#because they try too hard to appeal to boys as well

[roosterforme]

Sneak Peek | Hangman x Reader

Summary: You spent so much time around the boys, they counted you as one of them. You were firmly stuck in the friend zone with Jake, so it was time to move on with a guy who could see past your flight suits. It's not immediately obvious to either of you that cranky Jake is actually jealous Jake.

Warnings: Fluff, language, mentioned smut, 18+

Length: 6000 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Happy birthday @beyondthesefourwalls!

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

"It's my turn to buy a round," you said, standing up from the table and grabbing the empty beer bottles before turning toward Jimmy and Penny at the bar.

"Thanks, Rodeo," Jake murmured, and you turned back briefly and smiled softly at him. His gaze slid down your body the same way it would with any other woman, the only difference was that he had started to notice just how many other guys were regularly checking you out, too. And he wasn't sure how he felt about that fact.

When you squeezed yourself between two stools at the bar to order four more beers, Bradley asked, "Who are you staring at, Hangman? Rodeo?"

Mickey laughed as Jake quickly shook his head and turned his attention back to his friends. "I just wanted to make sure she can manage carrying everything."

"I'm sure she's fine," Bradley replied with a laugh of his own. "I got a little nervous for a second there."

"Why?" Jake asked, his eyes slowly drifting back to you, watching as you slipped your credit card into the back pocket of your jeans. 

"Because first of all," Bradley said as he smashed open a peanut on the table, "Rodeo is practically one of the guys. And second," he added, popping the peanut into his mouth and chewing, "it would be weird if you start looking at her like you do all the other random pieces of ass you take home with you. Even though she is cute."

"She's cute, for sure," Mickey piped in. "But once you've seen a girl throw up in the parking lot after a drunken karaoke night, the appeal kind of wears off."

Jake smiled as you headed back toward the table, because the drunken karaoke night was when he got to drive you home and carry you to your bed while you repeatedly tried to tell him you could walk by yourself. 

"Oh, you know who else is cute?" Bradley asked just as you set four new beers on the table. "That redhead with the huge tits at the dartboard."

"Damn," Mickey groaned, and now you were looking in that direction, too. But Jake kept his eyes on you. 

"Do we have to talk about this in front of Rodeo?" he asked, sipping his fresh beer and starting to wish Bradley and Mickey would wander off. "In front of a lady?"

Bradley snorted so hard, Jake was surprised his beer didn't shoot out of his nose. "A lady?" he asked as he looked at you and cuffed you on the arm. "Nice try, Hangman, but Rodeo doesn't count."

"Well, you don't count either," you told him, and Bradley tapped the neck of his bottle to yours. "And neither do the two of you." Your gaze met Mickey's before settling on Jake. "You know I don't mind when you guys talk about girls. I get it. You're all hot."

But your knee was rubbing against Jake's thigh at the tiny table, and for a brief flash, he thought maybe he wanted to count in your mind as a guy you could be into.

--------------------------

It was a strange dynamic, working with mostly a bunch of men all the time. They saw you in a flight suit once, and they never looked at you like you were a female ever again. And that was fine. It made your job easier in a lot of ways. There were fewer distractions, and you knew for a fact that they liked you for your personality. They wouldn't invite you to hang out all the time if they didn't.

But on nights like this, it did sting a little bit to watch the three of them tripping over themselves to go talk to the redhead who was clearly eating up the attention. You were essentially wearing the same outfit she was: jeans and a black shirt. And you thought you looked cute. And what exactly was wrong with your boobs? You looked down at your body and kind of shrugged. You didn't get it. 

Natasha handed you a pool cue, and you sank a shot. You made up the excuse that you wanted to play so the guys wouldn't feel bad about abandoning you to go talk to girls, but Jake had been hesitant at first, so you shoved him along. That was a mistake, because you were reminded of how solid and muscular he was under his soft shirt. 

The first few times you glanced his way, he was already looking back at you. If he were any other guy, you would have just asked him out by now, but you were so firmly in the friend zone with all of them that it was embarrassing. The rejection would be laughable. 

So you put your head down and focused on the game and the chit chat around you. But after a while you got curious, and when you looked up again, Bradley and Mickey were walking back toward the table where your empty beer bottle sat. Jake had won. The redhead was running her fingernails through his hair. It was all over for the night. 

You weren't jealous. You weren't. You just didn't understand why it couldn't be you. As you sank the eight ball, you said, "I'm beat. I'm going to head home."

"Me too. Want a lift?" Mickey asked, and you nodded, not sparing a single glance back at Jake. 

Maybe you were the problem. Maybe you weren't sexy. You spent most of Sunday scrutinizing yourself in your bedroom mirror and going through all of your clothing. There really wasn't much of it since your closet was lined with uniforms and flight suits. And when you looked in the mirror, it wasn't like you could even tell what the problem was. You were just you, but it was starting to feel like you'd been playing around in this male-dominated world for so long, you were just blending in there. 

"Fuck it," you muttered reaching for your phone. There was a text from Bradley detailing the pricing for tickets to a Padres game, which you desperately wanted to go to. It sounded fun. Then you realized the beer drinking and peanut eating would simply be moved to a different venue in which the guys would be looking at all the other women around you. Suddenly it didn't sound so fun.

There were also a handful of texts from Jake. He must have kicked his guest out early if he was asking how you were doing this morning. You sent back a short message before finding the app on your screen that had been dormant since you got stationed in San Diego last summer. Tinder. It was right there. 

Nervously, you entered your login information, terrified that you'd just end up with a bunch of guys you saw on base as your best options. They would undoubtedly take one look at you and have the same reaction your male friends did. But you spent the rest of the day thinking about it. You looked, but you didn't sample. You found some guys who were surprisingly not in the Navy, but you didn't swipe. And maybe part of the reason you didn't was because Jake kept texting you all day long.

Monday was your tipping point. You were all ready to fly in your boots and flight suit when you ended up surrounded by the guys in the hangar. "We getting Padres tickets, Rodeo?" Bradley asked. "Day drinking at Petco Park?"

You nodded at him. "Sounds fun."

Then Mickey cut in as Jake walked over. "Hey, Hangman. How was our little redheaded friend?" he asked with a smirk, but Jake's expression stayed the same as his eyes met yours. 

"Wouldn't know."

"Oof," Bradley said with a goading laugh. "What, you kicked her out without even talking to her afterwards?"

You swallowed and looked down at your boots as you thought about the guys on the dating app. Maybe a little change of scenery wouldn't hurt anything after all.

-----------------------------

"Can you just knock it the fuck off?" Jake snapped. "I didn't even spend the night with her." He watched you put your helmet on as you walked toward your jet. "And I don't like talking about this shit around Rodeo anymore."

"Alright," Bradley replied with a tiny smirk. "No need to get mad about it."

When Jake took to the air, you were all business, as usual. You and he flew well together, like you always did. But back on the ground at lunchtime, you barely spared a glance in his direction in the cafeteria. Instead, you were completely absorbed in something on your phone as you picked at your food.

"What's wrong?" he eventually asked, and you looked up at him like you were surprised he was still there. 

"Nothing," you murmured, taking a drink before returning your attention to your phone. "Just working on something."

"On what?" he asked, voice almost as snippy as it had been earlier. He found he didn't like it when your attention wasn't focused on him, which was absolutely infuriating, because it's not like the two of you were anything. 

"My Tinder profile," you replied smoothly as you licked your lips, and Jake thought he must have misheard. Since when were you looking for a guy?

"Tinder?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed. "I'm just trying to sort out which photo to use, because I like this one where I'm in my flight suit, but guys don't really tend to go for that sort of thing."

You turned your phone to show him, and Jake swallowed hard. It was a photo he had taken a few months ago. He remembered that day. Your sunglasses were hooked on the top of your suit, and your helmet was tucked under your arm, and your smile was infectious. 

"I like that one," he told you softly. 

But you just rolled your eyes and groaned. "But you don't count, now do you?"

Jake shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Why are you on Tinder anyway?"

Now you laughed as you set your phone down. "Why do you think?"

He didn't want to think about it, even though he knew why. You were looking to hookup with someone. Or maybe it was even worse. Maybe you were looking for an actual boyfriend. Someone to spend all your time with. You'd be at the Hard Deck after work less frequently. You'd be going to the Padres game with some faceless idiot, and he'd be the one carrying you home after you overdid it at karaoke night. Worse yet, you could have your pick of any guy on that app who caught your eye, but Jake knew for a fact none of them were good enough for you. 

"Rodeo," he grunted, unsure how to voice his concerns. You just tapped your screen a few times and then smiled at him as his heart clenched a little bit.

"I went with the photo from Reuben's wedding instead."

Jake ran his fingers through his hair. He didn't even have to ask. He also knew that photo well too. His voice was soft as he said, "Blue dress. Holding a martini. Hand on your hip." He didn't like the idea of a bunch of guys he didn't even know looking at you wearing something so pretty.

"That's the one! And now my bio is live on the app," you said as you tapped your screen one last time. "Wish me luck."

You stood with your tray and Jake told himself he would do no such thing.

---------------------------

"That photo must have done the trick," you mumbled the following day in the rec room on base as Natasha helped you sort through your matches.

"I'm sure it did," she replied in awe. "You look hot in it."

You wanted to believe her, but it didn't even matter right now, because the two of you were staring at a photo of a hot guy who had sent you a message. You gasped. "Is this for real?"

"Looks like it," she replied. "If you don't fuck him, I will. Happily."

"What are the two of you over here whispering about?" You looked up into Jake's smiling eyes and gave him a grin of your own.

"Rodeo is getting all the Tinder hotties," Natasha replied, and suddenly Jake's smile vanished. "Let me know if he sends you a dick pic."

"He better fucking not!" Jake growled as he tried to reach for your phone. "Show me what this asshole looks like so I know who to pound to dust if he sends you one." You rolled your eyes and held up your phone so he could see. "His name is Tony? And he's a dentist?"

"What's wrong with that?" you asked quickly.

Jake crossed his arms over his chest. "If you have to ask, then you don't want to know."

You scoffed and opened your messages. "You're being dramatic. And I don't get on you about who you decide to hook up with."

"So you're just trying to hook up with this asshole?" he asked, his lips curling in disgust.

Honestly, you weren't really sure. But he sounded nice in the messages he sent. "Would it really be so bad if I was?"

Jake scrutinized your face like he was in pain, and you had the craziest thought flash through your mind that perhaps he was jealous. But then the pinched lines on his forehead vanished, and his voice was completely calm as he said, "You do what you want, Rodeo. But don't come crying to me about it later."

"Fine," you told him as he walked away. And that's what spurred you to reply to Tony's message with a more flirtatious one of your own. You were allowed to hook up with him. You were allowed to go out on a date. Maybe you'd even eventually request a dick pic. Jake wasn't in charge of your Tinder profile or dating agenda.

A few short exchanges back and forth was all it took, and suddenly you had plans for Saturday night that didn't involve hanging with the guys at the Hard Deck for once. Tony was going to take you out to dinner, and you were already excited.

----------------------

"Where the hell is Rodeo?" Bradley asked as he returned to the table with three bottles of beer instead of four. "She's usually here by seven."

Jake rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. "She's not coming. She's on a date with some smug looking asshole named Tony."

"Good for her," Mickey piped up, earning a glare from Jake. "I hope she gets laid. You wanna grab Javy and play pool?"

With a groan, Jake dragged himself out of his seat and forced his body through the motions. He hit the cue ball with perfect precision, but meanwhile, all he could think about was some other guy's hands all over your body while he shoved his tongue down your throat. "Fuck," he growled, trying to fight the urge to text you. If you wanted him, you knew how to reach him. 

Between shots, he glanced around the bar at all the other women, but he couldn't find a single one as pretty as you. He spent the rest of his night barely conversing with his friends while he hoped that your date was a complete flop. And when he left to head home alone, he caved and texted you to make sure you got back to your place safely. 

That was over twelve hours ago. Jake still hadn't heard back from you. It was damn near noon on Sunday, and he was left assuming that you spent the night with Tinder Tony. When you finally texted him back, the response made him toss his phone aside. 

Sorry, just seeing this now. Yes, I made it home safely. See you tomorrow.

Monday was worse. You were glued to your phone at every opportunity you got, and Jake could tell by the little smile on your face that you must be talking to that asshole. 

"Rodeo, how was your hot date?" Bradley asked, bumping your helmet with his while he winked at Jake. 

"Pretty good," you replied with a little laugh. 

"You get laid?" Mickey asked obnoxiously, and you rolled your eyes before glancing at Jake. He was dying to know the answer to the question, but also terrified to hear it. 

"Wouldn't you like to know," you replied, returning your attention to your phone. "Put it this way... I'm going out with him again for dinner on Wednesday."

"Who goes to dinner on a Wednesday?" Jake scoffed. "That's when we usually go to the bar! And what did you and Tinder Tommy even talk about the whole time? Dentures? Teeth?"

"No," you snapped at him. "He told me how pretty he thinks I am, and that he was nervous to meet me in person. And his name is Tony, not Tommy. So don't be rude when we stop by the bar after dinner on Wednesday."

"Can't wait to meet him," Jake grumbled, highly disappointed that your date had been even somewhat successful. And he still wasn't sure if you'd gone home with Tony. Or worse... if he'd gone home with you. 

Jake had crashed in your bed with you once a few months ago when you hosted game night. Mickey, Nat and Bradley all passed out in your living room, so you'd taken him by the hand to your bed. Every time he thought about it, he could practically feel the warmth of your body next to his and your foot hooked over his ankle. The idea of someone else there engaging in pillowtalk or fucking you just right was way too much for him to handle, because he was starting to feel like he wanted to be that person.

------------------------

Okay, so Tony was a little boring. A lot boring, actually. And on Wednesday night at dinner, he actually did mention dentures, and you could practically hear Jake scoffing from the Hard Deck. But Tony was hot and nice and he paid for dinner. Could you really hope for more than that?

"So, you mentioned stopping at a Navy bar?" he asked as you walked back to his car. "I keep forgetting you're even in the Navy. It just doesn't seem like you."

Maybe you should have used the other photo for your dating profile since you'd had to remind him twice already that there were a lot of women in the military now. "Yeah. It's called the Hard Deck. I usually hang out there on Wednesdays, and I thought maybe my friends could meet you?"

"Sure," he replied, and he even played boring music on the way there. But when he walked you inside, he kissed your cheek, and that felt kind of nice until Jake was looking. You felt embarrassed and a little guilty when he scowled at you from the pool table, so you eased yourself away from Tony and took him by the hand instead. 

"Hey, guys," you said cautiously as you approached the pool table. "This is Tony." 

Jake's jaw was clenched tight as he reached out to shake hands with your date in a death grip, and you cringed as he said, "Nice to meet you, Tommy." 

And it all went downhill from there. You had to correct him three times, even though you were sure he knew Tony's name. And even the other guys didn't really seem to mesh well with Tony. Bradley looked scandalized when he told them he didn't like beer or playing pool, and Mickey tried to make a dentist joke that just didn't land. 

You wanted to crawl into your bed and not come back out for a week. You also kind of wanted to ask Jake what his problem was. Tony was a nice guy. His hand on your back felt nice, and his goodnight kiss at your front door was nice. There was even some tongue, and you didn't stop his roaming fingers. Maybe another date or two and you'd ask him to come in.

"Would you like to get dinner on Saturday night?" he asked as his lips grazed your neck. "At the Boathouse?"

You closed your eyes and leaned back, and the image of Jake took over. His lips were on your earlobe, and he was whispering your name as you led him to your room. His hands were settling on your hips and squeezing gently as you melted into his touch.

"What do you think?" Tony asked, and you were jarred back to reality by his voice.

You swallowed hard and nodded as you opened your door. "Saturday night sounds good," you said as you ducked inside. "See you then."

You couldn't have Jake. You just needed to get it through your head that he didn't want you like that.

------------------------------

Jake knew he was behaving poorly even as he was doing it. Tony looked annoyed by him, and you looked embarrassed, but he just kept calling him the wrong name and standing off to the side like a dick. He was actually the asshole. Not Tony. And he needed to apologize to you at work the next day. 

He found you in the hangar, pacing back and forth as you played with the strap on your helmet. When you turned, he started to say, "Hey, Rodeo, I'm really-"

"I need your help," you blurted out when you saw him heading your way. "I need you to come shopping with me tomorrow after work, because I wore my only two dresses already, and everything else in my closet is ridiculous. And Tony is taking me to the Boathouse on Saturday, so I can't just throw something together and call it a day."

Jake ground his back teeth together. The Boathouse was nice. As in, he could think of at least three people he knew who got engaged there. How much money did dentists make anyway? He was full blown jealous now. He knew that. But you'd asked him for help, so of course he was going to do whatever you wanted. Your eager eyes were enough to make him agree on the spot.

"Where are we going shopping?" he asked softly. 

You looked so relieved as you said, "The mall. I don't think it will take too long, and I can treat you to dinner as a thank you."

"No," he replied. "You don't owe me anything, Rodeo."

"Thanks, Jake," you whispered as you threw one arm around his neck and pulled him in for a hug. "I know I can trust you to tell me what looks good. Because you're a guy, and you know what guys like. I've been in such a rut, and I don't even know what looks nice on me anymore. But I trust your opinion."

He wrapped his arm around your waist and held you a little closer. If you trusted him, he wouldn't let you down. He never wanted to let you down. He would take you to the mall and tell you which outfits looked nice on you, even though he knew it would be all of them, and he would be cool about you dating Tony. "Sure, Rodeo. Anything you want."

When the time came, he was miserable. You seemed excited, bouncing on your feet in your jeans and sneakers as you collected dresses and cute little outfits to try on, but he knew none of this was really for him. You'd just be giving him a little sneak peak of what Tony would have his hands all over. 

"How about this one?" you asked, holding up a red mini dress that made Jake's mouth dry up. Then you moved it in front of your body and looked down. "It's probably too much for me."

He wanted to tell you that you couldn't pull it off, but he knew the fucking thing was made for you. "Try it on and see," he said softly, so you added it to your pile. Then he followed you like a puppy dog to the fitting room, holding half of the dresses for you to try on. When you passed the lingerie section, Jake had to watch you grab a few lacy items. "Have you slept with Tinder Tommy yet?" he snapped when you picked up a black bra and added it to your arms. 

You looked up at him with a soft pout. "Well, no. That's why I'm trying to buy some sexy stuff, you know? Just in case I want to take it there."

Jake had seen you in your bathing suit many, many times. You didn't need to be wearing anything made out of lace and silk to look sexy, but the sight of you in half of this shit would probably give Tony a damn heart attack. Then he realized as you led him along that he himself might not make it out of the fitting room alive.

"Just stand out here, okay?" you said softly, guiding him against the wall. He grunted in response and watched you line up everything you wanted to try on inside the fitting room before closing yourself inside. You kicked your shoes off, and then he watched you push your jeans down to your feet through the gap between the bottom of the door and the floor. You stepped out of them, and his imagination started to supply the rest. 

You were completely naked now, he was sure of that fact, and you were only a few feet away from him, separated by a flimsy door. His head tipped back against the wall as his breathing grew a little deeper. Your toenails were painted bright green, and you were talking quietly to yourself as you stepped into a black dress and started to guide it up your legs. 

"This isn't too bad," you muttered, and a few seconds later you were unlatching the door and pulling it open with an apprehensive look on your face. Jake's jaw dropped open as you stepped right up to him and asked, "What do you think?"

"Rodeo," he grunted, fisting his hands at his sides to keep them from touching you as you spun slowly in front of him. "Looks good."

You frowned a little more. "I was hoping for better than good," you replied, twirling away from him and back into the fitting room.

Jake's body was thrumming with desire as he watched that black fabric pool at your feet under the door. "It was better than good, Rodeo," he said, nearly choking on the words as you stepped to the side and bent to pick it up. 

"I'll try the red one," you informed him, and he had to press his lips together, knowing what was coming next. This time it took you a little longer, and he watched your feet under the door as you turned in front of the mirror. "It's really short," you finally said as you opened the door again. 

"Jesus Christ," Jake moaned softly. The thing fit you like a damn glove. Every curve and soft dip of your body was right there, begging to be touched. His palms were sweaty as he wiped them on his jeans, and then you spun, ending up just inches away from him again. 

He couldn't speak, and maybe you took that as a bad sign. "It's too much," you said with a little laugh. "I know it's too much, but it was fun to try it on anyway. It made me feel sexy," you said with a little shrug, barely able to meet his eyes. "I think the black one might be better for dinner at the Boathouse? Or do you think this one?"

Jake snapped out of his daze and remembered why he was here, suddenly pissed that this little fashion show wasn't just for his own benefit. "Come on, Rodeo. Tinder Tommy? Really? You think he deserves this?" When you just kind of shrugged at him, he said, "Get the red one if you're just looking to get laid."

"Okay," you replied, your little pout back on your pretty lips. 

He pushed away from the wall until he was nearly touching you. Practically snarling, he said, "Are you just looking to get laid?"

"Maybe," you said softly, looking at his neck. "He's actually into me, so maybe. I don't know, Jake. It's been a long time since a guy chose me, you know?" He opened his mouth to tell you that any guy in the world would choose you when you said, "I have one more dress."

Then he had to stand there and watch the red fabric hit your feet before you guided the tiniest little green dress up your calves. He was jealous. He was so jealous. And the fact that he'd had a whole fucking year to ask you out instead of fucking wasting his time was crashing down on him right now. You were going to wear one of these dresses to the Boathouse tomorrow, and Tony was going to take it off you. He was going to fuck you, and then someday you'd probably get married. Jake would be at your wedding sitting between Mickey and Bradley and making himself sick over this whole thing. 

The door opened. You were stunning. You didn't even leave the fitting room doorway this time in that green dress that was hugging your tits and your waist and showing off so much leg that Jake thought he was going to black out. "I can tell by your face that it's not good," you said with a wince. "It's a little too low cut, so I couldn't imagine wearing it in front of Tony."

His voice came out low and rough as he said, "You're wearing it in front of me just fine."

"But I don't count, remember?" You closed and locked the door, and Jake was immediately leaning against it. Literally each dress was hotter than the one before it, and Jake didn't know how to articulate what he was feeling right now. How on earth did he end up so far in the friend zone that he couldn't claw his way out if he tried? What the fuck made Tinder Tony so special? Why were you looking around on the app anyway? He couldn't even pinpoint when it had happened, but you were never going to take him seriously, even if he knew he could be what you wanted.

The rustling of fabric and the sound of the zipper had him resting his forehead on the door. "Rodeo, Baby, you can't...buy one of these dresses. Not for Tony. Okay? Come on. He's not good enough for you."

"Oh." That was all you said. You just replied with one word, and Jake's blood was boiling. He wanted to dismantle the entire fitting room and take you back home and tell you that you could do a hell of a lot better than some lame ass dentist who didn't like beer or playing pool. But you'd just muttered one word, and he was dying to know if he could ever stand a chance at making you happy. 

"Rodeo?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. You unlocked the door and he stepped back a few inches so you could open it, expecting to see you in your jeans once again with the dress of your choosing in your hands. "Oh, fuck," he groaned, his heart hammering in his chest. "Absolutely not!"

Jake pushed you back further into the fitting room and managed to wrench his broad shoulders through the doorway before kicking the door closed. You were biting your lip, your eyes wide as his hands came to rest on your lace covered hips. 

"Jake," you whispered as he shook his head at the sight of you in a lacy black bra and tiny underwear. 

"What the hell are you thinking?" he groaned, fingers digging gently into your warm body as he listened to the little sound you made. "You're killing me here." Your hands came up to his wrists before you slid them up along his arms, and Jake took a step closer until his jeans were brushing against your bare belly. He would need to be removed from the mall in a body bag at this rate. 

Then you whispered, "I like you. And maybe there's a chance that you like me, too? And maybe that's part of the reason I asked you to come here with me."

Jake swallowed hard as he leaned in, dizzy from the way you smelled so sweet and felt so perfect in his hands. "Dump him. Dump Tony." You whimpered at his words as he slid one hand down further, teasing the lace covering your ass at the same time his other hand went up to tug at the side of the bra. "Because this? This should be for me."

"Jake." Your voice was a needy whine as you scraped your fingernails along his shoulders and chest, trying to pull him closer. But he shook his head as he pushed you back harder against the wall, lips hovering over yours as you whispered his name.

He knew what he wanted. He'd known for a while, really, but now he was ready to take it. "I want to kiss you. But if I do, I'm not going to be able to go back, okay?" he asked, his voice a deep rumble as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "I won't go back to being Rodeo and Hangman, just friends. I will not do that. Not with you. Not when you count more than anyone else."

Your lips crashed against his, and Jake sighed in relief as he held you in his arms the way he'd been dying to for so long. The lingerie and all the little dresses were only for him. Your kisses and your smile and your fingers in his hair were for him, not Tony. He ran his hands down to your ass as you giggled and nipped at his lips. 

"Pick a dress, Baby," he muttered between kisses. "And we'll get the lingerie, too."

"Okay," you replied with a smile before you took his bottom lip between yours, making him moan. 

"Tomorrow night, I will take you out, and you can show me this little getup again if you want to."

You looked up at him with the prettiest smile he'd ever seen. "I want to."

---------------------------

You nudged Bradley with your elbow. "Hey, she's cute," you said, nodding toward the brunette across the aisle. "You guys should go talk to her." He and Mickey both leaned forward to look without any subtlety whatsoever, and you laughed. 

"Maybe at the end of the inning," Bradley replied, manspreading so much in his seat at the Padres game that he kept bumping your leg and nudging your shoulder. But he was grinning, and you could already tell that he and Mickey were about to turn it into a competition to see who could get her phone number first. 

But there was one key player missing from their game now, and you smiled as you saw Jake apologetically climbing over everyone else in your row before plopping down into the seat next to you and kissing your cheek with a smile. "The line was long as hell for your favorite beer," he said as he handed it to you. "Did I miss anything?"

You shook your head as Bradley said, "You're just in time to watch the real show, Hangman. Rodeo, I want you to time how long it takes before I get her number." 

But you weren't really listening as Bradley and Mickey started to argue, and neither was Jake as he kissed your cheek again. You didn't feel like you were simply blending in, and you didn't feel like you were just one of the guys anymore. You were grinning and sipping your beer as Jake's lips met your ear and he asked, "Are you wearing that black set right now?"

"I'll let you find out later.

---------------------------

Happy birthday, Alli! I hope you enjoyed the blonde one! Big thanks to @mak-32 @thedroneranger and @sylviebell for all your help!

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#jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman x reader #jake hangman x reader #hangman x you #jake seresin imagine #hangman imagine #jake seresin fic #hangman fic #jake seresin #jake hangman fic #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #sneak peek

[lysil7777]

Yan! Dom! Fem! Reader x Sub! Boy

"P-please just.. just leave me alone!" James whimpered, tears welling up in his brown eyes, cheeks and ears flushing

"Aww what's wrong Jamie? Are you gonna cry? Did I hurt your feelings? Do you need your Mommy? You lean in to bite his ear and then whisper "I could be your mommy~"

Jamie hated himself for being unable to stop the moan that came out when you nipped at his ear and hated himself even more for letting you bully and harass him everyday.

When Jamie started college he swore things would be different from high school, he'd be more social, more motivated, and less shy. But 3 months later and the only person he talked to on a daily basis was you.

The first time you two met was in class, he'd braved up the courage to ask you for a pencil, he didn't really need one but he was trying to get out of his comfort zone.

You obliged but only after teasing him a bit asking what he'd give you in return, he got all embarrassed not knowing how to properly return your banter, and offered to pay you which you found very amusing. After a few more interactions you started to grow very fond of the nerd who sat behind you in Calc and before you knew it he was always on your mind.

The way he'd get embarrassed and look away from you when he didn't know what to say, the nervous habits he had when he was out by himself, how kind he was without anyone noticing, he was your adorable little specimen, for you only. And of course the best part was how naughty he could be, oh he was so innocent at the same time tho. You'd lost count of the number of times you'd watched him through his window, jerking it to soft domme porn, pet play, degradation, and dumbification, he was a pervy little nerd but the shame he felt afterward made you want to climb through his window and show him how much more depraved you were.

"What are you talking about y/n, I'm older than you that doesn't even make sense" he rambled looking anywhere but your eyes that were boring into his skull. God why did you have to be so close, why did you have to smell so good and be so pretty and-

His thoughts were cut off when you grabbed his chin and made him look at you directly

"I just think you're the kind of guy who needs direction, someone to help make those difficult decisions a sweet pet like you can't really decide for themselves, and why should you, that pretty little head of yours shouldn't have to worry about a single thing" you cooed squishing his cheeks together and making his lips push out

"I'm eighteen y/n, I can make my own decisions" Jamie argued or tried to through squished lips

At 5'3" you stood an entire nine inches under Jamie, but that didn't make him feel any less small in your presence

Letting go of his face you took a step back pretending to think for a moment "Alright then, I'll let you choose. Give me your number or get wedgied."

Jamie stood there dumb for a second, pants growing tighter and his skin warmer

"W-what?" He laughed nervously

Pulling his face closer to yours by the collar of his shirt you repeated your earlier statement to him in a slow demeaning manner, as if he was brain dead

"Give me your number or you get boo boo, oh no!" Your lips turned down in faux sadness

Jamie wasn't sure what to make of the situation, you usually weren't this physical with him, he was a little scared but mostly turned on. He didn't want to admit it but he had the teeniest tiniest crush on you and he blamed the stupid porn he'd been watching but he only looked into it because of you!

"I-I don't.." he paused

On one hand, he wanted to give you his number but on the other hand he'd never thought getting wedgied sounded so appealing

"You don't hmm~? Well, that just won't do. What happened to my big tough guy? Who was so strong and independent? Do you know darling? Ah, of course you don't. You're just as clueless as a little puppy dog and as cute as one too <3"

The new nickname shocked Jamie and caused him to audibly gasp, his hard-on fully visible now

"You can't j-just-aghhh"

You gripped him by his hair to cut him off

"Oh is puppy trying to give the orders now? What a silly little mutt you are, you really don't know how this works do you? The tent in your pants suggests otherwise but here you are telling me what I can and can't do with my property"

"I-I'm not yours y/n! A-and I'm not a pervert!!"

That first statement made your blood boil and you didn't even realize that you'd pushed Jamie down to his knees

"A good dog doesn't speak, a good dog gets treats and rewards but you're not being a good dog, Jamie. I know your tiny brain might not have comprehended it yet but you are mine, you're only mine. Who else is gonna talk to such a pervert hm? You were made for me, nobody else should ever see you like this, in fact, nobody ever sees you the way I do."

Before he could get a word out you pinned him to his position by placing your shoe on his clothed dick and reached over him to grab his boxers. Putting pressure on both simultaneously had him squirming and letting out the most sinful moans that made you wanna take him right then and there.

"Y-nnnnnnn" he whined, grinding up to help release some of the tension but each movement made the fabric between his ass more uncomfortable

"Shhh puppy, this is the punishment you've been given, I wouldn't be a very good owner if I didn't discipline my pet, you just gotta learn how to be good for me mkay? Don't you wanna learn how to be good and get rewards and pets and walkies~?"

All the new sensations made Jamie's head spin, his body felt like it was burning up from the inside out, his head was fuzzy, his dick was so much more sensitive than it had ever been while he was touching it and he couldn't place why the slight uncomfortableness of the wedgie made his parts throb even more, the whole situation was so intense poor boy couldn't fully wrap his doggy brain around it.

"I-I'm so close y/nnn, oh godd please, give me more! 'M so closeee" he panted not caring how pathetic he looked

"Already? Such a greedy pup for me hehe~ Have you learned your lesson, Jamie? Do you even deserve to cum against the bottom of my shoe?" You sang in a taunting manner pressing down even harder with your shoe

"I-, aghhhhh ohh yess fuck, YES! I'm yours y/n only yours! Promise! I'll-uggghh I'll be-hah hah- good! Just for you!"

"Atta boy! That wasn't so hard was it pup?" Finally letting go of his underwear you continued to let Jamie grind against your foot until he got to the edge

"M- boutta...cum!!" At this point, Jamie had grabbed your leg, chin resting on your thick thigh, eyes teary and glazed over staring up at you as if you were a goddess

Softly cupping his face you lifted it off your leg and removed any contact from his dick causing him to let out strings of breathy and high-pitched whines

You sat down and pulled him into your lap, gently wiping away the fresh fallen tears off his face

"W-*hiccup*why y/n, was so close...so close"

His protest died down with a stern look from you

"You'll be alright puppy, I promise. I'm gonna take care of you from now on, you are mine after all"

The rest of the evening was spent holding your new puppy, rubbing his tummy and flustering him with all the soft attention you gave him

He couldn't believe he got so lucky as to experience you, and as long as he considers being owned and expected to heed your everyword, he was lucky!

End <3

#sub yandere #sub character #dom reader #soft yandere #smut #yandere

[periprose]

Fly Away

Michael Berzatto x Reader

You're a family friend of the Berzattos and you're invited to have fun at their annual Christmas dinner. You think you still harbor feelings for Carmy, but as the evening progresses, you feel something for his brother.

Genre: friends to lovers, former crush on carm, really everything w carm is mostly platonic, unrequited stuff, insecurities, age gaps (reader and carm are 25, Michael is 38), takes place in 2017, takes place in S2E6, lots of angst, anxiety, some fluff, no use of y/n (you have a nickname: Birdie)

Word count: 11k

There’s a bauble and trinket everywhere you look. Festive, Christmas spirit seems to ebb from the very walls of the Berzatto household– and you would be remiss not to compliment it vocally in some way.

Donna is clearly waiting, teetering on a response from you as you take everything in from the front door. And you know how she reacts if you don’t say things in that perfect, supportive tone that she so desperately thrives off of.

“Wow, Mrs. Berzatto!” You clasp your hands, trying not to seem too cloying or ironic. “I love what you’ve done with the house. Such an eye for details.”

“Oh, stop.” She giggles, and lightly taps your shoulder as she takes your coat and hangs it up in the closet. 

“No, really. I wish my house was so… Christmassy this time of year.” You shrug, knowing that your dad isn’t the festive type after divorcing your mother.

“Aw. Well, we have love to spread here.” It’s a strange unseen sympathy coming from Donna, and she pulls you inside, and you take off your shoes, shuffling around in your socks and your comfy, hopefully chic, green loose turtleneck sweater. “Except you might have to wait a bit, because some of these fuckers are late.”

There’s that bitter tone you remember from Donna. You don’t really care for that– you tend to have an avoidant personality especially with how your own mother acts sometimes– and she yells out for Carmy and Mikey to greet you.

“Boys! Birdie’s here!” She calls from the stairs, and you suddenly feel self conscious.

Ever since your dad, a former co-worker and friend of Cicero’s, starting taking you as a teenager to these Berzatto hangouts, you have always had a eye for Carmen. It was hard not to be, seeing this bashful, slightly angry, awkward boy, around the same age as you, with dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes. You felt like sometimes, he really, really listened to you, and that was all you needed.

You wish you could be there for him too. 

It’s something you’ve never acted on, never bothered to actually approach him about– he always seemed so absorbed by his own thing.

You relished in the fact that he never had a girlfriend. You felt secure in that, because he just seemed safe. And it’s not like he would’ve been mean about rejecting you if he knew– you were always close to the Berzatto siblings. You were Bear and Birdie, ready to head out on a walk together, while the adults gossiped and drank.

Of course, you haven’t seen him in about… two years now. Around after he left to his apartment, and did his chef-education-training (you’re a bit vague on the details, honestly), and ever since then, as far as you know he’s slowly been doing what he loves. He does text you from time to time, but you’d be overstating those texts’ importance if you pretended it really quantified a relationship.

Mikey clambers down the stairs, wearing what looks to be pajamas, or very chill homebody clothes, and he raises his arm in a big, Italian gesture.

“Oh! Is that little Bird I see?” He exclaims, and pulls you into an eager hug. Maybe a little too eager– you think it’s almost as if you’re comforting him as you hug him back, his face coming down onto your shoulder, as he encapsulates you– and he pulls away, grinning.

He actually looks really good. You don’t know when you started thinking that Mikey was good looking, but it’s true– he has a certain, rough around the edges appeal that you find yourself drawn to.

“Merry Christmas. You’ve been keeping away from us.” Mikey points as you, intended as a stern remark, but you snort.

“Yeah, Merry Christmas. I’ve been busy with work and law school, Michael. I’m not a kid anymore.” You resist the urge to comment on his beard, and then do it anyways. “Are you sure I’ve been keeping away? You’re the one with a hermit-ass beard.”

“Oh… they grow up and just start taking shots at you, don’t they, Ma?” Mikey places his hand over his heart, as if he’s wounded, and Donna shakes her head in agreement, before heading back to the kitchen, already seeming annoyed about something. “Beards are fashionable in 2017, Bird. Maybe come back to our current time– no reason for you to start dressing like a grandma already.”

You scoff at that, pointing at your sweater. “It’s semi-formal, c’mon! It looks nice. Respect the gathering’s rules.”

“It’s my house, babe.” Mikey leans in with maybe a little too much comfort, his eyes shining with some warmth, mirth even, and you don’t exactly pull away– the guy is like thirteen years older than you, and even if he does kid around, play up an older brother thing, you’ve started feeling like he’s restraining something more as of late, maybe some primal level of attraction that he knows better than to mess around with. You know that the feeling is kind of mutual– but you really don’t know how to quantify it. “I’m man of the house, and I say you should wear something that maybe, uh, shows off the pretty twenty-five year old that you are.”

The last part of this sentence has you swallowing a little, and you feel your face turning warm, and Mikey himself looks embarrassed that he’s said it, that he’s given a bit of evidence to your theories– he seems to brush something off, inside himself. 

You have never thought you were all that. You’ve always been pretty sure you should be glad that you’ve gotten by without having to worry about your looks. The idea of wearing a nice, somewhat revealing dress to the Berzattos’ house has you cringing, because you know it would just be… bad. 

“I’m not–” Mikey scowls at himself and you can visibly see himself fighting something, looking a little anxious, and you tentatively grasp his forearm.

“I know what you mean. I’m not offended.” You smile slightly, making the effort to calm him down a little, because you would never want Michael to beat himself up over you (he really seems to do that as of late and you know you’re not worth the trouble), and he nods and inhales. “You look good, too.”

“Right. Right on, Birdie. You can do what you want, anyways. Not up to me.” He seems to really dial back some of what he said, and before you can respond, Carmy walks downstairs.

“Hi. Hey, Birdie. Merry Christmas.” He says, kind of quietly, and you find yourself somewhat happy to hear him say your nickname again. Carmy looks especially nice– deep blue has always been his colour, it brightens up his eyes– and he has slightly longer hair than you remember. 

He leans in for a brief but firm hug, and glances at your eyes once, before looking towards the floor again.

Mikey nods and proceeds to exit to the kitchen, and you’re left with Carmy grappling with what to say.

“How have you–”

“How’s law sch–”

Carmy coughs awkwardly, and you find your face turning warm as he looks towards you.

“Sorry, Bear.” You let him speak, hoping not to scare him away. “How’s everything? You okay?”

“Yeah. Uh… well, I’ve been training at Copenhagen?” He furrows his brows, runs his hand through his hair. “Just learning as much as I can.”

“Oh. Uh-huh.” Your curiosity is piqued– you didn’t know he was in Denmark, much to your disappointment– but you want to pry more of an answer out of him. He doesn’t seem interested in talking about it more than that. 

“Sorry. Sorry. Stupid answer, there’s just not much to say.” Carmy shrugs, and then realizes suddenly that you’ve been standing at the foyer of the house for quite some time now, which isn’t very polite or inviting of him. “Wait, hold on. Let’s go sit inside and talk.”

Carmy makes some offhand comment about how you need to speak up sometimes and stop being so nice and accommodating to idiots like him, and you snicker, knowing that this is the Carmy you remember– snarky, ready to fight people on sometimes, even if he is a little weird and bashful. Although he’s short– he makes up for it with his resilience.

Carmy leads you through golden-lit hallways, a certain pepperminty, pine tree scent seeming to overlay the entire house, and there’s bushels and wreathes and mistletoe everywhere, and somehow even more baubles, ornaments, trinkets, knickknacks, all gold and red and warm tones that do make you feel a little fuzzy.

Carmy sits you down in the living room, on the sofa, and you’re next to him, and you place a foot under your knee, trying to feel casual. Not freaking out about him sitting right next to you. Weirdly enough… you don’t think you feel anything anxiety inducing. 

Perhaps you’re just getting more reassured of yourself with age. 

“So? How is Copenhagen, otherwise? I know Denmark is really interesting, but you’re probably busy with chef stuff, huh?” You prod just a little further. Just out of your own personal curiosity to see how far Carmy will go for you, and he nods. “Any friends?”

“Ah…” Carmy winces a little. “Can’t say if he’s a friend yet, but there is this guy that’s out of this world with pastries. I don’t know if I can meet his standard on that.”

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes. “Bear, you make my dad cookies all the time. Or, well, you used to. You can’t be that bad at it, considering that he always eats all of them.”

“Oh, really? Fuck, man.” Carmy looks at you in disbelief, settling more into his corner of the couch, closer to the tree, but looking more openly at you. You feel yourself cower a little under his watchful gaze. “I didn’t know your dad enjoyed them that much… I would’ve made more. Did you ever try them?”

“Hm?” You were getting lost in the details around Carmy– the dark blue shirt, the little bits of stubble around his jaw, the tattoos peeping out from under his long sleeves– and you nod. “Ah, I tried a batch around the last time you gave him some. I think it was… macadamia, matcha, white chocolate? Really good.”

Carmy is unreadable, his eyes flickering from the ground to your eyes– you think maybe you’ve embarrassed him a little– but he thanks you. “Where is your dad, anyways?”

“Ah. He’s got the flu, and he was kind enough to not want to infect you guys.” You admit. “Even though he was trying his best to walk over here from our house.”

Carmy remembers that you live in the neighbourhood over. You two used to hang out a lot during elementary and high school. He kind of missed you– something he’d never say out loud, but Carmy knows friends are few with him, and you were always a good friend to him growing up. You were always a comforting presence for him– you never asked him for too much, and he could tell you were being careful to do so. No pressure.

You just became really busy with law school, and he became really busy with chef stuff, and now you’re both… you both just lost touch. He feels bad about it– bad like he always does, with former friends and acquaintances from high school that he’s accidentally ghosted and lost– but at least you don’t seem to be annoyed about it. 

He thinks it’s probably because in this case, you pulled away just as much as he had to.

“How’s law school, anyways?” Carmy counts the years in his head. “You’ve either just finished or you’re in your final year?”

“I’m in my final year.” You stretch out your arms, looking eager. “It’s a lot of work– I’m only here because I’m lucky enough to have a bit of a break in the winter months, and I’m ahead on my courses. But, uh… I don’t know. It’s fun.”

“Fun? Wow.” Carmy grins a little. 

“What?”

“I don’t know, Birdie. Fun is more… fucking, I don’t know, fireworks or something? Drugs, maybe, yeah.” Carmy watches as you laugh, and laugh, at what he’s said, and again he’s never really sure what’s so funny about what he’s said, but he likes to hear you laugh.

“Clearly you don’t know either.” You snort, and lightly punch his arm. “When did we become workaholics?”

“Probably when we became, uh, adults and entered the workforce.” Carmy states, and you wrinkle your brows.

“We’re not really in the workforce yet, but–”

“What, really? C’mon. You’re a fucking receptionist or some shit, right?”

“Business administration specialist.”

“Yeah, there you go. That’s work, especially with all the school you have to do.” Carmy shrugs. “But what do you really want to be, then?”

“Oh, we getting into dreams, then?” You cock an eyebrow at him. “I didn’t think you cared that much, Bear.”

Carmy, for some reason he can’t detect, turns a little red. “No, of course I do. We’re still friends, right?”

“Acquaintances.”

“For real?” Carmy looks back at you, affronted, but you have a little smile and he knows you’re teasing. “Oh fuck you. Stop it.”

“Sorry, sorry.” You shake your head, giggling a little, glad to have so easily fallen back into a comfortable, friendly banter. “Of course we’re friends, it’s just that… I always thought very highly of you, Carmen, and I can’t always be sure that feeling was returned. You know? I assumed that you’d be out doing sophisticated cooking in big, upscale restaurants, and the rest of us would just be reading about it. Forgive me for feeling a little behind it all.”

“No, no, no. You got it all wrong, Birdie.” Carmy half-laughs at how you put him on such a pedestal. “You were always the one doing real work, as Mom would call it. You’re the one who’s actually smart and good at arguing, debating– that’s a real skill coming from me, because I just yell fuck at everyone and hope it works. I always thought you were the impressive one out of all of us.”

You snicker, but you’re actually quite pleased with that, and you feel your heart warm at his praise. “Ah, that’s so sweet. Thank you. If it makes you feel better, I’ve been surviving off of ramen and convenience store food for the last month. I can hardly make the time to cook efficiently.”

“...” Carmy shakes his head. “That doesn’t make me feel better. You’re gonna eat good food today then, I hope.”

Almost as if on cue, Donna calls for Carmy to come help her with something– and you’re left sitting as he tells you that he’s going to hear about your dream job when he gets back.

/

Fifteen minutes later– Carmy is still MIA, and you’re starting to get a little hungry. 

You know it’s rude, but luckily Michael comes by and asks if you want a snack.

“Yeah, how’d you know?” You ask, and Michael snickers.

“You’re the same girl that can eat a whole number four combo at the Beef. I’m pretty sure you were hungry before you got here.” Michael jokes, and you blush in embarrassment.

“Oh my god, stop it.” You shake your head. “Anyways, yeah. A snack would be nice.”

Michael gives you a wink that strangely has you a little twitterpated, before you shake that off. He comes back a few minutes later, chewing on something himself– and he hands you a bowl full of Italian sausage stirfry.

“Thanks, Michael.” You smile up at him, and he nods, trying not to smile too much back at your gratitude, but he likes how you take a bite and look super relieved, happy with the food. He’s always loved giving food to people– taking care of them. Especially you, for some reason.

Michael heads back to the kitchen, and Natalie comes by and takes his place.

“Birdie!” She hugs you tightly, and you hug her back, equally happy. “Oh my gosh, if I knew you were down here I would’ve come by ages ago!”

“Aw.” You beam at her. “That’s okay, Nat. I’m happy to see you too.”

She’s off ranting about how Pete, her husband, is late, and how she can barely manage everything going on, and you’re sympathetic. You know Nat gets more of a harsh treatment from Donna, and you tell her that you’re there if she needs a person on her side.

“Oh, Birdie. I couldn’t do that to you. Even if you are amazing at talking, Miss Lawyer-to-be.” She lets you continue to sit down in your corner of the living room, as she heads off to check on her mom– maybe pour out some alcohol.

 Carmy comes back in, slightly powdered with flour on his forehead– and he sits back down, sighing, as he drinks a glass of water.

There’s the slightest air of awkward tension still– even if you and Carmy have fallen back into your old ways, he still keeps a slight distance, one that he’s grown into, and you feel that you have to break the silence. You don’t know if he’s just tired or if there’s some level of irritation of having to deal with all the holiday bullshit, but you take a guess it has to do with Donna.

“That bad?” You grimace, and Carmy matches your expression.

“That bad.” He shakes his head. “She always gets a little woo-woo around these fucking events. Like, I never wanted her to do all of this– but she insists and insists and doesn’t know how to let go of the, uh…”

“Hubris.” 

“Yes. Hubris.” Carmy sighs, glad you still have the perfect word for everything. “Whatever. Anyways, haven’t forgotten. Hit me with your dream.”

“Okay, it’s going to sound a little weird, but, um… I’m really interested in becoming a labour relations lawyer?” You feel almost too much glee at the fact that Carmy remembered, and you see Carmy bite his lip, a little confused, so you continue, hoping you don’t sound like too much of a fucking nerd. “Meaning to help employees get out of their shitty situations with wages, working hours, benefits and fight for their rights. Union stuff. I don’t know, just feels like everyone is struggling with this nowadays… might as well push forward and try to help them out.”

“Wow, now that you’ve said that, it makes a lot of sense.” Carmy blinks. “I mean, uh, it’s not just that you’re good at arguing– you always go for the justice part of things. Remember when Michael and Sugar were arguing about cleaning the basement?”

You do remember that. You suggested dividing up either equally or by who owned what, and they eventually came to an agreement based on that. Michael wanted to dip because he was older, and Sugar thought it was demeaning to ask a girl to clean.

“Or when Lee said that women can’t think analytically, or what was it… mathematically?” Carmy laughs as he watches your face turn angry again.

“Yeah. I especially remember that. I told him to think about Ada Lovelace and to shut up.” You wince. “Maybe not the most mature thing I’ve ever said. I don’t think that’s such a great thing… sometimes I don’t know when to let go of arguments.”

“It’s alright, it was funny.” Carmy plays with his fingers. “That being said, I think you’ll be good if you choose to be that. A labour relations lawyer. You’re smart, and god fucking knows we all need the help. You should check out how many chefs get fucked over because they work at places for the prestige of doing so.”

“Damn.” You make a mental note of that, feeling embarrassed over how much praise Carmy has freely given you. “Is that going to be you?”

“Doesn’t matter if it is. Sometimes you gotta do what you can.” Carmy doesn’t really give you a clear answer, and you feel bad for him. Bad that he’s still stuck in that mindset.

/

You can hear people hooting and jeering near the stairs, as you walk around the house, exploring a little. Tiff was grateful that you visited her for a brief moment– she told you being pregnant was not all it was cracked up to be– and now you’re just on the upper floor, near the stair railing, on your phone.

You’re not really one to eavesdrop, but you hear– you believe it’s Mikey and Richie– they’re chanting “Claire! Claire Bear!”

Your stomach drops, as you hear them hoot about how hot she is, whoever this Claire girl is– how stacked she is, apparently, the banging body she has, the glasses no longer ruining her appearance– and although you know it’s gross men talk, there’s a small, sad part of you that wants to be perceived as attractive, too. 

Still, even as you find yourself frowning and turning away in disgust, you can’t stop yourself from listening.

You remember her. Claire, one of the neighbours down the street. Went to the same high school as you and Carmy. She was really something, someone of note if you remember the popular kid cliques correctly, but she had largely gone unnoticed by you, and it wasn’t for any reason in particular. You can’t be close with every person in high school.

But still– you feel jealous. Just a teeny bit. What was so different about her?

Sure, she was a nice girl. But weren’t you? You arguably had more history with the Berzattos, and yet… it’s as if you’ve simply blended into the wallpaper, their assortment of home decor and furniture. You’ve always been here, and so you don’t stand out.

You might never stand out.

You can hear Carmy trying his best to argue against them, asking them what they did, telling them to fuck off with their teasing– but he sounds sheepish, embarrassed, righteously mortified in the telltale way one would be when they have a crush, and you feel sick. 

They’re heaping compliments on her. You know what they mean when they talk about her like this– she’s the clear, obvious choice, probably closer to the family, more interesting, more affectionate, a genius. You don’t really know Claire that well, but apparently, she’s perfect. And you know you, in your silly frumpy sweater, in your attempts to dress up– you are not. You feel humiliated that you even believed Mikey when he said you were pretty– he was clearly complimenting you just to be nice. 

You weren’t even an idea in their minds, not for Carmy, anyways. You don’t even think Carmy is capable of seeing you like that now, and it’s with a crushing blow that you realize you were holding out hope. Mistaking familiarity for affection.

It’s a rookie mistake. One that you thought you were self aware enough not to make, because you’ve always known Carmen Berzatto was just out of reach for you.

You wait for them to leave, and come down the stairs, running into Carmy as he groans in annoyance.

/

Carmy says he needs to wipe some of the flour out of his hair, and you let him go upstairs, not really wanting to look at him, doing everything you can to make your way back to the living room unnoticed. In the meanwhile, Michael comes back and flops into Carmy’s seat on the sofa, next to where you sit, sullen.

“Hey, Birdie.” Michael starts, and you can’t read his tone, and you’re a little annoyed with his fake-nice attention. “Why not sit with me, the Faks, Michelle and Stevie? They’re really good people, I promise.”

“How do you know I’m avoiding people?” You snap back, maybe a little too aggrieved.

“It’s written all over your face, little Birdie.” He touches his knee to yours, and you bite your lip, swallowing your confusion, and Mikey enjoys the fact that you’ve chosen to wear a deep, brick-red Christmas lip colour. It’s hot– he doesn’t get how you don’t seem to be aware that you’re attractive.

He wants to kiss you. Maybe mess up that fancy lipstick and that sweet, annoyingly justice oriented, always-right character of yours. But he keeps it to himself.

“Don’t be antisocial. You of all people shouldn’t be alone during the holidays.”

“I’m not trying to be antisocial. I promise.” You shrug, trying to keep your emotions, that sinking feeling in your gut at bay– the last thing you want is for Michael to see you upset. “I was keeping Bear company, but I can come sit with you guys.” 

“That’s my girl.” Michael pulls you up by the arm, and you can feel your face warming at his choice of words– you like being in Michael’s good graces, even if you feel less than great right now.

Michelle, cousin of the Berzattos, has always been sweet to you. She’s impressive in her own right, and as you sit down in front of her and Stevie– she gushes about New York.

“Ah, that’s not to say Chicago isn’t impressive. Right, Birdie?” She smiles at you, not unkindly, and you feel happy to be included. 

“Right.” You shrug, knowing that the law firm you work at isn’t all that crazy. You can’t shake the feeling that you’re nothing special, not after what transpired just a few minutes ago, and you voice it. “It’s just okay.”

“No, c’mon. You work at one of the top fucking law firms in the city– you’re gonna make it.” Michael admonishes you. “Out of us Chicagoans, I mean, Michelle, before you take offense.”

“Yeah, Mish.” Richie echoes, popping up out of nowhere.

“None taken.” Michelle fixes her eyes between you and Michael– perhaps reading on something that you’re not even really sure how to understand, let alone explain– and she laughs. “Anyways, what was I saying? Right.”

She launches into a story about hating a woman who didn’t understand the Berzatto name. It’s quite funny– you find yourself laughing every now and then, the dull ache in your heart less noticeable, especially with how good Michelle is at telling stories, and somewhere along the story, Michael’s hand has stayed intertwined with yours, without you really noticing. You only notice when he lets go, and again– a pitfall in your stomach, wondering if Michael just feels familiar around you because there’s nothing to be attracted to and thus respectful of– and it’s such a stupid thought, but you still just know you want to feel wanted. You want to get a hold on yourself– remind yourself you’re not owed attraction and there’s nothing wrong with Mikey or Carmy seeing you as just a friend.

You realize with a start that you’re feeling confused about Michael, too. Was it just a weird quirk of his, calling every single girl pretty just for laughs? Could you even trust what he said? Why does Michael’s opinion of you feel way more pertinent and important than Carmy’s does?

You find yourself mulling over these thoughts, not sure of what’s going on around you, and you hear Michael tell the Fak bros, Ned and Ted, to shut up about California, which they do.

Donna starts screaming in the background, which causes you to turn abruptly. “Oh, fuck me!”

Michael turns and looks at you with some caution– he’s used to his mother’s outbursts, but he never ever wants you to face them. You don’t deserve that, you’ve probably never done anything to deserve it. Not like him.

Stevie gets up, much to the surprise of everyone around him. “Looks like Auntie D needs help, huh?”

“No, no, no.” Everyone tries to stop him, including you.

“What?”

Michelle pushes him back down, but he gets back up, resilient. 

Lee decides to comment in. “Let him, why not?”

“I’m sure she could use a few extra hands. I’m going.” He goes, and you stand up to follow, not willing to let an innocent person get dragged into Donna’s insanity.

“Wait, Birdie. Where are you going?” Michael holds your hand again, and you turn red at his action– a little angry, a little glum that he seems to care for you, and you can’t even be grateful for it. “Don’t throw yourself to the wolves. It’s not fucking worth it.”

“Not throwing myself– just want to make sure Stevie is protected.” You move forward, your face stony, and Michael lets go of you, sighing as he wraps his blanket around himself, wondering when you got all pissed off, but glad that you’re not so upset that you wouldn’t act all lawyer-y for Stevie.

Lee is glancing at him, while Michelle looks pleased as punch.

“What? What the fuck are these expressions?” Michael looks around questioningly, and Richie gives him a side glance.

“When’d you get all sweet on her, bro?” Richie gags a little. “Not that she’s not your type, but, uh–”

“I’m just being friendly.” Michael dismisses him, leaning back in his seat. “It’s the holidays, she shouldn’t be lonely.”

“Bullshit you are.” Richie sniggers, and Michael lightly shoves him.

“Yeah, I call bullshit too.” Michelle grins. “I can see it– you’re blushing.”

Michael groans, hating to be so obviously vulnerable in front of everyone. 

“Well I, for one, think it’s a huge, fucking catastrophic mistake.” Lee starts, and Michael feels himself blanch under the judgement of this guy. “You’re going to ruin that young woman’s potential if you go around messing with her.”

“Lee, she’s not that young–” Neil starts. “I think she can decide that herself?”

“Whatever. This one knows he isn’t right for her– always wants what he can’t have.” Lee mutters, and Michael feels that white-hot rage– the anger he feels bubbling inside of him as of late. 

He does his best to swallow it down, but a part of him knows that it’s true. As much as Michael enjoys your random visits over the past two years, he knows– you’re too good for someone like him. Too young, too selfless, too honest and good and pretty, and he feels an overwhelming wave of shame that he came so close. It’s like he just… doesn’t know how to be a good, responsible person, and it kills him on the inside that he could be so shameful, be so abhorrent and take advantage of you like that, and even if there is a tiny part of him screaming that it’s not so black and white– that you could be just as interested, of your own volition, in him as he is in you– he feels guilt. 

Michael is ashamed of who he is. Over, and over, there’s that feeling again– kill yourself– that he doesn’t know how to suppress, and he ignores it as he starts up a new story.

/

Natalie is tearing up as Stevie hugs her.

You came towards them in the midst of Donna yelling for Stevie to get the fuck out of the kitchen, and Sugar shushing him and shoving him away, and you now place a hand on her shoulder– clearly Stevie has it handled, somewhat.

When he lets go, she sniffles and you smile encouragingly, albeit a little sadly, and Natalie wipes away a tear. 

“It’s okay. It’s fine, it’s nothing. You don’t need to talk to her.” She starts, and you shake your head.

“I’m not going to. I can see that would make things worse.” You squeeze her shoulders, and Stevie nods.

“Yeah, Natalie. But we’re here. We’ll always be here if you want to talk.” He tries, and you smile at her– but something about Nat’s slightly upset, off putting expression, and Donna’s grumbling in the background– you feel your heart seizing a little at the tense emotions, so similar to your own, and you excuse yourself.

You walk until you reach the pantry, hot tears already working their way down your face. Every single negative emotion have come to a head, and you’re in terrible danger of having to explain things if you don’t get it together in under ten minutes or so.

You sit on the high table in the pantry, trying not to cry anymore than you already have, your head between your knees– but something about today has all your nerves on edge, and you know it’s because you put in some effort to come here, to see your dear friends, to look appealing enough, to be someone worth talking to, and now you feel as if they never really cared about you at all. 

You know these are lousy, immature feelings. You know you can be above them if you really, truly tried, but you let yourself sink into them further, because something about this environment is terrible and you just can’t let it go.

Even worse, no one has really done anything wrong. If this was a court case, you wouldn’t even have any evidence to make a claim. You’re simply confused, perhaps looking at things from the wrong angles– but the fact that you can’t look at this rationally makes you feel worse. As if you’re not as smart as you believed.

You don’t know how long you’ve been in here, when you hear someone shuffle into the pantry, next to you– it’s Michael.

He’s quick on his feet– you try to move away, let him grab whatever household ingredient he needed– but his full attention is on you as his eyes narrow, scanning your tear stained face and your hunched over body.

“Birdie?”

You can’t quite look at him, and you desperately try to wipe your tears, burying your face more between your knees. 

“Hey, no. Birdie.” He shakes his head, grabs your arms. He thinks it’s a little strange he’s had to cheer up two different people in the pantry, but he chalks it up to how his house always is. “What happened? Was it Ma?”

“No.” You sight and swallow down the sobs in your throat.

“Then what was it?” Michael’s eyes turn steely. “Fucking ‘Uncle’ Lee? Asshole. Told me I can’t finish any fucking businesses.”

“But… you run the Beef, don’t you?” You say, amid sniffles, entirely honest about it, and Michael’s eyes soften. “That has to count for something.”

“Yeah, little Bird.” He’s glad to have you here– he doesn’t care if it’s fucked up, not when you’re the only person on his side at this moment. “But why don’t you tell me what’s up?”

“I–” You shake your head, and feel your head hang heavy as you slouch over the table, and Michael leans over you, pressing your head to his chest, and you feel yourself crying silently into his shirt, as he shushes you and combs back your hair, his other arm caressing your back.

Michael’s not the best person– not the most comforting to be around– but he knows, by being an older brother, by being someone people want to be around, he knows how to make it count when he does give in to comfort. 

He just wishes he didn’t feel so goddamned depressed himself, so he would know the right things to say. He doesn’t want to be so useless all the time.

“Mikey?” You voice is timid. Small. 

He feels both elated that you would trust him with this, and devastated that he’ll never be good enough to deserve your trust. 

“Yeah, Birdie?”

“It’s so juvenile, but I…" You shake your head and decide to commit to it. "I wish I was pretty."

“Is that it?” Michael’s arm wraps around your shoulder as he squishes onto the seat of the table, next to you. “You think you’re ugly, huh?”

“I don’t think I’m–” You inhale deeply, and wipe away your tears again. “It’s not about being ugly. It’s more like an objective reality that I have to accept. I’m just not… I’m not anything special to look at.”

“Wow, kid.” Michael tuts and shakes his head. “Ever heard that beauty is in the eye of the beholder? That stupid fucking mantra, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s true.” Michael almost starts laughing, but you look so solemn and serious, he resists the urge. “You’re not ugly. You might not think you’re all that, but you don’t see what I see.”

Michael tenses, and you watch as he falters over how to explain.

Michael thinks you're so damn annoying with that ardent, sweet expression– even if your tears are staining your face, you still look so grateful to hear him say those words– and it just crushes him. It crushes him to know that you look for his approval so much, when he knows you're worth so much more than that.

He doesn't want to let you down. You and Carmen– he will never be enough for the two of you. 

"I don't– I'm fucking stupid, Birdie, don't listen to me." He swallows, but you're hanging onto his words and your face falls again. 

"But I can listen to you get all poetic about Claire, right?" You mutter, angry, and you get up to leave– but Michael grabs your forearm, and he's quite a bit stronger than you are. 

“Hey. That’s different.” Michael tries, but you shake your head, and you’re left sitting on the table again. “I was only teasing Bear. It has nothing to do with you.”

“I know.” You turn even more glum, and Michael is left feeling terrible, wondering what was so wrong with what he said. 

You’re silent for a moment– you know that you like Carmy, but something about telling Michael about it feels weird, like you’re pre-emptively rejecting him rather than Carmy by confessing feelings that are slowly disappearing– and you just don’t want to.

But you know you need to. You need to accept that Carmy would never see you that way.

“I just… for a really long time, I thought that I…” You fall to silence, again, and Michael is staring at you, hanging onto every word, watching your side profile shake as you try to gather your thoughts. “I really liked him, you know? I don’t even know why– maybe he was just the clearly available, safe option, and now that’s not even true and I feel like I’m mourning something that was never even real. How stupid and childish can I get?”

“Wait, Birdie–”

“And I just… I know I’m not like Claire. I don’t know what I got myself into. I don’t even really like him anymore– it’s just that the situation makes it so damn apparent that I am just average.” You huff out your words with an air of finality that even has Michael flinching a little, and he runs his hands through his hair, unbelieving of what you’ve said. “You can’t even say I’m not, Mikey, because I know how you talked about her and it was just so different to how anyone here has ever thought about me.”

“Birdie, shut the fuck up.” Michael breathes out really heavily, pinching his brows, thinking that he regrets everything he said and he wishes he could take it back. “I didn’t really– I was trying to tease Carmy, you know? It didn’t mean the shit you think it does. Hell, I would be way more serious if I was talking about you.”

He takes a beat of silence– should he read your reaction to that, or keep going? And he decides to keep going.

“You can’t just act like you can read everyone’s minds because you’re a lawyer, Birdie.” Michael says it with a slightly lighter tone, and his hand traces the small of your back as you lean against your knees, staring up at him. “Didn’t you learn about intent or whatever the fuck it was? In school?”

“Yeah, I guess.” You admit despite yourself, and Michael smiles but continues seriously.

“I don’t think that about Claire, okay? If anything, I’m fucking embarrassed you heard me talk all of that shit– that was just meant to be, uh, guy talk. I swear.” Michael swallows, feeling guilty that he still had to be so low about it. “I don’t– I care so much about him, I just went too far in working him up. I think it would be a good thing for him, right?”

Hurt flashes across your face– you still don’t think you like Carmy anymore, you just don’t know how to feel about someone else being portrayed as a “good thing.” But you inhale– you know part of getting over it is having to accept this, and you let yourself think and then nod.

“Yeah. Yeah, I could see that.” You agree, and it doesn’t hurt as much since Michael is looking at you sympathetically. “I just… I want to be a good thing, too. Not for Carmy, just…”

“For someone?” Michael answers as you trail off. 

“Yeah.”

“Listen, Birdie. I’m gonna tell you something you gotta hear.” Michael has that determined look where you know he’s going to say something smart– he has his fleeting moments of wisdom even if he doesn’t believe in himself– and he goes for it. “I can’t believe no one has ever told you just to, I don’t know, fucking love yourself a little? Like, c’mon, you should be able to like yourself! You’re an incredible person and you deserve– you have the right to be insanely fucking confident and it’s so fucking annoying that you don’t see it.”

In the heat of his argument, Michael’s come too close again, and he can feel your breath on somewhere near his jaw or neck, and he has to remind himself to pull away again.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, and Michael combs back a strand of your hair.

“Don’t be sorry. Just listen to what I’m saying.” Michael inhales, thinks over why he can’t do this himself– Tina always tells him to be a little easier on himself, but he just struggles– and he thinks that you look terribly cute so it’s just a lot easier to root for you. “Don’t do it for some idiot guy who will never really appreciate you, little Birdie.”

You can feel the conclusion of that sentence, even if Michael doesn’t quite say it: do it for yourself. Be there for yourself. Listen to the good part of yourself, rather than him.

“Oh. I guess that’s…” You swallow, taking it in, knowing the value of his words. “It’s true.”

“See? You know it.” Michael leans in a little too close again, his face a mere breadth away from your own.

“I think you’d actually make a fantastic lawyer.” You slyly comment amid wiping your face, and Michael blinks and then laughs.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Then you’d get to see me and hear my advice all the time.” Michael mumbles a little over his words but to his surprise, you nod. 

“Yeah, then I’d get to see some idiot who really does appreciate me.” You murmur even more quietly, and Michael, feeling stupid, has a wistful smile on his face that he maybe has not felt in a decade. It’s so sweet– he thinks his heart is bursting with something. 

Maybe love. Maybe that jovial, Christmas spirit that seems to emanate as the food smells closer to ready, maybe what Carmen gave him as a kind gift, most likely the closeness he feels with you– not just being close in familiarity, more like– he can make out the little spots and freckles adorning your face, every single eyelash your still watery eyes have, the faint lines in your still-red lips, and it occurs to him that he’s too close. Somewhere during this talk, his hand has stayed around your back, and you have been tentatively tracing his right hand’s knuckles with your own thumb. 

Michael knows how it looks. If anyone was to walk in right now (and he’s sure Michelle or Richie have already put it together that the two of you have been gone for a while) they would assume you two are a couple.

He has a sudden air of regret– it’s not because he wants to reject you, he just… he struggles a lot with feeling wanted. He struggles with the standards that people seem to put on him. Michael has always known he’s not a good guy– he doesn’t know how to be the person that everyone seems to think he is. Carmen, Natalie, Richie, you– you all seem to think the best of him, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it. He nearly had a breakdown watching Carmen look up to him so lovingly.

Before he can pull away– with another responsible refusal, telling you that he’s too old and washed up, and that you deserve the whole world and he is not enough to offer that to you– you gently but firmly grab his face, tracing his cheek, and he thinks it could be wrong– what if you’re just feeling all confused and willy-nilly about feelings because you’re displacing what you felt about Carmen, what if you don’t actually like him and you’re assuming that you do because of his clear attraction to you, what if you’re just feeling the moment and the sweet guidance he’s given you?

Tons of questions seem to flow from his mind, things that he wants to ask you, but Michael thinks fuck it, because you’re leaning in first and pulling him in and it’s something he would’ve never expected in a million years, that you could be just as attracted to him.

He kisses you maybe a little too hard– maybe it should’ve been softer, more gentle since you’ve opened up to him so much, but you kiss him just as eagerly back, and he doesn’t fucking care to be gentle anymore. He’s leaning over you and Michael knows he’s quite a bit taller, so he has to pull you upwards to really reach your lips, and the table the two of you are sitting on is quite small– it shakes a little and there’s not much room for Michael to really feel you.

Until you climb into his lap, because of course you do, and now you’re just tangling your fingers in his hair, and he thinks he can feel whatever migraine that the day’s events have spurred on him slipping away, and his hands wrap around the smallest part of your waist as he pulls you in, pressing his chest against yours. 

You feel like Michael’s beard tickles a little– but you don’t mind that. You weren’t sure until you did it that you’ve wanted to kiss him for a while. You feel like maybe you’ve actually been more attracted to him than you ever were with Carmy, maybe even just going for Carmy due to his aforementioned security. 

Michael groans, and he slips his tongue into your mouth, and you sharply inhale as his tongue roams around your own, and he knows he likes hearing you gasp when his hands come up under your sweater, just to feel your bare skin, and you pull away.

Michael comes in too close again, placing a soft yet firm kiss on the corner of your mouth, and you laugh at him, and it’s one of the best sounds he could hear. No longer are you all gloomy and sullen in the corner of the room– but there’s still an air of heat around you two, and he knows he should let you go before things go too far. 

“Consider that a Christmas present.” You murmur softly, tapping his face, genuinely smiling despite the smeared lipstick, and you clamber off his lap, and peek out the pantry. “I think you’re good to go eat dinner– let me just…”

You wipe the red lipstick from his mouth using the corner of your sweater sleeve, so not to leave evidence, and it’s an intimate moment that has Michael staring at your hand, to your eyes, and there’s something in his eyes– maybe sorrow, maybe appreciation, but most of all, tenderness, and he takes a silly, soft moment to just kiss your hand. You beam at him.

“How long have you wanted to do that?” You tease him, because you know that Michael has always had that look, and he stiffens for a moment.

“Ah… maybe around when you came back from graduating college.” Michael admits, feeling weirdly high and low all at the same time, but he questions you too. “What about you? Don’t tell me you just decided to kiss me right now. That would fucking… that would be too much.”

His heart falls for a split second– thinking about how again you could’ve just been having a little fling– why would you ever like him? He struggles to think how you could, even after having kissed you.

“No, no. I swear it’s not like that.” You turn a little red and play with your hands. “Um. You’re not like a rebound, Mikey, I just… I think I liked you ever since I started coming around more, maybe around last year? I probably just didn’t notice because I thought I was into Carmy. You know? Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that.”

“Yeah, I know.” Michael tries not to let the relief show through his face too much. “I thought maybe I was… reading too much into it. Putting pressure on you.”

“No, you’re good.” You shake off his concerns. “I don’t think that at all. I really do like you… might’ve just been obsessed with the idea of a childhood friend turning into a lover.”

Michael grins. “Well, who’s to say that didn’t fucking happen, Birdie? Are we not childhood friends?”

“Eh… kind of. You’re a bit old.” You give him a so-so motion, and Michael jokingly pushes you a little. “I’m kidding! This is more like– your friend’s hot older brother gives you a chance and it’s crazy and exciting and you just want to know more.”

You were half kidding, but you’re so honest about it, and Michael loves it, but there’s still that undercurrent of agony– he wants to just openly like you, too, but he doesn’t want to be such a fucking failure about it.

“I’m gonna just head to the dining table, I think.” You check your watch. “Gotta go think about this a little more– is that okay? Not in a bad way, I’m just overwhelmed with everything that’s happened today…”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s okay, Birdie.” Michael presses a kiss into your hairline. He knows it is a lot for anyone to handle– getting over a crush you thought you had, realizing that you like someone else– he gets it. “Take all the time you need.”

“Okay.” You smile eagerly at him and then walk outside through the hallway, wiping your mouth so it looks less kiss-stained, and peek around so no one is looking at you. 

Michael feels a million emotions hit him at once, and he knows he has to cool himself down before explaining to everyone where you’ve gone, what’s happened– or he’s certain to implicate himself, and he can’t have that. 

/ 

It all goes to shit not even twenty minutes later.

You’re sitting pretty between Richie and Tiff, who seem to be a little bit… awkward, maybe arguing mentally about something you don’t completely understand. No one has really commented on your disappearance, but you’re sure it’s obvious based on how Michelle and Stevie are whispering and smiling at you.

Michael gets a massive, depressive episode right after you’ve left him. He can’t exactly pinpoint why– he feels like a creep even if he isn’t one. Hell, he only actually met you when you were nineteen– he was in a different state when you started visiting the Berzattos. But even if Michael ignores his potential, old-man creepiness… he also feels like you’re headed for so much more than he ever was, and he knows he’s holding you back if he does this. 

For once in his life, he just wanted to be happy. He just wanted to be wanted without the stigma of not being good enough. 

You, Carmy, and Nat. He knows you guys are on your way. Michael feels a pit in his stomach as he imagines why you guys all have to look up to him so much– he just happened to be in the right place, at the right time.

He can’t ignore the feeling that he is just a major fucking loser.

That’s why Michael goes and gets high. He knows he’s making a mistake, and he doesn’t want to do something so disappointing– but he figures he’s already a disappointment anyways. He’s grateful you’re not here outside to see how pathetic he really is– how much he craves a hit just to feel a little less shitty. And yes, it calms him down as he feels the high of the painkillers exacerbate positive memories, like with you, Carmy, Natalie– but it still makes his anger, his depressive tendencies strong, too. 

When he sits down at the dining table– he’s not that intoxicated, but he knows it’s a little apparent on his face, based on the mild alarm on your own. You’re sitting just far enough from him for there to be plausible deniability, but still– you are worried about him.

“You good?” You mouth, and he waves away your question with an air of fake nonchalance. 

You don’t look convinced. You can see the red in Michael’s eyes, the general tension in his shoulders, the unnerving sense of resentment in his expression. You wonder what could have happened in the last ten minutes that you’ve been sitting at the table, why Michael decided to go and get intoxicated just minutes after kissing you.

Were you too much for him? Maybe.

You know Michael gets high. In fact, last Easter, you’re pretty sure he spent the entire time high on something– but you only vaguely know about his anger flare ups. About his negative emotions, the supposed depressive periods he goes through. You’ve seen him argue a bit with Richie, you know he’s gotten a bit harsh with Carmy, but you know he’s a bit more troubled than that. The whole family seems a bit troubled. Natalie has told you that much, and you have your experience with that– your mother and father’s fights are ones that still make you quiver to think about. But with Michael?

You don’t know how much you believed it, until now, because Michael always seemed kind of… like he always had the right thing to say. You almost feel like he’s in the right to get upset, because he’s had a hard time, with his family, some of his luck surrounding his career– especially with how Lee continually riles him up.

The table is formal and nice for a bit. Michael and Tiff converse about something, Carmy asks if you’re okay and you mostly are. Michelle asks Mikey to say grace, and he sounds resentful, again, of Lee cutting him off so often. 

Cicero, being the responsible uncle that he is, tries to push off grace to Stevie, who promptly rejects it, and Michelle decides to ease the tension by asking what the hell the seven fishes are all about. Lee, of course, gleefully answers, about the dutch potatoes and the bible.

Michael glares at him and throws a fork. A real, honest-to-god, heavy piece of silverware. It clatters on the carpeted floor– you feel yourself flinch, and you watch Natalie and Pete’s expressions crumble into the realization that Michael is not okay, and everyone seems to look towards him in fear.

“You see what you did, right? You already did that. You already bitched about the dutch oven.” Michael retorts at him, not completely coherent, and you can feel the lights glazing over– the Christmas tree, the wreaths and baubles, everything seems to lose focus in comparison to the red-hot anger that Michael is bubbling over with.

Cicero and Carmy try to call him off, but Michael isn’t listening, and you can tell– he’s in a place to be upset. It’s like a slowly proceeding car crash– as much as you don’t want him to do it, you understand why he’s going to. You feel like there is a bit of a double standard in place here– Cicero seems to want him to respect his elders, and Michael is being kind of childish, but you can’t say you don’t understand why.

Michael asks for Fak’s fork, in direct opposition to Lee’s attempts to play the father in this house. Despite Fak’s insistent refusals, Michael successfully takes it. Everyone speaks with the intent to stop him, and he’s too focused on Lee to stop.

You know you hate Lee too. But such a severe reaction, coming from Michael? It has you wincing a little. You want to pull him away– tell him to be the nice older brother you’ve always known him to be– but you know it takes time. You know it’s probably going to get worse. You try to catch his eye– and he can't quite look at you.

You have faith in him. You know Michael can do better than this– you just hope he can see it, too. 

Michael throws the second fork, and you feel regret in trusting him, again, because he’s making things bad but it’s almost as if he can’t help it. You catch Natalie’s eyes– she’s clearly disappointed, too.

Michael feels a sick sense of pleasure, as he often does when it comes to acting out his worst desires. But he feels a flash of anger with himself– is that what he did with you? Is he really this guy? He thinks that he is, he is a bad dude and he can commit to that role if that’s what’s needed.  

“Cousin, you’re scaring the normals.” Richie tries, looking at Tiff and you, but you’re still yearning to catch his glance– and Michael can only respond that it’s nothing, everything is fine, and you’re suddenly reminded of when your parents used to fight and how you used to have to be the middle man and convince them that things were alright.

Michael looks towards you this time– but you’re not looking at him. You have your hands neatly clasped in your lap, your eyes are focused on the set of candles in the middle of the table, and you look horribly upset, with your neck all tense as you wait for things to blow over, and he can tell– he’s fucking up big time. Stevie, Carmy, everyone is looking pained, and Michael can only think that he doesn’t give a shit. He wants to make Lee feel just as terrible as he does.

"You see– I can throw forks because this is our father’s house." Michael scoffs back, and there's real agony in his tone. “My father’s house.”

Michelle inhales. “We have lift-off.”

“Okay, you got everyone's attention, so go ahead, tell us a story we've all heard a million times already.” Lee spits out, barely holding back his own contempt for Michael, and Michael starts laughing as if everything’s alright. “Tell a story about how you're living with your mom and you're borrowing money off of her and any other sucker who'll listen to your bullshit.”

Everyone looks towards the table, feeling terribly awkward about Lee’s accusations– it’s not that it’s necessarily untrue, but there’s a hefty amount of his own assumptions, his own bias thrown in there, and you want to speak up.

“Lee, shut the fuck up.” Cicero looks absolutely pissed off at him, and you’re grateful someone has taken some of the heat off of Michael. It’s Lee’s fault, too.

“I’m sorry. I told you not to be a sucker, Jimmy.” Lee comments, and Cicero exhales, exasperated.

“Lee. That’s not really fair– you’re being too hard on him.” You utter through gritted teeth, and Lee’s eyes narrow on you. It's the first time you've spoken, and Michael glances at you– his eyes are bright and he genuinely looks sorry. Sorry he had to go this far.

“Oh, am I? Really, Birdie? I would suggest I’m not being hard enough.” Lee raises his hands, invites you to speak more, and you know that it’s not really your place to do so, especially because Lee and Michael seem to have a lot of history.

But you have your almost-lawyer tendencies, and of course you’re not exactly unbiased either, because you want to see the best in Michael– you want to like him. 

"Please, Lee… Michael's working on himself. You don't need to lie to him." You stare at him, and Lee’s face seems to turn darker with that. “I’m sure we all have our issues… it feels like a lot.”

"Is that what he's told you, Birdie?" Lee sneers at you, and you suddenly feel small. "He's a sick, fucking twisted man, and you would trust him, wouldn't you?"

He doesn’t go further than that– but it’s enough that you feel humiliated for being read so thoroughly. It’s obvious what he’s implying– you’re a silly little girl who doesn’t know any better. 

“It's fine. It's fine. Because this guy's nothing and he's nobody.” Lee points at Michael again, and his expression sours so much. You watch as Michael seems to zero in on what Lee’s rambling on about. 

Natalie shakes her head in little no-no motions.

“Hey… Petey… I just need to, uh… I need to borrow this for one second.” Michael’s got that nonchalant expression again, but there’s pain in his eyes, and there’s a clamour of everyone again telling Michael to stop, calling his name, trying to distract him.

"Michael. Michael. Please don’t do this. Hey. Hey. Hey!" Natalie calls at him, and you know she's just begging for him to leave it alone. “I love you. Okay?” 

You watch as Michael, holding the fork, just holding it, clear malicious intent in his eyes, tension building in the air and you feel a little sick, but his eyes are watering and he clearly doesn’t want to do what he thinks he has to.

“I love you too, Sug.” Michael says honestly.

Stevie giggles, Cicero de-escalates things further, and you think you see the light at the end of the tunnel, if not for the fact that Michael is still holding the fork. Still standing up, taunting him, acting like a big old child as Carmy rebukes him– and it’s really just two grown men beginning to get all macho and toxic about who’s tougher, who’s really the man of the house, and they start screeching at each other and you watch as Michael’s eyes glaze over with something, with Lee’s final insult that “he’s nothing.”

You watch as Michael takes his seat. He seems ambivalent, hard to read– he’s not meeting anyone’s eyes and you feel terrible about it.

Donna comes in and takes her seat– she seems rather drunk, too, and the last thing you need is more evidence that substance abuse is a bad thing– and Stevie starts the most wonderful prayer that still isn’t enough to dissuade Michael. You catch his gaze– he’s mulling over something, his eyes are watery, and you want to go over there and talk him down, even if that idea is unwise.

Donna cries over the prayer, and Natalie commits the most cardinal sin that she could at this moment: she asks if she’s okay.

You flinch with recognition as Donna starts screaming at her, about how she is okay and could a person who isn’t okay make such a gorgeous meal, and she exits the room in visible anger, and Natalie begins to hyperventilate, while Michelle tries to calm everyone down.

Donna throws a plate down on the floor, and exits the room continuing to scream– and there’s a beat of tense silence, full of angst and what-nows, and Lee decides to take initiative breaking that silence with a silly joke– almost in a paternal role, again, a hot topic between him and Mikey– and you watch Michael’s eyes start narrowing as he leans against his hand.

Michael throws the third fork.

It’s like every single nerve you felt, every bit of tension that was already in place, comes to a head as Michael starts going batshit, trying his best to attack Lee, while the Fak brothers and Richie are between them, and you can barely think straight as everyone starts screaming at each other. 

Tiff almost gets dragged into the chaos, and you're left shielding and comforting her from the fight. Pete and Richie hold Michael off and you're thankful– the last thing you want is to go up in there and get caught in the crossfire yourself. It’s genuinely a blur– you have no idea how bad things are getting until Cicero starts telling them to get the fuck out.

Suddenly, the wall of the living room bursts inwards, the Christmas tree getting dragged in the crossfire, and you realize with shock that someone’s driven a car inside.

Not just any car– that’s Donna in there, driving, and you think for a moment she’s dead. You can’t believe what’s happening– you can feel your heart hammering through your chest.

Michael runs towards the car, tries to open the front door, yelling and asking her what she did, asking her to open the door. She stirs a little.

Everyone else is standing there, in shock, not focusing properly on what to do, and you pull yourself away from the crowd of people, as they stare on in horror. You don’t want to be a part of this, but you are, and you know what a responsible adult would do. 

You go outside, into the December night’s cold air, and call 911. Specify for the firefighters and ambulances, because Cicero has a big thing against narcs and cops and you’re not getting into that right now.

Even though you’re freezing, and that’s what you should be focusing on? You’re in an incredible amount of despair because of what’s taken place. You hang up the call and feel exhausted by everything that’s happened, and you wonder if Michael really knows better. If he can be more than this. It’s not something you’re judging him for– but you feel terrible about his circumstances and you want him to get out of there.

Worse, you can’t help but feel a little upset with him. Because you know that Michael didn’t have to stoop that low– he chose to, and that’s what bothers you the most. He let his emotional responses dictate how he was going to act, and you know it’s hard to not be so provoked in this environment, but still: you are concerned and upset with him, and you know you need to take a step back. As much as it hurts you to stay away, you feel like it’s going to hurt even more if you intentionally stay around.

You wait for the ambulance and fire trucks to show up– you take a minute to direct them through the house, and then you trust that someone else has got it from there. Carmy, Natalie, Michelle, Stevie– they’ve got each other, they’re whispering about something, and you know where you’re not needed.

You grab your coat and leave, leave as silently as you can without interrupting everything that’s going on. It’s an strange walk home– ten minutes of you thinking about everything.

You hope next Christmas will be better.

/

Michael comes down from his high hard. Someone’s wrapped a blanket around him, and he’s sitting on the front porch’s staircase, wondering what the hell is going on. Donna’s apparently been taken to the hospital– and there’s a makeshift tarp where the wall has been crashed in. Everyone has gone home.

Where did you go? He has a moment of panic. Are you okay? Did he fuck it up that badly? That you would leave without saying goodbye? Michael can picture the disappointment on your face, and he wishes– he really wishes he was someone else.

He’s stressing really hard, his eyes are beginning to tear up. God, he knew he wasn’t really worthy of your attention– you’re young still, you have the whole world ahead of you– and he wonders if he can apologize. He wonders what he could possibly say to make it right. After such an insane situation, he can’t even blame you for taking off.

Natalie tells him, kind sister that she is, that you were the one to call emergency services. Of course you were– you have a strong head on your shoulders and Michael feels strongly that his family is in debt to you. And then you headed home, but Natalie doesn’t know why.

He does have your number. But he’s not going to call you, not right now– he’s not going to make a bigger mistake and fuck things up further. 

Michael sighs, and leans back. He doesn’t deserve to be happy.

#michael berzatto x reader #mikey berzatto x reader #michael berzatto x you #the bear fx #the bear #x reader #reader insert #michael berzatto fluff #fluff #angst #carmy berzatto x reader #jon bernthal #donna berzatto #natalie berzatto #sugar berzatto #neil fak #the bear s2 #michael berzatto #mikey berzatto #the berzattos #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto #michelle berzatto

[mono-dot-jpeg]

bad decisions - i. sae, b. meguru & m. reo

summary; let's make some bad decisions.

genre/extra tags; rambling post?/scenarios???, fluff but not really, diet fluff, and diet angst, late night thoughts combined with day light thoughts, might be ooc

a/n; im gonna go out on a limb here and say you dont want yandere obsessive tendencies in the relationship (i dont write yandere bc i hate that trope and i dont understand the appeal). i only did three bc this was all i can think of, im so sorry- hope you enjoy this either way. thank you for requesting and for your patience.

i think we all saw this coming when i say, sae probably gotta have some odd habits and thoughts when it comes to being a relationship. he's precise and serious in his soccer, and that bleeds into his relationships. it has nothing to you, no, not when he's so used to seeing into every detail and every possibility. he keeps trying to predict what you will do, and then you surprise him when it's not what he expected. most of the time, this happens when you're just doing something without much thought. he gets kind of weird about it though, he just blue-screens and had to take a moment before asking what is wrong with you because you didn't do the thing he expected. you have to tell him that this is just how you are, and he refuses to be outsmarted by his partner when he's usually the one with the brain cell between you two.

he feels the need to check on you a lot because he doesn't express it outright. he observes you like he's in a game match. it's cute at first but then you realize, "oh god he's really paying attention a little too well..."

he hates if you ever even try to interact with rin. he is one jealous little shit. if he's in a good mood [which is hard to tell with him], you have like a higher chance of talking to rin. but most days, he's keeping you away from him.

bachira is unpredictable and he's crazy. he loves you a lot. and i mean a lot. he's extremely clingy towards things he cherishes and that probably stems from the lack of friends he had back then and he's just scared to lose you. but sometimes he really impedes on the day-to-day routine. he needs reassurance when you're gone. he texts you a lot. very standard clingy person.

he feels the need to be a guard dog. he's possessive but not in the way sae would be with his jealously. no, bachira is possessive but he's confident that he will keep you protected from others. but also he loves to wreak havoc so he likes being loud about being clingy and protective. it can get overwhelming.

i'm gonna be real, this one is short because bachira's traits could probably be pretty amplified in a relationship and honestly, i would go as far as to think that most of his traits would just be either better or worse in a relationship.

overbearing. that should be enough to explain it.

he's got a weird complex with him. at least that is what i think. he really stuck with nagi a lot, and i think he would do the same in a romantic relationship. he's gotten too used to coddling nagi and he does the same to you. he spoils you. and it's great at first, but it can be a lot at once. and honestly i think he feels the need to compensate for something. what is the thing he's compensating for? i don't know, but he gives me those "compensating for something with money" vibes.

i think it's safe to say that all the boys have a pride to uphold and reo is no different. he hates being inactive. he wants to help you all the time. and i mean all the time. he wants to be useful but he goes at it terribly. he wants to be relied on.

is it crazy to say that i think reo is the worst out of the three here? probably but whatever.

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock bachira #blue lock bachira x reader #bachira x reader #bachira meguru #blue lock meguru bachira #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi #sae x reader #itoshi sae #blue lock sae itoshi #reo mikage #reo x reader #reo mikage x reader #mikage reo x reader

[darkbluekies]

I am not sure if you have done it already but:

Yandere x affection-starved Black Sheep darling?

Hear me out: a darling who is so used that their golden child sibling takes everything from them, from nice clothing/stuff to dates with potential partners. The sibling just steals everything away. And the parents only praise the sibling but never darling. Whenever bad something happened, darling is the one who gets to blame.

Neglected, traumatised and emotionally deprived they meet the yanderes, 100% believing they are just "interested" in them bc they want their sibling and are absolutely convinced & annoyed by their shows of affection (when in fact they are just scared to be hurt which always had been the case before).

Saying stuff like "Y'know, why dont you ask them directly? Stop using me to get closer to them!" And are absolutely puzzled by the reaction, when yan stress that they dont want anything from their relative. They want their darling.

And proceed to be persistent on that statement until darling believes them.

Well, basically this 👇🏼

I absolutely LOVE this kind of dynamic ♡^♡

Not only would all of them DESPISE the sibling (and the rest of the family) for beating their darling this much down, that darling does not have the heart to trust and love - including themselves - anymore, but are on edge to wipe them off from the face of earth. I say on edge because:

It would be too easy just to kill them. No. They have to suffer at first.

The most fun part: all yanderes have some sort of power / & wealth, which appeals the siblings (bc they are basic beaches) and try to seduce and snatch them away from darling like they always used to. And yanderes noticing, pulling strings to slowly but surely for the sibling to fall into insanity and ruin them once and for all.

Dr. Kry, my most favourite boy (Bonus: affectionate!cured!Darling x yan!Dr as it just fits 🤌🏻✨ to my favourite ship dynamic like a glove✨🤌🏻 that picture above🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻)

Dr. Kry would be on a whole new level of persistence and pettiness. You thought he was controlling, manipulative and unhinged 100%? Make it 200% :)

I can imagine how he would look down at the sibling when they show up to "visit their little troublemaker", showing themselves off, bragging how good they are "to come by" (however they never seem to ask to see darling directly though) and proceed to claim that darling is just overly dramatic and should "give you a break, and you shouldn't believe everything what they say. They just making it up". Laughing behind the back of darling's "sickness".

Remember that bloodphobia thoughts I have written? Yeah, imagine the rage if our beloved Dr. Kry finds out that the sibling is the key reason who triggered the phobia in the first place. Like humiliation in front of the class when darling got their first time period and sibling "pranked" them by lying to them that they are dying or sm HOMAGOSH HE WOULD BE SO MAD >:D

After finally persuading darling that he loves obsesses about them and not and never anyone else, month after month reassuring his likeness to darling, (Dr. Kry, a patient man) they start dating once darling surprisingly gets better after startint to believe him.

As a well-respected doctor and a rich man (I mean to remember you said he hardly spended his money, thus posessing goods) their sibling tries to seduce him but he shuts them down every time. In front of darling, in front of family, in front of everyone, in a humiliating way. Absolutely no f*cks given that he is talking to the "golden child". Then he starts to pull on the strings really hard. From making their sibling's wedding/relationships plans cancel to destroying their career and material possessions. But no one would suspect them bc Dr. Kry had taken care of it and happily cut ties off between darling and their obnoxious family already before.

His little one will never have to suffer anymore. And they gradually heal. With him on their side. Forever.

He would definitely have a saviour complex in this AU lol

Blue, what are you doing lately? HOW are you doing? I wish you a wonderful day my dear and hope you enjoyed my thought process again ^*^ 💕

(btw, I am fine. Really, without sarcasm, I come from a very loving family with a wonderful supporting sibling lmaoooo. So, pls don't worry XD As a fellow overthinker I feel the need to clear that hah~

Just loooove the creepy but strangely endearing vibes of these relationships lol There's just something catchy about them right???) And your OCs are just.... so FUN TO EXPLORE???!!! Like OMG, I love them and your stories all so. much! It really gives me motivation and kicks me into writing AGAIN after so many damn years of writer's block (but oc x oc. I find reader perspective strange ngl) even though I am not very strong in writing xD I write. But not that good...

Anyway take care of yourself and have a great week! 🤭❤

Byeeeee~

Fun fact about the black sheep concept: I actually have a black sheep character. Check out the 'Secrets' oneshot and you will see how Ares talks about Silas🤭 but a black sheep yn could also be quite cool???

I love how you wrote Kry, that's so cool to think about. He would 100% go out of his way to ruin your siblings life after everything they've deprived you off!! Doesn't he already have a savior complex? A white knight complex? At least a little? This is probably one of the few times there will be a happy ending with Kry lmaooo

What I'm doing lately? I am taking an 5h 20min test this Saturday (the entirety of it is 8h 50 min including breaks) so that's not very fun, but I think that my life is slowly starting to get better. I think that my legs are starting to heal from my injury, I have saved up money and my best friend comes home next week!! She moved to Germany 3 years ago. I miss her so much, we have been friends for 11 years and she has always taken care of me. She's the type to give me her jacket if I say that I'm cold and to warm my hands under her shirt. Only princess behavior here🥰

Haha don't worry, I'm the same. I'm a big overthinker (its better now though) who comes from a loving family, but youre right about that there's just something so interesting about yanderes lmao. Thank you so much foe liking them, I love to create characters that really feel human, because they make rhe story feel more alive that way!!

I totally get that you mean by oc x oc, moat of my private stories are that way, bur oc x you works better for Tumblr which is why these stories have that format!! Normally I write in 3d person with a fixed main character!

Please please write and show me!!! Feel free to reach out if you ever need some writing advice!! I'm not professional, but sometimes it's nice to just bounce thoughts with someone else<3

#missmerymoon #yandere doctor #yandere oc

[erinfern0]

no words were needed.

simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader

— gender-neutral nicknames, gender-neutral anatomy, only pronouns used are you, etc.

summary: you and simon were friends as long as you remember. maybe that was the reason why the two of you were so blind to the feeling hidden so deeply inside.

warnings: hurt/angst to comfort and fluff. cocky teasing, mention of abuse, swearing, smoking, terrible date, insecurities, self-doubt, jealousy, protective simon.

a/n: based on this lovely request, the only thing I decided to change is that i made the reader gender-neutral, not including any specific pronouns, just a little preference of mine.

You and Simon were always there for each other, since the day you two met. Not only because the two of you were neighbors — living just a couple of houses away from each other, but also because your parents were friends. Both of your fathers served in the military, and mothers always found time to chat and see each other when their husbands were away.

You always adored the tiny gentleman in him, he was like a brother to you, always finding ways to comfort you and help whenever you needed it. And you were there for him too, watching him exorcise or patching up all the little scruffs and wounds he had. You spent hours upon hours in your room just so he could escape from the rough household he had to grow up in.

Your house became his home, and he always felt like a brother to you, protecting you from possible dangers and people you'd rather not deal with. That was until high school, when you realized he's not the cute little boy he used to be. He turned a little colder, focusing on his grades and physique to appeal to his father's wishes.

Watching him lose himself broke your heart, especially after you realized you were catching feelings for him. You hid it well, trying not to get too close to him to not add burdens to his already high pile of them. You brought peace to his life that you didn't want to ruin.

No words were needed between the two of you to know exactly what you were thinking, well, most of the time. You always joked that you shared some braincells as you had the same type of humor and shared some interests.

He was slightly older than you, just a couple of months apart, and as soon as he turned 18, he started applying for the military. He worked his ass off, and you just supported him, reminding him how much he deserves to get in and how well he'll do as a soldier.

And you, too, had to work hard, studying for your exams. Ever since you turned 18 too, you felt the pressure of being an actual adult, having to apply for colleges and part-time jobs to not feel like a parasite to your parents.

Now, you were sitting in your room by your desk, spreading notes all over it and highlighting the most important parts when you heard footsteps coming upstairs. Not anyone from your family members. They belonged to Simon. Your heart rushed for a split second before he entered your room, hood covering most of his head and face.

“Learn to knock, Riley.” you turned towards him and smiled lightly. “I could have been naked, you know?”

“Wouldn't complain.” he chuckled as he walked to your desk and wrapped his arms around you from behind. Simon earned himself a light smack to his forearm for his comment. His head fell on your shoulder, watching you write over one of the pages. “Still studyin'?”

You groaned in frustration, head falling back against his body as he just laughed and ruffled your hair. Then, he just patted your shoulders and pulled away from the hug to sit on your parapet.

Closing your textbook and spinning around in your chair, you watched him lean against the wall and grab a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “So, um… How was your date?”

His question caught you off guard, stopping you in your movements and just staring at the ceiling, thinking about the answer. Telling him the whole truth might be hurtful, not only for him and you but also to him and you'd never risk that.

Well, the only reason you even agreed to go was because he was slightly similar to Simon, a tall blonde gym rat who likes books and video games. You were naive thinking that he'll ever replace Simon. By the end of the date, you decided to tell him the truth, that you already had feelings for another man, and you are sorry for possibly leading him.

He turned out to be less sweet than you believed him to be, immediately getting mad at you for, as he phrased it: 'wasting his time'. This made you think so hard, how could you be anyone's type if the only person you truly want is your best friend?

“It was fine until it wasn't.” you claimed, immediately regretting your words as soon as you looked at Simon.

The hood was gone, leaving you to see the expression on his face. The frown of his brows and that spark in his eye made a chill run down your spine. Concern? Worry? Anger? You couldn't tell, but it wasn't anything nice.

“What did that prick do, huh?” he asked and looked at you while blowing out some smoke towards the opened window. That's when the light hit his face, showing you the bruise forming on his cheekbone.

“Again?” you whispered breathlessly, getting up from your seat to appear in front of him seconds later. Your fingers caught his chin, turning his face so you could see it better.

“Don't switch the topic on me.” he groaned with annoyance, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist to pull your hand away from him. Seeing your face so upset, analyzing every little scratch on his face, especially the purple mark splashed on his side, he just sighed, shaking his head.

“Answer for an answer?” you asked, recalling a little rule the two of you had since your early childhood. His tongue brushed over his teeth as his mouth was closed, just accepting his fate.

“I asked first.” he barked, forcing a smirk on his chopped lips. His legs part, inviting you a little closer, and allowing you to wrap your arms around his torso. One of Simon's arms rested on your shoulder while the other held his cigarette away from you. “Plus, you already know the answer to your question so...”

“It wasn't that bad, it's just… We weren't a match, that's it.” you started, watching him raise his eyebrow in disbelief, knowing you too well to just believe it was the only reason. “God, you're annoying.” you huff and roll your eyes.

“Proud of it, too.” he shrugged his shoulders, leaning against the window to watch you squirm and collect your thoughts. That's what you thought he was doing, but actually, Simon's eyes were just wandering over your face to admire you, even if for just a couple of seconds.

Every little detail of your face was mapped in his head, knowing every curve and blemish, every beauty mark or scar that you had. He adored every part of you, especially your eyes that looked so lost in thought, so easy for him to get away with his actions.

“He was nice, we went for a walk in the park nearby. Then I just realized he… Wasn't exactly the person I was looking for, and I told him that.“ you met his gaze, dark browns hazed with nicotine, eyelids heavier than usual. His pupils were blown out, twitching as he looked into your own eyes. “I think I wasn't too gentle with it, he got so upset.”

Your gasp made his body stiffen in alert, the hand that rested on your shoulder gently squeezing it to encourage you to speak. His expression was puzzled, as if he was shifting between different emotions, analyzing the way your eyes fluttered. Of course, he didn't miss the water collecting in the corners of your eyes.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, his voice low and quieter than before, as if you were a deer caught in the headlights. A dainty, sweet little fawn that he wished he could take care of better. His expression softened, the clench in his jaw relaxing under your touch,

“Not upset like that.” you assured, pulling away to rest your hands on his sides, gripping the material of his hoodie. The material is soft and smells so comfortable. The mix of his cologne and cigarettes, despite how much you hated him smoking, the scent always warmed your heart.

“He said something, didn't he?” he asked, teeth clenching as you nodded your head. “Take your time.” as he soothed your hair, the cigarette was thrown into the ashtray you got for him. His now free hand reached to your forearm, drawing calming shapes on your skin, causing goosebumps.

“Well, he just said that I'm wasting his time, how much he regretted seeing me that day because I turned out to be an 'indecisive little baby'. He…” you let out a shaky breath, trying so hard not to show him how much the guy's words hurt you. “He said I was unattractive and boring anyway. He just left me there.”

“Why didn't you call?” he asked, his jaw clenching again, and you felt the muscles of his back tensing under your fingertips. He shifted uncontrollably, trying to stay calm for you. “He'd have to look for his teeth in the fuckin' ground.”

You shook your head, trying to push away the image of Simon covered in the guy's blood, panting heavily with anger. Knowing how much he cared made you feel even worse for telling him all of this.

Simon's mind was somewhere else. Yes, of course, he'd beat the living shit out of your awful date, but what mattered more, the most, was you.

“You told me not to go, and I didn't listen.” you reminded him, biting your inner cheek to keep your composure. “You were right about him from the start, I just… Didn't want to bother you.”

“You'd never bother me, doll.” he assured, leaning closer to you. His face was mere inches away from yours, eyes scanning from your brows to your lips, stopping there for a second before he got right back to your eyes. “All he said was pure bullshit, I hope you know that.”

Your lack of response, and the nervous swallow you did, made his heart sink in realization. Of course, you'd listen to the man who was so direct rather than your friend who admired you in silence. You couldn't see yourself from his perspective.

You couldn't see how much he looked up to you, your soft and kind nature, how much he adored your voice when you rambled about school, friends, and your hobbies. Likewise, you didn't see your body like he did, as pure perfection. Furthermore, you didn't deserve to hear so many lies from such an insecure little fucker who got upset he wouldn't fuck you, as Simon thought.

The room was awfully quiet, as you closed your eyes to stop yourself from crying. He could see it, and it made him even more mad, not at you. At himself. How could he be so blind?

Now, sitting so close to you, thinking over all the ways he could show you how wrong the guy was, it hit him. He felt it before, the way his heart sped up thinking about you. How you were the first thing he thought in the morning after he woke up and the last thing before he went to bed. You were always on his mind, a fever dream of your touch, words, and smile wandering every time he needed comfort.

That's so obvious. He was stupid to believe the reason he was so mad when you mentioned your date was just because he had a bad feeling about him. He just wanted it to be him. All those years, he was just so blind.

Simon loved you like a madman, worshipping the ground you walk on and feeling lucky he could breathe the same air as you. He craved your comforting touch, you were the reason he liked to be touched in the first place, always pulling away from hugs too soon before he met you.

He swallowed harshly, shifting in his seat again, pulling you closer as he cupped your face. His thumbs caressed your cheeks, moving up to wipe a couple of tears that ran down your face.

"Look at me, please." his voice cracked, eyelids fluttering as his mouth felt incredibly dry. Licking his lips, he smiled softly as he saw you slowly open your eyes, looking at him with such a questionable mix of emotions. "You deserve way better than that dumb fuck." he spat out, holding back from saying 'I'd treat you better.'

"He was right, Si. I agreed to go even if I knew I didn't want any of it, I didn't want him." you whispered shakily, your hands resting atop his, Despite your state, you melted under his touch, hoping it'd last forever.

"Even if you knew that, he should be lucky you gave him a chance." his comment made the two of you chuckle softly, catching each other's gaze. You felt lost in his eyes, the dreamy brown making your legs feel weak like cotton. "Who did you want then?"

'You were the one I wanted.' you thought to yourself, immediately scolding yourself for even thinking that. His hands caressing your face felt warm, they felt like the comfort you so desperately needed.

You felt your cheeks get warmer as he got closer, and for a split second, you thought he heard your inner voice. Despite your worries, Simon didn't look away or leave, he just stared into your eyes as if they were the most beautiful thing he ever saw.

"He's a fool for losing you, sweetheart." his voice echoed in your head, making you feel giddy at the raspy sound of the nickname he gave you. He never called you that before. It slipped so easily off his tongue, sounding so perfect.

Seconds later, you felt courageous. 'Now or never.' the little voice inside your head whispered, taking over your body and inching closer to him. Lips almost touching as you clung to his hoodie, trying to pull him towards you.

Simon was faster, his lips hungrily latching onto yours in a rushed, messy manner. It felt like he waited for this moment all his life, fingers holding your face as close to him as possible. His body slid off the windowsill, standing on his feet and pulling your bodies against each other.

One of your hands rested on his chest, grasping the soft material with your shaky fingers, the other running up his body to find its' place in his hair, tugging on the ends. Your action caused him to groan, deepening the kiss with the way you tilted your head, allowing the two of you to lose yourselves.

It was fast, messy, and greedy. The way he turned you around so you'd lean against the wall, letting him cage you in his embrace made you gasp into his mouth. Simon felt himself growing breathless, but it didn't matter.

That's when you felt it. You felt his love in such a different way than before. It was strong, storming into you like a hurricane to leave your mind a hazed mess. All you could think about was the fast beating of his heartbeat under your fingertips, the way he melted into your body as the kisses slowed down, turning into short pecks.

A string of saliva connected the two of you as you pulled away, catching your breaths. Foreheads touching, Simon's thumb rubbing your swollen lower lip, feeling the mix of spit under the pad of his finger.

You felt heavenly, tears almost spilling again as you realized that your crush on him wasn't just a crush. It was hard for you to admit your love to him, but now you could hear the mean voices in your head go away with the way he held you so close to him.

And for the first time in a while, Simon felt at peace, knowing he was right where he belonged. You were the light he was chasing in the dark tunnel of his life and now he could just have you. He felt your arms wrapped around him so tightly, he couldn't focus on anything else. He felt stronger than ever, cared for, loved.

No words were needed between the two of you as you just stood there, bodies tangled, and leaned against the wall to keep the two of you from falling to the floor from how shaky your legs were.

No words were needed for the two of you to admire the moment of quiet, peaceful breaths syncing with each other.

No words were needed for the two of you to admit how blind you were, not noticing or not admitting your feelings for each other.

No words were needed to express the love you felt for each other, just as it's always been.

masterlist | request info

#simon riley cod #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod ghost #cod mw2 #fanfiction #cod mwii #gender neutral reader #riri writes

[rntoshi]

— isagi yoichi (n): the unintentional fuck boy.

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏/ • yoichi is pro, all characters are adults.

no one would ever think to associate the term “fuck boy” to the heart of gold that is isagi yoichi. the blue eyed ravenette comes across as such a sweetheart when people first meet him. a bit hardheaded if you really know him, but a sweetheart, nonetheless. there's so much passion and drive behind his eyes that it's charming— alluring to the hopeless romantic type for the fact that they like to daydream about what could be. anyone could get lost in a fantasy about being swept off their feet by a pretty face like isagi, he makes it effortless really. golden retriever energy is what you would call it. it's why he's so popular with women, he comes across as this boy next door who’s so willing to do anything to achieve a goal he has set in his heart. that's the image he's painted for himself in the public eye, and not that it's inaccurate: it just simply doesn't translate well into his love life.

one of his issues is... isagi doesn't realize just how attractive he is. as it's been said before, he's himbo adjacent. the attention he gets... he sums it up as getting “lucky.” his friendliness can be perceived as flirting, even more so that he doesn't take into account that he's one of the hottest players in the blue lock program. his gorgeous face and his athletic but lean physique make him physically attractive but it's also the mannerisms he possesses as well. little things like being the type to place a gentle hand on the small of your back if he's trying to walk past you in a crowded area. a polite “excuse me, I'm sorry.” leave his lips and the prettiest smile when you two make eye contact lingers just a second too long. or the crease between his brows when he's frustrated or tired— running both hands through his hair which exposes his forehead. it.

he never intends to, but he can't help but to well... get cold feet after the climax of one of his newfound “flings.” once the initial excitement has passed, it's not as appealing for him anymore but there's a reason for this. it's his post nut clarity that gets him every time. that immediate clear mindedness or soberness a guy gains after blowing his load. lying in bed with a girl as she talks about their future— the pillow talk goes well until the plans she proposes clash with his career. isagi has a tendency to equate entertaining the thought of a relationship as him putting priority towards just that, and not his real passion. it's just that isagi is at a point in his career where... nothing will ever amount to how important his job is to him. he's dedicated so much time and effort to get to the point where he is now. its time consuming and mind plaguing, it's the long-lasting effects that blue lock has had on him throughout the years. it's built an insane work ethic and need to crave more. nothing can or will get in the way of him and his vision. it's a curse all athletes have and unfortunately isagi yoichi, our sweet mc, is not an exception. it probably affects him the worse, really.

these girls he gets involved with always seem to have a trend of leaving feminine items in his gym bag. thongs, bras, hair scrunchies and even jewelry in hopes of isagi returning them. some girls do it for his attention and others do it because they want to plant this seed that isagi is “seeing” them. the paparazzi can catch anything and will often seek for certain shots if they're tipped off.

it's kind of funny because out of everyone, raichi is the one who discovers isagi is a bit of a whore. it's a regular day at practice when all the boys were in the locker room getting themselves situated before hitting the field. isagi is sitting on the bench when he pulls out his cleats, and in the process a hot pink thong falls on the floor beside raichi's feet where he foot only a couple feet away. of course, blondie gives isagi a hard time about it.

“tch, you still seein' that one brunette, huh? she your girl yet?” raichi picks up the pair of panties, leaning against the locker with a smug smile twirling the skimpy garment around his pointer finger before sling shotting it back to isagi.

“hah.. no.” isagi lets out a small, breathy chuckle as he catches the underwear. he's a little embarrassed but it's nothing he's not used to. “i met someone else. she's a sweet girl though.”

“the hell are you talkin' about? you were just screwing this other chick last monday.” raichi raises a brow as he straightens his posture, only now realizing why isagi never said a specific name. it's because they were all different girls. ha, that's rich.

“ah.. well yeah.” isagi gives a shy smile, scratching the back of his neck before he shoves the panties back into his bag, in a smaller and more discreet pocket. raichi only shakes his head before turning around back to his locker.

“it's always the humble ones.” raichi mumbles to himself.

yoichi finds himself puzzled at how often these kinds of things end up in his possession at the most inconvenient times but he never thinks too deeply about it. his indifference to the situation makes them want to chase him even harder. do even more outlandish things to get his attention when his tunnel vision is impossible to break.

he routinely goes to the gym after these one-night stands. it’s like a detox but for his mind, cleansing it of all the diluted thoughts that fogged his vision. it's almost like his own form of meditation.

there’s something so hot about isagi working out after a hookup. it's the post sex glow he has, the thin layer of sweat on his body, the determined look in his eye as he pushes himself past his usual limits. his cock is semi hard in his sweats from his endorphins, creating a prominent print under the gym's harsh lighting. he feels like a brand-new man after. refreshed and ready for the next fight on the field.

isagi is sweet! he really is! he doesn't like making girls cry. but he can't help that he's awful at texting back or returning calls. yoichi just forgets, getting too caught up in practice, games and press conferences.

it's not all isagi's fault though, because he is such sweetheart and can come across as a little manipulative, women often think they can take advantage of securing a marriage with a professional athlete. most are in for a rude awakening when their plans fall short while others simply pick up on the behavior and more onto the next team with the next player.

it won't be like this forever though. i believe this version of isagi is the kind of guy to realize he's fallen in love with his childhood best friend. isagi is known to be extremely loyal so any relationships that have already been established are taken quite seriously by him. you were that sweet girl who lived next door to him for years. you always had cute band aids for when he scraped his knees and yummy snack to share after school. you weren't very athletic, but you always cheered for him even during his loses. you were also one of his biggest support systems when he was going through the blue lock programs. you've always been an anchor in his life and it's something he doesn't realize until you two lose contact for a couple years.

it's funny how things work out too because it just so happens that you two visit home around the same time. when he sees you in your mother's flower garden you had only gotten prettier. you're wearing a flowy sundress and a sunhat; he thinks it's so cute— refreshing to see in contrast to the girls that usually approach him. there's a moment where you finally lock eyes with him, and it makes his tummy drop.

and he realizes he's in love.

© rntoshi 2023. do not modify or repost.

#┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° bria writes! #blue lock x reader #blue lock isagi #blue lock isagi x reader #blue lock smut #blue lock isagi smut #blue lock x y/n #bllk isagi #bllk smut #bllk x reader #bllk isagi x reader #bllk headcanons #blue lock x you #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi smut #isagi yoichi #isagi yoichi smut #isagi yoichi x you #blue lock imagines #bllk #blue lock #isagi x you #yoichi isagi

[gabbasposts]

]Messy[

Lies of P: P x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Smut, vaginal fingering, hand-jobs, Oral (both f and M receiving), slight masochis kink? Bodily fluids, language, 18+ Minors and ageless blogs will be blocked immediately after interacting with this post

(Gif not mine)

A/n: bruh I am down astronomically for this damn puppet. I’ve been scouring online for some pure filth with him and Giangio and while I’ve found some gems, I need that itch of mine to be scratched so judge me if you want, I needed this 🤡 the fellow desperate, nasty folks that get it, will get it 😈

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

I think it’s safe to say as a whole, the fandom knows P is a messy man.

Like, this boy is fast and agile enough to avoid oil and blood splatters, as well as puddles and generally all together, any liquid messes. (rain, WINE apparently too based of a post I saw on here 👀)

But in a weird way, he feels coming back to the hotel covered in any of it shows both just how hard he generally works, as well as what he accomplished on the mission he’s sent on.

(Cue Geppetto, Antonia and Sofia or even you, lecturing him that coming back to the hotel in one piece is enough to show he both kept himself alive and did a well enough job getting rid of the rabid puppets and people who’d wanted to kill him. 💀)

(Annnd of course it goes in one ear and out of the other because again, he feels a weird sense of accomplishment covered in a mess) 🤡)

Because of this, I feel after the first time you and him have sex he immediately wants to go again not only because he’s aroused by sensations he had just felt, but seeing you covered in a thin sheen of sweat, as well as the mess in between your legs that he caused is an undeniable turn on for him…

Like your lying on your back, and pieces of your hair are clinging to your forehead as well as your chest is heaving as you try to catch your breath.

And he’s still sitting on his knees in between your legs that are still spread far apart as he’s starring down at his cum leaking from your pussy/hole, along with the fluids from it around his dick and general pelvis area.

You’ve said his name about three times by now, your voice tired yet worried, and your expression growing concerned as he’s not responding… did he not like it? Was he realizing the act of sex can be a bit gross, and maybe not as appealing for him considering he is a puppet after all?

The answer is no, no, and finally no again ;)

just as you were readying yourself to sit up to cover yourself and break into a ramble of apologies, he moves so fast it honestly startles you… until you feel him again.

He moves so that he’s standing at the foot of the bed now, fully nude and other than the mess on his dick, and his now ruffled hair, he looks far from exhausted or as though he hadn’t even had sex at all.

You don’t even have time to say anything by the time he wraps his hands around your ankles and drags you toward the edge of the bed, so that your ass is almost hanging off.

“P-P, what are you” you don’t have time to finish your sentence as he crouches down and immediately goes to town on your pussy/cock.

Unlike the calmness he initially had the first round with you, (the kitten like kicks, gentle sucks, lack of vocal noise) he’s literally more desperate than he was when he first got in bed with you.

He’s groaning against your core, sending vibrations down your shaft or to your clit, not even bothering to pull away to wipe around his mouth.

He wants to feel your release dripping down your chin or better yet, his face entirely.

The only thing he naturally smells like is oil, and the soap from his clothing that gets cleaned, but suddenly the idea of wearing you release like a cologne has him hard.

He wants you to cum hard at that too, and once he’s done he plans to bring you on your knees so he can paint your face.

Needless to say, sex from that point on is messy.

It gets to the point you might have to start checking the times everyone goes to the lobby so you can sneak past with the cum stained bed spread and sheets to switch them out for more.

Even outside of the room, if your doing something like eating maybe a cake, and a bit of icing falls on your chest or down your cheek, you have to rush to turn around before he notices (he does notice 🫢) because despite his usual stone face resolve, his eyes darken and his tongue might dart out of his mouth and run along his lips quickly and quite suggestively to anyone if they witnessed the entirety of it.

Needless to say, showers are a twenty four seven ordeal with him and you, and even then he might try to refuse if you don’t shower with him.

He’s a messy puppet, what can he say?

#lies of p smut #lies of p x reader #gabbasdumbthoughts #messy sex #smut headcanons #im going to wish I kept this in the drafts later but right now im going feral #I also don’t remember who posted the pics of him in wine I gotta scroll through my likes but whoever you are thank you 🙏

[crusty-chronicles]

Airheaded S/O Headcannons: #6 Sebastian (Black Butler)

An: Literally the hardest part is finding a decently sized picture for him. We will now continue with our regularly scheduled program.

He finds your stupidity incredibly amusing

That being said, you're either his most or least favorite servant

Depends on the time of day honestly

You break more dishes than Mey-Rin

You explode the kitchen more often than Baldroy

You destroy the garden worse than Finny

But what kind of butler would he be if he couldn't deal with one completely incompetent person?

So after making the mistake of letting you complete a task by yourself the first few times, he now watches over you for any potential disasters.

He's your shadow until you can prove to him you're not so stupid after all.

And that's where you pique his interest. (Well appeal to his amusement that is)

You cut yourself trying to prepare the Young Master a snack?

"What a clumsy little thing you are," he says as he puts a small band aid on your finger.

You need to deliver some documents to Ciel but forgot which room is his?

"Right this way, you've kept the Young Lord waiting long enough with your forgetfulness," he coos and leads you to his room.

What's that? You fell onto the dining table and broke it along with the set of dishes?

"A shame. Those were newly imported. So be it, as long as you didn't hurt yourself too bad." And he precedes to check you over for major injuries.

Not because he cares, but because a Phantomhive servant must always be in top condition.

More often than not, he's stifling a laugh behind his hand at your antics

You accidentally used salt instead of sugar for Ciel's tea?

He's trying so hard not to break as the young boy spits his drink and starts coughing.

Guest are being rude?

You tell them they reek of alcohol and cigarettes, and he's hiding a smile behind his gloved hand.

You lost the keys to the manor and broke the door to get in?

He's cooing down at you and ties a spare to your uniform.

It becomes a game to him to see how many times he can get your small brain to short-circuit

Whether it's telling you about where the new imports are from or today's menu, he finds immense joy seeing your face go blank.

His record is 7 times in two minutes

While Sebastian's opinion of you varies, it's very clear you're Ciel's favorite servant.

Why????

Because you're the only one who manages to catch Sebastian off guard.

The demon who's prepared for anything and everything, who almost never breaks his composure, dumbfounded by a human who can't even enter a carriage without falling or breaking it.

If Ciel's ever mad at Sebastian, he'll punish him by pairing the two of you up for chores.

And Sebastian absolutely hates it because he won't get anything done.

There is a plus side to this though. It means convincing Ciel to let you come on missions is easier.

He just can't stand being away from his favorite form of entertainment, after all.

Speaking of missions 👀👀👀

You're an absolute titan, and while Sebastian was well aware you're Finny's sibling, he's still impressed by your strength.

It's not just you hurling statues or whole carriages at enemies.

It's the fact that after taking multiple gunshots to your torso, while bleeding profusely, you pick up Ciel and manage to toss him Sebastian's way with ease.

Like you weren't seriously injured

You just kept trucking on, as if you weren't bleeding out.

Sebastian eventually has to step in before you die, despite your protests that you could keep going.

"Let's treat those wounds, shall we? It'd be a shame for the Young Master to lose his favorite servant to such a trivial cause." Ciel was part of the reason he saved you, but not the true reason.

Because the truth, the real reason was a little more sinister.

Sebastian would just hate for his precious toy to be broken so soon.

So he decides to keep you at the manor for the time being. At least until you take your life a little more seriously.

Such a delicious soul shouldn't be thrown away that easily.

He won't see you in a romantic light for a long time. But that doesn't stop him from toying with you.

A huge fan of whispering naughty things in your ear and seeing you not processing it at all.

Just your face going blank and a, "I don't think that's very practical, but to each their own I guess."

And it's so funny to him because most women (and let's be real, men) would be flustered beyond belief.

But for you it goes in one ear and out the other.

He also appreciates how you pay his appearance no mind

You're not fumbling over words or getting all blushy when he's near

You simply don't care or don't notice his attempts to get a rise out of you.

And that makes him only want your attention even more.

He realizes he likes you a little more than he should during the Jack the Ripper incident.

Ciel let you tag along to confront his aunt because, "You're the most incompetent, yet capable servant." As he puts it.

Grell went in for a nasty blow with his death scythe, one that Sebastian wouldn't be able to avoid in full.

And in you came, shoving him out of the way and getting your side sawed through. In what only could be called a display of strength, you grabbed the blade of the chainsaw and pulled the reaper close to you, then socked her straight in her jaw, sending Grell flying.

He was very impressed that a human of all creatures was capable of such feats.

Then Sebastian was upset.

So very upset that this reaper had damaged his plaything.

He fights with the intent to kill until the whole ordeal is called off by Ciel.

While you're getting patched up back at the estate is when he decides your his.

Sebastian is a demon after all, and a very cruel one at that.

His first step in courting you is tricking you into a contract. (Which would not be hard to do at all)

He'll take you to the manor's garden and get down on a knee, as if he planned to confess.

"My dearest pet," he'd start off with his eyes already flashing their demonic color.

"It brings me immense pain to see you injured so often on the Queen's little excursions. If you would agree to let me stay by your side, I would protect you from any and all harm."

"All you need do is call my name and I shall be there. What I ask in return is you. Your mind. Your body. Your soul. Will you accept?"

He watches eagerly as the cogs turn in your head.

"Mmmm, no"

And he's 👁️👄👁️

Because what did you say??????

Out of all the humans, you, you say no????

He reaches for you before you leave.

"May I ask why?" Because he, Sebastian, the most sought out man, was being turned down by the one being he actually wanted.

" Because I want to be the one that protects you. It's not fair to add even more weight to your shoulders." You answer.

And after taking a moment to process, Sebastian is laughing.

Oh you precious, precious fool.

It's decided then, he doesn't want your soul. Oh no, he plans to keep you for all of eternity.

So long as you always keep him on his toes

He let's you decide the terms of this arrangement, knowing full well you have no clue what you just agreed to

He places his mark directly over your heart.

It's less obvious than Ciel's, but still enough to show that your fate's forever intertwined with his.

There are only ever two things he calls you: fool and pet.

Fool because, well, your a huge idiot always getting into trouble.

And pet because that's exactly what you are to him.

His precious pet that he'll keep safe for the time being. (I reiterate, he's a demon demon)

Sebastian isn't very affectionate, but there are times he's feeling soft and wants to kiss your forehead. Usually to wake you for the day.

Holding your hand to guide you is another one of his favorites. You're just so cute when you don't know where you're going.

Sebastian doesn't get jealous because what reason does he have to worry you'll leave him.

He is one hell of a lover, you know?

On the other hand, he gets a smidge territorial if a reaper or angel is near you.

They aren't mortal and have the power to end you on the spot.

But he'd never let that happen.

He honestly can't tell if you know he's a demon or not.

It's not like he hides it very well around you, but you're very slow to pick up on things.

Nevertheless, you're his until the day you die and beyond.

His foolish little human.

NEXT UP: Jinx (Arcane)

MASTERLIST

#sebastian x reader #sebastian x y/n #sebastian michaelis #sebastian michaelis x reader #black butler #black butler x reader #black butler x y/n #kuroshitsuji #x reader #x y/n #airhead s/o #stronk s/o

[astrodoll2]

🎡RANDOM ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS PT 4.🎡

Idk what’s been going on and why all of us have collectively felt so drained, like I have no had motivation to post any observations in a minute but I’m back ig🫠

Lilith square jupiter: a lot of tension with beliefs and morals against explosive temper, also believing in things outside of the box to be different, known for having abrupt breakdowns and going off on people when angry. Literally the type to see red when angry and doesn’t think about the consequences. May have trouble with self control.

Lilith conjunction Mercury: may feel as if no one really understands you or your way of being which is why you have a hard time taking accountability for your actions or how you may affect others, your mind likes roam all over the place, very creative, good memory and attentive to detail, gets bored easily especially in conversations that don’t catch your Interest, self taught in things you enjoy. But also your words may get you in trouble a lot or be held against you. Very good at spotting lies as well.

Lilith square neptune: you really have to think what it is you want from relationships and how deep you’re willing to get because you may fear commitment due to it threatening your freedom, you also may have a hard time viewing things truthfully and just take the parts you like and believe in those rather than the full picture leading you to accidentally deceive yourself. If you believe in spirituality you may only like taking the parts you like and leaving the rest behind especially the ones that make you feel restricted or have too many rules you don’t want to follow.

Lilith sextile moon: persuasive, charming, mesmerizing and able to manipulate other easily if you wanted to, you may be a bit emo, you could either be attracted to the bad boy/bad girl or that is you. You’re not afraid to explore your shadow side. And apparently you could be good at witchcraft.

Lilith opposite Juno: this doesn’t have to just apply to marriage but in general long term relationships may be scary because you don’t know how long they’ll last and how long you want to be tied down to something, you hate feeling stuck and for this reason you have a “my way or the highway” attitude and be overly picky of suitors as a form of rejecting others and hiding this noncommittal energy as simply high standards because you’re afraid. You may want to get married when you’re older like in your 40+ so you can experience life to the fullest without restrictions.

Lilith conjunction venus: very attracted to unconventional out of the box people, you’re highly seductive and sensual. People often see you as a siren or femme fatale. You may have a high sex drive and have a lot of sex appeal. Probably into sex magic or rituals for manifesting, you may be a diva and like things your way but when it doesn’t you may become vengeful. Very attractive people and for that reason are easily able to charm people into getting what they want. Very good sense of style and can be very creative/artistic individuals.

Lilith sextile Uranus; you may enjoy stirring the pot or shocking people by saying controversial things, you like being different and don’t care to be accepted, people appreciate your independent nature. You don’t care for others opinions and people can’t put you in a box or tell you what to do because you want to be your own person with your own individual views.

Lilith square mars: you may be very intense and it can be hard to control your anger or making impulsive decisions that aren’t good, you may also feel the need to overpreform or do too much in order to get others approval or attention. You may also struggle expressing yourself and can be sensitive when people question your direction in life so it’s important to just assert your ego and stop caring what others think. You hate people overpowering you or trying to interfere or judge your ambitions, passions, or sexual interests and may have explosive anger.

Lilith trine Chiron: aren’t afraid to explore your shadow side and past traumas in order to heal them, embracing your dark femininity may be very empowering for you as well. Once you heal you may be seen as an inspiration to others.

Lilith sextile ascendant: overtime you will develop your Lilith qualities and start showing them to the outside world, your expressive with your taboo side, very sensual and magnetic, very open about your sexuality and uniqueness, you don’t like to stay in the box and you appear very confident in your individuality.

Uranus Trine Ascendant: unconventionally attractive, but people are easily intrigued by you because “you’re different”, very independent and creative, doesn’t like to take orders from others, a bit stubborn but it’s just because you can’t learn from other peoples experiences you have to go through it yourself to learn, eccentric, probably felt like an outcast or odd ball out growing up but then you’ll learn to embrace it and may even go out of your way to continuously try to separate yourself from the crowd and be seen as original.

Chiron Opposition Ascendant: you may do a lot of projecting onto others when you’re unhealed, you must learn self love and acceptance of self so you can take off the fake facade of confidence which is only ego, but once you do you have the ability to be a healer to others and teach them from your own experiences how you outgrew these insecurities and inferiority complex and turned it into genuine confidence and a positive outlook on self.

Moon trine ascendant: you may wear your heart on your sleeve and people can see your true self very early on in the relationship, very expressive face. Honest and caring and you like making others feel understood since that’s what you want in return. You exude a very warm energy that automatically makes people feel safe, secure, and welcomed around you.

Venus Sextile Ascendant: very social, charming and attractive so you may be popular because of this. You’re graceful and have a very aesthetically pleasing sense of style, you may dress very well and love accessorizing with pretty jewelry, even if you aren’t conventionally attractive you have this inner acceptance and good sense of worth and that others feel and are attracted to. Very easy going personality.

Venus Square Ascendant: you may be very hyper focused on your appearance trying to always fix something about yourself and not being satisfied, you may struggle with low self worth because you don’t feel beautiful but eventually when you work on your inner self esteem and forget about standards you set for yourself and just accept and love yourself as you’re, you start to see yourself as beautiful and that’s what will make you very magnetic.

Mercury Sextile Ascendant: energetic and youthful, you may be seen as mischievous even when older you don’t lose that childlike spark in you. You may be very tall, long or thin? Nice hands as well, very social and easy to get along with, people enjoy your presence. And if you’re really extraverted you may be seen as the life of the party or the really fun friend. Witty and funny.

Eros in 1st house/leo/conjunct the ascendent love being complimented and also shown off, they love when people express how attractive they are to them and they may sometimes be the definition of “I love you because you love me” since they enjoy feeling adored and admired they may end up only liking a person because they like them

Saturn in the 1st house; is usually restricted in some type of way in their childhood, this is seen in the charts of those with overly strict parents sometimes.

#astrology #astro observations #witchythings #astro community #astro notes #lilith asteroid #lilith aspects #lilith astrology #ascendant #ascendant aspects #random observations #moon aspects #venusian #venus aspects

[octopodeez]

𝐒𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐬 (𝐏𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐠𝐚𝐬 𝐃. 𝐀𝐜𝐞/𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

Modern!AU where you end your vacation with a bang by hooking up with some hot guy at the bar.

(Alabasta Ace will always reign supreme ❤️‍🔥)

He must be a local. There’s a certain rhythm to the way he rolls his hips that you can’t find at home, and gyms near you don’t produce bodies like that.

One large hand is splayed on your lower back to keep you close, while the other balances on the brim of his hat to keep it from tipping as his nose brushes against yours. There’s a warmth radiating from him that balances the chill of the ocean’s breeze. It penetrates your skin and settles easily in your bones as if belonging there all along.

He spends a few songs with his strong thigh pressed against your cunt and you spend a few songs grinding on it before he buys you a shot of fireball. You admire him from behind as he leans over the bar a little too far, waiting for the bartender’s attention. There’s a large tattoo on his spine that you’ll likely never get to know the meaning of and, more importantly, dimples on his lower back that form a subtle V. His cargo shorts hang low on his hips despite his belt, and you think about how easy it’d be for him to yank them down and rail you here and now at this shitty beach bar.

When he returns with the shots, you expect him to make a cheesy frat-boy type toast as he clinks his glass against yours, but you’re pleasantly surprised when he simply gives you a toothy grin before throwing his head back, giving you a nice view of his adam’s apple. He chases it by licking into your mouth, lapping up the burn of the liquor on your tongue.

He tells you his name is Ace.

Reaching your hotel room is a struggle, and that thought of yanking down those loose shorts of his becomes more appealing with each wrong turn, but you finally make it and jam your keycard in the lock so hard it nearly snaps. Indignant to the rough treatment, the sensor takes three tries to click open. Perfect timing because you notice Ace was raising his foot to just kick the damn thing open. The door still doesn’t quite avoid his wrath, though, as he gives it a swift kick shut before nearly tackling you to the floor.

The rug feels hot on your back as your shirt rides up beneath him. He’s already patting down his pockets, trying to find what you hope will be a condom, and thank fucking christ, it was. The packaging is red and flimsy, telltale signs of being cheap, but oh well, that’s why god invented Plan B.

He holds the condom between his teeth for a moment as he undoes his belt and zipper. Transfixed by the sound of clinking metal as his open belt sways heavy against his upper thighs, you barely register your lips parting hungrily as he tugs down his cargo shorts to reveal he wasn’t wearing any underwear. The fact that he’d shown up at the bar shirtless had already driven you crazy, but now to know there was nothing separating him from the world except the shorts that hung so loosely on his hips? Fuck.

“No panties? What a slut,” you half-joke.

“Yeah, I’m known to be a filthy tease,” Ace replies dryly, but amused, as he tears open the condom. The film makes a flimsy crinkling noise as another reminder to grab that Plan B tomorrow. “And what about you? You gonna let me see what’s under those tight little shorts or what?”

Ace tilts his head to the side slightly, while fumbling to roll the condom on. Meanwhile, you realize you are about to fuck a man who is wearing nothing but a bright orange hat. Whether or not to omit this detail when you tell your friends about him is a decision best saved for later.

Shifting, you lift your hips slightly to wiggle out of your shorts and panties. Ace makes a show of gripping the meat of your thighs and spreading them to get a better view of your wet sex. He stares just long enough to make you squirm, but before you can start self-consciously fidgeting, his fingers move to trace down your slit experimentally. He seems pleased with the state you’re in now, but decides he can make you messier and dips one of his fingers in your cunt, pressing forward until his palm is nearly flush against you.

Ace hums as he crooks his finger and begins rubbing that nice little spot within you. Like flint to stone, it lights your guts on fire and has you arching to chase after his touch. Had you not been staring at the ceiling, biting your lip, you would have seen his eyebrows quirk in surprise at your response, and it briefly would have made you wonder if maybe he didn’t do this as often as his dancing suggested.

When Ace pulls his hand back, you make a small noise of protest, but then he wraps his hand around the base of his cock and taps it on your clit, all nice and heavy. Your whining becomes begging and soon he’s slowly spearing you open with his cockhead. The fire he lit within you earlier is now a full on inferno as he presses forward more and more, stretching you to your limits, and pushing him to his as he visibly struggles to maintain control. He’s quivering and sighing, trying to resist the urge to just fuck you in half right here and now on the scratchy hotel carpet, but under that cowboy hat is some mental barrier, and you quietly thank whoever put it there when she taught him how to properly fuck a pussy.

That being said, this is hardly a time you want to be even remotely proper, so you hook your legs around his waist and yank him to his hilt. Caught off guard, Ace hisses a few curses and buries his head in the crook of your neck, nipping the soft skin there in retaliation.

“Fuck, give a guy some warning,” he groans while righting himself and giving you a hungry once over.

“I got impatient.” The words come out far more confident than you expected them to, earning the look of irritation you hoped for. The hamster wheel in Ace’s head is shorting out because how the fuck were you not a blissed out mess now that he was fully plunged inside you?

“Now who’s the slut?” Ace finally replies, and he feels your walls flutter against him. A wicked grin curls over his features having unlocked such a valuable tidbit of information, and he says: “Oh, I see.”

Unable to think of a clever response, you simply huff and roll your hips. The motion lands somewhere between bratty and fucking needy, and you’re pleased to see the way his pupils explode. You do it again, harder this time, pulling a breathy groan and wider smile from Ace.

“You gonna let me do my thing or should I just keep playing sex doll?” His tone suggests he’s fine with either option.

You can’t help but laugh as you thread your fingers through his hair. For a moment, you forget the miles that will separate you soon and just let yourself enjoy how natural being with him suddenly feels. There’s something about him that’s familiar and new all at once, as if you’d conjured him from the scraps of your past partners’ best traits.

A well-timed thrust from Ace chokes off the sarcastic remark on the tip of your tongue. Another thrust draws a breathy moan from deep within your chest that’s quickly muffled by a kiss.

Ace is a multitasker, and consumes you with every part of his body. He’s everywhere all at once and having no trouble figuring out which nipple is a little more sensitive and what angle your hips need to be to get you to make more of those filthy noises. Every now and then he leans down to kiss you. He swipes his tongue over the seam of your lips and hums when you part them, licking into your mouth sloppily, filling another part of your body.

“I’m close,” Ace suddenly pants as his hips continue snapping into yours. He’s grinning like a very confident idiot for some reason and it’s the most endearing thing in the world. “I’m so fucking close,” he repeats with a little more intensity. “Jesus, you feel so good. Can’t believe such a little slut is so fucking tight.”

Ace then crinkles his freckled nose and shakes his head, all too aware of how unnatural he sounded as he makes the snap decision to focus on chasing his orgasm rather than make a joke about his shitty dirty talk. You bite back a smile, too, and tangle your fingers in the scruff of his hair to pull him in for another searing kiss. The way he unabashedly pants and groans against your mouth is way hotter than anything he could say, anyways.

Your nails scrape down his back, settling on those dimples that had your mouth watering earlier and it makes Ace’s hips stutter as he whines into your mouth, coming abruptly. He collapses on top of you and mutters something about how he wished you didn’t live so far away and then, to your disbelief the fucker falls asleep mid-sentence; cargo shorts tangled at his ankles, ass out, hat still on. Something about the gentle rhythm of his snoring and warmth against your skin makes you too tired to comprehend the ridiculousness of the situation.

Once more he has proven himself to be annoyingly endearing and it has you already planning your next trip down.

***

Hi, I’m the queen of shitty abrupt endings but anyways you leave his dumb ass naked on the floor and sleep in your cozy hotel bed then the next morning he gives you the sloppiest best oral you’ve ever had and you almost miss your fucking flight blah blah blah the end ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

Also he eats your entire mini bar and you have to pay like $80 for a few bags of Cheetos but he apologizes so it’s fine I guess.

#portgas d ace #portgas ace x reader #ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #fire fist ace #one piece #ace x y/n #reader insert #whitebeard pirates #modern au #one piece x reader

[vampylily]

Notes from the new Rolling Stones Japan article with Pete and Patrick Pt.1 :

[WARNING: The article is in Japanese, I'm not a Japanese speaker. I'm machine translating the article from Japanese to Korean & English, and then doing paraphrasing in English. Thus, the wording is not entirely accurate, and may contain errors. Please don't consider this as a proper translation. This is so I can have a reference more than anything. ]

When the interviewer noted Patrick's Los Crudos t-shirt, he responded enthusiastically that it was a Chicago band! Pete was in a Napalm Death t-shirt.

Interviewer asked about how Summer Sonic was, especially since it was their first since 2019. Patrick said the show went like they hoped, which rarely happens (lol). Said Japanese audiences are special. He gets asked about how concerts in Japan are, but it's hard to explain unless you experience it. Said can't explain it well, but there's a lot of give and take of energy.

Interviewer asked about Pete saying there was a song inspired by Japan on the SMFS album. Pete said "The Kintsugi Kid" was the song about how he felt when he was in Japan, it's obvious by the title. "The Kintsugi Kid'' bridges "I Am My Own Muse" and "So Much (For) Stardust." Said Patrick wrote the songs but in his interpretation, the sonic landscape of the song reminds him of Japan.

Patrick said he's always been quite influenced by Japan, especially on this album. Said people might not register it from the sound, but he's been influenced by the Yellow Magic Orchestra & their synthesizer sounds. He didn't use much synthesizer on the album but a lot of the songs started with synthesizers. He got the same synthesizer Yellow Magic Orchestra used and started writing songs from there. He's a big fan of Studio Ghibli movies and loves Joe Hisaishi's music. Said when doing string/orchestra horn arrangements, he wanted to create a sound that was as appealing to the heart/poignant as his. Even though their music/sound was completely different, he wanted to try it. Said he especially tried to evoke the feeling he got on "The Pink Seashell."

Interviewer asked about TTTYG's 20th anniversary and how they could have done an anniversary tour but they didn't and instead released SMFS with gusto.

Pete said the most important thing is that you stick to what you think is right. Said there was a punk band he liked when he was younger, and they didn't change at all. Talked about how artists like David Bowie or the Clash changed their styles to almost unrecognizable lengths and how some fans left because of it. But when he listens to the albums after getting older, he can reflect on his own changes and find new appreciation for songs he might not have liked at the time.

Pete said celebrating the past too much feels patronizing and not very fall out boy-like. They continue making new music, sometimes they succeed, sometimes they don't. Even if something doesn't work out as well, he's like [it is what it is/that happens], and that some people might say they liked it. He's got albums he likes and albums he dislikes from his own favourite artists. Said they always make new albums that challenge their past works. Of course they hope people like it, but getting good reviews/being appreciated isn't the only reason they continue making music.

Patrick said he doesn't like making an album to celebrate the 20th anniversary, or having an anniversary to showcase past songs. Reasons was that first, the past songs are always in rotation in their sets so they don't stop playing them. Second, like Pete said, they prefer to keep pursuing new music and that stance hasn't changed from 20 years ago. Said deviating from that feels dishonest like they're lying to themselves.

Pete was like [it's how Steven Spielberg didn't make E.T. Part 2.] Patrick was like [exactly!] and said that being honest with themselves was their pure form.

also there's a page 2 to the article but i'm tired :[. they talk about "emo" changing from a specific music genre to the word entering the mainstream vernacular, patrick talked about how when they started out they didin't consider themselves "emo," they were a hardcore band. said he liked playing hardcore though when he sang people used to tell him his voice was too cute. they focused on making the music they wanted to, and before they knew it, they were being called "emo." Pete talked about the word, how it encompasses too much, feeling restricted by that in the past, etc. Talked about wanting to become like Metallica in that the word Metallica has becomes its own thing, Metallica doesn't need a description, etc. Patrick talked about perfoming in Japan, from small venues way earlier to now, etc

-

-

I love long FOB articles and I quite liked this one.

Love that Patrick talked about musical inspirations and SMFS. It’s so cool to hear because I love how beautiful and grand the sounds are in SMFS, even with spoken tracks like The Pink Seashell or Baby Annihilation. 

Also him buying the same synthesizers is so real. He’s a music nerd <3 

They’ve been consistently talking about always wanting to make new music and looking to the future instead of the past. And getting questions about their sound changing since forever haha.

It's really cool that they're very self aware and how convinced they are about making new music. Love that Pete can look back at older albums and find new appreciation for them. I’d be down for another half dozen FOB albums if they are, so (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

The new Pete and Patrick photos!!! They've got such pretty eyes <333

#fall out boy #fob #patrick stump #pete wentz #so much for stardust #tourdust #brought to you by house s4 in the background and my still-drying nail polish #vampylily.txt #smfs #also. patrick being influneced by yellow magic orchestra #and yoongi having a song with Ryuichi Sakamoto on his d-day album #here's how yoongi on the fob-pete wentz flowchart can still win #there was a beautiful moment with a vcr tribute to him during the agust d concert and it was lovely rip ryuichi sakamoto #they kind of fucked up the bullet list on mobile i hate how its formatted 😔

[yokohamapound]

Hello there! I absolutely love your content you write the boys so well 😭 if you are taking submissions could you do one convincing the BSD boys to have a massage? These guys are so touch starved istg 💖💖

Ooh, I love this! I know some guys who could really do with letting go of some tension...

Characters: Dazai Osamu, Nakahara Chuuya, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Kunikida Doppo

Contents: gn!reader

Dazai Osamu

Dazai doesn't need much prodding to laze around and let someone pamper him, but he will balk at paying for it. The ADA pays okay, but Dazai's a cheapskate at heart. He doesn't see why he should pay for someone to give him a massage when his darling partner could just do it for free.

He pouts when you insist he should get a proper massage. Who knows what kind of muscle tension he's carrying? Dazai doesn't exactly look after himself—he sleeps in strange positions, regularly stuffs himself into bins and barrels, and generally has terrible posture.

The only way to convince him is to buy the massage for him as a gift or something.

"Thank you, bella, but they won't be able to get all the kinks out."

Terrible puns aside, Dazai falls asleep the minute he lays down on the massage bed, only waking up to squeal when the massage therapist digs into a particularly deep knot. You can hear him from the waiting room.

"H-harder!"

The receptionist at the massage place gives the door an alarmed look. You stare at your phone and pretend not to have heard anything.

When he comes out, he's as limp as a wet noodle, practically sparkling with relaxation.

Nakahara Chuuya

The only problem with getting Chuuya to have a massage is him finding the free time. He's also picky about who he lets put their hands on him. Not that he's worried about anyone being able to hurt him, of course.

He chooses an expensive treatment, probably a deep-tissue massage followed by hot stones or something. And it'll be a couple's massage session. If he's doing it, you're doing it too.

Probably at an onsen or some kind of spa place. A Port Mafia executive doesn't go to the dodgy place down the street, after all.

He grunts whenever the massage therapist finds another tense muscle, gripping the edge of the bed so hard the wood creaks. It feels like the therapist is drying to grind his muscles to dust. When he looks across at you, he scowls.

You're lying there in a state of bliss, your massage therapist's oiled hands gliding gently across your back. Why are you getting the light treatment?

Fuck it. He's a man. He can handle this.

Despite the therapist trying to roll him out like bread dough, he is pretty relaxed by the time they've laid hot stones on his back.

"Guy's lucky I didn't deck him," he grumbles sleepily.

"Sure thing, babe."

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

Okay, so there's no way you're going to convince Aku to let some stranger lay their hands on him. It involves three things he hates:

1. Being vulnerable.

2. Strangers touching him.

3. Being naked.

The only way this is going to work is if you take a massage course, maybe throw in some aromatherapy too, and learn how to give a proper massage yourself. Even then, it's going to take a lot of wheedling and reassurance to convince him.

"No."

"Please? I really need to practice."

"Use someone else."

"Do you want me touching someone else's naked body?"

"..."

And so on and so forth.

When you finally wear him down, his thin, pale back is as rigid as a bowstring, practically vibrating with tension when you put your hands on him. He flinches, then grows even more tense. You warm some scented oil between your hands—mint, because he doesn't like citrus smells—and smooth them gently down his back.

It takes a while of that for him to start to relax. He keeps his head twisted to the side, watching you out of the corner of his eye.

Aku doesn't like you seeing him without his clothes. He knows he's scrawny, and doesn't see what the appeal is. He's always waiting for the other shoe to drop and for you to mock his appearance. It takes a lot of patience.

By the time you've worked your way up to his neck, gently kneading out the sailor-worthy knots from the amount of tension he carries, he's breathing easier. He might have let his eyes drift shut, although one hand will still be clenched in his coat, just in case.

See, Aku, that wasn't so bad, was it?

Kunikida Doppo

My god, does this man need to find some way to unwind. You may have noticed that he can be highly-strung and neurotic. Honestly, hard to blame him with his coworkers, but he's also very Type-A as a person.

Thankfully, Kunikida's ideals mean he is also very focused on maintaining his health and wellbeing. He won't ignore aches and pains, because they could well develop into more serious issues further down the line and that's not very ideal, is it?

Sadly, he's also wary of taking suggestions because of Dazai's penchant for coming up with bogus health advice. Kunikida is rather gullible, sometimes. Massage does have well-documented health benefits, though, so this shouldn't be a problem to convince him.

Just make sure it's pencilled into his schedule.

The main issue comes when it is actually time to relax. I'm convinced that Kunikida doesn't really know how. He has a couple of relaxing hobbies, like fishing, but even then he keeps a straight back and his mind is usually busy while his hands are idle.

He finds it very difficult to switch off, and the poor massage therapist is trying to massage the equivalent of a plank of wood. And when they look up, Kunikida is still trying to work—he needs to maximise every possible moment, after all!

"Sir? Sir! Are you checking your emails??"

"Yes, I have to keep on top of my inbox."

"Put the phone down, sir."

#bungou stray dogs #bsd headcanons #bsd imagines #Dazai Osamu #Nakahara Chuuya #Akutagawa Ryuunosuke #Kunikida Doppo #Dazai x Reader #Chuuya x Reader #Akutagawa x Reader #Kunikida x Reader

[akookminsupporter]

Namjoon gave an interview to El Pais in Spain and I wanted to share the translation of the interview for those who may not understand Spanish.

Question. The track opens with the lines: "Fuck the trendsetter / I'm going back to the age of 9 / when I was more human". Does the stratospheric success of K-pop dehumanise the artist? Answer. You start your career very early and as part of a group. There's not a lot of time to be an individual, but that's what makes K-pop shine: very young people, trying very hard at the same time…. You generate energy that you only have in your twenties. You fight day and night to perfect the choreography, the videos, the music, and there's an explosion, a big bang. From 20 to 30, we put all the energy and time we had into BTS. You get success, love, influence, power, and after that? The root of it all remains: the music… What was the question?

Q. Does the system dehumanise? A. My company doesn't like the way I answer this question, because I partly admit it and then the journalists throw their hands on their heads, "it's a horrible system, it destroys the young people! But it's partly what makes this such a special industry. And things have improved a lot, in terms of contracts, money, education, there are now teachers, psychologists...

Q. Korean record companies train their artists for years, you lived with your peers from 16 to 19 before your debut as BTS in 2013. What did your parents say? A. My mother spent two years, "Go back to school, you were so good at it, go your way, go to university, make music a hobby!"…. But there was no going back.

Q. The biggest lesson from your time as an apprentice? A. Dancing. I was incapable.

Q. And what did you miss out on by being one? A. College life.

Q. The cult of youth, the cult of perfection, the cult of K-pop overexertion? Are these Korean cultural traits? A. In the West, people just don't get it. Korea is a country that has been invaded, razed to the ground, torn in two. Just seventy years ago there was nothing. We were getting aid from the IMF and the UN. But now, the whole world is looking at Korea. How is that possible, how did that happen? Because people are working fucking hard to improve themselves. You're in France or the UK, countries that have been colonising other countries for centuries, and you come to me and say "oh God, you put so much pressure on yourselves, life in Korea is so stressful". well, yes. That's how you get things done. And it's part of what makes K-pop so appealing. Of course, there are shadows, everything that happens too fast and too intensely has side effects.

Q. What is the biggest prejudice about K-pop? A. That it's prefabricated.

Q. What would your career have been like if you had developed it on the alternative circuit or in another country? A. I think about the multiverse a lot, and the lesson of Doctor Strange is always the same: your version of the universe is the best possible one, don't think of others. There is nothing better than being a member of BTS.

Q. Did you imagine this version? A. Not at all. My dream was not to be a K-pop idol. I wanted to be a rapper, and before that, a poet.

Q. Your influences include rappers like Nas and Eminem, groups like Radiohead and Portishead, but you never mention boy bands. A. The Beatles were also called boy band... I'm not comparing us, they were the creators of everything. But I guess you mean NSYNC or New Kids on the Block: bands whose pop music I actually liked, although I wasn't a super fan… What got me was rap: rhythm plus poetry.

Q. You say you get jealous of who you admire, for example? A. Kendrick Lamar, always. And Pharrell Williams. He's living history, I'd like to be one too, maybe in the future. That's why I don't paint, to be jealous of Picasso or Monet would be too much.

Q. You do collect, how do you choose the pieces? A. I've only been collecting for four years and I've been changing. My focus is 20th-century Korean art. But I'm not Getty or Rockefeller…

Q. You don't do it to invest. A. I guarantee it. If I wanted to invest, I would buy black artists, women artists, emerging Indonesian artists… My goal is to open a small exhibition space in about 10 years because I think Seoul needs a place with a young taste, but respectful of the Korean legacy, to which I would also like to bring artists like Roni Horn, Antony Gormley or Morandi.

Q. Have you always had the collector's bug? A. I've collected toys, little cars or Takashi Murakami figures, then vintage clothes, then furniture, I love Charlotte Perriand and Pierre Jeanneret [both collaborators with Le Corbusier], but my favourite is George Nakashima.

Q. On your album there are songs from very different genres, some critics say it's inconsistency, others say versatility… A. I think the word genre will disappear in a few decades. R&B, Hyperpop, Jersey Club, UK Drill, Chicago Drill, K-pop! They don't mean anything. Music is an accumulation of frequencies that makes people get into a certain mood.

Q. Are you fed up with the "K-" label? A. You could get sick of Spotify calling us all K-pop, but it works. It's a premium label. The guarantee of quality that our grandparents fought for.

Q. Your album features Anderson Paak, Youjeen and the elusive Erykah Badu, how did he convince you? A. She knew BTS because her daughter is a fan, but that's not enough. I had to persuade her, I sent her a text with Yun's story explaining why I needed her wise queen voice for those verses.

Q. You mix English and Korean sometimes in the middle of a line, how do you decide? A. Words in different languages have different textures; the same message, with a different brushstroke. It comes naturally to me. I don't play instruments, I compose and create melodies with my voice, which is my instrument and most of my songs start with words.

Q. You have also gone through several identities, as a teenage rapper you were Runch Randa, then in BTS Rap Monster and then RM (for Real Me). Have you thought about using your real name? A. [laughs] We all have a past, a dark history, we say in Korea. Runch Randa was my nickname in a role-playing game, then I wanted to be, you know, "a rap monster!″, then I matured… I prefer my name to be known by as few people as possible, I'm not John Lennon, Paul McCartney, I can check into a hotel quietly and I like that.

Q. You've also changed a lot in the way you dress. A. I went through XXL T-shirts and baseball caps. Then I got into high-end brands… Like Rap Monster, I started wearing only black and white [rolls his eyes and shrugs]. Now I'm interested in timelessness, I don't go for trends, I look for vintage jeans, cotton t-shirts, natural things, that don't scream "hey, I'm here".

Q. Rumour has it that you are going to collaborate with Bottega Veneta, whose fashion show you have just been invited to in Milan. A. I would love to. Although I've lost interest in brands, in fashion weeks and that constant change of Pantone… Bottega is different, they don't use logos, they have a history with fabrics and leather, they don't even have Instagram, they are beyond fads and fashions.

Q. How heavy is it to have an army of fans? A. You can't walk around in the middle of nowhere without being recognised and the standards to which you are subject weigh heavily. But you have to grow up and deal with it, not be pitiful like "oh, I just want to be normal". Look, if you want to think fame is a rock, it's a fucking rock, but for me, it's given me what I was looking for: to get influence and financial freedom as quickly as possible to make the music I want to make without worrying about the charts… I'm not there 100%, but I try to focus on the noise inside, not the noise outside.

Q. And how are you facing your thirties? A. I've never experienced such a confusing time. For a decade I was the leader of BTS, and it was very stable and fun, always going up. In 2023 a lot of things have changed, professionally and personally, although I can't tell. As I'm about to turn 30, I like myself more than I did when I was 20. Now I will spend a year and a half in military service, which is very important in every Korean man's life. And after that, I am sure I will be a different human being, hopefully, a better and wiser one.

#Namjoon #RM #bts #bts solo careers

[marshmallowdarling]

Hi, I saw that you had open requests and I wanted to ask a Yan! Batfam HC:

How would a platonic Yandere! Batfam react to a foster sister who, well, doesn't grow very tall?

All the family memebers of the Batfam are, to least to say, giants. Even the shortes one is quite tall than the avarage height. (All of them, except the child version of Damian, are between 5'5 and 6'2 feet tall. )

But what would happen if his adopted little sister, who eats well, lives a healthy life, has no signs of illness and so on, becomes short in height? She is simply no taller than 5 feet and that's it. All of them grew up well! why you were the exception?

Would they worry that their little sister wouldn't grow up no matter how hard they tried, or would they be happy to have a "pocket edition" little sister?

Thank you so much for requesting Bub and I hope you like it!! I'm so sorry it took so long, I started writing this immediately but I felt like it was too short and I just said fuck it today and wanted to post no matter how short (thought I added a bit more) Also I turned this into GN reader because in the end there was only like two things indicating (Y/N)'s gender and I wanted to appeal to everyone, I'm so sorry if you strictly wanted female reader!! (tbh I wasn't reading it properly when I was editing this oop-)

And I hear what your saying!!! What an amazing idea to imagine,

~Mwah

I don’t want to keep the height strictly 5 foot just for the x reader element, I never want to force one body type into my writings (except for chubby) just because I want everyone to feel included and one body’s deformed shortness will be different to another. 

But yes!! 

I head canon that all the bat-boys have little snacks that they keep, some not as nutritional as others, but they all end up having more healthy snacks on them because of little ol’ you.

Sandwiches with whatever spread you like, more perishable sandwiches are only brought at short distances not missions (if so, they are bought fresh), cut up fruit, fruit snacks, the jelly beans you find at pharmacies with the red and white cross on the bag, bottles of water and little cartons of juice of whatever flavour you might prefer that day (trust me, Alfred always somehow knows what flavour you’re going to like that day). 

I feel like they would all worry about your short height to an extent, Bruce being the worry wart, constantly getting you checked out every two weeks, making sure you take vitamin gummies (because let’s face it, they’re better than pills and I will NOT take pills).

Second to ol’ Brucey is Jason, he died- and he probably freaks the FUCK out when you keep growing but you don’t show any signs of getting taller. At first, he keeps assuring himself that you’ll grow.

“They’re just a late bloomer”

“May- Maybe Their just short!” 

“Why arn’t they growin- Oh my god is (Y/N) dying?! I told that old man to kidnap them earlier!” 

Oh, Jason definitely watches you when you sleep (like the rest of them) and furrows his brows, trying to figure out an answer to why you’re so small.

The rest of them do have lingering thoughts but they can see Bruce dragging you to the doctors every other week and they make sure your on top of your meals and medicine so they don’t really outwardly do anything else. Tim definitely does poke at your height as a joke, but it does help his delusion of you needing him, like the rest of the fam. All of the boys definately try to 'secretly" show of their strength around you so you rely on them more, though you figured this out quickly and it's somewhat amusing to see them show off their muscles like a peacock.

If you do feel bad about how you look the rest of them will shoot Tim down immediately and praise you up and down. Some of the other more silent boys might do this in a more discreet way but rest be assured your getting the floor you walk on kissed. They might even let you have very light work outs! (Without any equipment) though it usually turns into you sitting on their backs to help them with their push ups or holding their feet so they can send you a compliment or tease as they come up from a sit up.

Foster! Reader is fed a lot- Full plates at every meal, breakfast, lunch and dinner is ate and there is a strict ‘NO SKIPPING’ policy. Even if it’s just a few bites, even just one, your ass better eat and after a fit from you because you watched your siblings skip their meals without any harassment or scolding, the rest of the family now has the same rule as you (much to Bruce’s chagrin after trying to make his kids have a normal eating schedule since forever.) 

Overall they would just be a bit more strict with eating rules and making sure you feel good in your body, but other than that mostly the same.

Aww your just a little thing, you wouldnt survive in the real world cub. Hu? What do you mean "the doctor says I'm healthy and fit?", you might be but your still oh so small and you need your family to protect you! Can't you see how weak you are compared to our big beefy bodies? You don't have to worry your cute little head about it though! Your boys will always be here to take care of you.

#yandere #tw yandere #soft!yandere #softyandere #cw yandere #yandere x reader #chubby reader #darling core #yandere batfam #yandere batman #yandere batfam x reader #yandere platonic #platonic yandere #platonic batboys #ask #foster reader #yandere gn reader #yandere chubby reader

[havendance]

Batman (2016) #38 wishes it had what Gotham Knights #1 has.

Recent discussion has caused me to remember that I wanted to write this post. Anyway, spoilers for both comics below if you care.

There are a few different things that set these two stories in parallel. The firstly and most obviously, are the parallel in the cases that Bruce faces in each story: We have a boy. His parents have been killed. Bruce (Batman) vows to solve the case; he vows to bring vengeance. And when he finally unravels the mystery he finds that the murderer is none other than the son.

The appeal behind telling such a story is clear. Bruce at his heart is a boy who has lost his parents. For child to kill their parents is alien to him. It isn't something he wants to believe. It's an interesting challenge to pit him against.

The way that Bruce goes up against these is different in the two stories. The Gotham Knights story is there to showcase his supporting cast, his allies. He is hampered at every turn, by Nightwing, Oracle, Robin, Huntress, trying to help him/take over the case because they can see what he can't.

Robin: Um, Listen. Wouldn't bother you, but... well, this case is kinda buggin' me out... Nightwing: Senator Myles and his wife? Yeah, Oracle gave me a heads up. Tim, this one's gonna be hard on Bruce, Okay? Try not to take it too personally if he's-- Robin: --No, it's-- not that, Dick. I'm just worried that maybe... Well, I mean, you've never known Batman to have a blind spot have you? Nightwing: Blind spot?

Whereas in the Batman story, it's a solo story. He monologues to Gordon, to Alfred, to Selina's sleeping body. Alfred makes a wry remark. Selina makes an aside. They're not really allies in this to him, not really. In the Gotham Knights story, Dick practically throws the answer in his face. In Batman, Bruce is the lone savant.

I will give Tom King credit where credit is due. It's a very clever mystery that Batman solves with all of it's twists and turns. It's clever and it knows it.

I do think that the Gotham Knights story though is stronger in it's simplicity. Everyone knows from the beginning and yet Batman insists on investigating each twist and turn, convinced that there must be another solution. Even to the end, when the evidence is overwhelming:

Batman: I fingerprinted ninety-three bullets, and found your prints on this one. It-- It could be used to prove that you killed Jack and Eileen Myles... I need you to really think, Barrett. I need you to finger another suspect, or tell me more about what you saw. I need you to give me something, Barrett. Please...

He cares. He wishes so desperately for it to be something else. Anything else. He's pursuing it to an obsessive, dogged degree. (He fingerprinted 93 bullets)

In contrast, in Batman #38, when Bruce realizes the truth of the murders, it is very much a realization rather than a unwilling truth dragged forth.

Bruce: The killing of parents, blaming it on Zsasz, then on Two-Face. It's fundamentally silly... It's... almost... childish.

It's an intuitive leap, rather than an elimination of all other possibilities. Now, I'm not saying that Batman isn't allowed to have one of those, but there is just something deeply compelling about the way he is so deeply in denial in the Gotham Knights story that just can't be found in the version where it's a convoluted puzzle box for him to solve. There's less compassion there. The conclusion of the storyline emphasizes the way that Bruce was shaped by his parent's murder, and yet I think the way that Bruce is so deeply in denial shows rather than tells us this in a much clearer way:

Batman: You're not Bruce Wayne! You're a sick kid with dead parents! Matthew: Well, yes... but... but what else is Bruce Wayne?

This also brings to the other thing that sets these two stories in parallel is the way that each of them spend their time digging into an aspect of Bruce's identity. In Gotham Knights #1, we have Bruce psychoanalyzing the Batman via third person file (as one does). In Batman #38, the boy is obsessed with Bruce Wayne, he wants to be like him.

The thing I find most interesting in this comparision is that the file is all about 'why doesn't Batman work alone? why is he so stupid as to have all these hanger ons?'

File: You would think Batman would KNOW better. You would think he, of all people, would understand how potentially UNSAFE it is to be surrounded by people you LOVE. The risk of LOSS is always too GREAT.

Before finally concluding that 'hey, they're like a family to him. they help him out. it isn't a complete idiot move after all.' And I think that kind of sums up the reason that I think that the Gotham Knights story just works better. It's about Bruce's weaknesses and the way that they're covered. It is about him and his belief in the goodness of people even in the job he's doing. It's very rooting in humanity, where the Batman story is a clever puzzlebox for Batman to solve.

And as a final note, this rooted-ness in humanity is also demonstrated in the differences of the two boys:

Why did Barret shoot his parents?

Batman: Why? Why did you do it? Why? Barret: I dunno. They bugged me. What's it to you? Batman: It's everything, Barret. Everything...

Why did Matthew?

Batman: I talked to your man. Again. I found more lions. He found another story. About a boy who loved Bruce Wayne. Who wanted to be Bruce Wayne. Who ordered his butler to make him into Bruce Wayne. Matthew: You can't understand.

Ignoring the fact that Bruce is explaingng Matthew's motivations to him, it's just a much more bombastic and fantastical motivation than we had with Barret. The whole story is trying to do something that I feel the Gotham Knights story accomplishes more, and with greater pathos.

Moral of the story: go read Gotham Knights #1. And then maybe read Batman #38 if you want to read a less good version of the same story. Or maybe the other way around and end on a strong note.

#batman #dc #bruce wayne #havendance reads comics #carthago delenda est #tom king tag