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hoeforhao · 9 months

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babbyyyyy HONEYYY when are we getting flip sip strip?

it's here finally lord😭every month I used to get a ask regarding when will flip,sip or strip come out and I felt so guilty for pushing down such a good plot to the basements but yeah!!! FINALLY!

Flip, Sip or Strip🎲 // Wonhui Fic // Part 1

ᥫ᭡ pairing: sub!wonwoo×fem!reader×dom!junhui

ᥫ᭡ genre: smut with barely any plot,minors dni, threesome,college au, bestfriends to bedfriends, sexual games

ᥫ᭡tags: rough sex, double penetration,oral(both m and f receiving),pussy slapping,breast play, use of pet names,degradation kink,orgasm denial, use of explicit language.

ᥫ᭡synopsis: what happens when you are ganged up by your bestfriends to play a game of pleasures.

ᥫ᭡part: 1/2

ᥫ᭡word count: 1.4k+

ᥫ᭡banner credits: @classicscreations

ᥫ᭡authors note: ik ik this was supposed to be a oneshot and I started writing today with that aim only but got disturbed so many times that I lost the flow, and in no way I wanted this fic to come out rushed and without the tension building up, so I'll release the rest with another part. But this part can also be read as a stand alone. Hope y'all will enjoy!!!

Permanent taglist: @joonsytip @feat-sun , also tagging @junhour cuz ik you'll enjoy this ☻️

Fic taglist: @tommolex @tara-drabbles @meowmeowminnie @chwenott @mewheree @freshdetectivenight @ffumatthew

If y'all wanna be added to the taglist of part 2 or the permanent taglist, then just drop a comment under this. thank you☆

"Yah Jun that's sheer daylight cheating boy" your cushiony hands land a hard smack onto the oldest's upper thighs, making him let out a sharp gasp, mostly from the fear of letting you see the growing tent in his trousers.

"If that means discarding one more piece of clothing down that velvety skin of yours, then I'm ready to beat jeonghan hyung's records" Junhui blurts out with absolutely no shame or filter, resulting in your cheek muscles tensing up to flush a subtle pink.

Yes you three were playing this weird game that Jun himself suggested with his obvious intentions that were unknown to the rest two of you, till now!! For you what seemed to be an innocent, maybe a little spicy game, to draw the boredom out of you, wonwoo and jun from not having dates to go to senior prom, now had you sitting infront of these two men in just your pants and lacey purple bra.

Not that you minded being half naked before your best friends though, as being single for more than 10 months have now elevated your libido to the very edge. Apart from that, Jun was incredibly hot and flirty to not have your legs slump whenever he had his hands on you or even his mere words were enough to have you sweating down your core.

What you did not know or anticipate was the second older's burning lusty eyes towards your nearly bare torso, digging wells into that cloth that was guarding your enchanting assests from him. "Are you two done with the bickerings? Let's finish this quick pls"

"Why Jeon? So that you can go play that goddamn games of yours? Or are you...." Jun shifts his gaze from you onto wonwoo, resting his palms on the younger's thighs, giving him a teasing look with the hope to ignite the self controlling hold he has been trying to put onto his desires.

Wonwoo immediately shys away, trying to hide the red creeping up onto his face and following the feeling down to his pants, pushing off Jun's hands in the process. "Or w-what?"

"Or are you scared to show y/n how hard you are from just watching her strip down her top, hmm?" Jun moves his palms to wonwoo's lap once again, drawing light circles on his upper thighs, dangerously close to the strain in his pants, while his eyes fall on you whose mouth was quite literally left hanging open after hearing the older's shameless blabberings.

"Rest those muscles of yours baby, they would need to work a lot later" and with that Jun rolls the dice once again! Lord looks like all the heavens were against your sanity today, as the result flipped out to your defeat, for the third time in a row, and you very well knew what that meant - losing the very last piece of deceny left on your body.

Looking up at Jun with those doe eyes of yours, hands playing with the waistband of your jeans, hope aflame in yours eyes that he would ask you not to provide a free strip show for them anymore.....but alas! The only thing you receive is a nod from him directing you to pull those pants down your legs right now.

"Fuck you Jun! I'm sure you fixed the game just to tease me!!"

"You will soon babygirl, don't worry. But just not only me" he finally gets up from the floor, pulling along wonwoo by his shoulders, while turning towards you to see you now standing up by yourself to get those jeans off of your body. Your eyes were too focused on the material of your clothing to notice the two men towering above, their faces dangerously close to yours.

Being done with taking off your final piece of modesty, you finally lift up your head only to be met with Jun's breath fanning against your nose, while wonwoo blocked out the little space you had left to run away from this rendezvous.

"W-what!" you try to back up only to be hit by the paddings of the couch behind, nearly falling down if it wasn't for Jun's biceps holding you up, although the other option would've been way better, now that you feel his hands creeping up your bare back and play with the hooks of your bra.

"You think being stripped down to this purple lingerie with two men infront of you, more appropriately starving men, be the climax of tonight's adventures?" the oldest now pushes you down to the couch, spreading your legs with his to stand between them, all this while directing wonwoo to kneel down beside you by the handrest.

"We're in for a long night, right Jeon?" Jun snakes his arms behind you to slightly arch up your body, giving him enough space to discard your bra off of your chest quickly, while his knees were now bend up against your clothed cunt, grinding them on your clit.

"Kiss her wonwoo. Show her you're not just a loser who sits in his room and plays games". His remark was fueling enough for wonwoo's ego as he swiftly descends his face down to yours, trapping your lips into his, hands going around your jaw to hold you as close to him as possible.

The little bit of doubt and control that was clouding your mind from jumping right in was now cleared off as you get a taste of wonwoo, his mouth taking yours in completely, eating out your face as if he has never felt something as sweet as your lips.

The sweaty cat's hands tightly tug onto your hair as he feels you moaning into his mouth, from the sudden sensation of Jun's cold fingers drawing over your bare nipples, the sharpness of his ring leaving behind a trail of painful pleasure on your tits.

"Won't you help the poor boy out y/n? Ease out the painful boner that was caused by this sultry body of yours, hmm?" Jun takes one of you hands that was trapped behind you all this time and guides it to wonwoo's crotch, holding it down to push against his bulge constantly, making the younger bite on your lips from the heat building up.

You couldn't believe yourself as you were now palming wonwoo's dick from over his pants while Jun was playing with your boobs, spitting on them for his hands to glide down easily, pinching your nipples between his digits as he kneaded onto your mounds like he was gonna make bread out of them, knees never taking a break from rubbing your pussy.

"F-fuck y/n, I don't....don't wanna cum in my pants....stop pls!" wonwoo quickly pushes you back, detaching his lips from yours leaving behind a string of saliva still joining the two of you, as he fears that if you move your hands against his dick once more, he'll come undone then and there, which he definitely did not want.

The sudden absence of his warmth on your mouth and the absurd behavior of the elder, makes your eyes flash by a confused look, turning towards Jun as if to ask him why did wonwoo behave like that and what was their next step.

"I think it's time for us to take this to the bedroom. This couch is too small to accommodate both of us in you" your mouth literally hangs open at this as you slowly come to terms with the fact that tonight you were about to be railed by two men simultaneously. Not that you hated the idea tho.

Observing the accepting look on your face, Jun asks wonwoo to take you in his arms and bring you upstairs to the said bedroom, as he knew quite well that your legs were probably too weak to walk themselves up, after all the action his knees have been giving you for the past fifteen minutes.

Wonwoo carrying you like a sloth with your arms tied tightly around his neck as you rest your head in the crook of his neck, feels like nothing more than a dream for you. His broad shoulders shielding you from all the chaos of this world, his embrace feeling like home and his dick poking your butt from beneath - all was like a made up fairytale for you until Jun's voice decides to pull you out of the haze.

"What are you waiting for Jeon? Throw her on the bed. Let's see how well her pussy takes two cocks at the same time"

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the-dye-stained-socialite · 3 months

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Closeted Fears

The Captivating Princess/Original Character Elias Leroux Teen and Up (mild swearing) Word Count:1,336 Claustrophobia, PTSD, Intention Triggering, Abelism, Hurt No Comfort, Imprisonment, Nosebleeds. Summary: The Princess has been searching for a way to break in her newest toy, and finally figures out how Perfect hands held an iron grip on their handles. They were supposed to be safe, in the middle of a party, but when they strayed too far from the crowd. She had caught them, and pulled them off to a secluded hallway, claiming she needed "help" with something. Elias, though inebriated, could see a trap being laid. Pins and nets laid out before them, snaring the Socialite. A trap with no way out. The best course was to steer through as carefully as they could. It was their best course. They could have left their chair, but they knew they wouldn't make it far, and leaving their chair behind was akin to leaving their legs, so no dice there. They were neither strong enough, nor brave enough, to wrestle control back from her, either. So through the trap they must go, and hope that she would be kind. She never was.

This was hardly the first time something like this had happened. Ever since they came to the Palace after winning the Marvelous, the Captivating Princess had been deliberately and methodically going through ways to upset them. A well-fixed smile, a polite demure, and a well-practiced mask of unbothered indifference had gotten them through every trap thus far. They'd rendered awful stabbings into polite jokes, saying they knew many doctors. Chemical spills that ate away their favorite dress were 'nothing worse than what happened at their lab'. When she wanted to do something worse? Well, she was just as much a prisoner of the public eye as they were. She was a darling and beloved Princess, and Elias was darling and beloved Regent. They had many lovers, who could accompany them to any ball, salon, or suspicious meeting in the gardens. For those who weren't their lovers? Elias was not above manipulation and obfuscation to save themself. They could even make one of the Princess' own devotees giggle at her expense once or twice.

Without those people, the Socialite lost much of their defense against her. No one to sway, no one to distract her.They'd only been one on one with her a mere handful of times, and avoided it at every chance. Yet here they were, alone together, sitting and standing, in front of an open closet. Barely more than a cupboard. Elias took a deep breath at the sight, calming the rushing river in their veins. They knew she wanted them to go inside. It was tiny, and cramped. Had someone told her? Or was this simply another thing to check off on her list? If they stayed calm, she would never know, and that was that.

Carefully and calmly, they spoke. "You said you needed my assistance, Your Highness?"

"Yes," she responded. "I'm afraid I need that jar," she indicated a golden jar on the top shelf "and I'm not tall enough to reach. I thought I would find the tallest person I know, and that happens to be you, dear."

It was true, Elias was exceptionally tall, moreso in their heels, but she seemed to be neglecting a detail. "I'm afraid I can't do that, Your Highness. My chair won't fit in there, and you have the highest reach between us."

"Well, you'll simply have to stand."

"But-"

"I've seen you do it before," she pressed. "It won't be long, and I really must get that jar."

Elias had no memory of standing within sight of her, but clearly that was a moot point. She had already seen, and made her assumptions. They'd been rather hoping not to overtax their body today fetching a damned jar. "I... yes, Your Highness."

"Good," she purred.

They stood. They walked exactly as far in as they needed to. They kept calm. They reached for the jar. They heard their wheelchair being rolled away, and whipped around too late. They thew their entire body weight against the door, but the click of the lock sealed their personal trap. Solitary confinement.

The rushing of their blood returned, rapids so fast no seasoned Gondolier would dare navigate them. They twisted around and around, desperate for an exit. No mirrors. No tools. An empty space where the tools had been. Their skirts reached the walls of their tiny cage. It was suffocating. A sudden, earthy taste filled their mouth, causing them to gag. Nothing came out. Nothing was there. They ripped off a heel, and began to attack the door, the lock, any possible weak spot. They would do this until their hands were raw and blistered. They would cry so hard their nose would bleed, and their eyes would be swollen shut the next day. They would scream so long they would have no voice for a week. Again and again they would ram into the door, bruising and battering their body. When they could no longer stand, they would curl themself as small as they could, and try not to think of locked rooms, barred windows, and velvet-lined boxes. The Socialite would try their hardest not to think of how they would surely be forgotten, locked away in here until they were nought but dust, with no one to love them.

The party was long over when the Princess decided she had waiting long enough. The guests were gone, the servants were asleep. She made her way into that hallway once more, and retrieved both key and chair from where she had hidden them. As she approached the disused cupboard, she could hear right away the impact it had made on Hearts' little splinter. Their anguished sobs were the most beautiful music she had heard all night. 'Lovely,' she thought. She had finally found a way to break them. That Lively Gossip would be well-rewarded for the tip. Maybe now she could have fun with them. Oh, but first, she would need to set them free.

She rapped her knuckles, lightly, on the door.

A desperate wail of "LET ME OUT!" was their reply.

Oh yes, this was exactly the result she had wanted. "Only if you make a promise-"

"I PROMISE, I PROMISE!"

"That you'll spend the night with me."

"YES, PLEASE, I PROMISE, ANYTHING, LET ME OUT!"

They choked on their last words, and she laughed. "How sweet you can be," she muttered. It did not take long to open a door, but she drew it out as much as she could. The Princess wanted to savor their fear. he made certain to keep a firm grip on their chair's handles as well. When the door was finally open, she could see what a mess they had made. Two heel-less shoes, and two broken off heels, were near their skirt. The Socialite was looking more stained than usual, blood dripping from their nose and ruining their bodice. They were adorably pitiful. She had hardly enough time to take in the art, when they got up, and bolted out the door, sidestepping their chair entirely. Bare feet slapped against the floor as they ran. Her own heels clicked calmly after them. It was below her dignity to push a rider-less chair, so she dragged it behind her.

Elias had only made it halfway down the hall when they collapsed, loosing their glasses in the fall. She was quick behind them. They began to lift, to try again, but she planted a heel firmly onto their spine, and stopped that nonsense before it could begin again. "I promise, I promise," she sing-songed in a mockery of their panic. "Come along, little Regent."

"Can't... move," they said.

"Beg," she commanded.

"Your Majesty, please, help."

"Oh, Majesty? Better not tell my mother. Of course, sweet flatterer, I'll help. Royalty must help royalty, after all." She moved her hell from their back to their fragile glasses, and crushed them underfoot. She lifted the whimpering Socialite into a sitting position, then dragged them up and into their chair. A servant could clean this mess later. Elias began to cry once more, as she steered them off to a private room.

#elias leroux #fallen london #the captivating princess #fallen london fanfic #dye stained fics #cw abelism #cw claustrophobia

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mydysfunctionalvampirefamily · 15 days

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Hi excuse me, but what happens at a new moon? 👀

"Don't make this sad" 😂

"hey you're full of shit" insults are Aviva's love language.

Lola makes me so sad "people who move fast towards me usually don't have good intentions, especially when I've been bad." you haven't been bad sweet baby girl. 😭

It's interesting though because she's sad and traumatised and a little pathetic like Neil but whereas with Neil I'm like 😈 yes hurt him more, make him sob plz. Here I am don't you dare hurt her! I will end you.

The thought of John all on his own in this house so close to where the Aviva's death happened that he feels responsible for makes me rally sad. I'm glad he ended up choosing staying with his uncle.

Whenever John explains what he is doing he never actually explains what it is he's doing.

I'm gonna be honest I cannot keep all the magic terms straight completely, but I'll get the hang of it.

For someone who wants to coddle Lola and protect her at all cost I do cheer on Aviva calling her on her bullshit and John reasoning with her.

Not me saying NO! Quite loudly outside walking my dog because Lola said I should have been smarter, good things don't happen to me. 😭😭 What the fuck???

I know I already commented on it, but Aviva's mean supportiveness is great.

Oh no it got even sadder, so much sadder.

Oh good they're hugging. 🥰🥰

You know, yes there is a lot of fuckedupness here, but also in general this group has a lot more emotional intelligence than our vampire family.

"Apparently I'm a really good kisser" 😂😂

I know they all try, but I feel like John's logic and rationality is the best suited to poke through Lola's self hating bullshit.

Omg all the roles fit so well. 😭😭

"I didnt really have comfort as a child" the casualness with which this is said is extra devastating omg

Okay I'm sorry he want them to hold him down drowning in the traincar where Aviva died??? What the fuck?!?

He comes there a lot?? One of the most traumatic moments of his life? That doesn't seem healthy.

Goddamnit if both Lola and John would internalise the speeches they give each other just for one second!!!!

John's mom is such a fucking dick!!

And now she is physically there???? We need to end this bitch. Every word out of her mouth is so toxic!

My favourite thing about this system is that it sounds like they get to roll so many dice at once all the time. As someone who only has played 2 ttrpg session face to face, I am so envious of irl dice rolling.

Yes Aviva! End her! Or at least hit her! Good girl. Just so snarky too with it.

Just the nervous giggles when Rob picks up all his dice. Oh no.

Uhmmmm what??. No no. This is not allowed! How dare you, John's mom! Leave Aviva alone. 😭

Abusive controlling mothers wo only think about themselves, I hate them, but oh do I love to hate them. Happy mothersday to those who celebrate I guess.

This episode had everything! Trauma! Some goofs! More trauma!

#path of night podcast #Pon liveblogging #Forgetting Ashville #Episode 5

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probably-haven · 3 years

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I’ve been thinking about Childe a lot recently- because my friends slander him relentlessly and other than one person who kinda semi-likes him I’m the only one who actually likes his character.... and I know I’ve slandered him a fair amount myself but just-

He was a child.

A child - No ‘e’. No puns. No jokes. Not this time.

He was only fourteen.

His story described him as “frightened and hesitant�� prior to his time in the abyss. All he wanted was an adventure of his own. To make an adventurer of himself, the likes of which he had heard so many times in the stories of his father. To be like him. He didn’t even go seeking the abyss or any kind of grave danger or incredible power, he was just a naïve little boy, running away from home with almost nothing in chase of a story of his own.

And yet he was fated to fail, and everything went south almost immediately. Lost in the freezing cold forest environments of Snezhnaya, he was completely alone save for the wild animals on his trail. And by an unlucky roll of the dice - or perhaps because in that moment, his desire and drive to survive, to live, to get back to his family, was so strong that even the abyss itself took notice - the world he knew was stripped away.

Scared and vulnerable with only a shortsword for protection, Ajax was torn from what already would have served to be traumatizing enough for the child, and thrust into something immeasurably worse.

Described as “a bottomless crack in the earth’s surface,” “the endless possibilities of another ancient world,” and “the darkest corners of the universe;” the abyss is not a place that ordinary people are meant to survive. Now I could go on about what the abyss may be or who the swordswoman might be or what might have happened to him, but the point is: it doesn’t matter what happened, his trauma is trauma nonetheless and its not in his control nor is it his fault how his brain decided to process it. Regardless, I think “endless possibilities” within the “darkest corners of the universe” speaks well enough for the severity.

Even without this however, it is important to note that for three months of what logically would have driven anyone to or past the brink, he had one consistent point of relative safety in the form of the swordswoman, a person who while training him for destruction, was also deliberately manipulating into him “the ability to stir up endless havoc.”

Placed in an extremely traumatic situation like this and being manipulated by one he would have been forced to see as an anchor of sorts, simultaneously holding him together and molding him into the twisted version of himself that she wanted him to be; Realistically, Childe is more a victim than anything else.

And he returned - still only a fourteen year old child - to his home.

Now an interesting point: based on the wording of his character story, it seems as though when he came out from the abyss, his new demeanor actually unnervingly reflects his hopes when he ran away, implying that the swordswoman very well could have used his own ambition as a cruel mirror to shape him based off, or used them merely as an additional manipulation tactic. “He acted as if this world revolved around him, and as if battle existed for his sake.” Almost as though he were truly the protagonist in an adventure story of his own, just like his father before- or perhaps that’s what he was made to believe.

Regardless, Childe quickly gained a reputation for havoc, chaos, and violence, as it followed him and he spread it wherever he went, just as he had learnt to do during his time in the abyss, constantly seeking that unpredictability, the thrill of combat.

And this continued until he went too far, and in response to this, the father that he admired so greatly sent Ajax away into the strict military environment of the Fatui. The idea was that the highly strict environment of training for the literal military, would “hone his son’s temper.” Not dampen, or control, or reduce in any way, but “hone” - to sharpen it, to refine and perfect it. And he watched “fully-armed troops getting the stuffing beaten out of them by a mere child.“

He was only a child.

Everything he went through in the abyss and all the changes he went through himself, only to be shipped into military by the family who could no longer handle dealing with the effects of what he experienced...

And he was just a kid.

oh but they honed his temper alright. Not only was he entered in this military training like his father had planned originally, but soon after, the young child was selected and placed within the official ranks of the Fatui themselves under the guise of being a punishment.

Told to work his way up the ranks from the bottom, the Fatui “honed” his temper and penchant for combat towards the purpose of serving the Tsaritsa, encouraging these tendencies that would only continue to grow stronger and more apparent with time as a result of their actions, which was exactly their intent. These, psychologically and neurologically, were the key years for his mental development.

And once again the young Ajax found himself the victim of another’s subtle manipulation. Until he was Ajax no more.

Childe has been under the constant task of further proving himself since enlisting in the Fatui, and once he gained the recognition of the Tsaritsa, the only next possible way of doing that was by comparing his skills to others. And thus far, he has exceed in this time and time again, so with the evidence before him his arrogant confidence in his abilities is by no means unreasonable. Nor is his tendency to express friendship and varied other things through combat, it’s only natural after besting others in battle became his main source of acknowledgement throughout his younger years.

He’s fiercely loyal as well, to the point where - were his sense of loyalty not so shrouded in his delusion of what loyalty is meant to be - it would likely border on codependency. He also doesn’t seem to have the greatest understanding of social cues, as expected with his combat-oriented upbringing, and tends to have an unnerving aura to a lot of the things he says that he doesn’t seem aware of.

His loyalty to the Tsaritsa rings true, and seems to be his highest priority above all others, an ideology that, once again has been drilled into him since the age of 14. However, despite this, he is disliked and avoided even by his fellow harbingers, and often kept out of their true plans in a way that clearly shows what low opinions they have of his abilities in certain areas.

And yet, through it all, he still maintains his own set of values and seeks to make genuine connections which people, which while these efforts may be unsuccessful in most cases, and these values far in between - It still firmly shows the strength of his character which, though in fragments, managed to remain as a part of who he is in spite of his circumstance.

And i get that he’s memeable and slanderable and easy for a lot of people to just hate outright, i really do but sometimes it feels like a lot of people only ever see him at surface value and a lot of people dont even know his story and even fewer still actually consider the implications of that background. He was literally a child soldier - that and even more; “endless possibilities” more.

I have nothing against Childe slander, genuinely - but eventually, when it reaches a certain extent...

It’s not bad, I’m just tired.

#genshin impact #genshin childe #genshin analysis #genshin tartaglia #genshin ajax #genshin lore #please- what else can i tag this- i feel like i should have more tags for this one but idk what

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irrelevantwriter · 3 years

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White Flag

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, public sex, unprotected vaginal sex, mention of bodily fluids, slightly vulnerable Rio, declaration of feelings (sorta?)

Word Count: 4.3K

Summary: Part 5. Two months without seeing or speaking to Rio has left a significant mark and feelings finally decide to show themselves. Kinda.

A/N: I hope everyone had a good holiday or at least a chill Friday. I come bearing gifts with the next part of our favorite toxic saga. More smut for my lovely readers. But first, some plot. We jump right into it and just like our favorite non-couple, we gloss over a lot of bullshit and get right to the filth. But as a Virgo I love communication so I have to make these two stubborn assholes talk about their issues a little. At least in a vague way. Also, Rio has his read receipts on bc he is a petty king. There’s one more part after this and it's all naughty fun from here. I hope you guys like it. Feedback is that good shit. 💗

A/N dos: I’m thinking about making the next part strictly from Rio’s POV. I feel like it’ll give us a peek into what he’s thinking and a new take on the series thus far. I’m excited to explore that so let me know what you guys think!

*Read Part 1 here

*Read Part 2 here

*Read Part 3 here

*Read Part 4 here

*Read Part 6 here

*Give and Take series masterlist

*Masterlist in bio.

*********************

“So you’re just gonna eye fuck the hot stranger at the bar all night?”

Your friend’s teasing cut through the haze, jolting you back to the dimly lit bar. The music boomed around you while people drank and danced, enjoying the Saturday night out in the same way you and your girlfriends were.

“I was not.” You insisted, though the coy smile you wore said otherwise.

The group of women scoffed and rolled their eyes, seeing right through your faux innocence.

“Besides,” You started, taking a sip of your drink as the song changed into a bass heavy melody. “He’s not even my type.”

“Oh, bullshit!” Kara interjected with a raised brow, shaking her head.

You opened your mouth in surprise, but bit back your response when the other women chimed in.

“She’s right.” Evelyn agreed, throwing her dark hair over one shoulder.

“We knew you in high school and college, remember?” Nikki threw in, pursing her lips knowingly in your direction.

“Okay, so?” You said with a poor attempt at nonchalance.

“You were all over guys like that when we were kids. Paul ended up being the black sheep of the bunch.” Kara reminded you with a laugh, Evelyn and Nikki joining in with their own drunken giggles.

“Yeah, we were convinced you’d marry a felon with tattoos and not a real estate broker who wore khakis.” Nikki quipped, causing another round of laughter and snorts.

“Okay, okay...I get it. So I had a type. I think I’ve grown out of it.” You cut in, sounding as if you were trying to convince them as much as yourself.

“Not if the hottie at the bar has anything to say about it.” Evelyn joked with a wink.

You shook your head as you took another sip of your drink, unwilling to let them see you flustered. Or that they were in fact correct. You definitely still had a thing for bad boys...bad men to be more specific.

The evening had been going smoothly so far. It was a rare girl’s night out. An event that happened only once every five years when kids were shuttled off to babysitters or their fathers, and the women were able to enjoy an adult meal with adult beverages. Schedules between four busy women didn’t often align so when they did, you all jumped at the chance to indulge in the nightlife you’d left behind in your younger years.

You’d been the one to suggest the bar. It was a swanky, sophisticated space with an air of youth. The perfect mix for your outing. You’d been here only one other time.

With Rio.

Thinking of the man made heat pool low in your stomach, despite your lingering frustrations. It’d been two months since that shit show of a night at your house. You hadn’t seen or spoken to him since. After that debacle, you blocked his number. As childish as it may have been, you were angry. Still were. And rightfully so. He’d been a complete dick. He’d chosen the most inopportune moment to make adjustments to your arrangement. He’d been careless in his deliverance, harsh even. The entire exchange had you questioning everything. And instead of analyzing the situation and communicating like adults, you’d decided to stop all interactions with him. You’d wanted to send a message. Just as he had with you.

After the argument, you’d been an anxious mess in the days leading up to the next drop. But it was all for nothing because Rio wasn’t there. And neither was the new contact he’d told you about. Instead, Mick was waiting for you and offering up no other information. And it’d been that way for two long months.

In the days since, your mind wandered to Rio often. Your body lingered on his phantom presence constantly. You replayed the conversation you’d had a million times over and each time it made deep fury spill over and mix with the lust still raging like white water rapids through your veins. You missed his touch. Missed his desire for you. Missed the way he made you feel, so supremely sexual and wanton. All things you’d been lacking in your marriage. And now they were suddenly hitting you square in the face and begging you to pay attention. Begging you to not lose the source of your sudden awakening.

You missed the toxicity of your interactions. You were two twisted souls fighting for control over a situation that belonged to neither of you. And in truth, the basis of your relationship with Rio was denial and attraction. It would continue to thrive on that as long as you both refused the obvious.

So maybe, just maybe you’d come to the bar in hopes of seeing him in order to test that theory. It was a slim chance he’d even be here, but you were just buzzed enough that you were willing to roll the dice and find out. Plus, your desire for him felt like an extension of your body at this point. You had to satiate it. Had to feed the raw passion that grew stronger each day without him. It demanded it. And it wasn’t for lack of trying. But your own hand didn’t ignite your body the same way his did, asshole or not.

“I’ll be back.” You called over the music, gesturing to the darkened hallway that predictably led to the bathrooms. Your friends nodded and went back to flirting with the handsome blue-eyed waiter.

You shot a meaningful glance in the direction of the bar. To the “hot stranger”. Whether or not he’d take the hint was on him.

You made it to the single-use bathroom easily. It wasn’t late enough for it to be crowded with the surge of a Saturday night crowd, but the place was still busy. You set your purse down on the sleek surface of the sink counter, admiring the emerald green tiles that paved the walls. The fixtures were brass and gleamed in the light of the vanity bulbs. It was a beautiful space. Carefully crafted for a magazine like Architectural Digest.

Your eyes swept over your reflection in the large mirror that sat over the sink. You made sure not a lash was out of place as you surveyed your appearance. You adjusted the low neckline of your yellow dress, the hue radiating more gold than you’d initially noticed. The silk material felt cool against your heated skin, the slit in the skirt offering some relief. The long sleeves of the garment added a sleekness to the otherwise risqué ensemble. You’d never worn the dress. But tonight seemed as good a time as any to debut it.

The sound of the bathroom door creaking open made you pause, eyes watching in the mirror for who entered. You wondered if it’d be him. Wondered if he ended up following you like you’d hoped.

Your stomach knotted when Rio stepped in, closing the door and locking it with a resounding click. He was stoic. Shrouded in black and looking every bit as menacing as he truly was. A sight for your sore eyes.

You turned to face him, your chest both tightening and expanding at seeing him in the flesh. He made your heart stutter and your spine tingle, yet irritation slowly seeped into your pores, reminding you of the last interaction you’d had with him. It was a clash of sensations and feelings. It was utter chaos. And it's what you’d been missing.

Silence hung in the air as his gaze roamed your figure, appraising you hungrily. You shivered, careful to hide the gesture from his intense stare. You schooled your features and angled your chin up in confidence that you weren’t entirely sure you felt. But you weren’t going to budge. You were going to make him come to you.

He was leaning up against the door, a barely there smirk adorning his lips. His scent began to eclipse the smell of vanilla soap that permeated the air. Your eyes wanted to roll back at the familiarity of it. It was soothing. A comfort to your deprived senses.

“You miss me, mama?”

That deep rasp made your panties soak immediately. It was a question he’d asked you many times in the past, but you’d never felt it as much as you did now. Because yeah, you did fucking miss him.

You stayed silent.

He chucked at your refusal to answer. “Still mad at me?”

Again you said nothing.

He licked his lips, eyeing yours as he did. “I tried calling.”

“I blocked your number.” You finally responded, voice icy and detached.

“Damn, that’s cold.” He said with an amused shake of his head and a laugh, the sound making your nipples harden in traitorous lust.

“Why? Did you need something?” You questioned coolly, crossing your arms over your chest to hide your mounting arousal. Your thighs rubbed together, beginning to slid against each other as your arousal made itself known.

He stepped forward, heading in your direction with intent. You straightened your back, unwilling to let him get the upper hand on you. You knew what was going to happen. Knew where this was headed. So why not use it to your advantage? Why not toy with him for a change? He deserved it.

You used the added height of your heels and eased yourself onto the countertop, parting your thighs slightly so that your dress fell between them. You leaned back on your hands, the chill of the marble countertop beneath you reminding you so much of that day in your kitchen.

Rio’s steps halted momentarily as he watched you, eyes zeroed in on the juncture between your thighs that was hidden behind the silk. Your pussy practically begged for his attention. Dared him to see your need through the fabric that shielded you.

You were still upset with him. Still displeased with the way he’d chosen to handle the situation and you. But more than anything you wanted him to succumb to you. You wanted to feel that thrill of having him at your mercy. So powerful, yet so fragile in the midst of his bliss. You wanted...no, needed him to wave his white flag first.

“Tell me then,” You began, slowly easing the hem of your dress up as you spoke. “Business or personal?” You questioned, wanting to know if he’d be truthful about why he’d tried to contact you.

He resumed his path towards you with a dangerous lick of his lips, but his gaze never faltered as it took in every new stretch of skin that was revealed. He tried to reach out and touch you, but you raised a heeled foot to his abdomen and stopped him, keeping him at a distance.

“Answer me.” You breathily demanded.

His face registered your words while his eyes took in the stretch of leg that kept him away. You eased the limb back down and waited for him to comply.

He decided to play along.

“Business.”

He continued walking when you didn’t stop him, standing between your legs and trailing his fingertips along the inside of them. His movements shifted your dress up even higher onto your thighs. The sensation would’ve tickled if you weren’t already deliriously turned on.

“Liar.” You accused, already feeling his warmth radiate onto you as he edged closer. His breath mingled with yours, mint and whiskey assaulting your nose.

“So are you.” He retorted, eyes planted firmly on your parted lips. He moved in until you were sure he could do nothing else but touch his mouth to yours. And yet you still weren’t going to meet him.

“So we’re both liars?” You asked, arching a brow up at him.

“Yeah.” He nodded and swallowed, the tattoo splashed across his throat pulling your focus. You fell captive to his spell as you got lost in memories of licking and sucking the inked flesh, remembering the way he tasted on your tongue. The recollection caused your legs to widen and your back to arch into him, pushing your chest against his. God, you wanted him. You wanted him so badly that your pussy clenched around nothing, as if feeling him already deep inside you. It was a silent call to a lover. One he would never hear. But he’d feel it soon enough.

Your clit throbbed against your lace panties, aching to be assaulted by his talented fingers. With him so close you could feel just how badly you needed him inside you. It felt wrong for him not to be. Felt wrong to not have him share a pulse with you when he was this near. You were going to remedy that.

“Well then,” You whispered, leaning forward to hover over his lips. “I don’t want you to fuck me in this bathroom.”

His hands glided up your thighs while his nose skimmed along your cheek. His breath was hot against your ear as he maneuvered himself so that barely a sliver of air was left between you.

“So I won’t.” He lied in return, the words coating you like his cum had done numerous times before.

In an instant your lips were being pulled to his. His hands were suddenly everywhere and all at once, seeking out your flesh in desperation. It pleased you to know just how badly he needed you. How badly he craved you.

He slid you closer to him, letting your lace-covered lower half come into contact with his crotch. Ragged breaths and low hums filtered through the air as your bodies grinded against each other, seeking firm hands. You could feel him pressed against the zipper of his dark pants. He was hard. The notion made you moan into his mouth, scraping your nails over his scalp.

It was just like riding a bike. Except there was an added layer of intensity this time that hadn’t been there before. His touch burned hotter than usual. Your grew cunt wetter with every pass of his tongue along yours. They weren’t new sensations, but they felt different. Indescribable. Perhaps it was the public sex. Perhaps it was the underlying tension. Either way, it was remarkably explosive.

You pulled away from his insistent lips to take in air. He continued on, mouth moving over your neck and across your exposed cleavage. He nipped at the flesh, his lips sensuously soothing the area as he explored. You pushed into him in invitation, widening your legs so that he could press harder into you.

You waited for him to take the next step. Waited for him to escalate the moment into more than just heavy-petting and sloppy kisses. His hands, as if reading your mind, traveled up the skirt of your dress and found the edge of your panties. There was no hesitation or teasing in his movements as he roughly pulled them off, the elastic popping against your skin and making you cry out.

Rio licked at your neck in apology, his own hands now moving to his belt. You shifted closer to the ledge of the counter and followed the trail of heat that led to his pulsing cock. His flesh bumped against you, the feel of him hot and heavy along your soaked slit making you whimper.

Your nails dug into the fabric of his shirt as he pushed forward and sheathed himself inside of you in one hard thrust. You gasped and tightened your legs around him, your right hand in search of something solid. It landed on the mirror behind you, your palm sticking to its cool surface as you braced yourself for the inevitable.

His facial hair scratched at your skin as he buried himself into your neck. He held your hips steady as he retreated and then plunged back into your welcoming walls, stretching you with a burn that made you hiss. Your pussy massaged his length with fervor, seducing him further inside and begging him to claim you once again.

You reached for anything you could to stabilize yourself as he fucked you into the reflective glass at your back. Moans and groans intertwined as your bodies rocked against each other. The soap dispenser fell into the sink with a loud clatter as you accidentally made contact with it. The stack of towels folded neatly near the faucet became disheveled as your ass knocked them out of place with the momentum from Rio’s cock. The entire vanity shook with each intensely thorough thrust of his hips into your womb. It was animalistic. The very epitome of what bathroom sex in a bar should be.

No words were said. None were needed. Your actions led the conversation.

You squeezed your inner muscles around him, daring him to surrender before you. He twitched, his hips stuttering at the feel of you so tight and wet around him. He growled into your ear, a sure sign that he loved the gesture a little too much.

So you did it again.

“Stop that shit.” He grunted, hips picking up their pace.

“Cum.” You whispered in response, the demand disguised as a request.

“Fuck…” He groaned when you held him to you and clenched around him once more. You trapped him, giving him no choice but to experience your deliberate enticement. His fingers dug into your thighs almost painfully so, forcing you to wince.

He was close.

You reached between your bodies and massaged your clit, feeling your pussy react immediately. Sporadic tremors vibrated your walls and his cock, making both of you moan. Rio’s palm slammed into the mirror at your back as he rutted his hips harder into yours. He was rough and unforgiving, the aggression heightened by your disobedience. It had never quite been like this. There had always been a touch of softness, a soothing placation or word of encouragement. Not tonight. Not as he fucked you so hard you were sure the mirror was going to crack and rain down luminescent crystals of glass over you both.

You showed no mercy as you forced him to submit to you and your body. The precipice was there. It was within reach. You could feel that tightly wound coil ready to unravel. It felt like too much and not enough at the same time. Your mind was a prisoner to your pleasure. You thought of nothing but the sweet release that you knew was waiting for you. And it was. It was waiting for you with open arms as Rio finally came, triggering your own climax as he filled you so deliciously full of himself. His entire body tensed within you as he held you firm and painted your shuttering walls.

The familiar sensation only added to your high as your limbs tensed and loosened with each wave of euphoria that washed over you. You squeezed your eyes shut and catapulted through space as your body struggled to ground itself once again. Rio had gone rigid, letting you ride out your orgasm in peace as you suffocated his cock. His cum was already leaking from your walls before you’d even finished, a trail of him decorating your swollen pussy.

Your eyes fluttered open to see him staring back at you, his lips pulled into a lazy smirk. You mirrored his expression, releasing a breathless chuckle. Your body still hummed in excitement, but this time it was punctuated by the deep satisfaction that radiated from between your thighs.

“You good?” You teased, hands resting on his chest and feeling the rapid beats of his heart beginning to slow.

He laughed, the sound low and tinged with fatigue. “Yeah.”

He licked his lips and took in your disheveled state, gaze catching a glimpse of the lace bra you wore underneath.

“Let me drive you home.” He said suddenly, his arrogance alive and well.

It was on the tip of your tongue to deny him, but you chose not to.

“Sure.”

**********

The car ride was silent.

After your impromptu coupling in the bathroom, you’d made up an excuse about not feeling well to your friends and explained you’d already called an Uber. They were hesitant to let you leave alone, but somehow you’d persuaded them to stay and not follow you. You were sure the alcohol they’d consumed had something to do with it.

With hugs and promises of texts that everyone made it home safe at the end of the night, you departed from the bar with Rio in his Mercedes. He’d been driving for about ten minutes, the air not as tense as it’d once been. He seemed content to let the quiet linger, but you weren’t.

“What happened to the new guy?” You asked, glimpsing his face to gauge his reaction. It was dark in the vehicle, but you could still make out his silhouette amongst the various street lights.

He furrowed his brow and pouted his lips, confusion reading easily across his features.

“What new guy?”

“My new contact. The one I was supposed to have.”

“Didn’t work out. Mick has it handled.” He replied simply, gaze still trained on the road in front of him.

“Okay.” You said with a nod, the dryness in your tone letting him know you didn’t quite believe him.

He wordlessly turned onto your street and came to a stop alongside your driveway, putting the SUV in park. He angled his body to face you, trapping you in his stare.

“It was never about you.”

The question must’ve shown on your face because he continued.

“The switch. It wasn’t about you.”

“Wasn’t very convincing.” You deadpanned, scoffing as you played with the zipper of your clutch.

He didn’t react right away. Instead, he watched you. Watched you in that way that let you know his thoughts were as impure as the counterfeit money he produced.

“You look good in that dress.” He complimented, chin jutting out and gesturing to the fabric that adorned your body.

His praise made warmth bloom in your chest. The kind of warmth that was usually accompanied by butterflies in your stomach.

“Thanks.” You replied evenly, not letting him see just what his words did to you. Though you had a feeling he did, despite not bearing witness to it outright.

“Better without it.” He added with a slide of his wicked tongue across his bottom lip, his teeth following. The action was purposeful. Erotic. Blatant. It was all Rio.

You didn’t respond to his flirting. You only sighed, mirroring his position as you resigned yourself to have an honest conversation with the man.

“So,” You started, forcing your fingers to still. “What is it that you want?”

He eyed you for a long moment. Long enough that you started to feel self-conscious.

“You.”

You nodded, disappointed but not shocked by his reply. The word wasn’t new. Though it was lacking the hollow cockiness that usually accompanied it.

You opened your mouth to respond, but he spoke up before you could.

“In whatever way you’ll let me have you.” He admitted.

The statement caught you off guard. He wasn’t trying to be cute or charming. He wasn’t being placating or condescending. He was being serious, the hardened intensity in his dark orbs softening to a tender resignation that you were sure matched yours.

“What about you? What do you want?” He repeated back to you, eyes narrowing as he waited.

You took a moment to observe him. Your eyes followed the arch of his brows and the sharp jut of his cheekbones. You studied the pout of his lower lip and his Adam's apple as it bobbed with his throat muscles. He was so many things to you. None of which you could put into words. You didn’t think a word had even been invented yet. It didn’t matter. You were both making your own rules. And it seemed, for once, that the both of you were on the same page and playing by the same rules.

“I want you to have me.” You confessed, meeting his gaze.

And there it was. He was resigned to having you in limited capacity. You were resigned to finally letting him have you. Two conclusions coming together at the same moment. You weren’t quite sure what that meant for you both, but it was a start.

“Goodnight.” You whispered into the darkened cab, a small smile pulling at your lips.

You didn’t wait for him to react. You turned and opened the door, exiting the vehicle. He didn’t try to stop you. You rounded the front of the car, hearing the driver’s side window slide down.

“So I’ll see you next week?” Rio asked out the open window, chin resting in his hand.

“At the drop?”

He nodded.

You shook your head and laughed, though there was no real humor behind it.

“You wanna tell me again it wasn’t about me?” You challenged, a wide grin decorating your face.

He could deny it. He would probably try. But you knew the truth. And that was enough.

For now.

“Night.” He called, an amused upturn of his lips showing in the light of the full moon.

He turned to the street, starting the car as you walked up your driveway. His eyes followed you the whole way, ensuring you made it in safely.

You heard him drive away once you shut and locked the front door, your lungs releasing a long breath. You pulled out your cell phone and went to your blocked caller list. You selected Rio’s number and unblocked the listing, adrenaline releasing into your bloodstream as you did.

Almost immediately your screen lit up with a text.

Same time and place tomorrow?

You bit your lip, feelings akin to teenage infatuation bubbling to the surface. You hastily typed a response.

See you there.

The message was read immediately.

Rio Tags:

@tomhardydallasstarsgirl

#rio #good girls rio #rio good girls #rio x you #rio x reader #rio imagine #rio fanfiction #rio fanfic #nbc good girls #good girls nbc

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iam93percentstardust · 3 years

Note

For the birthday prompt: [Winteriron or Stuckony] Omega Tony soothing Alpha Bucky after a panic attack/nightmare shortly after they get him back to the Tower/Compound. Maybe a little bit of the team being overprotective on the omega genius and had been keeping him away from the "dangerous" and traumatized alpha assassin. But in the end, Tony just struts in like it's nothing and Bucky just f'ing melts to do whatever Tony says (in a sweet way, not a creepy one). Please?

Tumblr is doing weird things with the asks so if this doesn’t work, bear with me and I’ll post the story in the notes.

This story got a little bit (okay, maybe more than a little bit) away from me so I hope this is still what you were hoping for! I went the Stuckony route here and I’m also headcanoning that after a few years of dating Steve, Tony has mostly gotten over his emotional constipation.

As always, everything I write is on ao3 but tumblr doesn’t like links so I’m not including that

The first time Tony sees Bucky Barnes, it’s through a screen.

It’s the first real lead they’ve had in months, since the flurry of sightings immediately following SHIELD’s collapse. The team had sent Natasha and Clint to check it out. They’re both betas, and Nat’s ability to control the calming pheromones all betas let off gives them an edge over an alpha they suspect is on the verge of going feral.

He’s not on the verge, Tony realizes when he sees Barnes on the screen for the first time. He is feral.

Eyes clearly gone red, clear even through the low saturation of the screen, baring his fangs at Natasha and Clint as they cautiously approach, growling so fiercely that the other people in the market are giving him a wide berth as they peer at him fearfully from under their lashes—Bucky has been pushed past the point of breaking into ferality. It’s not surprising. Their entire world crashing down—literally, in this instance—would be a lot for any alpha to handle, but for one trying to deal with seventy years of brainwashing and amnesia? Yeah, Tony’s not surprised.

There’s something slightly terrifying about it. Alphas going feral is supposed to be a nightmare story, something you tell children about at night to scare them into being good. It’s not supposed to be something you see in a crowded marketplace. And when Tony thinks about how easy it would be for something to go wrong, if they’d sent someone other than Nat or Clint—like Steve who had wanted so badly to be the one to bring his friend in or even Tony with his omega pheromones evolved to tempt alphas into paying attention to him and only him—he shudders.

But—there’s something almost piteous about it too. It’s clear that Bucky is terrified beneath his snarling veneer, clear that he doesn’t fully understand what’s happening, and something in Tony’s heart shifts the same as it had the first time he saw Steve.

Something thrums deep inside him to the tune of mine.

“I can help,” he says.

Beneath him, Steve shifts uneasily, saying, “Tony—”

“I want to,” he interrupts. He turns, Steve’s arm sliding from his stomach to his hip, and rests his head on Steve’s shoulder, watching Nat raise her hands placatingly out of the corner of his eye. “I’ve had six months to get used to—everything. It wasn’t his fault, I know that, and—and you still love him, Steve, I know you do.”

“I love you,” Steve says, which isn’t really much of an argument.

“I know.” He smiles when Steve rolls his eyes at the well-worn response. “But you love him too. And… he feels like you did when we first met.”

He can feel Steve tense, and he tucks his head deeper into the crook of Steve’s neck, purring quietly to force him to calm. He knows his alpha is only worried about his safety. Bucky isn’t the same person he once was and even if Steve still has feelings for him, it’s only instinct to be worried about the omega he’s also in love with. But he doesn’t need to be worried. Tony is more than capable of taking care of himself and his own instincts are screaming that Bucky won’t hurt him, that Bucky is his. Only once Steve is fully relaxed again does he continue, “Please, Steve. I want to help. I want to know him better and I want to know if what I’m feeling about him is real. Let me?”

Steve sighs but Tony feels his lips curve upwards where they’re pressed against his hair. “I don’t let you do anything.”

“And don’t you forget it.”

Bucky is still feral by the time he, Nat, and Clint return to the tower, but it’s tinged now with panic. Tony can smell the sour scent it all the way from where he and the rest of the team are waiting in the kitchen and Bucky’s still outside. He’s not sure if that says something about his strength as an alpha or the depths of his panic, but either way, it’s not good. He glances again at the screen where he can see Natasha trying to calm Bucky down enough to get him to enter the building—the windows blacked out so that Bucky doesn’t panic further at the sight of the team just inside the landing pad—but it’s no dice.

“I’m going out there,” he announces.

It’s meant to just let everyone know that he’s going, but everyone else seems to take it as an invitation to stop him. The noise in the kitchen swings up into an uproar. Even Steve, who knows that he has every intention of helping, has tucked him up against his side, keeping him from taking a single step out of the kitchen.

“He’s dangerous,” Bruce argues once the initial noise has died down a little. It’s telling that Steve doesn’t immediately argue with him the way he normally does when someone says something bad about Bucky.

“We’re all dangerous,” Tony shoots back, ineffectually trying to wriggle his way out of Steve’s arms. “I’m dangerous and biology practically dictates that my orientation is about as dangerous as a bunny rabbit.”

Steve, who has been on the receiving end of Tony’s intense heats, snorts.

“Look,” he continues, “Nat’s not having any luck getting him to calm down enough to come inside and right now I’m really worried he’s going to either steal the Quinjet and take off or jump off the tower and take off. Either option comes with a lot of paperwork that I have to sign so I’d prefer it if he just came inside so why can’t I try? We can’t send another alpha out there, he’ll take that as a sign of aggression, and we can’t send Sam. The last time Bucky met him, he kicked him off a helicarrier. So that means we’re down to me. Sucks that it’s me but I’m our best option.”

“If he hurts you—” Steve begins.

“He won’t,” Tony says softly and turns so he can nose at Steve’s scent glands. “You won’t let him. I know you’ll be right there, ready if something goes wrong.”

Steve clearly still doesn’t want to let him go out there but his arms loosen enough for Tony to slip away. He smiles at the others, hiding his own nerves beneath a façade of self-confidence that he absolutely doesn’t feel. It’s not like any of them are wrong: feral alphas are dangerous, and this one is more dangerous than most. But he’s not wrong either: Bucky is in more danger the longer he stays out there. Hydra is searching for him and it was sheer luck that the Avengers found him first. But he doesn’t know how long that luck will hold, so the quicker they can bring him in out of the cold, the happier he’ll be.

He straightens his shirt and steps outside, ignoring the way the rest of the team trails him to the door. Bucky’s red eyes snap instantly to him. It’s unsettling, a little terrifying, and Tony has to stop himself from reaching for his sunglasses or from jamming his hands in his pockets. Instead, he holds himself loose and open, hands at his side and palms open so Bucky doesn’t think he’s hiding a weapon in his fists.

“Tony, what do you think you’re doing?” Clint murmurs, alerted to his presence by the sound of the door closing. Natasha is still concentrating on Bucky, trying to soothe him. Even from where he’s standing, he can feel her pheromones washing calm over him and he revises his plan to include her. He’s never felt this kind of strength from her before but he’d be an idiot not to use it.

“It’s okay,” he says, keeping his eyes fixed on Bucky, who’s growling lowly now. “Go back inside, Natasha and I have got this.”

“Can’t do that,” Clint says. “Steve would have my head if—”

“Steve’s my backup. He’s right inside. Go inside; I can’t calm Bucky down if he’s worrying about you.”

“But—”

“Please.”

He thinks it’s the please that does it. By now, the team knows that the whole Tony Stark doesn’t use social niceties thing is bullshit but he still spends so much time in the workshop, and so much time teasing the others when he’s not working, that it’s still an indicator that he’s completely serious about something.

Clint doesn’t waste time asking any other questions. He, more than anyone else on the team except for Steve, knows better than to underestimate people and question them when they’re confident. And Tony is about as confident as he can be. There are ways that this can go wrong, absolutely, but they’re running out of options and what he’s about to try is something that’s been scientifically proven to be effective.

He doesn’t watch Clint go, though Bucky does, only to snap his gaze right back to Tony as soon as Tony takes a step forward. He places a hand on Natasha’s shoulder as he passes her, murmurs into her ear too low for even supersoldiers to hear, “Keep up the good work. You’re helping,” and comes to a stop within armlength of Bucky, knowing that Bucky could easily reach out and hurt him if he wanted to.

It seems to throw Bucky off, who blinks at him. Tony smiles at him and reaches up to his neck, loosening the scent blocker just enough to dilute the bonded scent pouring off of him and allow his own to filter in.

Bucky blinks again. “Omega,” he says eventually, voice rusty with disuse.

Tony smiles again. “That’s right.”

“And… Stevie?” Bucky guesses. In that moment, he sounds so young that it makes Tony’s heart break. Bucky had his future stolen away from him just the same as Steve did. He can’t fully regret that because it brought them both to him, but he knows how much pain and healing Steve had had to go through after waking up in this century and he knows what Bucky will still have to do, and he hurts for them.

“Steve’s my alpha,” he says. “Do you remember Steve?”

Bucky hesitates and then slowly nods. The red is slowly starting to recede from his eyes—though Tony isn’t sure that has anything to do with what he’s doing or if it’s just because he’s managing to baffle the alpha—and then Natasha shifts. It’s nothing more than a twitch of her leg but Bucky instantly notices it.

Before Tony realizes it, Bucky has snatched him to him, tucked him behind the mass that makes up Bucky’s body, and is snarling at Natasha, eyes scarlet red again. Just barely, he sees the door start to open and if it does, if the team comes out of it ready to fight, they’ll lose Bucky.

“No!” he shouts, startling Bucky. It’s enough though. The door pauses. Tony can see Steve through the crack, looking terrified, but he isn’t hurt. He’s okay. Bucky hasn’t done anything other than seemingly try to protect him.

He darts in front of Bucky again, wraps his arms around his shoulders, and tugs him down to his neck, tucking his face into the loosened scent blocker so he can inhale both Steve and Tony.

“Settle,” he commands. It’s usually a command an alpha uses for their omega but there’s precedence of omegas using it too. He draws on every ounce of strength he typically reserves for the boardroom and pushes it into his voice, ordering him again when Bucky lets out an answering growl.

It takes a moment but Bucky suddenly melts, going limp and boneless against him. Tony’s only half-expecting it; the alpha’s weight takes him by surprise and they sink to the ground, Bucky taking in huge gasping breaths as he breathes in their combined scents.

“Oh my darling,” Tony whispers, hands coming up to stroke through Bucky’s hair. “It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Without quite meaning to, Bucky ends up moving into the guest room on his and Steve’s floor. Tony means to put Bucky on his own floor but then Bucky spends the afternoon following him docilely around the common areas, as sweet now as he was feral a few hours earlier. The others still seem a little wary but as time passes and it becomes obvious that Tony is in fact doing some good, they start to relax. By the time they’d be heading up to bed, Bucky is stretched out on the couch, head on Tony’s lap and feet tucked under Steve’s legs, as the team watches a movie.

“I think he’s imprinted on you,” Clint observes dryly as he heads for the elevator. “Like a duck.”

Tony doesn’t look up from where he’s carding his fingers through Bucky’s hair but he feels the alpha tense. “That’s okay, darling,” he comments idly. “I’m pretty sure Steve and I imprinted on each other once we started living together too.”

Natasha groans. “Don’t remind me. It was like watching a Disney movie without the singing animals.”

“Disney movie?” Bucky asks, voice muffled by Tony’s thigh.

“I’ll show you,” Tony assures him.

The rest of the team starts slowly filtering out until it’s just the three of them. Tony and Steve exchange a look over Bucky’s head, not needing to communicate with words after the years they’ve spent together. They’re both concerned about where Bucky will sleep tonight. With a quick glance toward Bucky and a tilt of his eyebrows, Steve tells him that he would be more than happy with Bucky staying with them, but he’ll leave the decision up to Tony. No one likes the scent of a distressed omega after all, and the easiest way to end up with a distressed omega is by inviting someone into their space that they don’t want there.

Fortunately, Tony would be more than happy with Bucky there. He hadn’t been joking when he’d said that one look at Bucky and it had felt like they were meant for each other, just as it had felt with Steve—and, he suspected, just as it had felt with Steve and Bucky, even if they’d never made a move.

But he wants the choice to be Bucky’s, so he gently lifts his hands away from Bucky’s hair and asks, “Bucky? Do you want to have your own floor? We’ve got a few extras for when we expand the roster. Or you could stay on our floor, if you’d prefer?”

Bucky doesn’t even hesitate to say, “With you.”

He knows Bucky doesn’t mean it the way he wants, doesn’t mean that he’ll join them in their bed, but maybe… Maybe someday, once Bucky is better (he isn’t so naïve as to think this is the end of it; he only has to look at his own history with backsliding after Afghanistan and Stane and the palladium reactor to know that) and if he and Steve can figure out the right words to invite someone into a triad bond…

Well. Maybe someday.

He wakes up in the middle of the night to Steve gently shaking his shoulder. “Waz wrong?” he mumbles, blearily rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Did I have a nightmare?”

“No, sweetheart,” Steve whispers, leaning over to kiss his bare shoulder. “Bucky wanted to know if he could join us. Said he was worried about Hydra.” He doesn’t say if Bucky was worried about Hydra taking him away or someone else, Tony or Steve, he notes, but the answer is the same either way.

“’Course he can, long as he’s not a blanket hog.”

He fully expects Bucky to climb in on Steve’s other side. It only makes sense: the two grew up together so of course, Steve would be the middle in this instance. Instead, Steve tugs Tony closer to him so that he’s spooning up behind him, and Bucky crawls under the blankets so that he’s facing Tony, looking more relaxed as soon as his head hits the pillow.

Huh. Maybe there’s something to what Clint was saying about Bucky imprinting on him. He would be more worried, but alphas don’t imprint on someone unless they feel safe with them, unless there’s the beginning stirrings of a mating bond in the back of their mind, even though a full bond takes time, communication, and love to develop. Considering that Tony’s pretty sure he’s imprinted on Bucky the same way, he really isn’t that concerned about Bucky’s feelings.

Still though, he makes a note to sit down and talk with Bucky eventually about how they can’t just rush into this. They’ve all been through too much to immediately strike up a relationship. Bucky isn’t in the right mental state at the moment. And as for Tony, he wants to make sure they’re all on the same page and that Bucky won’t regret this two years down the line. Hell, he’s still uncertain that Steve won’t regret this at some point, so he definitely wants to know that Bucky’s sure of his feelings.

But that’s a problem for tomorrow-Tony, he decides. Tonight, he’s going to snuggle into his alpha’s warmth and enjoy having Bucky close by instead of somewhere out in the world where Tony can’t keep him safe.

The next day is weirder. Not in a bad way! Just—here: when Tony finally drags himself away from the warm spots in the bed that his mates (not his mates; his mate and his mate’s best friend… who might one day be his mate), makes his way into the kitchen, and sleepily grumbles, “Coffee,” there are suddenly two steaming mugs in front of him, one from Steve and one from—someone else. He raises his eyes slowly to where Bucky is watching him with hopeful eyes. That answers that question then.

“Uh, thanks, Snowflake,” he says and takes a cautious sip out of the one Bucky put down. It’s not that he thinks it’s poisoned. It’s just that Bucky has been here for less than twenty-four hours, there’s no way that he know how exacting Tony can be about his coffee, how particular—how—how…

Huh. This is pretty damn perfect actually.

He takes another, larger sip and then looks at where Steve is busy making breakfast for the three of them. Steve watches him with an amused look in his eyes. Tony knows Steve isn’t concerned about someone else preparing his coffee—Bruce has done it plenty of times and whenever Rhodey’s in town, he insists that he’s the only one who can make Tony’s coffee—he’s just enjoying watching the two of them together.

He thinks about the nights he used to wake from a dead sleep to the sound of Steve weeping over Bucky, about the concerns he used to share with Tony that Bucky wouldn’t want to stay with them or would want to leave. He wonders now how much of that was fear that Tony wouldn’t want Bucky to stay because he wouldn’t be able to stomach housing the person Hydra used to kill his parents. Silly alpha, he thinks fondly. As though Tony wouldn’t love anyone Steve loves.

At least that’s a fear he can put to rest.

Gulping down half his coffee in one go, he leans back in his chair and casually says, “Steve, you’re fired. Pack your things and go. I’m keeping this one. His coffee is lightyears ahead of yours.”

Steve bursts out laughing and crosses the kitchen to pull him up and kiss him soundly. Tony purrs into the kiss, answered with a low rumble from Steve and then, so low he almost misses it—another rumble from Bucky. He smiles triumphantly and pulls away with another kiss, hands resting on Steve’s broad chest.

“Better finish up that breakfast, soldier,” he says teasingly. “Got things to do today in the workshop and I need my alpha down there to stand around and look pretty. You too, Bucky Babe,” he calls over his shoulder. “Universe gave me two supersoldiers, be a shame not to take advantage of that.”

He doesn’t know what Bucky looks like but the kitchen suddenly scents like contended alpha, and he knows it’s not Steve’s scent because he knows Steve’s scent as well as he knows his own. He smiles again, nuzzles deeper into Steve’s chest and hums happily.

It’s not perfect yet, he thinks, but soon—soon it will be.

Tony was right that first day—it takes time, months really. Time for Bucky to backslide and Steve to backslide and Tony to back-shimmy because he doesn’t do anything as gauche as slide. It takes months of therapy, days of consultation with the world’s top experts on how to remove the brainwashing and programming from Bucky’s brain, hours of working together in the workshop on Bucky’s arm as Tony comes up with improvement after improvement.

It’s countless bad nights where Bucky wakes up in a nightmare and reaches to strangle Steve—never Tony, never his omega, but always his best friend—and countless bad days afterward trying to convince him to come back to their bed. It’s figuring out how to work around the myriad of triggers all three of them have and sometimes it doesn’t work. Sometimes Bucky doesn’t realize that Tony can’t handle baths anymore. Sometimes Steve doesn’t notice that Bucky’s afraid of heights. Sometimes Tony misses that it’s the anniversary of Bucky falling from the train.

It’s bad sometimes.

But it’s good sometimes too.

It’s figuring out how they curl around each other in bed and waking up warm and rested. It’s feeding each other by hand in the morning when they’re too tired to bother with silverware. It’s cups of coffee and donuts with sprinkles and warm hugs. It’s Bucky resting his head on Tony’s lap and tucking his feet under Steve’s legs during movie nights.

It’s Tony and Steve dancing together around the kitchen island as Bucky cooks, watching them fondly. It’s Bucky crooning old songs from the 40s when Steve’s on a mission and Tony can’t sleep without his alpha. It’s Steve and Bucky spending hours walking the streets of Brooklyn, reminiscing about growing up together.

It’s love, blooming slowly but surely for everyone to see.

And when one night as Tony is changing out of the charcoal suit he’d worn for the board meeting that day and into his pajamas and Bucky stops him with a hoarsely whispered, “Doll,” he smiles and guides Bucky’s hand to his waist.

“It’s okay, darling” he murmurs. “You can.”

Bucky’s kiss, when it comes, feels like coming home.

#stuckony #alle writes #alle answers #if you like please consider reblogging #fingers crossed that tumblr lets me post this #willowlark369

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onebizarrekai · 3 years

Text

undeniable proof that shuichi and kokichi were gay in v3

prepare yourself for the most big brain thing that has ever bigged your brain

chapter 1

shuichi saihara spends this chapter following kaede around because they were just trapped in a godforsaken killing game and everything seems to suck. when faced with a situation such as this, the natural inclination is to either find someone to latch onto or to distrust and stick to oneself. shuichi does the former because he is a twiggy little man who would probably die in a fight before anyone even attacked him.

what is kokichi doing in this chapter? sticking to himself? stalking someone? that is the real question. nobody knows what he is doing because he is not the protagonist and not the obligatory party companion. however, since v3 follows a theme of fiction, it is totally logical to believe that some system must be in place, but kokichi is not bound by such a system because kokichi represents anarchy.

he does not stick with another for all to see, nor does he remain alone. alas, he searches for a secret companion and has not found one yet. who shall he find? shall he find any? the truth is, he gravitates towards shuichi. it’s supposed to be in secret, but there is a way in the game to see what really happened.

if you speak to tsumugi right before everyone is asked to gather at the cafeteria a second time, she mentions sonic the hedgehog. kokichi runs by, saying “got to go fast”. this means that kokichi has either played sonic the hedgehog or is at least well-versed in sonic memes. if you get this dialogue, and only if you get it, later, kokichi makes another sonic reference, saying “faker? I think you’re the fake hedgehog around here!” while he confuses everyone, the dialogue makes the odd choice of stopping on shuichi, even though the dialogue box only includes “…” and nothing else.

chapter 2

if you have unlocked tsumugi’s sonic dialogue and go to the monomono machine, you now have a 5% chance of getting sonic merchandise. if you give this merchandise to kokichi, you get some interesting dialogue. he says “wow, shuichi! how did you know that I grew up playing sonic and that it’s my absolute favorite video game series of all time?” this immediately maxes out all 5 of his friendship fragments, and you can get all 5 of his hangouts without giving him any more presents. you’re probably wondering why this is important, but you will see.

as kaede is now dead, shuichi finds himself horribly alone. while kaito is there and starts calling him his sidekick, the force of protagonist syndrome has caused shuichi to gain the courage to hang out with anyone, including kokichi of course. I don’t need to talk about kokichi’s hangouts. they literally end with “I stole your heart, so now I’m satisfied!” and it doesn’t get gayer than that.

or does it?

if you investigate the bathroom part of ryoma’s lab during this chapter and click on a very specific spot in order to enter one of the stalls, you can click on the toilet 5 times and shuichi will lie down on the floor. while it’s to investigate the underside of the toilet, and there is nothing to be found, the words “kokichi was here” are written on the ceiling above the stall. if you’ve already hung out with kokichi at least once in this chapter, shuichi will sigh and wonder what kokichi is doing right now.

if you’ve given kokichi the sonic merchandise, and you reach kokichi’s final free time event in this chapter, he will actually question shuichi after he finishes bandaging kokichi’s finger up, briefly commenting on how shuichi managed to get close to him so quickly and asking him “what his trick is”. he says “you must like me a whole lot, shuichi. I hope you don’t bail on me after this.” word for word, literally just hear me out.

“kokichi places his warm hand on mine, and I feel like he’s prying much deeper than he usually does.”

“I didn’t think that was possible…”

chapter 3

little did you know, giving kokichi the sonic merchandise unlocked a bonus hangout. yes, you heard me right. a WHOLE bonus hangout. you can hang out with him again whenever you want in this chapter. kokichi only says “good to see you.” you can select yes or no.

the screen will fade to black.

you have used up a free time.

if you have reached this hidden part of kokichi’s relationship sequence, random dialogue that isn’t in the normal game starts getting sprinkled in, as well as certain easter eggs. when angie starts her whole shtick, since you’ve already hung out with kokichi 5 times, there are a few things he has to say straight up, like how he’s going to teach shuichi about cults so shuichi doesn’t accidentally join the student council.

chapter 4

now that you’ve finally reached chapter 4 and activated the secret kokichi pathway, you get a hidden scene, much like the others that are triggered by having specific items in your inventory. in the middle of the night, kokichi breaks into shuichi’s room and shakes him awake, telling him that someone stole his almond milk.

shuichi tells kokichi to shut up and rolls over.

fun fact, if you get the hangout with miu where she checks whether shuichi is a virgin, she does, in fact, say “ha, I can’t believe this!” and if you zoom in the window behind her, you can barely make out kokichi’s face. peering in. watching you. if you click on him at any point during this hangout, you will hear a voice clip of kokichi’s laugh and shuichi will internally respond to miu’s dialogue differently. he will think “miu is the last person I need to know about this…”

in this sonic dialogue route, shuichi responds slightly differently to kokichi revealing that he is the mastermind. although his dialogue is mostly the same, he counts approximately 22 extra crying sprites, implied to be caused by additional heartbreak.

chapter 5-6

these chapters play out mostly the same way until the very end, the only exception being when you’re investigating kokichi’s lab. if you click on kokichi’s throne 13 times, one of the bookshelves will slide out of the way to reveal a hidden bathroom. there is an envelope taped to the wall that says “for my beloved detective, who habitually smacks things over and over.” it says “if you’re reading this, I’m probably dead. or am I? wouldn’t you like to know? nishishi.” shuichi comments about the fact that kokichi literally wrote that stupid laugh out, only to start crying again.

make sure that you have kind lie equipped as one of your skills before you start the final trial.

if you’ve done everything exactly according to plan up to this point, the ending is different.

tsumugi decides to show kokichi’s audition tape instead of kaede’s. he says “I’d love to be a part of danganronpa! I can finally be a bad guy without being scared!” but then kokichi looks directly at the camera. he says “naw, just messing with you. guess who?”

the screen cracks.

kokichi has suddenly entered the scene of the trial. tsumugi looks horrified. her wig falls off. everyone is at a loss for words. suddenly the screens and lights around them start to black out until everyone is left in almost complete darkness.

shuichi finally asks kokichi how he’s alive. he’s like, “you DIED” and kokichi is like “or did I? it’s the grand finale, shuichi! I owe you the truth this one time, because you’re my favorite.” everyone listens intently. “you see, by observing your irrational actions, almost like that of a main character… I was able to conclude that we exist in a fictional world that plays by certain rules. but we all been knew, didn’t we? not quite! someone forgot to test for exploits.” himiko just goes like “what the fuck you smokin?” and kokichi just laughs. “my self awareness has given me more power than you can possibly imagine! let’s just say I learned where the hit boxes are broken and installed a few cheat codes in the meantime!”

“no… that’s impossible! this isn’t supposed to be part of the ending at all!” tsumugi doesn’t like that one bit. she just kinda breaks down crying. shuichi isn’t paying attention to her though. he had accepted oblivion only to be greeted with kokichi being alive. as annoying as kokichi is, they are hopelessly in love. maki is a little disturbed.

after passionately reuniting with shuichi, kokichi says the thing. “this world is mine now, tsumugi! you got nothin on this! it’s time to say goodbye to this trash dump and create a new reality!” tsumugi just kinda goes like “noooo!!!”

everything goes black. shuichi has a vision about entering creative mode. kokichi has opped him. they take hands. “let’s create someplace way more fun.” maki and himiko and keebo look at each other because they’re floating in the background and watching this happen even though it’s supposed to be an internal vision. the screen goes white.

shuichi graces us with some internal protagonist dialogue about how he doesn’t really understand what’s happening anymore or what’s waiting for them outside of this world, but he thinks that things might turn out ok.

after unlocking this ending, you unlock a super secret video that you can view from the main menu. it’s a fully animated video of kokichi and dice dancing to world is mine. this is what they spent all their budget on

#april fools #saiouma #oumasai #ndrv3 #shitpost #I spent like 3 hours writing this #drv3 spoilers #random stuff #shuichi saihara #kokichi ouma

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hcm92literature · 2 years

Text

‘Out Of Character’ 8th April 2022

‘Out Of Character’ master page

Read on AO3

Author’s notes: i do actually roll for the D&D stuff to make it more real… i… may have been extra extra and made character sheets for them all on Roll20, so i’ve been using them for the ability checks and so on… haha ha… gods, i’m such a nerd

“You wade and slosh your way through the swamp, the thick, muddy water slowing your progress. It’s tiring work and you feel that if you continue this way for much longer, it will have lasting effects. In other words: you’ll get a second level of exhaustion.” Marc smiled at the players as they groaned, then looked back down at their notes. “Plagg, if you roll another survival check, you can try to find a suitable place to camp - or you can decide to keep moving and try to get to the town before nightfall. Which would still require a survival check.”

Adrien looked to Alya and Nino for their opinions. Nino shrugged. “I’m pretty comfortable in the water so I’m fine with camping the night.”

Alya rolled her eyes. “You may be comfortable in the water, but I prefer being dry when I sleep.”

Glancing at Marinette’s empty seat, Adrien swallowed thickly. “What does Tikki think?”

Scoffing, Alya crossed her arms. “Tikki would defer to the majority. So she would probably say… Let’s put it to a vote. Those in favour of camping?” Nino was the only one to put his hand up and Alya smirked triumphantly. “Well, I suppose that means we’re carrying on to the town, then!”

Marc turned to Adrien. “Okay then. Plagg, roll your check.”

Adrien picked up his matte black d20 with lime green numbers, jiggled it around in his hand for a moment, then rolled it onto the map. “That’s… sixteen.”

“Alright. So, with Plagg leading the way, you all continue trudging through the swamp, feeling more and more tired the closer you get to the town and the darker it gets, but you eventually begin to see the lights in the dista-”

Marc was cut off by a loud crash and colourful swearing from the other side of the game store. The group all turned to see Marinette, flustered and apologising profusely to the person she’d bumped into, crouched over her books, stationary, and an inordinate amount of sparkly dice that had spilled all over the floor. Without thinking, Adrien shot out of his chair and rushed over to help. Marinette didn’t look up to begin with and gratefully accepted the help, but when she did look up, Adrien’s heart sank. “Oh, it’s you.” She hadn’t said it in a particularly malicious way, but something about the tone of her voice made it seem like she was surprised that he would be the one to offer her help.

He continued picking up the frankly ridiculous amount of dice from the floor, feeling his face warm from embarrassment, and avoided meeting her gaze. “I… just thought you could use a hand.”

Marinette said nothing, but carefully stacked her books and pencil case on the floor and held out her dice bag for Adrien to drop his handful in. As they both stood, Marinette looked away, her expression unreadable. “Well… thank you.” She then brushed passed him to take her place at their table.

As he turned to follow her, something red, green and pink on the pretend wood flooring by the shop’s counter caught Adrien’s eye. He stepped over to pick it up and inspected the item. It was a red string with a loop tied on both ends, and had eight beads of varying sizes and colours. Before he could ask anyone if they’d dropped it, Nino called out for him to ask if he was going to rejoin them. Pocketing the beads with the intention of asking around the shop at closing, Adrien nodded and walked over to sit back down, opposite the agitated Marinette.

“Sorry I’m late. Class ran overtime and I had so many issues with finishing my design… But I’m here now! What’s happening?”

Marc smiled at her in amusement. “It’s no problem, Marinette. Your party are still in the swamp, but you’ve all decided to keep going until you reach the next town, though it means you’ll have another exhaustion level when you get there.”

“But that’ll go back to one when we have a long rest, right?”

“Correct. But anything could happen between now and then…” Marinette groaned at Marc’s mischievous grin as they continued to describe the last hour of the party’s journey. “As you near the town, you suddenly realise that the lights are not normal street lamps or even a fire pit, but an actual fire erupting from two of the nearest buildings. Now, remembering that you all have two levels of exhaustion, how do you all react?”

Marinette was the first to speak. “Well, we have to help, right? Are there any people around?”

“With your passive perception you can easily see that there are, and some appear to be hauling buckets to and fro, but more are gathering to watch rather than help out.”

“How damaged are the buildings? How long does it look like they have been burning? And are they isolated from the other buildings?” Adrien had a calculating look on his face as he spoke that Marinette had a bad feeling about.

“Roll a perception check.”

“Fifteen.”

“Well, they’re mostly made out of wood, so they look to be pretty damaged. The fire is big, as if it started a while ago, and it doesn’t look like the other buildings are in any danger.”

Adrien turned to his companions, his face impassive. “I say we let them burn.”

Incensed, Marinette turned on him. “What?! You want to let these people’s homes burn? We should be helping them!”

Still with a mostly neutral expression, Adrien returned her glare. “I admire your desire and instinct to help people-”

“Do you, now?”

“But what is the point in wasting our limited energy on buildings that are clearly beyond repair, when we could instead make sure the blaze is contained and help the people get to safety?”

“He has a point, Tikki…” Alya flinched as Marinette’s rage was turned in her direction. “At least no-one will get hurt and we will have more energy to help tomorrow when the fire will hopefully have died down.”

“Wayzz?” Turning to Nino, Marinette was almost more enraged to see his expression was one of contemplation rather than determination.

“Tikki… how are we supposed to help when we’re so tired? And we have no spells that could help… I’m sorry, I’m going to have to agree with Plagg and Trixx.”

Marinette closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Was she being unreasonable? Was it simply because Adrien had suggested it, that she didn’t like the idea? She tried to think about it logically, attempting to calm her mind down and take in her friends’ points rather than Adrien’s. Sighing, she dropped her hand and looked at her companions. “I suppose you are right. But I do insist on making sure the residents have somewhere to stay, even if I have to pay for the inn rooms myself.”

Marc, who had been watching with a mix of interest and amusement, nodded and described the scene as the group slowly made their way to the burning houses. The party spoke to the residents and - with a couple persuasion checks - convinced them to give up the futile task of throwing buckets of water on the fire. They then made sure the fire was contained to just the two buildings and escorted the bereaved families to the inn where Tikki - and to her surprise, Plagg - paid for them to stay for a week, though Marc said that the innkeeper did allow a discount due to the circumstances.

The rest of the session progressed in a similar fashion, with Adrien suggesting mostly sensible ideas but in ways that infuriated Marinette and made her want to oppose them. She had no idea why he riled her up so much, nor why he seemed to enjoy it. Alya could tell how agitated Marinette was, but the others seemed to assume it was just her character who was butting heads with his. Is that all he thought too? Was this just Plagg being difficult with Tikki, or was this something Adrien was doing to annoy Marinette? Either way, it was giving Marinette a headache to be so worked up, especially after such a long day at fashion school, and she felt that the end of the session couldn’t come soon enough.

As soon as Marc announced that they were finished, Marinette packed her things as quickly as she could without spilling her dice yet again, gave her excuses for not going for drinks, then left. Adrien couldn’t help noticing that she didn’t look his way when saying goodnight. Had he gone too far and actually upset her? He had thought that his suggestions were all reasonable, but perhaps his delivery needed work…

Nino seemed to notice Adrien’s worrying and patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, dude. She’s just stressed ‘cause of fashion school. Surely you know a bit about that ‘cause of your dad’s work, right?”

“Sort of. My father likes to keep to himself most of the time. But… it does take up an awful lot of his time…”

“There, you see? She’s just struggling with time management. Now let’s go get a drink and watch the last of Kitty Section’s set next door!”

Adrien glanced at Alya who seemed to have a fleeting look of unease, but she quickly smiled at him and closed her messenger bag. As the three of them walked out of the game store, Adrien suddenly remembered the beads in his jacket pocket, but turned back to see that pretty much everyone had left the store. He would have to keep the string on him until the next time he was there and ask around then.

#hcm92literature #'Out Of Character'#fanfic #AU #Miraculous Ladybug #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Tikki #Adrien Agreste #Plagg #Alya Cesaire #Trixx #Nino Lahiffe #Wayzz #adrinette #marichat

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princessmariaphiliper · 3 years

Text

THE SLEEPOVER FIC | Part 4 The Snake Eyes

Notes: Alcohol consumption and homelessness dialogue warning, and shit innuendos, with cheeky grinning, mostly me trying to remember how Cluedo works

Pairing: James Acaster x Reader

Genre: Fluff with eventual smut, Slow Burn fic

Words: 1,937

Summary: You and James have put yourselves into trouble, but you think maybe it’s hotter that way.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9

You were blushing so much you could feel it on the base of your feet. The game of Cluedo had begun some time ago but you were finding it difficult to focus on the murder at hand rather than James. He’d dished you all up a bowl ice cream and was idly digging into his own. To you each time he dragged the spoon up and parted his lips felt like a lifetime. He was even occasionally darting out his tongue to reach any that had melted down the handle.

“I think it's Plum.” James spoke, switching eye contact between you and Ed. Tilting his head he raised an eyebrow in a playful manner.

“And what brings you to the conclusion James?” Ed called on his bluff, James’s face now twisting to hold back a grin.

“No reason”

“Well I think we know who has Plum then”

“Or do we?” James pulled a face again before taking another spoonful of ice cream. You’d hardly touched your own, feeling awkward, hot and bothered. You and Ed had also moved onto your floor now to reach the board easier. Ed taking your beanbag as you remembered he hated sitting on the floor. Your legs were stretched out beside James’s own. Just then he wiggled into the living room floor, placing his elbows casually on the coffee table, one leg crossed over the other. As he did so his thigh made accidental contact with your calf. Your own leg locked in its position, too anxious to move it away in case you rubbed into him again.

“Y/n?” Ed pulled you from your nervous trance.

“Hmm?” You questioned, looking over at him with confusion, not realising until now that you’d clenched your teeth from nerves.

“It's your turn” He paused with concern on his face “Are you okay? You look a little red. And you’ve not touched your ice cream”

“Oh, I’m just feeling a little weird, it's the wine I think.”

“Do you want a glass of water or something?”

“Um yeah, if you would.” You thought some H2O might help to calm you down a little. Ed left the room to go get you the water, you listened out as he clattered around in the kitchen.

“You okay?” James asked, placing a hand on your leg in a comforting manner. “Do you want us to head off soon?”

“I’m okay really, I don't mind you guys staying, it's not too late yet. I’ll be fine in a few”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah I’m just having a moment I think.”

James began rubbing his thumb slowly across your leg in a laid-back manner. Occasionally making contact with the bare skin between your jeans and socks. It stunned you at first, but in a way you were enjoying it. You couldn’t tell if it was working you up or shifting your attention to more innocent thoughts about him.

“Thank you” You said, for both his concern and reassurance.

“Say that again?” James teased smiling devilishly at you.

“James,” You laughed back.

“And that.” He hinted, bringing you back to your own sickening desire for him as Ed entered the room. James didn’t remove his hand from your leg, merely moving it further from your ankle under the table where Ed couldn’t see. The movement although innocent had you wonder of its underlying meaning. Ed put down the glass on a coaster for you, returning to his place. You and James made eye contact for a while before you eventually broke the silence.

“Thanks Ed”

You felt James’s eyes on you as you took a sip from your water, flicking between your mouth hand. You felt some sort of unspoken tension growing between you, unbeknownst to Ed. You rolled the dice, gaining snake eyes. Getting you nowhere, but perhaps gaining you a spiritual sign that James was watching you intently. You gracefully moved your red playing piece by two squares and took another sip of your water. James’s thumb had stopped its slow up and down movement sometime ago and had now resumed to circular motion, making it difficult to swallow. He seemed to notice, smirking knowingly while striking up a conversation again.

“I think Y/n did it.”

“You think everyone’s done it.”

“Can't be wrong then can I?”

“Shut up,”

“It's your turn I can't make a guess Ed” You reminded him.

“You rolled a double,”

“Oh yeah sorry.”

“Must have got distracted” James commented casually, causing you to have to withhold a smile. The cheeky bastard.

“Yeah by your shit chatting” You piped back before Ed interrupted the two of you.

“Okay kids calm down, no fighting at the table. Y/n roll again”

You rolled your eyes with a smiling, James doing the same. You rolled, this time gaining a three and a six, allowing you to move into the study. Not having that room filled you decided to take a guess. Might as well,

“Can I guess?”

“If you want”

“Okay.” You looked at your paper intently, you already knew the weapon, and you had a fifty fifty chance of it being Peacock or Mustard. You were being drawn to Mustard for the most part though. “I’m saying Mustard in the study. With the candlestick.”

“Shit.” Ed said with annoyance, obviously having known for quite some time now but attempting secretly to make his way towards the study. You took out the envelope at the centre of the board. Slowly pulling them out to check if you had guessed correctly. Satisfaction growing as you read each card before placing them upwards on the table. Indicating your success and subsequent winning of the game.

After a while of chatting around the finished game the three of you had put on some music to help fill the room with more than just your own voices. You were listening to Paolo Nutini on shuffle, enjoying a pleasant conversation. Some time ago ‘Scream’ had begun playing, it being one of your favourites you sang along to the lyrics.

“And it’s awful how people just sit there and let shit, happen to them. You’ll be walking down the street just watching them all being ignored.” Ed continued on the topic of homelessness.

“I read a statistic a few years ago that said for every ten people in 2010 there are more than twenty-four now.”

“Yeah, and people forget that its not them at all, it’s just a situation that for the most part they’ve been forced into. Its sad how willing people are to overlook that really.”

“And the government do piss all.” James added, taking a swig of his wine.

“I’ll drink to that.” You replied.

“God people are shit aren’t they.” Ed sighed out, filling the room with a pregnant pause before he chuckled, “How did we get onto this topic?”

“Not a clue mate”

“I think I blacked out half an hour ago.” You joked, gaining a laugh from the two of them. James’s hand was still on you, he had however made his way to rest naturally on your knee now. Occasionally giving it a gentle squeeze when he began speaking passionately. He’d even replaced his hand (as you’d hoped he would) after you had taken a trip to the bathroom. Pushing your leg against his as it had been before he smiled shyly as Ed wasn’t watching. There was some kind of an inaudible agreement that this was okay from the both of you. However, it didn’t stop the waves of guilt whenever Ed mentioned his own wife, reminding you that James was still in fact in a relationship. And although you knew it was fizzled, it still didn’t make you feel good. But it sure as shit felt right. Not wanting to think about it any further you tuned back into the music that was playing. Candy had begun not so long ago.

“It gets held against my name. I know you’ve got plenty to offer baby but I guess I’ve taken quite enough.” You sang quietly swaying your head. “While I’m stained here on your bed sheets you’re my diamond in the rough”

You all listened contently, James even closing his eyes and smiling as the guitar overtook the lyrics.

“God what a beautiful album” He said eventually. Bringing the two of you to the real world again.

“It is.”

“It changed my life.” You said with honesty to no one in particular. James pulling you up on it.

“Yeah?”

“Hmm, you know everyone has that collection albums that they define their life with.”

“Sure”

“Its just amazing, the rise and fall you go through while listening to it. One minute you’re in a field of flowers the next you’re in your Uni mates garden getting high. Its one of those I always pull up for every mood.” You caught yourself speaking for too long, suddenly a little self-conscious of oversharing.

“I love it,” James smiled, leaning back on his free hand, resting his head into his shoulder. Finding yourself caught off guard by his words you looked away from him and towards Ed who was checking his phone for the time.

“Ah shit,” He spoke slowly, “Half ten, I better get going home, Claire should be back from dinner too now.”

“Okay, well it has been lovely having you.”

“No no thanks for hosting. Cheeseboard was divine Y/n” Doing a little chef kiss with his hand, he began to stand up slowly. “Do you want to grab the tube together James?”

Looking at James you now realised he’d been staring at you for quite some time. He blinked with surprise to the mention of his name.

“Um yeah sure, I’ll just get my coat”

“Don’t rush I need to use the loo anyways first, that okay Y/n?”

“Sure knock yourself out mate”

As Ed left the room James patted your knee lightly, standing and sighing with a smile. Chamber music had begun playing now, and you found yourself rising with him, ready to see your guests out. He made his way around the table and towards the doorway, you following.

“Well.” He spoke with a smile, “It’s been lovely to see you again.”

“With the opportunity of memory.”

“Yeah,” You watched him bite his lip shyly, sucking in a breath. “We should do this again sometime?”

His statement came out as more of a question, hoping you understood his meaning, you gave him a gentle nod as you heard your toilet flush.

“Defiantly”

Ed made his way over from the bathroom, you held open the door for the two of them.

“Thanks again Y/n! I’ll come over again sometime next week for a bit?” Ed called out, giving you a smile as he began heading down the corridor. James hung back for a moment as you shouted a ‘Sure’ in response to Ed. He watched Ed unreadably with his lips pressed together until Ed was fully facing the other way.

He gently took your hand in his then, leaning in to give you a soft kiss on the corner of your cheek. Your body froze with shock by the sudden affection, yet soon a smile formed in a dimple. His lips felt determined, the kiss now presenting itself with a giddy charm. He pulled back an inch, so his breath caressed your face.

“Bye” was all he said before dropping your hand and flashing you a cheeky grin. Turning and catching up with Ed down the corridor. Too stunned to say anything you watched them disappear into the stairwell in silence. Eventually you shut the door, turning back into your empty apartment, not fully sure of what had just happened. But one hundred percent grateful that it had.

#james acaster x reader #james acaster imagines #james acaster fanfic

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nightxlight9 · 3 years

Text

Inspired from birth ｜ Emptiness that you want to hug

Dialogue with the Bungei Prize-winning author.

Tono Haruka, who received the Akutagawa Prize (1) less than a year after the 2019 Bungei Prize (2), and Sakurai Atsushi, the frontman of BUCK-TICK, who continues to play an active role in music culture after their major debut in 1987 and who this September celebrated 33 years from that day. As if real father and son, as artists of different genres - what do they feel and get from coexistence? That which was not told before; what I always wanted to hear. Here, for the first time, is presented a dialogue that pushes creative boundaries.

ᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠᅠ Resonant feelings

Sakurai: I didn’t think the day would come when we could talk like that. I am very grateful.

Tono: Likewise, thank you very much.

— Sakurai-san, when you read Tono-san’s novel, what impression did it leave on you?

Sakurai: Cultivation shocked me. Not in the sense that I didn’t like it - it is rather akin to art that I like to touch. Regarding the Catastrophe — thanks to the Cultivation I am tempered enough for Tono-sensei’s books; and even though there are a lot of hardcore scenes of sex and violence, it didn't shock me too much. While I was reading, he pulled me in and repulsed me - this both disturbed and soothed. Although it is rather ridiculous to describe my impressions of the novel that way.

Tono: It's hard to share your impressions, isn’t it?

Sakurai: After reading Catastrophe, the emptiness of the protagonist seems to leave an aftertaste. She resonates with the emptiness in me, as if I want to embrace something passionately — but there is nothing to embrace. The feeling was like that. I was the kind of child who started to really get into the festival after it was over. Not having fun in the midst of the fun, but thinking about it when it’s already over. And as I grew up, nothing changed. First and foremost, I come to terms with everything, so [for me] the “emptiness” of Tono-sensei’s novel was refreshing.

Tono: Many people mention the word “emptiness” (решите, что вам больше подходит — “emptiness” или “void”). And the main idea of Catastrophe speaks of “the emptiness of a new era”.

Sakurai: Tono-sensei gives the impression of a composed and calm person, and this is imposing on the main character. It seemed to me that the hero contains not only emptiness, but also a certain composure.

Tono: It’s a bit surprising to hear that Sakurai-san has an emptiness. I have listened to BUCK-TICK since elementary school and I think that this band has more of a well-established dark worldview rather than emptiness. Their world is original, which completely sets them apart from other bands, don’t you think?

Sakurai: Been listening since then, really? Thanks. I am very touched.

Tono: My work couldn’t be called bright either, so maybe [their music] subconsciously influenced me.

Sakurai: Dilettante question, but — The Cultivation and Catastrophe are not about personal experiences, they are a product of the imagination, right?

Tono: Yes, that’s right. I was not describing my own experience, but I designed and took everything from imagination. It is much more interesting to write, thinking about what you yourself have not experienced or what you don’t know about, because you can discover something new for yourself.

Sakurai: That is, before you start working, there is no fully-formed concept, it is formed step by step in the process of writing?

Tono: I sketch out something like a rough draft, but when I start writing, I move away from it, and the result is something completely different. It seems that I am writing it myself, and then suddenly something unexpected appears [in the text], which confuses and complicates everything, but this only makes it more interesting.

Sakurai: Something unexpected — for example?

Tono: In Catastrophe, there is a girl named Irori who gets scared at one point. Before starting the work, I thought about including a child somewhere. But when I was already writing, I surprised myself when, at an unexpected moment, she hid under the bed and watched the hero.

Sakurai: Yes, it happens. Could it be that the story itself is rejecting [the planned] in the process of writing? There are deviations from the original design, and in the end it turns out completely different. These changes are fun, it’s great.

ᅠ Life and art

Sakurai: Although not a first-person novel, do you have the same sudden madness and cruelty as the protagonist, Tono-sensei?

Tono: I think I’m a very decent person. I don’t fight people, I don’t stay up late. In that sense, the main character and I are completely different.

Sakurai: So this madness is purely imaginary?

Tono: It doesn’t really happen. This was not conceived in the characters, and yet from time to time they did things that should not have been done, or found themselves involved in unexpected events due to some minor misunderstandings. So I could, in the heat of the moment, do something rash. I still have some kind of crazy thing in me, and this could have affected the characters.

Sakurai: As I read it, it worried me if you were experiencing what you described, or if you are going to experience it in the near future. It was constantly spinning in my head. Perhaps it bothered [me] from a different point of view, not as a reader.

Tono: There is almost nothing from my life or personal experience in this work. The location of the Catastrophe is Keio University (3), and I also studied there. Is that the issue? I have not participated in such events and do not plan to. *laugh*

Sakurai: Thank goodness. *laugh*

Tono: It’s hard to make a story interesting just by describing how the characters sleep and go about their day, so you have to weave in some twists and turns.

Sakurai: There’s a font of worries in there. Very stimulating. Because of this, when I was already finishing it, it felt a little sad, because I wanted to read on, but it seemed that the end was close.

Tono: Of course, as the saying goes, “This is where everything ends”.

Sakurai: How would you, Tono-sensei, suggest to read [this book]?

Tono: How should I put it... I don’t want to impose on readers [thoughts] like “I wrote with this intent” or “This book needs to be read this way and that way”. I do not want to limit the potential interpretations. I would be happier if they read it on their own, calling it boring if it was boring, or interesting if it was interesting.

Sakurai: It's very courageous.

Tono: If I was debuting as a teenager, it might have been different. But since it happened when I was already 28 years old, I do not take readers’ reactions to heart and am not afraid of it.

Sakurai: II only recently came to this. Probably in my fifties, somewhere around the last three released albums. In my youth, I was still that little tyrant, digging in my heels, so that everything was my way. Now it all seems somewhat extreme. Now I think: “Listen as you like”.

Tono: Do you look up the listeners’ impressions?

Sakurai: I don’t want to worry about [reviews on] social media. Not in the sense of “I don't care,” but in the sense of “I don’t want to worry”. So personally, I am not involved in checking such things.

Tono: Well, I’m checking it. I’m trying to figure out, in general, how people read it. It doesn’t affect how I write, though.

Sakurai: Oh, just to confirm [your thoughts], correct? A sensible approach. Of course, in my case, there should be no paranoia at all. You start taking everything to heart and fears will arise, so it’s better not to get carried away.

Tono: Companies conduct surveys of who use their services, don’t they? It’s kind of like that. If all the experiences are completely different from my expectations, it is worth considering how I write.

Sakurai: A top-notch entrepreneur.

Tono: No, I’m a newbie. *laughter* Not a year has passed since my debut...

Sakurai: A very courageous newbie, from where I am looking.

[At our next meeting, I will already be

the winner of the Akutagawa Prize]

Sakurai: Last December he attended the BUCK-TICK concert in Yoyogi. Even before the Catastrophe was published in the magazine. After the performance, we were able to talk a little in the dressing room, and when he was just about to leave, Tono-sensei said, “By our next meeting, I will win the Akutagawa Prize”.

Tono: Ah, yes, he did. It was probably terribly immodest to say that. But if before you roll the dice you declare that it will come up six, and then it really comes up six, it seems that something amazing just happened, right? I wonder if they will ever say: “Just like he said”?

Sakurai: And the promise was fulfilled. It couldn’t be cooler. He was wearing a mask, so it was difficult for me to see his expression, but I saw that dazzling confidence.

Tono: I often say these things even if I haven’t finished my work yet.

Sakurai: It was the last push, right? Thank you for coming to the concert then.

Tono: How could I not? And the next concert will be the day after tomorrow (September 21*)? I bought a ticket.

Sakurai: Is that true? Wow, I am suddenly nervous.

Tono: Is this the first time you broadcast a concert online without an audience?

Sakurai: We performed without an audience at WOWOW once before, and I had no idea how much tension to expect. And a few days ago we had a film-concert shoot — in a large hall, without an audience. Of course, there was no applause or shouts of joy. After each song there is a complete silence.

Tono: Not very encouraging, right?

Sakurai: Right now I'm trying to get inspired by myself. Even now, during the coronavirus epidemic, there are many things you can get latch on to. I realized that even these days I can be on the same wavelength with the energy of my fans. It was not an ordinary feeling. You also can’t do autograph sessions and meetings with readers right now, correct?

Tono: Yes, there are no autograph sessions yet, and the conversations are taking place online. The Akutagawa and Naoki Awards (4) usually serve a lot of food, but this year there was no such thing, and the number of guests was limited.

Sakurai: Very sorry. Still, it must have been an amazing experience.

Tono: The day after tomorrow the sales of the new album “ABRACADABRA” will start, right? What does it look like finished?

Sakurai: After Tono-sensei debuted as a writer, we exchanged messages with him, and it gave me courage. Or if not courage, then determination to write and juggle words. I think it showed itself in the album. Perhaps I’ve managed to open - more precisely, to throw open the door to a vocabulary that I had not used before.

Tono: It seems to me as well, that you succeeded.

Sakurai: Moreover, now I have the strength to use those words.

Tono: Any desire to write a novel?

Sakurai: No way.

Tono: I would read it even if it was very short.

Sakurai: I think it would take an incredible effort from me.

Tono: You were writing song lyrics originally, correct?

Sakurai: Yes, I’m writing. Music has always been on my mind. Although in elementary school I was often praised for [written] reviews of what I have read.

Tono: It was exactly the opposite for me. I was completely unable to describe these impressions. I couldn’t even set it up.

Sakurai: This is amazing.

Tono: I couldn't understand what kind of impressions they were talking about. No matter what I read, everything seemed to me “Well, okay”, but you can’t call that an impression.

Sakurai: In some interview it was mentioned that you were a member of a band when you were at university.

Tono: It was a copy-band, there isn't much to talk about. But Cultivation has a character who plays drums in a band, so that experience influenced the novel.

Sakurai: I’m even a little happy.

Tono: I did a lot of things, but for the most part I gave it all up quickly, so writing is my longest-running occupation at the moment.

Sakurai: Since when have you been writing?

Tono: I started somewhere after I turned twenty, so it’s about seven or eight years old by now. I thought that being on the other side [of the book] was a completely different matter. Like, shouldn’t I become a creator myself and start giving shape to things? Perhaps BUCK-TICK influenced this in some way from the very beginning.

Sakurai: And then a novel ended up being written.

Tono: Yes.

— Did Sakurai-san know that Tono-san was writing a novel?

Tono: The first time I told him about it was when I won the 2019 Bungei Prize for my debut.

Sakurai: I’ve heard something [about this] since he graduated from university, but was amazed when he suddenly made his debut as a writer. However, I was looking forward to [the release of the book]. What kind of work will it be, could not wait to read it — something like that. And I was amazed a second time when Cultivation came out. How did you feel after finishing work on this novel?

Tono: I gained confidence and I decided that I could make it to the final round. I didn’t know, of course, how it would go in the future, if I would end up regretting it.

Sakurai: And he wrote to me about it.

Tono: Yes, that happened. I wrote “I got to the finals”. It was still cooler to report this after receiving the award.

Sakurai: And the coolness of the statement that “next time I meet I will be the winner of the Akutagawa Prize” then went off the charts.

Tono: This is just the beginning.

Different hobbies, same tastes

— This year BUCK-TICK celebrated 33 years from the date of their debut — without breaking up or changing membership of the group. What is the secret of such longevity?

Sakurai: Patience. Group work requires patience. The others and I, by the way, we often say this. But it seems to me that writers are have it more difficult in terms of moral, because they work alone. You have to evaluate yourself. When you are in a group, there is always someone who will express their opinion.

Tono: Perhaps so.

Sakurai: The writers of the old days appear to us to be some kind of alcoholics and drug addicts, down on their luck, with a ruined life — but now people are different.

Tono: In our era, being a writer, you can support yourself with more than just creativity, so in this sense the profession is more reliable than before. And I don’t drink much at all. And you, Sakurai-san, drink a lot, right?

Sakurai: Yes. I am one of those who seek salvation in alcohol. *laughter*

Tono: By the way, do you still read lots of novels?

Sakurai: Recently I reread Mishima Yukio again (5). And also [books] by Numata Mahokaru-san (6) and Taguchi Randi-san (7).

Tono: You’ve loved Mishima Yukio for the longest time, right?

Sakurai: Yes, quite true. It's not just about books — I’ve watched YouTube videos about Mishima Yukio and Kawabata Yasunari (8), and they really are very interesting people.

Tono: I haven’t read Yukio Mishima at all. My preferences in literature are very different.

Sakurai: What is your favorite writer, Tono-sensei?

Tono: When I was just starting to think about the novel, I had no idea how to write, and started by imitating the prose of Natsume Soseki (9). Have you read it?

Sakurai: I love his Heart very much. But now you probably don’t have time to read.

Tono: Right. But they often say that you need to read more, so I think about it anyway. Sakurai-san, do you study other artists’ music?

Sakurai: I’m a slob, so I’m not really up to date, so to speak. But good things still find their way to me. I can catch it on the radio when I’m driving, or hear it somewhere by accident. The youth of today like Kaze-san Fujii (10), don’t they?

Tono: Wow. A bit surprising.

Sakurai: You probably like something harsher, right?

Tono: I love King Gnu (11). Mentioned this in an interview for the monthly Bungei Shunju (12). Many were surprised that the music favored by young people and the traditional image of the Akutagawa Prize are not related.

Sakurai: King Gnu is great. I bought their CD as well. Just like that, I found out about King Gnu when I accidentally heard them. They have such an interesting lead singer.

Tono: Iguchi Satoru-san is interesting, yes. On Twitter, I would send links to [my] videos to anyone, even to the Pope himself. And when I appeared at Music Station, I stunned everyone with my descent down the stairs.

Sakurai: Showed up wearing sandals, yeah. *laughter* Do you watch a lot of TV?

Tono: From time to time. I saw your collab with Shiina Ringo-san at Music Station. “Elopers” is a great song, very powerful.

Sakurai: Really? I am very happy.

You can't lie to yourself

Sakurai: Has the third work been written yet?

Tono: Yes. The events transpire in an institution that raises people with supernatural abilities. The main character attents it along with the rest, tries to awaken superpowers in himself, but since he does not possess them, he gets no progress. This is the story I am writing. It will differ from the two previous works in meaning.

Sakurai: Is there a deadline?

Tono: I want to submit it to the editors by early next year. You, Sakurai-san, also have deadlines, right?

Sakurai: I have deadlines, of course. Release and tour dates might be pre-determined and songs should be worked on accordingly. And I will stubbornly work on them until they tell me: “That’s it, you can't put things off any longer”. However, I still try to keep within the appointed time.

Tono: Are there any serious challenges when you work?

Sakurai: It's very difficult to work when I’m drained. If you try to force something out of yourself, you get only lies, and then it turns out that you are insincere with yourself and with others. You can’t lie to yourself. But with a bit of personal experience and imagination, on the other hand, you can make very good progress.

Tono: You have to rewrite everything a lot, right?

Sakurai: Depends on the song. Sometimes I have to rewrite over and over again, and sometimes I write the first word that comes to my mind and everything is ready. Most often, some kind of shape may emerge first. How is it with you, Tono-sensei?

Tono: More often than not, I have one scene at the beginning, and I start writing based on it. At that time, I do not yet know how the story will develop, I have only scattered fragments, and as they are combined and edited, I am finally getting the feeling that the world of of this work is acquiring its finished form. By the way, I had some trouble coming up with a name for Cultivation, and I was given one piece of advice, do you recall?

Sakurai: Ah, yes, but in my opinion, it was not very good...

Tono: When I asked “How do you come up with names?”, You replied, “It should express the essence, but at the same time cover the whole thing. That word would fit the best”.

Sakurai: Wow, I put it remarkably well. And [I said that] to the future Akutagawa Prize winner, such arrogance. *laughter*

Tono: Even though I didn’t really understand how to apply this advice in practice, I still relied on it.

Sakurai: Cool title, isn’t it? Even though I said there were some disturbing moments when I was reading Cultivation for the first time, I think it read very cleanly. For example: “To my delight, I managed to look great. <…> I just wanted to be beautiful” — here, as it seemed to me, the words are very good - fresh and clear, without unnecessary embellishments.

(2020.09.19)

Sakurai Atsushi, musician. Vocalist Buck-Tick. 66 years of birth. New job: 「ABRACADABRA」

Tono Haruka, writer, winner of the Akutagawa and Bungei awards

END

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highladyluck · 3 years

Text

Mat’s just as superstitious as Tuon

I’ve talked about how Mat's great at reading people but his preconceptions sometimes lead him to dismiss what he perceives, and Tuon's great at listening to people but her preconceptions sometimes lead her to dismiss what she hears. They’re both characters who are unusually good at taking in and processing external input, where you can trust their observations of the external world, but who are also unreliable narrators about their own emotions and motivations; what they’re really feeling is often hidden even from themselves, or is most accurately shown through action or how other people are reacting, rather than their own narration.

So it makes sense on a meta level that they’d be the characters who are most superstitious. They’re hyper-alert to stimuli and they gloss all that input through their paranoid internal coding systems, assigning motivations and parsing actions beyond the surface impression, and they act on their interpretations. It’s a complex way of relating to the world, and so it’s not surprising they both end up looking to the universe to give them specific guidance and commentary through signs and symbols.

Other people have pointed out that Tuon's omens help her make the 'right' decisions to join the Last Battle on the lightside, like staying with Mat, though she had no intention of doing otherwise. And an inordinate amount of digital ink has been spilled on Mat's dice and what they might mean, mostly back when it was less obvious that they were basically just fate-radar. But I haven't seen people pointing out that these characters basically have the exact same superstitious mindset, though Mat's fate dice are internal and Tuon's omens are external.

By the time Mat meets Tuon, he's basically constantly got an ear out for the dice in his head that tell him something important to his fate is about to happen. He makes decisions either with the dice in mind, or knowing that if the dice roll faster or stop or whatever, that's the universe commenting on either his actions or some other momentous event.

Hilariously, Mat is not at all superstitious about his luck, since he has learned how it works and knows he can generally trust it to act within specific parameters, but he is very, very superstitious about the fate dice in his head. He's constantly telling us about how the fate dice rule his life! The only reason he doesn't sound deranged to us is that we know he's right, and he also doesn't talk about it, because he knows it sounds ludicrous and/or magic and/or suspicious.

On the other end of the spectrum, there's Seanchan weirdo Tuon, who constantly has an eye out for omens and is happy to tell you about it. She believes these omens are the Pattern giving guidance and direct commentary on her actions and other momentous occasions. Sounds familiar, right? Tuon's omens have the exact same function as Mat's fate dice, except that they're out in the world and have specific fixed values that can modify each other, like ideograms, whereas Mat's fate dice are internal and more binary- they're rolling or they're stopped.

I think the only reason Tuon doesn't believe in ta'veren, besides the sort of knee-jerk 'well I've never heard of that so it must not be true', is that she thinks the Pattern is speaking directly to literally everyone, if they only paid attention, and that the only reason the Pattern might single someone out for special attention is if they have more worldly power or influence, and therefore naturally affect more threads.

If the Wheel is focusing on anyone in particular, she reasons, it's because they must merit it. The idea of the Wheel randomly picking some poor sap to make influential for a given time must seem to her to be dangerously disordered and possibly heretical. The Seanchan are a sort of meritocracy, too- if people gave Mat power and influence, and she sees that he handles it well, she's going to think, 'the cream rises to the top', not 'the Pattern literally wrapped around this man, with a literal noose, to make him the best person for the job'.

(One could say that Fortuona does not, in fact, understand how the Wheel of Fortune works; everyone goes up, everyone goes down, the wheel weaves as the wheel wills. But on the other hand... is she really wrong to think that there must be some reason the Pattern would pick on somebody? It's Mat's personality, as well as his awareness of the prophecies, that gets him on the road to power and influence...)

Anyway, I know we all make fun of Tuon for being superstitious in her own specific way and ignoring everyone else's, but I'm not sure her omens have ever been wrong about the big stuff. And Mat also does not get called out enough for being as superstitious as every other gambler even though he is supernaturally lucky.

#wheel of time #mat cauthon #tuon paendrag #problematic fave tuon #meta #wheel of time meta #whoops I wrote another essay because I had to explain the joke #superstition #also in mat's defense it's completely reasonable to be superstitious about the thing in your head that tells you when the plot happens #when you are a fictional character

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buckyswheezes · 3 years

Text

Cruel Summer (Pt. 1/2)

Premise: Steve was 7, Bucky was 6, and you were 4 when you became family. And it was in the summer of your last year in high school when things started to change.

Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes / What doesn't kill me makes me want you more

author's note: First of all, this did not go the way I planned it to. Second, I was wrong; this isn't one-shot but a two-shot fic. Finally, I hope you guys like it. Again, @lokisblackwidow's post made me do this. Sorry if it's different from what you expected it to be.

warning: this fic contains cursing, sexual shit, and incest. Read at your own risk

It's been 15 years since your family moved to New York to start anew. The concrete jungle, skyscrapers, and bustling broadway shows were a stark contrast to California's tropical and easy-going nature. You were too young, though, to notice such things because you were just three years old at the time and mostly spent your time confused because you haven't seen your mom in a long time.

It's only been dad and your brother Steve for weeks now, and both didn't know how to tie your hair the way you like or read those bedtime stories you loved so much. Years later, you finally realized why -she died. The next thing you knew, you have a new mom and a new brother. It's been that way since.

"How's the college application going?" Steve's gruff voice came from the ongoing Facetime.

"I haven't had my breakfast. Can I please have my breakfast first?" You replied, annoyed. You didn't want to be reminded of that first thing in the morning. You slumped down on the seat beside your mom, and she handed you a cup of freshly brewed coffee. "Thanks, mom," You muttered.

Your dad sat on the other side of the table, flipping through the day's paper, and beside him sat Bucky, stuffing his face with bacon, completely ignoring the chaos around him. The empty seat beside him was where Steve sat (when he's home, that is, which was rare nowadays), but the tablet with his huge face plastered in it was placed on the space on the table, so it felt as if you were all still having breakfast together.

"Ooh, someone's grumpy."

"I'm gonna beat your ass when you get home." You threatened.

"Well, joke's on you 'cause I'm not."

"You're not?" Mom frowned.

Steve shifted to look at her. "I took a summer course this year, Biostats. It'll help with my thesis."

"You sure you're not just fonduing with Maryland girls in the summer?"

"Shut up, Buck. You're the playboy in the family, not me."

"Alright, boys!" Your mom chastised then turned to Steve again. "Well, you take care, and if you need anything, just give us a call."

"Will do."

Steve attended Johns Hopkins University -unarguably one of the best universities in America when it comes to Medicine. He'd always wanted to be a doctor, and even though he never said it, you knew it was because of your biological mom. He could've gotten into Harvard, but like you, Steve itched to get out of New York for a change of environment. It was only Bucky who didn't want to go anywhere, and so he attended NYU.

You love New York, no doubt about that. You grew up exploring its Burroughs, and the Central Park had been a staple in your formative years, but lately, you just wanted to get away from all of it. Recently, something changed, and you convinced yourself that it was because it's your last year in high school and you will be going to college soon.

But you knew there was something else. Well, maybe it was also because you turned 18 early this year, you're legal now, and with your going to college on the other side of the coast, you were excited to have a bit of freedom. CalArts was your first choice, being into Performing Arts and all that. Now, your parents weren't painfully strict, but being the youngest and only girl in the family, they couldn't help but be a little protective.

When Steve went to Baltimore two years ago, you were quite relieved. You get it; you're his only sister, but the way he used to hover around and scare away boys grated your nerves. You were just thankful that by sophomore year, he was gone. He'd passed on the mantle to Bucky, but he didn't really care -well, not as much as Steve did.

"Dad, don't forget you're picking me up later after school. I can't be late for my rehearsal." You reminded. Across the table, your old man's jaw dropped.

"I'm sorry, honey, was that today?"

"Uhh yeah, you forgot already?"

"Sorry, it slipped my mind, honey. How about you pick her up, Buck?" He turned to your step-brother.

"What?!" You shrieked in unison.

"I can't. I have stuff to do." He whined. You roll your eyes at his lame excuse.

"No, it's fine. I'll just ask Peter to come with me."

"Who's he, your new boyfriend?" Bucky spat.

You glared at him across the table. "No, he's not. I don't even have a boyfriend; you and Steve made sure of that." You downed the last of your coffee before shooting daggers at him once more. "Don't pick me up. Go do your stuff."

"Bucky…" It was mom's turn to speak.

"Fine!" He grumbled.

————

"Bye, Peter. See you around!" You stood up from the bench where you and your friend sat as soon as you saw Bucky drove up the school's entrance.

You don't know what your step-brother's problem was, but lately, he'd been nothing but irritable and annoyed, especially with your presence. You didn't wait for him to call you, so you jogged as quickly as you could across the schoolyard, silently climbing on the passenger seat as soon you reached where he pulled over.

You cast a wary glance at him; he didn't speak to you since you got on. He didn't even acknowledge your presence. His jaw was set, and he was intent on ignoring you, it seems, for the duration of the ride.

You and Bucky weren't always like this. You two were close; you played a lot when you were kids, you built forts, you wrestled, you chased each other with whatever gooey stuff you put your little hands on. Over the years, he became distant. You'd started to feel distant when Bucky and Steve entered junior high -you just couldn't relate to the stuff they talk about anymore. You're still very close with Steve, but with Bucky, he just drifted further away, especially when you entered high school. Bucky was only two years ahead, so you always saw him around during your freshman year. He was very popular, it seems. Senior girls used to befriend you in hopes of getting close to your step-brother.

You couldn't take it any more of his animosity, so you fully faced him, shifting in your seat. "Have I done something wrong, Buck?"

He looked at you incredulously for a second before turning his attention back on the road.

Annoyed at his lack of response, you hit his shoulder with your fist.

"What the hell y/n! I'm driving. Do you want us to die?!" He growled.

You retreated back to your seat, feeling remorseful for a second. Only for a second, then you burst out crying. "I hate you! I wish you're not my brother!"

You heard him chuckle, but he obviously wasn't amused. "Yeah, wish you weren't my sister too."

———

Bucky was in his last year in high school when he noticed it. He was waiting outside the school library because you said you needed to borrow a book before the two of you go home.

When Steve went off to college, he promised he'd look after you. He noticed firsthand how guys from all grade levels flock to you, hoping they'd catch your attention. Now, Bucky knew what these guys really want, and that's to get in your pants. Over his dead body would he allow that to transpire. So you two always walked home together.

He craned his neck to peek through the giant doors, wondering what's taking you long when he saw you chatting with a guy. His brows furrowed while his lips formed a thin, grim line.

Your smile reached your ears, your eyes glistened in obvious delight, and your cheeks flushed. Your shy gaze was directed at the guy in front of you.

Bucky frowns even more, when the guy ruffled your hair, a gesture that only he has the right to do (he believes). He felt a vein in his head pop in irritation. He felt like punching someone.

"Hey, Buck, let's go!" You chimed, pulling him out of his murderous thoughts.

"Who were you talking to?"

"Oh, that's Stephen. A junior in the dance club." You almost giggled.

"Huh." He scoffed.

The next time he noticed it happen was when he stayed around to watch your cheer dance rehearsals. Your skimpy cheerleader outfit didn't leave much to the imagination; that's why he decided to hover around, ready to pounce on whoever looked at you the funny.

Bucky looked away for a second to glance at his phone when screams filled the schoolyard. The next thing he knew, you were in the air -free-falling. He ran as fast as his feet could take him to catch you, his heart pounding in his ears. Fortunately, someone was there to catch you before you hit the ground.

You fell on top of the guy -Stephen. He gritted his teeth, half-annoyed, half-grateful at the piece of shit. He saw how you stayed on top of him for a few seconds more; furiously blushing. The moment he reached you, Bucky yanked you up and from the guy's body.

"You okay?" He fussed, searching your body for any sign of injury.

"I'm fine, Buck. Stephen caught me." You bit your lip as you shyly looked back at the guy. "Umm, thanks again."

"Yeah, thanks, man," Bucky grumbled, pulling you away from the group.

The way your body rested on another guy just didn't sit well with him. Once again, he felt like punching someone, and that someone is Stephen. He hated the way the guy was always around you. Bucky was sure what his motive was, and he'll never let him get it.

"I want ice cream." You muttered later that afternoon on your way home.

Bucky scoffed at your request. "What are you, five?"

You stopped walking and faced him, a pout on your lips. "Steve always buys me ice cream."

"Well, I'm not Steve."

"Please, I fell off someone's shoulder and almost hit my head. What if I died?"

"What has that got to do with ice cream?"

"I hate you. You're the worst brother, ever."

Bucky chuckled at your antics; he knew you didn't mean it. You just say that to get what you want because when you were kids, Steve and he used to compete for the Best Brother Award. "Fine." He conceded with a smile. He grabbed your grabbed, and you both ran to the nearest ice cream parlor, ordering one big bowl of banana split sundae and stuffing your faces.

Bucky's whole body tensed when your moans filled your ears. He didn't mind it back then, you were young and innocent, but now, Bucky couldn't ignore the sound spilling from your mouth. Sweat dripped down his nape.

This isn't right.

Your moans seem to ring louder in his ears. The way you licked your spoon clean was not helping his situation either. Bucky thinks about the thin line between sanity and insanity when the chocolate syrup trickled from your lips down to your chin until it reached the supple skin of your neck.

"I need to go to the bathroom." He muttered and hastily jolted from his seat, scrambling away from you. Bucky has a growing problem inside his pants, and he needs to take care of it.

Stop this, Bucky, you need to stop this! His mind chastised while his hands unbuckled his belt. You shouldn't feel this… this way towards her. He's your step-sister. It's wrong.

As soon as he reached his release, he made up his mind. He'll stay away from you; kinda impossible since you both live in the same house, but he'll try his best for both your sakes.

Bucky stopped waiting for you after school. He stopped watching your rehearsals. He stopped helping you with your Math home works and, much to your mom's surprise, he started watching evening dramas with her in the living room every night.

So to answer your question, the one you shot at him when he picked you up from school that day. Yes, you did something wrong.

You grew up. And it's been hard for him to see you as his step-sister ever since.

——————

The last day of school finally rolled in, and you intended to enjoy summer before you start college. What you didn't see coming, though, was being left alone with Bucky for one whole week because your parents are going on a cruise.

"Can't I come with you?" You pleaded, eyes wide as you hauled your mom's baggage into the back of the taxi.

"Sorry, honey. Promise, we'll be back as soon as we can." She replied before giving you a hug.

"Don't leave me here. Bucky's gonna bully me all week."

"He won't, right Bucky?" She raised a brow at him, who stood with his arms crossed, looking annoyed.

"Try not to destroy the house while we're away." Was their final reminder before they went on their way.

Bucky was the first one to get back inside the house. Dread ate up your insides; you two haven't spoken since the car ride. You decided once and for all to get things straight with him. So you marched inside about five minutes later.

Bucky heard you barge in his room, but he remained still -eyes closed and pretending to be asleep. He jolted up when you unceremoniously hit his stomach with a pillow.

"What the hell, y/n?!" He snarled, clearly pissed at your assault.

Your nose flared at his attitude. "What is your problem, James Barnes?" You growled in return.

"Am I the one with a problem here?"

"Oh, come on! You know what I mean!"

Bucky pushed past you; you trailed behind, following his figure towards the living room. He needed to get away from you, fast. It irked him that you wouldn't stay the fuck out of his way. You'd even come and gone into his room. Bucky couldn't take it; he'd go crazy.

"Why are you avoiding me? Bucky!… Bucky! Answer me, damn it!"

"I don't know what you're talking about, y/n. So, leave me alone." He was about to reach the door when you threw yourself in front of it, barring his way out. "Move."

"NO! You're not going anywhere until you tell me what's wrong." You crossed your arms, planting your feet firmly on the floor. You weren't gonna let this day end without knowing why Bucky acts the way he does. If it was something that you did, then you'd wholeheartedly make it right, but you'll never know if he keeps on brushing you off. So, here you are.

"Y/n, move." Bucky hissed menacingly."

"No, Bucky." You replied in the same manner.

After your brief glaring contest, Bucky finally looked away, sighing in defeat. "Fine. Something's not right, okay? But it's not you, it's… it's… me, so let me handle this myself."

You relaxed and took a step closer to him. "Can't you tell me? I might be able to help."

Bucky looked away. How could he possibly tell you that he's harboring un-brotherly feelings towards you -his step-sister. How could he possibly tell you that you turn him on, that he's having inappropriate thoughts about you for a year now? How could he possibly tell you that he might be falling in love with you?

All those times you spent together when Steve was gone. The times you intently and genuinely listened to his adolescent problems. The times you cheered for him when he played football in high school. You were his number one fan. You were so different from the others, and he hated how it made him look at you differently. He hated when you boys started coming into your life. He always believed that you had a special place in your heart for him, but now he feared that anyone might snatch that place from him. You were his best girl.

Bucky grimaced at his realization. He finally admitted to himself that he is, indeed, falling in love with you. He felt angry at himself. How could he let this happen? He thought he was in control of his emotions.

"Eventually, I'll tell you. But not now." He said softly, hoping you'd let him go.

But you were persistent. "No, Bucky. I want you to tell me now." You demanded.

"Y/n," He growled loudly this time. "Move out of my way!"

"I won't until you tell me."

"Move!"

"Just tell me!"

Bucky's resolve broke. The sirens in his mind went off, but he ignored them as he strode towards you intently. He smirked when your bravado faltered before vanishing completely when he pushed you against the door; your bodies pressed together, making sure you could feel the tent growing against his pants.

Your eyes widened in shock. "Wha-"

"You wanna know why? Huh," He asked through gritted teeth, his face hovered dangerously close to yours that you could feel the hot breath coming through his nose. Bucky didn't give you time to answer because he roughly crashed his lips towards yours. He wasted no time shoving his tongue inside your mouth.

Bucky could feel your hands against his chest, pushing him away. He could hear the muffled pleas of protest as he relentlessly assaulted your mouth. His lips left yours only to find themselves on your neck, sucking on your skin.

"Bu.. Bucky.. stop.. s-s-top." Tears cascaded down your cheeks, but you were frozen in spot, unable to wipe them away.

But Bucky ignored your appeal. He continued sucking your skin while his hands traveled your side, feeling you up. When he couldn't get enough of you, he bit the skin on your shoulder.

You yelped in pain. "Stop! Stop, get off me!"

Still, Bucky did not listen. Dissatisfied with his actions, he dragged and threw you towards the couch; he straddled over you, your hands pinned on the cushion. You squirmed beneath him, trying to escape his hold.

Bucky pulled your shirt up and found his lips back on your skin again; this time, he latched on your erect nipple and sucked as if his life depended on it. When he was done abusing both your buds, he moved to kiss your lips again, but your tear-stricken face met his eyes.

Bucky went stiff as a board, and you used that opportunity to push him, backing off as far as you can from him. Your loud sobs filled the house as you sank to a pool at your feet, hugging your knees to yourself.

You couldn't believe what your step-brother had done. Your mind couldn't begin to fathom his actions.

Bucky sat motionless, his horror-struck at his deed. He bit back the long line of profanities that ran inside his head as he stared dumbfounded at your crumpled figure.

A painful pang of guilt washed over him like a tidal wave. What had he done?

"Y/n.. I-I'm… I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He said and scrambled out of the house.

Bucky didn't come home for three days while you spent it in a daze.

Bucky kissed you; he put his tongue inside your mouth. He touched you in your private parts. He sucked on your nipple while you lay beneath him. He held you like a lover would.

But he was your brother; why would he do that?

The sound of the front door opening pulled you out from your thoughts. Your gaze met Bucky's; he had dark circles around his eyes, and you wondered briefly whose house he crashed when he didn't come home.

"Bucky…" You stood from the couch and approached him.

Bucky liked that about you. You were brave and face things head-on; you're not one to back down, just cause you were scared. But he doesn't think he could handle you right now, not after what he's done. He walked past you, intent on ignoring you.

"After what you did, I at least deserve to know the truth, don't you think?"

Your words hit home. You were right; you deserved at least that much. Sighing, he turned back and sat down on the couch.

"I know this is downright wrong, but I'm in love with you, y/n," Bucky confessed softly, and he heard your small gasp.

"But, we're… I'm your sister."

"step-sister," He corrected. "I can't help it. I love you more than a step-brother could love his step-sister. I love you as a woman y/n. I tried to stop it, but it was hard."

You deserved to know the truth no matter how disgusting, condemning, or how sinful it was.

"I am still trying." Bucky continued, and this time, he gave you a firm look. "And I need, need you to help me."

Your heart skipped a beat. "What do you want me to do, Buck?"

"Stay away from me."

You pulled back in shock. "But-"

"No buts!" He hissed. "Can't you see how hard this is for me? You think it's easy to stay away from you when I love you?" He pleaded. "After this, I want you to stay away, don't talk to me unless it's a life or death situation."

"Mom and dad will notice."

"Then don't make them notice." He got up and approached you, then reached for your hand, clasping them together. "Please, y/n, you have to."

With a heavy heart, you nodded. Bucky moved and gave you a quick peck on the forehead, and it felt like goodbye.

Weeks quickly flew by, fortunately for the both of you, your parents didn't notice a thing. You bickered like you used to during breakfast, but both of you knew that it was forced. When they weren't around, which was much since both of them worked, you barely talked to each other and were barely left alone in the house.

Bucky spent most of his time playing basketball -his new hobby to get his mind off you. He's always gone during weekends playing with his college friend Sam Wilson. You saw the guy once when Bucky invited him to dinner with your family. After that, Sam can frequently be seen in the house. Your parents were cool with it since Steve didn't come home for summer.

One afternoon, Sam was there again; you could hear their banter all the way up to your room. However, what really bothered you though was the presence of a woman -Sharon. She's Bucky and Sam's classmate in one of their class, and along with Sam, she started hanging out at your house.

You groaned, annoyed. You couldn't focus on the application essay you were supposed to write with that woman's shrill voice downstairs. You slammed your fist against your study table, intent on giving the three a piece of your mind. You stood up and marched downstairs, catching their attention.

Sharon sat between Sam and Bucky, and they were pretty occupied with a mobile game before you came.

"Can you guys keep it down? You're not the only people in the house."

"Oops, sorry, y/n." Sharon squeaked.

"We'll keep it down," Sam promised.

You just nodded before glaring at Bucky, who did not even acknowledge your presence. You grumbled something before storming back to your room, slamming the door close.

Sharon and Sam ended up having dinner with them again. With Sharon seated beside Bucky, again. Your mom told them to drop by again. And, Bucky walked Sharon home, again.

And you were getting tired of this. You wanted to help Bucky, but you can't just sit back and watch him replace you with someone else. No, you can't allow it. This has to stop.

You waited for Bucky to come home; you were in his room sitting on his bed with a determined look on your face.

As soon as Bucky stepped inside, he was shoved against the door, making it slam close. He winced at the pain on his back, but he was startled and shocked when he felt your lips connect with his in a searing kiss. His first instinct was to push you away, but his desire got the better of him. His eyes slipped close, and he kissed you back passionately.

Bucky's thoughts were in a haze as both your lips danced with each other. It didn't take long for him to invade the warmth of your mouth, fingers tangling themselves into your hair, while your hands curled around the front of his shirt, trapped between your heated bodies.

"Why," He moaned before pulling away.

Your ragged breaths filled the room; you looked at him with glistening eyes. "I don't care anymore, Bucky. I don't want to lose you. I don't want to be replaced by Sam or Sharon or anyone else." A tear escaped your eye, and it cascaded down your cheek.

Bucky leaned down and kissed it away, the salty taste lingering in his tongue.

"I want you back, Bucky."

Bucky felt a painful tug on his heart at the sight. He loves you, but he was also the one making you cry. He cannot bear the thought of hurting you. He caressed your cheek and gazed at you lovingly, longingly.

"You're making this hard for me, y/n. For the both of us."

You shook your head once more and pulled his face close to yours. "I don't care anymore, James Barnes. Love me any way you want, just don't… don't leave me again."

Bucky froze at your words. He pulled away then grasped both your shoulders. "Y/n, you don't know what you're saying."

"I do. I'm not a child anymore. I want how we used to be; if accepting your love could get things back to the way it was, I accept it.

Bucky shook his head. "No,…no y/n, nothing will ever be the same if you let me love you the way I want to."

Your face visibly fell at his words. Feeling hopeless, you asked. "Why?"

"Why?" Bucky asked back softly. "Because unlike then, I'll kiss you more like this…" He started and gave you a sensual kiss on the lips. "I'll hold your hand like this…" His hand went to yours, and he intertwined your fingers.

"We used to do that when we were kids."

Bucky just hummed in response. "And I'll pull you close to me like this…" He continued and did just as he said. He pulled you against his heated body and inhaled your scent. "And you'll always ignite that burning feeling inside me, y/n. So, unless you get used to these things, I will not let you do this."

"But we used to do some of those."

"It's going to be a lot different now."

"I don't care. I'm used to it. In fact, I miss it. Don't ever leave me again, Bucky, please. I love you so much."

Bucky's eyes widened in surprise. He could feel the rapid beating of your heart against his. He pulled you in once more for a passionate kiss.

"I love you too, y/n. You don't know how much you make me happy."

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky #james buchanan barnes #au bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic

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fire-mage-719 · 3 years

Text

I made a little story for FireMage the character in @fazbear-ent-official 's FNAF RP blog, pertaining to the type of stuff I think would fit what I want from their character. It's pretty long so I'll leave it below the cut.

I just sort of sat down and wrote something out in an hour or two, so there's probably a few mistakes or something. Above all I wanted to make it work with what everyone's done with the "universe" so far but also make it work (as someone who likes timelines and stories that makes sense).

I'm going to reblog it with a TLDR, and a sort of explanation as to my thought process and how it can work with everything. Doesn't have to be canon in the RP, but I think it might open up more RP opprotunities/paths or something. IDK, I haven't done this sort of thing before. Anyways enjoy.

William sighed before he left the building. The sound of arcade machines, a distant song, and children echoing in the short distance behind him. Exiting the dark building, he shielded his eyes and squinted as he was suddenly bashed by the intense sunlight.

It was a glorious and sunny day. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, the blue expanse cradling the unwieldy and bright sun. The building, his establishment, Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza, blocked out all the lights for bright neon signs and shiny decor and moving party lights. The outside was a stark contrast.

Beyond just the sight was the smell. Inside smelled like pizza and soda, candies with enough sugar content to kill anyone in a nursing home, and a tinge of childly stench. Out here it smelled like fire, smoke, and meat. Not just any meat, but good barbecued hotdogs and hamburgers, a steak maybe, a pork rib, William couldn’t tell anymore, really. It was just savory and honestly, a very good palate cleanser to the rubbish that they sold inside.

Manning the grill was a tall figure. They wore an astronaut suit, pale white, with no flags or logos. No NASA logo, no indication that they had ever been to space, and in the end, it didn’t particularly matter. No one seemed to really mind, William the least. Especially with the reason that he hired them for. Though they did intently wish for two more additions to their apparel: a Freddy Fazbear branded apron and a nametag that read “FireMage”.

“Fire, I need you to do what I hired you for,” William sighed, his arm still shielding his eyes from the sun. “Not whatever you’ve got setup here.”

“All due respect sir, someone came in with a t-bone and said they’d pay me more than you would in a week to cook it,” The astronaut said.

The astronaut turned away from the grill, pointing the burger flipper at William.

“A week, boss. Like, rich white ladies are nuts, but money is money,” Fire said, turning back to the grill and plating a few burgers. “Besides, you’ve got a lot more business lately, despite all your goings on. I would like to think it’s thanks to me.”

William grimaced as Fire took the last burger off the grill and onto a bun. William’s eyes were focused on the t-bone that the astronaut mentioned until Fire had closed the grill.

“Besides, I take care of whatever you ask no matter what,” Fire said, turning to look at William.

It was slightly concerning, not being able to look them in the eyes. Even with the animatronics, William was able to look into the glassy fake orbs, but the visor to Fire’s helmet blocked anything but William’s own reflection. Used to the light now, William watched his mirror image let his arm down.

“If you can even remember what that initially was for,” Fire continued, leaning against the grill.

William went to open his mouth, but shut it. He couldn’t remember.

“Is it that you can’t remember, or that you haven’t been made to remember yet?” Fire asked.

William snapped, “Don’t do that. Just… go in and do what I asked, yeah?”

William turned for the handle of the door. Fire was arguably one of the easiest of his employees to deal with. Casual, respectable, and above all somehow able to get away with an odd amount of things, Fire was… one of the least suspicious people at any establishment. Whichever establishment that Afton was at, they seemed to be there. No one minded the obviously fake name, the obviously out of the ordinary outfit, and the odd comments that seemed to slip beyond most peoples’ notice.

“Mr. Afton, I have to ask, what’s up with the sudden influx of employees?” Fire retorted.

William paused and looked back, not angry, but a bit annoyed.

“I don’t know. Must have been Henry or Willow. They’re in charge of new employees.”

“Besides me,” Fire chirped.

William smiled, a bit sarcastically, “Yes. Besides you.”

“I would say that they act oddly in regards to the establishment, wouldn’t you agree?”

Fire started to approach William Afton, and though William knew that Fire wouldn’t do anything, he let go of the door knob and turned to meet their gaze… or as much of a gaze that they could have. Fire stopped a few feet away, and William let himself relax, not realizing the tension he had in his jaw.

“I mean… yes. They do seem odd. That’s nothing too out of the ordinary,” William said back in a neutral tone.

“And there’s that new establishment even, the what…” Fire rested one of their hands on their hip, snapping with the other for a few moments before it clicked. “The Pizza-plex!”

William’s brows came together in confusion, he himself not knowing quite what they were getting at.

“What do you mean? What’s wrong with it?”

“Well, can’t you see? We shouldn’t be anywhere near the Pizza-plex yet!” Fire said exasperated. “We have a location with Toy Animatronics, with the Original Gang, we have the Funtime animatronics hanging out somewhere, none of this aligns!”

William sighed, looking up to the blue sky. If he just waited them out, they would be done, and he could go back inside. They weren’t even wasting time, since no one would interfere with what Fire was meant to do anyways.

“I don’t get what you mean,” He let his head drop to look down at Fire.

His heart skipped a beat when William saw Fire in front of him, grabbing his upper arms, holding him in place.

“Everything is wrong! I thought that something was off when I first got here, but now everything is wrong! All these things existing at once don’t coincide with the story at all!” Fire said. “None of the characters are in the right places! None of the events! The employees that appeared out of nowhere, they’re a part of this somehow!”

“Look, let me go,” William said, not struggling too much to let the astronaut let go of his arms. “I get it, you only agreed to work and do my odd jobs because… well…”

“You don’t remember how I got here, Afton,” Fire said, voice stale and monotone.

“I mean yeah, ok, I don’t!” William exclaimed. “Something is going on! I get it! But I don’t get what’s the deal! That hasn’t been an issue before. Sure! We got some weird employees! That one person with the rats, and that one person who got “adopted by Mr. Hippo”, and the one who started a wrestling ring, but that’s nothing huge!”

“But nothing has changed, yet,” Fire said. “The days go in and out, funky little things happen. But nothing moves forward. The days keep coming. The sun shines. You come out here and ask me to step away from my precious grill and clean up one of your little messes… that you don’t seem to be getting caught or suspicion for, despite the fact that it seems to be well known that Freddy’s is at least a slightly sketchy place.”

“Business is booming!” Afton sighed.

“Exactly!” Fire shouted. “It shouldn’t be!”

“What are you saying? I’m doomed to fail?” William laughed.

“In more ways than one,” Fire said plainly.

William didn’t like that statement, and glared at the astronaut. Fire walked forward, up to Afton.

“You and I can’t remember anything, but out of everyone, we seem to understand that there’s more than meets the eye going on. We’re stuck here, until something happens in this broken universe,” Fire said, inches from Afton, looking down on the man.

“Alright then. And what are we supposed to do about it?” Afton asked.

“Nothing. We can’t do anything. We’re nothing more than perversion, an offshoot of some original universe.”

“What are we waiting for, then?” Afton said, aggravated. “All the weird kids to go away? For me to finish my plans?”

“We’re waiting for the story to continue, of course,” Fire turned away.

They walked back to the grill, where sitting propped up next to it was a flamethrower. Dangerous to have next to a grill, to say the least, but William Afton never saw the astronaut without their flamethrower close by.

“There’s got to be some bigger plot point coming along. Something to move us all forward. We have to be going somewhere, but maybe it isn’t out yet. Whatever was going to come next, after Ultimate Custom Night. Before I got here,” Fire continued, returning to Afton.

“You’re making even less sense now,” Afton said, looking with concern down at the flamethrower. “You make it sound like, I don’t know, we’re just waiting for God to come roll the dice and choose what comes next.”

“Not God,” Fire said.

They looked away from Afton. Past him. Past the road. Past the buildings. Past the blue skies. Into the eyes of someone, into the eyes of you.

“No, someone else,” Fire returned their gaze to William. “That’s the only thing that makes sense. That everyone here is a puppet, or a pawn, of some sort. They know who you are, they know what you do, and they might know who each other are. They’re making a story, here, and it’s leading somewhere. Too many things don’t line up with what I know is true, and even the mysteries I don’t aren’t explained.”

William just stopped at that point. He was wondering if they had waited too long, and the cleanup would be harder. Though, he thought, it wasn’t his job to clean up.

“There isn’t anything beyond the locations. There’s nothing more than the world that revolves around you and Henry and the employees,” Fire poked William in the chest. “And the world never moves on. When did you make the Pizza-plex? Don’t answer, I know you don’t know. Why didn’t you shut down the Toy location? Don’t think about it? Here’s an important question, William Afton, how are the kids?”

William would have snapped. Would have grabbed Fire by the apron and strangled them with it. He was angry, but he didn’t know why. He was also sad. Afton stumbled backwards, into the wall. He didn’t know how he felt, it was a cacophony of emotions like an echochamber of butterflies eating at his insides. He looked up at Fire, who just looked down.

“We’re all waiting for them to continue the plot, Mr. Afton. And until they do, you and I are stuck in this little world. And unfortunately, knowing we’re in it, means we’re never escaping it,” Fire kneeled down, their voice soft. “I knew even before I came here about what you were up to. Your employees and coworkers don’t know what’s going on, but they’re too comfy with the nature of this place. I don’t particularly care about what you do, because according to the story, you are meant to complete these tasks.”

Fire offered their free hand to Afton. He looked at it, confused but accepting it nonetheless.

“Until the REAL story ends… and this place ends too… I’m here to make sure you achieve whatever it is to finish it properly.”

“What, like a little henchman?” Afton scoffed as Fire pulled the man to his feet.

“No, more like…” Fire considered for a bit, trying to hold their gaze on Afton and not pull past him, past the world. “More like plot armor.”

“For no other purpose than continuing some story?” Afton continued.

“For finishing the story.”

Fire turned their head to the door, as if they heard something. They slung the flamethrower over their back and walked over to the grill. They closed up the burgers, and opened the lid to the grill. The sizzling meat’s smell wafted over Afton, calming him a bit. Fire flipped it before lowering the lid, and turning to Afton.

“Mr. Afton I hope you remember, in the future, the real reason you hired me. How you got to this point. I hope the story becomes concise for you, because as someone who also does not remember their past… or how the story works… I know it is painful,” Fire picked up the burgers. “Above all, since only you and I seem to notice that something is up, we need to be there when one of us remembers something. Because most likely, it’s not us remembering, it’s us being told to remember.”

“Being told to remember?” Afton questioned, before regretting it. “You know what? Enough. I don’t know how we even GOT this far into whatever crazy conversation this is.”

“Me neither,” Fire shrugged. “It’s something seems to drive the plot of the universe it seems.”

Fire stopped and looked at the door. As they did, it opened. It was Willow, one of three people that Fire referred to as “boss”.

“You have that steak done?” Willow asked.

“Nope, got the burgers though,” Fire motioned by raising them up. “Boss-man Afton here and I were just chatting it up.”

“Alrighty, hurry it up on that steak if you can. And if you don’t mind, William, one of the animatronics is acting up and we need you to look at it. Something about smelling bad as well,” Willow said.

Fire looked at William, whose demeanor changed. He suddenly had a kind smile on, and seemed as if he didn’t have an oddly meta conversation.

“Of course. You go Willow, I’ll get the door for Fire.”

Willow nodded and left, letting the door close behind them.

William looked at Fire with a raised brow. Fire nodded to the door.

“You gonna get that?”

Afton rolled his eyes and opened the door. He went inside, holding it open as Fire walked through. Once Fire entered the dark corridor of the poorly lit building, crossing the threshold, they stopped. They turned their head and moved their body to look back out the door.

Once again they stared at nothing. But was looking right at you.

That is, until the back door to Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza slammed shut.

#fnaf #fnaf au #fnaf rp #IDK how rp really works on tumblr #but writing this was pretty fun #it was also really fast though so #lots of mistakes #doesn't hold ALL the vibes I want #but i think the idea is there #anyways i'll write the TLDR

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kotosnoozy · 3 years

Text

「witness me, old man」

chp 1 - recollections of dinners in eden

1st in a series of yuraven oneshots for my favourite aus, both canon to the tales series and of my own creation. ao3 link in the replies.

1. tales of asteria | recollections of eden 2. modern/coffee shop au 3. tales of the rays | 'it's new years! brave vesperia' event 4. schwann brigade yuri au 5. zestiria setting au 6. modern/band au. ao3 link in the replies.

Claw truly is a fantastic cook.

It’s rare, in honesty, that he gets a chance to taste his food. It’s an offer rarely made - only on those seldom occasions where he comes to seek Raven’s information-gathering expertise, and even then only when he deems his work to have gone above and beyond his expectations. He’s a harsh critic, for a man who clearly knows he wouldn’t personally be able to do the job, though the quality of his food is certainly worth the extra effort Raven has to put in to pass the grade.

He has to chase Norma away from the office on nights like these. At times, that feels harder than the information gathering he has to do to get to this point - she’s stubborn as a mule, and has a good nose for his lies. She doesn’t know about his… side-job, so to speak, and he has no intention of telling her any time soon if he can help it. She’d only nag for a free meal herself anyway, and there’s something special about these evenings he gets to spend with Claw, just the two of them. The addition of a spunky teenager would kill the vibe - even if the teenager in question is technically mature enough to be his business partner.

The only consistent method he’s found is to send her off to the next town over on some errand he swears that only she can handle, that he couldn’t possibly join her and get in the way of her work. Of course, it’s tricky to convince her that there’s anything she could do that he couldn’t - the bulk of their work is, after all, odd jobs and chores for the elderly, but if he bitches and whines enough (“Oh Norma , you know how my back gets, ancient as I am!”) then she’ll finally give in and head off with little fuss.

He gets to put the ol’ bad back excuse to good work when Claw arrives too - he couldn’t possibly help out in the kitchen, he’s so old and slow that he’ll only get in the way, or else mess up the recipe.

Claw, unsurprisingly, is far more skeptical of his tall tales than Norma. But for whatever reason, he’s never once complained at Raven sitting on his lazy ass and watching instead of helping. If anything, he almost seems a little happy about it.

After he does his little dance around the kitchen - finely dicing onions with nary a tear, pulverising potatoes efficiently, mixing it all together with a meat Raven’s tastebuds can never quite place, and frying the little balls of the concoction after coating them in breadcrumbs - there’s a plate of perfectly crisp croquettes placed in the middle of the table. It feels almost criminal to allow them to sit in the same spot that they usually just throw cheap takeout and sloppily-made sandwiches, mouth-wateringly good as they look.

“I really don’t know how ya do it, Cap’n.” he says, polishing off his first and skewering a second with his fork. “Makin’ something as tasty as this with just a couple of ingredients… Y’ ever think ya might be in the wrong line of work?”

Claw snorts in amusement, simply resting his head in his hand with a roll of his eyes.

It’s always like this. He’ll cook enough for both of them (or maybe three, or even four people - Raven can’t deny that he’s a real glutton when it comes to Claw’s cooking), but never eats himself. He simply watches Raven from over his collar, expression indecipherable from just his eyes alone. If it wasn’t something of a routine by now, then he’s sure he’d find the constant dark-eyed gaze unnerving, to say the least.

Instead he just feels guilty - it feels unfair to be the only one eating.

“...why is it that ya never eat yerself while yer here?” he asks tentatively. He really can’t imagine such a high ranking member of Her Highness’s guard suffering from eating-related stage fright, but it certainly wouldn’t be the strangest thing he’s ever heard of.

Claw quirks an eyebrow.

“You know as well as I do that Her Excellency forbids my face to be seen.”

Ah.

How did he let that slip his mind?

“That must be a hell of a pain when you’re on the road with your platoon, huh.” he quips instead to cover his lapse in memory.

There’s a slight change to Claw’s breathing that he doubts he’d notice if he wasn’t so good at his job - the tiniest of sighs. He remains otherwise silent.

G r o o o o w l

...Although the same cannot be said for his stomach, it seems, as it heartily voices its protests. Raven simply cannot stop the wide grin that rises to his face.

Claw’s eyes narrow, no doubt already anticipating what will come next.

“C’mon, Cap’n, you should try some yerself!”

He scoffs.

“It’s fine. I’ll just eat whatever’s leftover when I get back to the barracks later.”

“You know as well as I do that’s a hell of a waste - why let it go cold when you could just eat it right here and now?”

Claw’s gaze narrows further.

“Raven…” he drawls, warningly.

“C’monnnn, it’ll be our little secret! I promise, I won’t tell a soul!” he says, leaning over the table to wave a skewered croquette in his face. Claw’s eyes tick back and forth like a metronome as he watches the morsel, and he thinks he’s almost got him- and then he furrows his brows, eyes clenched shut like a baby rejecting a snack it doesn’t like the look of.

Raven sighs.

“Spoilsport. No one would’ve ever needed to know,” he whines. “‘m just thinkin’ about yer health, Cap’n. Nothin’ more, I swear.”

It happens as he goes to sit up straight - quick as lightning.

He snatches the hand Raven’s waving in front of his face, like a cat pouncing its prey, and hooks a finger over his high, wide collar. Scoops the bite Raven had thought was now destined for him into his own mouth. Replaces the collar as quickly as it left.

It’s maybe 3 seconds at the most. An absolutely miniscule amount of time. But more than enough for a man in Raven’s line of work to get a good look at his permanently-obscured face.

To take in his delicate features - nose long and beak-like, but cheeks far more rounded than he’d expected, pink lips thin yet surprisingly plump, a proud chin despite his round jaw - to be absolutely enraptured by how beautiful he is.

‘Do they hafta keep their faces covered,’ he wonders idly, ‘because they’re all this distractingly beautiful? Or is Claw just a special case?’

He can’t break his eyes away, even after Claw finishes his mouthful, looks up at him expectantly, once more quirks an eyebrow in confusion. His heart is pounding , stirring in a way that feels almost like nostalgia for some reason. He’s hot and cold all at once, cheeks burning but blood like ice, and he longs to reach out and touch him, pull the collar down for a better look, truly commit his face to memory. But then there’s a pain in his heart like a knife, pure grief , and it twists, makes him feel sick to the stomach, and his brain is fuzzy, he doesn’t understand-

“What’re you staring at, old man?”

It feels like being clocked around the head. He scrambles up straight, trying to put as much space between them as he can even as he yearns to be closer.

“Nothing! Nothing at all!”

Claw’s eyebrow climbs ever higher. Raven scrambles for something to say - whatever that was is definitely something to unpack later , if ever at all.

“Anyway, my darlin’ Claw,”

(‘Wait, darlin’??? Where the hell did that come from???’)

“How does it feel to get a taste of yer own food pipin’ hot for once?”

He swears he can see a gentle flush of red to his cheekbones where they peek above the collar.

“...I guess it’s better than when it’s cold.” he mumbles, gaze never meeting Raven’s.

He smiles, satisfied, and does his best to squash down the rest of that strange sensation as he tucks back into his meal.

Later, when Claw is gone and he’s alone with his thoughts, he’ll make a decision. That next time Claw cooks for him, he’ll persuade him to remove the collar again. And maybe he’ll figure out exactly what the lurching of his heart means. Who knows? He might even cook for Claw for a change.

(Something tells him he’s got a sweet tooth. Maybe he likes crepes?)

Little does he know that though certainly, he will receive the offer of Claw’s cooking in exchange for hard work at least once more, never again will he have the opportunity to actually sample it.

((it’s that night that the dreams start))

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astro-break · 3 years

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Thoughts on the 12th ep of Hypmic Rhyme Anima. Spoilers beware

Ep.1 | Ep.2 | Ep.3 | Ep.4 & 5 | Ep. 6 | Ep. 7 | Ep. 8 | Ep. 9 | Ep. 10 | Ep. 11

I am the definition of Fear.jpg rn please help

MTR are so cute, just celebrating their win. Look at how happy they are!

... Oh well thats new. I like how Ichijauku has a tiny bit more agency in throwing out ideas (it really shows how close her and otome trust each other) but it also completely retcons a part of hypmic lore that was established with the Drama tracks. If you’ve heard “” then you know what I’m talking about

SMILING DOPPO HOLY SHIT DOPPO

ahaha doppo i love you so much youre so adorable you deserve to be happy

MTR as a family is just soo good. Both as familial or

Hmm.... yes Samatoki has the right to be angry but that flattens him to a good for nothing thinks first asks questions later type of thug which is absolutely not what his character is. Especially with how the anime portrays him, it seems like there's only one emotion that he feels at any moment and that is anger. Which, fair he is an angry boy, but thats just one facet of his character. He’s also logical and not that sore of a loser, seeing that he still has room to grow (if you want an anime example, refer to the previous episode where he genuinely wonders what he could have done to treat Nemu better)

I think my biggest gripe with the adaptation is the flattening of all the characters TBH. I only really see it in Samatoki since I understand his character the most but I also see hints of it with Rio, Hifumi, and Gentaro. Most of the characters are just flattened into 2D tropes and made to act those tropes out. Which, y’know is the basis of each character but the series has built upon each character so well that its kinda jarring seeing them all so flat

I’m not sayin that I hate what the Anime has done with MTC but I hate what the anime has done with MTC

I expected a “Brocon” “Siscon” fight not this. What the fuck

☆ミ＋。゜H A C K I N G ゜。＋ミ☆

ahaha Ichiro you’re too trusting and pure for your own good

Okay why does all the animation budget go to making Samatoki look hot as fuck?

Ahaha they really do get along like cats and dogs. Jyuto being the voice of reason is kinda weird tho but oh well I can live with it

Tom saying “hai warat~e!” is so cute wtf?????? Lemme pet your head please

GENTARO PICKING UP HIS HAKAMA TO RUN IS ADOARBLE HELP ME

Im getting second hand embarrassment from Ramuda lmao

Slightly suspicious about how these group of reporters know the underground layout of Chuuoku so well

Oh well see I was right to be suspicious

That Unit name is really funny considering the whole Galatic Federation thing ahahaha

Oh that english! that was super clean and enunciated really well

Good intentions, bad execution. His reasoning is a bit flawed but its at least sound

hmmm usually I’d be happy about Doppo giving Hifumi his jacket but in this context not so much. See, Doppo gave it to Hifumi mostly because they had to fight, not because there were woman (which let me remind you Hifumi is deathly afraid of and the jacket acts as a wall between him and his gynophobia)

...... uh Interesting choices of microphones for Secret Aliens. Tom’s is a recording studio mic which makes some??? but not much sense. like Tom is a street photographer, not a radio host. Iris’s mic is.... I’m sorry what is that? Some sort of keyboard and.... something. idk what it is on her finger. And T. Rex just ripped out a purple dinosaur spine, stuck a mic onto the neck and called it a day. Nice

At least their speakers are somewhat better. Iris has Iris plants which. hilarious, but also very modern looking and sleek fitting of her more tech savvy nature as a hacker Theres also phone cameras which makes sense but the butterfly imagery which is present .... Fear.jpg. Rex again just went with a T. Rex Speaker which. Thank you rex for being very predictable, we love you so much. That soundwave looks like DNA too which is cool as hell. Tom.... Idk man Tom are you okay? What exactly is your speaker? are they those aperture umbrella things that photographers use? Im so confused, photographers in the fandom please help

YOOOOOOOOO THAT RAP THOUGH IRIS SOUNDS SO PRETTY?!?!?!? Can she please sing me to sleep? its so smooth and rolling. If I had to describe it, I would say that its the type of voice that I would hope would sing the ballads that I compose, the voice of a mother who still holds on to something after loosing everything she has fought for.

Too bad Iris doesn’t get a verse to Rap in but holy shit what? Secret Aliens just might become one of my fave divisions based off song alone

Ah theres the cancellers. Thats fun, nice to see that there isn’t an adaptation induced plot hole in this One instance. Lets see if they can patch up the other plot holes created because the anime and source material went into different places

Dice, bad. no cheating. Bad dice

Ahaha there the flash bomb. That high pitch wailing was awful though. please never do that again

Hah, typical Ichijaku. We love it

Oh look at them. Working together. How cute. I really like Rio and Saburo interactions mostly because theres so much potential

Oh noooo i worry for FP

That growl from Ichijaku though. That did things to my heart oh my god

Aww I do like that enthusiasm from Ramuda. I do hope that things turn out at least somewhat okay for him. He’ll probably suffer

Wait why is Saburo’s left eye purple? Is it the lighting or something else? I hope its just the lighting bc if anything happens to Saburo i will be very very sad (I rewatched the episode and Saburo’s eye is blue all the way up till he gets hit by Secret Alien’s attack. Even in a brightly lit area, it looks purple... i hope it isn’t forshadowing but then again Saburo’s eye has always been a darker shade of blue so it could just be the yellowish lighting since Ichiro’s red eye looks fuchsia)

Ichijaku with an angry face is kinda hot ahaha. Her deep rolling voice of anger just. Ugh very very good. Major props to her VA for pulling it off

IM FUCKING SORRY WHAT

YOU CAN”T LEAVE US ON THAT CLIFF HANGER?!

WHAT THE FUCK

IM GOING TO GO INSANE

THAT WASN’T EVEN SATISFYING?!?!?!

WHAT THE FUCK

KING RECORDS E X P L A I N

I DEMAND AN EXPLANATION

oh there’s a 13th ep

well thank fuck for a 13th ep bc if they ended the season like that i think id actually cry lol

Ugh so I guess that next week will be the last episode. I was so prepared for today to be the last episode but its kinda surprising that they have 13, slightly different from the normal season

#hypmic #hypnosis mic #hypnosis mic rhyme anima #hypmic spoilers

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