeemable in Endeavor's toxic pursuit of power, but that's the whole point. Toxic masculinity isn't redeemable, because toxic masculinity is toxic. There's nothing wrong with masculinity itself, or the values people traditionally consider masculine but the kind of hyper-aggressive pursuit of physical strength Endeavor chases after is toxic masculinity. In Endeavor's mind men are warriors, protectors and providers and nothing else, and he never learns to be anything else either.

MHA would never treat Endeavor the way Vbros treats Rusty, constantly humiliating him or making him the butt of jokes. It would never make Enji out to be weak or pathetic the way Rusty is.

The central concept of Endeavor is struggle. His chosen hero nae "Endeavor" means to try hard to achieve something. His entire character is based around the concept of struggle. His central struggle is that he's a normal guy trying to compete with a superhero like all might, and everything he does he struggles with even if that struggle is pointless.

However, in the actual narrative itself he doesn't struggle. He definitely doesn't struggle the way Rusty does. Rusty's a lazy, incompetent, and entitled man sitting on a pile of money he didn't earn who thinks he's entitled to more who fails at all he sets out to achieve. Rusty never gets what he wants, and even when he does get what he wants like when his brother leaves him a billion dollar corporation in his will, he bankrupts that company in two seasons. Struggle means that the world isn't going to give you what you want and you keep trying anyway.

Endeavor's never subjected to nearly the same amount of narrative punishment that Rusty is. He's still well-respected. People defend him. He fights in all the major battles of the series and gets victories. No one's disgusted when they hear that he's a wife beater. We are told that he struggles, that the central concept of his character is struggle, but the narrative keeps handing him wins and cool moments.

As I've said above several times, Enji's never really forced to step out of the role as hero because he's not a failure the way Rusty is.

My Hero Academia hits some of the same notes as Venture Bros. It's criticizing apanese hegemonic masculinity, specifically that of salaryman masculinity and the way men in japan completely put their careers over their families. Read about it here in this convenient power point presentation. Enji is essentially an incredibly successful salaryman who has completely disappeared from his kid's lives in order to earn money and success and believes that he's still entitled to be a father because he's performed adequately in his role as earner of the household.

The story does show how giving too much power to the patriarch of a household can cause a house to fall apart. It shows that traditional family roles aren't all they're cracked up to be. Enji is assigned the role of father but he doesn't live up to it. The very rigid and traditional Todoroki Household crumbles because basically everyone fails to live up to their roles. The father isn't present. The mother isn't a good caretaker. The first born is defective. The youngest is given all the responsibility of the first born. No one is able to live up to those roles because maybe those rigid set in stone roles shouldn't exist in the first place.

Once again though, that's all in the backstory. Enji never changes from the Pro Hero Arc to his last showdown with Toya. The story never tells us anything about who Enji is as a person. Therefore, it also never comments on Enji's role as the patriarch. What is Horikoshi using Enji to say about patriarchy besides... it exists?

The story shows you how destructive the idea of patriarchy that Enji represents can be in the backstory, but because Enji doesn't do much for 90 percent of the story it never says anything about how Enji can learn to be a father or if it's even possible for him to be a father this late in the game. Because Enji's story isn't about fatherhood ultimately, it's about him becoming a less selfish hero.

Which might just be a problem with the whole of MHA. Venture Bros is about who the characters are outside of their identity as heroes and villains, but MHA is ultimately more about the optimism of heroes and what it means to be a hero than these characters personal lives.

Rusty is never going to be as sucessful as his father. He's always going to be mediocre, ad even if he's sympathetic he's still a scum bag. However, Rusty has one thing his father doesn't have which are his two sons who he made a deliberate decision to get closer to. Unlike a serial user of people Jonas, Rusty has the ability to actually love and care for people and he chooses to make those connections.

Endeavor never chooses to be a father. He didn't choose to go to Toya's side. He was too busy being a hero and fighting the big bad. As a result of that we never learn anything about Enji as a character outside of being a hero because he never chose to be anything other than a hero.

He also never failed. As I said the narrative kept handing him wins. You'd think never choosing to see Toya would mean he can't save Toya in the end, but in the end of the story Toya's just fine. There are no consequences to his choices. He's revealed to be an abuser to the public but he gets to keep being a hero. Enji never really fails in some big way that forces him to rfelect and change on his actions, so he just keeps doing the same thing from beginning to end.

Which is why Enji doesn't work as a character compared to Rusty. He doesn't fail. He's supposed to be a flawed protagonist struggling against himself, but he never really loses. He's too much like Jonas and not enough like Rusty.

"I think Jonas was something of a boy adventurer himself, and made his kid be it. But also put his kid on TV to cash in the residuals. He was just a shitty parent. When he went to bed he was just, he was moral, and he was fighting the good fight. When he woke up he ignored his son and made his son do terrible things. He voted for nixon like a good american. He was a winner and our show is not about winners. Our show is about losers and people we love." Jackson Publick. n

#venture bros #enji todoroki #mha meta #bnha meta #my hero academia #i put so much effort into this post only two people will read #rusty venture #doctor venture #doctor thaddeus venture #endeavor

398 notes · View notes