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#they look at media and talk about what is and isn’t good from a real life human perspective

seagreenstardust · 2 months

Text

“When toxic behavior is portrayed as romantic, it’s problematic. When problematic behavior is portrayed as a character flaw for a character to work through, it’s good storytelling.”

Katsuki Bakugou, my friends.

His behavior was problematic but never once portrayed as romantic at the same time. Katsuki said and did awful abusive things, and he also chose to be better when he was given the chance. If you’re still hung up on chapter 1 Katsuki now then I don’t think you’ve been reading the same story I have.

I can’t speak for everyone, but I’m not shipping Izuku with an irredeemable abuser. I’m shipping him with his most important person. His narrative foil. His childhood friend who made awful mistakes and then made it right when he saw he was wrong. The person Izuku looks up to and strives to emulate, despite their past struggles.

Bakudeku is so good because of how flawed these boys are, and how hard they’ve worked to get over it, and how much they matter to each other after it all

#perfect stories about perfect people who never do anything wrong are usually boring #stories about growth and mistakes and redemption and forgiveness and progress are lit #bkdk #bakudeku #the quote is from cinema therapy on YouTube btw #love them so much #they look at media and talk about what is and isn’t good from a real life human perspective #and boy did this quote slap me in the face #anyway this is my thought literally any time anyone says something about shipping Izuku with his abuser #if he was still being abused then I get it #but he’s not #and saying he needs protection from Katsuki is honestly doing his character dirty #and this is not to say that every situation with an abuser and a victim should turn out romantic #obviously not #the world is not black and white and neither are people #sometimes you have to get yourself out and never look back and that is valid and healthy #but sometimes you’re talking about two boys in a manga who literally cannot stop thinking about how good and incredible the other is #bro I get it #surface level chapter/episode 1 Katsuki is literally the worst #but his glow up has been literally meteoric

415 notes · View notes

leclercvsx · 5 months

Text

Shameless | SMAU

Lando Norris

pairings: lando x singer!reader

summary: in which reader is so very shameless that she never ever gets embarrassed for anything she says.

warnings: mentions of smut (?), using other singers music as hers

face claim: Yeji (Itzy)

yourusername

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 1,725,826 others

yourusername: damn i always look so good

TAGGED: Chaer_12

chaer_12: you mean WE look so good

yourusername: no i mean what the caption says

user: her face is just so cute 😭

yourusername: thanks, i bought it from my mother ❤️

user: y/n wtf🤨

landonorris: you look beautiful baby❤️

yourusername: invitation to get on my knees?🤭

landonorris: you’re welcome anytime baby

mclaren: this isn’t helping the pr😔

user: no cos how does she always look so good

user: new album when girlie?

—

landonorris

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo and 935k others

landonorris: p3 baby🧡

yourusername: i gave him the best celebration he could ask for🤪

danielricciardo: i don’t mean to brag but i bought him his favorite takeout 🤷‍♂️

yourusername: i gave him head and my vagina. i think i win.

user: MISS GIRL

landonorris: yeah, sorry Daniel. Y/n won this one

yourusername: 🤭

user: what that tongue do👀

yourusername: wonders. it does wonders.

user: so proud of you😭

mclaren: 🧡🧡

oscarpiastri: 🧡

—

yourusername

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 739k others

yourusername: i love riding lando <3

TAGGED: landonorris

user: GIRL WHAT

maxverstappen1: i don’t think this was something i needed to know😖

landonorris: baby, i think you need to reword the caption🤭

yourusername: YALL CHILL. MY HORSE IS CALLED LANDO COS I LOST A BET

yourusername: get your head out of the gutters🙄

yourusername: but i do also enjoy riding human lando too😚

user: tells us to get our heads out the gutters then OPENLY ADMITS to enjoying what we all originally thought😭😭😭

mclaren: 😃

yourusername: 😉

user: she’s getting too comfortable on these captions y’all

chaer_12: and what about that second picture? 👀

yourusername: i let him have a snack 😚

—

yourusername

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and 691k others

yourusername: never beg for anything in your life🫶

TAGGED: landonorris

landonorris: baby, you were begging for my dick literally 20 minutes ago

yourusername: and i still want it, so hurry up🙄

danielricciardo: you guys do know REAL people can see these right

user: im sorry but lando’s comment😰

chaer_12: i will beh

yourusername: me too

mclaren: yes, don’t beg🫶

yourusername: i beg for Lando’s cock in your garage x

landonorris: it’s true

mclaren: 😨🫨

oscarpiastri: 🙄

yourusername: get lost oscar

oscarpiastri: no

yourusername: well, me and lando had sex on your bed when we visited your house last month 🤫

oscarpiastri: i’m killing myself

—

landonorris

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri and 638k others

landonorris: alright end to the season, until next season🧡

TAGGED: mclaren, yourusername

yourusername: and now you get to spend the next 3 months with me 😍

landonorris: gonna make it so you can’t walk princess

danielricciardo: PLEASE talk about this in dms and not on social media🥲

user: good luck!! 🩷

oscarpiastri: 🧡

mclaren: please behave yourself so we don’t have to apologies on your behalf’s🙃

landonorris: no promises, y/n is very shameless

mclaren: that’s who we’re on about.

yourusername: i’m just bold🙄

——————————

this is so short and just not good lmao but i’ve ran out of plots so pls request some🙏🏼

masterlist | request

487 notes · View notes

ceruleanchillin · 3 months

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141 x Reader: Biker!AU

Note(s) -

1.) Nobody asked for this, but here I am combining two obsessions. Congrats, you’re a biker’s old lady now 🎉.

Any media with hot guys in a group should have outlaw MC AUs

2.) I love roughneck Simon. Please give me more of him. I wanna talk about the guys in this AU so badly, don’t (DO) feed my inbox. BlueCollar!Simon, Mafia!Simon, Mechanic!Simon, Idc I love it all.

3.) If you saw this before, no you didn’t (plus I added more to it). I decided to keep them all together, and it’ll just be long as hell. A long fic stored under a cut never hurt nobody.🤷🏾‍♀️

Simon

Nobody can get him as soft as you. There’s a 3-ringed barrier around his heart. Outsiders < The Club < You.

He loves doing mundane things with you, the kind of things he never saw for himself when he swore to stay single in this life. Like, after a good run fattens his wallet, letting you run wild in the shops.

“C’mon on then lovie, give us a spin.”

You squealed, spinning so the soft fabric fanned around your upper thighs. “I love it! But Si, it’s too much.”

“You let me worry about that sweetheart. Just let me see how it looks comin’ offa ya.” He gripped the very thighs you teased him with, eager for his favorite part besides your smile.

He’d pick up as many extra runs as it took to keep you in small luxuries, as long as he was the one that got to keep that look on your face.

They all have tattoos, but Simon is the king. His body art is top notch, because he’s very discerning with his artists. He’s had the best from Europe to the States. Now, he only trusts Price’s old lady, Johnny, and you.

In fact, that’s how you met. You started your apprenticeship under an asshole who bailed before it was over, and took a chance on the dangerous shop everyone warned you away from. Mrs. Price was everything you were afraid of AT FIRST. You later understood it was because the shop is 141 affiliated, and she had to be harshly discerning to protect herself and her family.

Once you got over that phase, she was unendingly sweet, and dedicated to helping you hone your craft.

Simon saw you when he came to fix the sink in the shop’s little kitchen. You were the only one there, intensely focused on a practice skin arm.

You were beautiful, hair wild from you tugging at in concentration, and your tongue poking out slightly. How long had you been working here?

“I knew you needed a hand around here, but that’s a bit far isn’t it?”

You jumped, startled out of your practice, the buzz of the tattoo gun stopping. “Oh my god! I don’t know what scared me more, you, or that joke.”

The two of you kept each other company in your respective tasks, until he was done. In admitting you were aching to do a real tattoo again, he found himself volunteering on instinct.

At first you resisted, worried about the ethics in your mentor’s shop, and he came up with the genius idea of going back to your place. Smooth Simon.

By the end of the night he was sure he’d never need another artist again.

He’s often as busy as Price, sometimes more so. It takes a lot to run a charter as is, but to establish a table so far from home calls on him more than any other era in his time with the club. On top of that, he often pulls double duty, acting as an enforcer with Konig.

That’s where he really appreciates you understanding, and accepting, his lifestyle. You’ve made a home for him, and he only hopes he conveys how much he appreciates that.

—

He comes home with a headache taking up residence in every corner of his head more and more these days. It was all he could do to kick his boots off, and not collapse on the nearest thing that could hold his weight. His room felt miles away. Downside of living in the dorms.

He drug himself to the clubhouse kitchen, prepared to dig around for some painkillers, when he saw a post-it note on the island next to a napkin with two pills.

Ignore if not Si!

Dinner in the fridge + cake in the dish on the counter. Eat and get your ass in bed with me.

He chuckled, headache long forgotten when he realized you were in his bed. However, his heart and stomach wouldn’t let him ignore the home cooked meal in the fridge, and once he’d savored every bite, he was a blur on his way to his room.

You were curled up in one of his shirts, sleeping soundly on the side of the bed he favored. He stripped, leaving his clothes on the floor, only stopping to deposit his kutte on the dresser, before scooping you into his arms.

“Si..” you murmured sleepily, burying your face in his chest, seeking something to lay on after being picked up.

“‘s alright sweet pea.”

“Glad you’re home, don’t let go.” You were slightly more awake now, but not by much.

“Was never an option.” He got into bed, relaxing in the warm spot you left behind, and situated you next to him in his arms.

Assuming big spoon position, his hands roamed your form, finding momentary purchase wherever they could. He felt a little guilty for further waking you up, but it occurred to him that you must have seen the day he’d had, and had taken the time to attempt to make it a little better. You could be home in your own bed, but you chose to be there for him. He was starving for you.

His lips created the same desperate patterns across your cheek and neck that his hands created on your body. He gripped your thigh, giving the plush skin a squeeze, before hooking your leg back over his.

There was a sharp inhale of air from you, and you pushed back against him, undoubtedly feeling him firming.

He laid his other arm under your head, letting you lay your cheek against his arm as he grasped your face. He tilted it up to grant more access to your skin for his lips.

“Taking care of me pretty bird?”

“It’s what you deserve, baby.” You slurred, squirming in sensory overload at all of his attention.

“Swear m’ going flat hunting tomorrow.” His fingers skimmed over your covered heat, grinning when your lower half bucked.

“‘s what you deserve sweetheart. Somewhere to put all your nesting to good use.”

You moaned rolling your hips back into your solid wall of a man. “Don’t tease me, I can’t help it.”

“Oh, m’not teasing pretty bird, m’ appreciating.”

He’s been called on to do many dark things for the club. Price doesn’t leave room at the table for anyone not to pull their weight, and he’s even tougher on his titled men. However, the darker jobs fall on Simon more often than anyone else, because he’s thorough, and can put the deed away somewhere, somehow, every time.

When he pulls on his mask, and just surrenders to being no one but Ghost, he’s ready to work. He never cared what anyone thought about his actions, he never had to, until you.

You’d been around rough crowds in your lifetime, but Simon was a career criminal, and so was his found family. He was sure some recollection of his deeds would reach you, and that’d be your line. In fact, he was waiting on it.

He was shocked, truly floored, to find that wasn’t what triggered you. It was how you felt he was being utilized. You didn’t like, what you felt, was the unequal distribution of the extreme jobs, and you told him as much.

When he got over his shock, his reaction was fiercely defensive of the club. It was your turn for shock, but he couldn’t help it. He felt judged about the family that owned his loyalty, by the woman that owned his heart.

You were taken aback by his ferocity, but it didn’t change your view. It created a hotbed of tension that threatened what the two of you had built, until he understood why you felt so strongly. Simon was the one taken aback when he realized your intensity came from your love for him, not a judgement of the 141. He still couldn’t wrap his head around someone loving him to that degree. In his heart of hearts, he didn’t think he was worthy of that. That’s how he was supposed to, and did, love you.

He admitted as much when the tired topic reached a fever pitch.

Simon’s close cropped blonde hair was riddled with evidence he’d been running long, frustrated fingers through it. Those same fingers pulled a cigarette from his pack,, and lit it with a calmness that didn’t reflect the current mood.

“So now you tell me what I can and can’t do? That it then?”

You snapped at the accusation, breaking the promise you’d made to yourself not to raise your voice. “I’m not telling you what you can and can’t do, stop reframing what I fucking say!”

“Grow the fuck up, you’re not a bloody baby. You knew what I did when we got together. I protect the group, I’m meant to be the first line of defense. I pull my weight, my life be damned!”

Your eyes widened in shock at the underlying implication of his words. His own expression wasn’t familiar enough to you for you to place.

“The table doesn’t make me do the ugly bits, most times I volunteer.” He flicked ash onto the pavement, his finger tapping with more force than necessary. “Whether I die, or get pinched, I can be replaced. ‘s my job to stand in front of the ones that can’t.”

His chest heaved with trapped frustration, voice guttural, raw with emotion. “That’s my use.”

You couldn’t place a time where your heart had ever hurt for anyone the way it hurt for him in that moment. It was a physical pain, pin pricking across your chest in a wave, and momentarily halting your ability to speak. You loved this man, fuck the moon, he hung galaxies in your eyes, and that’s what he thought of himself?

Simon, studying your expression and not liking the shame it made him feel, turned away. He didn’t know what to do with shame, especially in front of you. He’d said too much, and his mind was racing to find a way to undo it. Stiffening at the feeling of your arms barely meeting around his large form, he fought the urge to pull away.

Your voice was shaky, laden with the tears you didn’t bother fighting the fruitless fight to stop. “I wish I could get you to understand how untrue that is. I wish I knew where to start.”

He turned back around, but refused to meet your eyes. That startled you. Simon had never been afraid to lock eyes with you. He backed down from no one.

“Wasn’t an answer you liked then lovie? Sorry to disappoint.” He said quietly, taking a last drag before he ended the cigarette under his boot, and walked off back towards the clubhouse.

Tears streamed down your face at a faster rate now, and you tried in vain to swipe them away quickly. You weren’t sure what to say. Not then, too much was in the air as it was, and things needed to cool, but this clearly wasn’t settled

You only knew what you wanted to do. Hold him. Hold him until he saw how fucked his outlook was, and how much worth he really had.

Long out of town rides to create a bubble with just you and him. No specific destination, you just ride until you can both believe you’re the only two people you know.

He throws you a surprise party when you get certified as a tattoo artist, and Mrs. Price releases you from your apprenticeship to a chair of your own.

No one can believe Ghost is throwing someone any kind of party, but they don’t dare deny him as he enlists them in different tasks. He took the whole thing very seriously, and left no room for mistakes. No one, not even Soap, was careless enough to spoil the surprise. Simon wanted perfection.

It was obvious to anyone who watched his love struck gaze follow you when you were around, but if anyone doubted it before, they didn’t now. This man loves you.

Simon sometimes comes to you with a design he’s made for his next tattoo. It’s never elaborate, and it’s usually more utilitarian than aesthetic. He trusts you to make it pretty, he knows you will. He just wants to better convey his idea, or so you think.

In reality, he just likes when you praise him, and he can be part of your passion. He’s constantly amazed by your artistry, and humbled that you let him be a part of it. Essentially, you two collaborate on his tattoos in an undeniably intimate way.

He unceremoniously comes to you with a scrap of paper, something he’s sketched over the past few days.

“Somethin’ f’ya to look over when you get the chance.” He mutters before giving you a long kiss and leaving the shop.

You study the lines, shaky but serviceable, and the design clear. Your mind immediately began to think of ways to tie it into his existing tattoo’s style and his tastes. All the while, you kicked your feet, ecstatic that once again, the most complex person you knew was trusting you with this responsibility.

Si had some serious, high quality pieces on his body, and he thought enough of your hand to add to that.

Simon is usually more affectionate when you’re alone. In public, it’s mostly gliding fingers across your back, or a quick brush of his lips across your forehead. BUT, sometimes his intrusive thoughts win, and he has to slap your ass. This can happen anywhere, anytime.

You’re bent over the tattoo chair, disinfecting and scrubbing, and you swear you hear his hand cutting through air before you feel the smack.

“Si!”

“You put it there sweetheart.”

Shooting range dates. You’ve been judged by some of your more…conventional friends, but you’re a gun girlie (which turns Simon on like nothing he’s ever experienced), and you don’t care. They tried to make you feel like he was being inconsiderate taking you there. Meanwhile, it was damn near your demand.

Simon loves having friendly competitions, random kisses, and exchanging shitty jokes. Seeing you get excited, and engaging in a little tech/spec talk about a gun you love, gets Simon bricked up in 10 seconds flat.

You truly believe he’s taken you in hidden parts of the range more than either of your beds at this point.

Makes you keep track of football season when he’s away. Almost put you in a box and mailed you far away from him when you assumed he meant American football season.

“Don’t ever hurt me like that again lovie, I won’t be held responsible.”

Punishes you with edging and cockwarming if you miss any important details. It’s especially excruciating when he’s just returned, and all you want is him to stretch you out. Simon is a mean dom, and he won’t be moved by sympathy.

“Please Si, I only missed one game.” you whined, trying to get him to come back to where he’d just spent time building you up to fall on his tongue, only to pull away at the last second.

He smirked, rising to his feet which clued you into the fact that he really wasn’t going to finish you off then. “That’s a bad girl. Have the missing orgasm to match.”

——-

Gaz:

Lives for where you live. Your little house is his home away from home. Sometimes the gang can be on business that keeps them on the road for weeks, and the last thing he wants when he comes back, is to continue to be locked in close quarters with other guys.

That’s when you know he’s skipping clubhouse life to crash with you for a while. You love it as much as him.

Scented candles and incense, sweet laundry detergent, soft materials, home cooked meals. It’s such a soft juxtaposition to his previous journey.

Your hands are all over him, soothing bruises and kissing him over in mapped out patterns only known to you.

Kyle may not know the difference between a single thing on your beauty table, or much about the things in your bathroom cabinets, but he knows he loves how it all smells/looks on you when he’s running his nose across your skin.

“Baby, I gotta get ready for work.”

Kyle hummed in acknowledgement, but kept you pinned to the overstuffed couch, kissing your thighs in his own personal ritual. The two of you had been sequestered away for two days since he’d been back, but he still couldn’t get enough of you.

“Be good for me love, I won’t make you late.”

“Liar.” You giggled when he pinched you in retaliation. “If you do what it feels like you’re about to do, I won’t make it to the shop until noon.”

“Not a liar babe, you know that better than anyone else.” He pushed your knees up until they pressed against your chest. “I promise, you’ll be the first one there. Can’t say in what state though.”

Being the club secretary, it may seem like Kyle has the plushier job at the table. Wrong. He sees as much action as the other guys, and he likes to stay in shape. That’s fine by you, because you reap the benefits when you get to watch him working out at your place.

Kyle Garrick doing burpees and up-downs in your tiny backyard, clad in nothing but gray sweat shorts, and a thin gold chain against his chest, isn’t a sight that should be free. Yet, after Kyle has finished his mission of witnessing you walk funny at least once, it’s a sight you’re treated to when he sinks back into his home routine.

You somehow think you’re safe to creep-watch from the back doorway while you enjoy your green tea, even though Kyle catches you every time. He just always knew when your eyes were on him.

Without even turning to give you a look he called your name, laughing softly. “I should start charging admission.”

“I was thinking the same thing!” You stuck your tongue out at his back, slamming the door when he revealed he somehow saw that too.

Kyle comes to the salon and hangs with you between appointments. Sometimes he watches you work, and fake flirts with customers to get you more money. He’s great for business.

“Cost a little extra, yeah? But myself, I love a bird that sweats the details.” Kyle’s brown eyes and bright smile were a lethal combination against free will, you knew this for a fact.

The soccer mom in your chair ducks her head under his attention, cheeks filling in with red, as she tells you she changed her mind about the rhinestones.

You appreciate the efforts towards fattening your wallet, but sometimes he’s so effective, you get annoyed and drag him to the break room to remind him you own him.

When you ride with him, he loves looking down and seeing the pretty designs of your nails grasping his chest. Something about the contrast of hot pink, or pearlescent purple against the black leather of his kutte does it for him.

Kyle is definitely on the calmer side most times, especially for his lifestyle, but the fastest way to break that is someone meaning you harm.

You were out at a crowded club with the 141, their ladies, and some friends of the club. It was a celebration of good finances and a successful legal dodge.

The guys clung to a dark VIP section, there for the drinks and victory lap more than the dancing. On the other hand, you and the other girls were not there to sit idle.

After a tense few months, the cause of your respective relationship ups and downs with the guys, you guys deserved to cut loose. The table agreed, with your men shouting words of encouragement and flirtatious innuendo to hype you up.

The whole bar was enthralled by you and the other girl’s dancing, singing, and general untethered energy. It was contagious. You especially, you had a few drinks in you, and all that could currently keep your attention was the music.

There was, unfortunately, one outsider who got a little too enthralled with the performance.

When you peeled away from the group, following the uptempo rhythm, he thought that was his time to make his move.

You felt him press up against you while your eyes were closed, assuming it was Kyle, you almost ground back against him. Then you smelt the liquor. Kyle liked a drink like everyone else, and you’d even seen him drunk, but this was someone who’d been at it for a while. Disgustingly sour, too close, and ultimately not your man.

You sent a sharp hit back with your elbow, turning to confirm what you knew. It wasn’t Kyle. He grunted, but pushed forward again making you hold your hand up in a warning.

“I don’t think so.” you waved him off, laughing at the prospect of entertaining him.

Angered by your laughter, he got bolder, shouting to be heard. “Well I think so, but I’m real interested in knowing why you don’t.”

“Because I said what I said, and I have a man.” You were tipsy, but there was an underlying fire to your words lending them solidity. “Fuck off!”

He bristled at another dismissal. “Bitc-“

Kyle had appeared, most likely having started making his way to you once the man got too close, and clapped him on the shoulder. His expression said that he had heard at least some of what was said.

“Hi baby!” You shouted, a little loud even for the club, but that made it endearing. “That’s my man.” You told the asshole.

“Use your ears before I send you home carrying them.” He was gripping the man’s shoulder so tightly you should see the sharp knuckle bones flexing, his rings catching the light.

The man looked at the kutte, and the expression on Kyle’s face, and the exact moment he realized the man would act on the threat literally became apparent.

If that wasn’t enough, you had the ladies at your back, and the table alert and waiting for the call. It was over for the bastard before it even started.

He raised his hands and scurried into the crowd, aiming for the door.

“I love you baby.” You crooned, throwing your arms around him and covering his face with kisses.

He laughed. “I love you too, even when I know I’m going to be holding your pretty hair back all day.”

When the gang has to have a tense table vote in a briefing, their equivalent to some other mc’s “church”, you always wait for Kyle. As secretary, it’s his job to gather information on other gangs, as well as any important changes in the area, and his council is called on first.

You’re waiting for him right after, inviting him back to your house for the night, knowing he won’t want to stay in his dorm. He won’t show it then, but he’s disappointed, and when you get him home, you let him vent to his mind’s content.

All the while, you’re drawing him a bath, doing a light skin routine on his face, greasing his scalp, and curling up on the couch with his back against your chest.

You know his brothers have his best interest at heart, and respect his role in the club, but sometimes he can get in his head about it, and that’s when you step in.

——-

Soap:

Johnny kept his lifestyle a secret from you at first. You’d only been hooking up for a couple of weeks before you both confessed to wanting more.

The crew had mocked him relentlessly about his inability to keep a relationship casual.

“Give it up mate, you ain’t even foolin’ yourself!” Gaz had clapped him on the back, laughing right in his face. “You start up with a girl right, and it’s over. You’re looking for a house by sunup.”

“Och, piss off with ya! I can keep it casual!” Indignant, and maybe a little drunk, he elbowed the man on the other side of him. “Tell em’ Ghost.”

Simon glanced at him sideways, bourbon halfway to his lips, careful it didn’t spill due to the prodding. “Johnny, some pretty bird starts chirpin’ in your ear and it’s curtains. Now fuck off.”

He couldn’t believe his friends, no — brothers, had such little faith in him.

Cut to a few days later, with him balls deep in you, confessing he wanted more.

“I’ll be good to ya bon, I swear it. I’m all for ya, just be for me?”

The only thing that lessened the embarrassment of proving his friends right, was that you seemed relieved, and admitted it was what you wanted too.

He couldn’t help it. Ever since he’d been patched in, besides the camaraderie, he was enamored with the relationship between Price and his old lady. There were plenty of solid old lady/old man pairings around him, but something about the way the club queen cared for her man, kept the other girls in order, and still maintained a life for herself was astounding to watch.

He couldn’t help chasing that in every girl he’d gotten with since he’d joined up. So many girls wanted the mystique of a sexy biker, but that’s all he was for them. Either a living dildo, or an attraction they could make their friends jealous with. Things never got very far outside of the bedroom. Except once, but that didn’t go over so well in the end.

He wanted that ride or die bond so badly, he couldn’t wait to have the perfect old lady to wife up and fill a house with brats.

With you, he prayed he was it for you, because you had quickly become it for him.

You were a good girl. Specifically, his good girl now. He felt it was highly unlikely you would go for his lifestyle, and so he kept it under wraps at first. He knew he had to tell you at some point, but he wanted to soak up as much time as he could in case you checked out.

“Nah sweetheart, it’s nah like that. We get a little rough, but mainly, we just appreciate bikes.”

“Do ya think I have what it takes to be in a criminal organization? And with ya not knowin’ no less!?”

“Let’s talk about something else bon, did ya ken your thighs look cute warming my ears?”

Guilt eating through him like acid, especially when the club picks up on the fact that he hasn’t brought you around. Anytime Soap has a girl in his bed more than once, he’s parading around the club with her in no time. They know there’s something special about you, and that baffles them even more. Soap claims it’s because you live one town over, which you do, but Gaz calls him on his shit.

He’s hyper defensive, and fights until he’s blue in the face before he admits it’s true. He’s afraid you’ll turn out like the others, or reject him all together. He’s so far gone at this point, he’d rather you use him than leave him.

Price doesn’t like it, and councils him against lying to you any further for numerous reasons. Soap promises he’ll tell you soon, but he’s trying to convince himself as well as his president.

Eventually he couldn’t hide it anymore, but it wasn’t exactly his choice when the curtain got pulled back.

The two of you had been to a late movie, Johnny finally having had time to squeeze in a date with you after a series of back-to-back runs. You’d suggested coming to him for once to take the burden off. Before he could object, you’d admitted that you were already in town, and he’d rushed to meet you.

Though he was nervous about you hearing something, or seeing someone off-color that he knew, he couldn’t deny he loved the day he spent with you.

He never needed a reason to want to kiss you, but something about your soft smile under the parking lot lights compelled him right then. Maybe because your expression said just how content you were to be with him, and he buried that in his heart.

“Wait a minute.” He stopped you, lips on yours before you could ask why.

Parking lots didn’t exactly get safer as they got darker, and emptier, but he couldn’t stop once his lips touched yours. Then you started tugging on the curly hair of his Mohawk like you did when you’d really gotten into things.

He was just about to suggest he stay over at your place, when you were interrupted by a cop. You assumed he was going to warn you about loitering and apologized, but he and Johnny knew that wasn’t what it was about. He called Johnny “Soap”, and you were confused as to how they knew each other.

“Oh, Scotboy here goes back with the law a long ways back home.” The cop tried to clap Johnny on the shoulder only for him to violently dodge it. “Easy. I’m not booking you on anything…tonight.”

You were at a loss for what the cop thought he could book Johnny on, and called it out as harassment. Johnny knew, by the sick expression on his face, that the cop was eager to spill it all once he realized how little you knew about the man you were clutching. He tried to prevent that from happening.

“Yeah well, you’re just wastin’ time then, and we have a drive.” Johnny’s arm tightened around your shoulder as he started to lead you away.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know what he’s told you, but if you were my daughter I’d want you to know. That’s a dangerous man you’re on the arm of.”

“Shut up.” Johnny growled, and he knew you had to be thinking about how you’d never seen him like this, but he’d also never been this angry around you.

“Johnny…” you pushed at him to try and get him to move, but he was rooted in rage.

He knew where the cop was taking it.

“This was when you were a prospect back in England right? The number you did on the guys from that other charter…interpol still talks about it. Oh wait…they never proved it was you did they?”

Johnny thumbed his nose and sniffed, jutting out his chin in utter opposition of the man in front of him. “Nah, wasnae even in the country at the time.”

“That’s right. You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve only read the reports our precinct got when you boys moved to town.” The obnoxious officer bounced his palm off his forehead in a mock gesture.

Johnny felt you squeeze his arm, grounding him for the moment, and he thought you might be saying something. His ears sounded like the Grand Rapids ran through them. A hot rage was settling into his chest, and spilling into other parts of his being.

The smug expression of the cop, one of the ones on the force who’d made things personal with the club was

“Johnny!” You shook him, finally getting through to him. “I want to leave.”

He exhaled, softening at your expression. Little tremors of adrenaline wracked through him, but he still led you towards his bike by a firm grip.

“You know, they included pictures in those files they sent over. What you did to those guys..” The cop whistled from behind you.

Johnny helped you into your helmet, watching as your eyes raced with questions, but you were so good for him. You would wait to ask him.

He brushed his thumbs over the apples of your cheeks. “Ignore him bon. Whatever he says, please.”

“But, the real shame is what happened to Anna.” The cop continued.

In a straight shot, Johnny launched himself at him. “Shut your fuckin’ mouth!”

“They cut her up pretty bad. Was her nose always on the side of her-”

—

He knew it was bait, and he admitted as much later, but he’d taken the active grenade in his hand all the same. The wounds that piece of shit poked were too raw not to, on top of probably killing everything between you and him.

Everything was designed to hit a critical point in him. His past deeds, Anna, and most importantly, you.

All he could think about was if he was going to lose you after tonight, there was no way he wasn’t going to make it count all over the bastard’s face.

The local police had been looking for something, anything, to get the club on, but they’d been too careful. That’s what Price had told you on the way to the precinct. Johnny had dialed for you while the cop was getting back to his feet.

“Was any of what he said true?” You were clutching your purse the way you had since you’d gotten into the car with Price and the club’s lawyer.

“I don’t know what you mean love?” Price looked at you cooly, not giving anything away, though you were sure he knew what you meant.

“Never mind.” You shook your head. “I know it’s true. Did Johnny really hurt those guys? Who’s Anna?”

Price kept his eyes on the road, while the lawyer kept his attention on his phone. The air couldn’t have been more tense,

“You should talk to your boy sweetheart. Don’t let some future desk-riding prick make you doubt the man who’d rip out his own heart just to show you it’s yours.”

You swallowed, hard, and didn’t say anything else until you got to the station.

“Um…I think I’m just going to Uber home. Tell Johnny I’ll call him.”

Price nodded, but his look was disapproving. “‘m sorry to hear that,” he adjusted his dark beanie. “But if that’s what you think is best.”

You did not call him. Not later when you were sure he had been released, and not the next day. You wouldn’t even open the never-ending text thread between you two.

He texted you early enough to be apologetic about it, and you had to push your phone to the far side of your bed to stop yourself from responding.

You went about your daily routine, getting ready for your shift at the diner. Your one room apartment didn’t allow you the luxury of pretending your phone wasn’t blowing up with text messages, but you were too afraid you’d cave if you saw the screen while attempting to silence it.

He showed up at the diner, and you pretended to be too busy in the back until he left.

He waited outside of your place, but you wouldn’t come down, going so far as to turn off the lights when you realized he was there.

No call was answered, no text replied to.

Johnny was a wreck. So much so, that as furious as Price and Ghost had been, as much as they’d come down on him, they weren’t sure he’d even heard it. They saw his regret, he did have his brothers and their families in mind, along with the fact that he was a higher ranked member who set a piss poor example for prospects and basic members.

The fact that his stunt could’ve cost them their freedom. He saw all of that.

But he was HURTING. Physically, mentally, emotionally. It was all Johnny could do to roll out of bed and do the basics before he crawled back again.

All the club girls dropped by his dorm. Some to be flirtatious, which he lashed out at, some to show sympathy.

Mrs. Price and Ghost’s girl were especially gentle. It’s the darkest period in Johnny’s life, even when factoring in the Anna situation. It’s clear to all around him, you’re it for him. His soul is yours, and he’s dying without you.

It was Simon who came to you and changed your mind. He couldn't take seeing Johnny that way. The whole table was worried, but Johnny was a little brother to the taciturn specter. He’d only see him like this once before, and this was ten times worse.

In the early afternoon, the diner’s customers were nothing but truckers and elderly folks. So when the 6’4 blond with trunk-thick arms, and a permanent scowl walked in, there was no ignoring him. You noticed the kutte, and thought about making a break for the back, but his look said ‘try it’, and you thought better of it.

Instead, you wound up in a back booth with him, taking your 15 minute break.

“‘m not the preachin’ sort, so I’ll get on with it.” He stared right through you, lighting a cigarette. “‘s no business of mine what you and Johnny decide to do, but you need to talk to him.”

You started to tell him no smoking, but didn’t feel like exerting the effort. Let your boss deal with it if it mattered.

Your hands trembled, so you put them beneath the table in your lap. “If it’s none of your business, then why are you here?”

”Because, it’s destroying him. You’re destroying him.” He turned for a moment to exhale away from your face, and then his gaze was cutting right back to you. “Lad’s a mess and a half without you. We’ve tried to sort him out, but it’s gonna take you.”

”He lied to me!“ the exclamation left your mouth without a thought to volume control, and you pointedly ignored the stares you knew were at your back.

”You knew.” he said simply. “You may not have known the specifics, and we told him not to do it that way, but you knew.”

Your mouth opened and closed repeatedly, trying to express the million thoughts in your head.

”You may be a town over, but our name gets around. I know you’ve heard somethin’.” He tipped the ash in the glass of water you’d gotten him. “You’re a smart bird by Johnny’s account.”

“If you told him not to lie, then why are you telling me not to be upset?”

“‘m not, ‘m tellin’ you to hear him out. Put him out of his misery, whatever you decide.”

The man left the booth, standing back to his full height and casting a shadow over the booth.

“He’s a right fuckin’ mess. Loves you more than life.”

“More than Anna?” The name that had been swirling around in your mind came out in a semi-bitter question.

There was something that could have possibly been a flinch, but you weren’t sure. It made you regret mentioning it either way.

He stubbed out the cigarette. “He’ll be round yours by the time you get off.”

He was. Looking completely unconfident and nervous about being there. His eyes were bloodshot, and his beloved mohawk showed signs of too many anxious tugs.

This wasn’t what you were used to with the confident man, and you didn’t like it. You understood, you looked the same way, but you didn’t like it.

He was apologizing constantly, between spilling streams of exposition that only served to confuse you, instead of clearing things up. You finally had to tell him it would just be easier if you could ask questions instead, and he sat back and became an open book.

It went all evening, and then well into the morning. Every question led into lengthy conversation.

—

“Who’s Anna?”

“...A good lass who didn’t deserve what she got.”

—

“So it’s definitely more than just appreciating bikes. Why?”

“They’re my family, and they’ve always had my back while lettin’ me be myself. If I have to do somethin’ a lil dodgy now and then, that’s a small price to pay.”

—

“I don’t doubt you love me Johnny, you make it impossible to, but how can I trust you after this?”

“By takin’ the chance to believe me when I say I’d rather die than go through this again. If honesty brings you back to me, I’ll never leave it out again.”

The sun is rising by the time the two of you are talked out. You make him stay, seeing that his sleep deprivation was starting to collect its due. It was you who didn’t sleep while you pet his hair from where he laid on your lap, and thought over your feelings.

He wakes when you inform him he has a phone call. He tells you to answer it, and you realize it’s a gesture towards the honest leaf turn.

He took the time to honesty dump with you, so you admit to him that while you’re still hurt, your mind's made up about taking him back.

It should have frightened you how quickly you sank back into things with Johnny, but what actually frightened you was the reason why. You realized you were just as addicted to him as he was to you. How had you lasted the past couple of weeks?

It’s a mutual obsession, only strengthened by a period of absence. Something he vowed would never happen again.

You let him give you your first tattoo, and you even let him pick the design. He couldn’t believe you trusted him with the honor, and he wound up asking if you were sure five times.

“Baby, yes!” you laughed, squeezing his cheeks as a form of cute aggression over his heart eyes.

This was such an intimate act for him, that he made sure you were completely alone in his dorm room when the day came. The room is spotless for once, sanitized to government standards. You can’t help but notice that he’s lit candles in your favorite scent, and his playlist is all soft music for once.

He spent weeks sketching the perfect concept, and even created variations for your choosing. He went through soooo many pages, unwilling to settle when it came to his girl.

In the end, it was decided, and he got to work on the inner wrist tattoo. All the while, he was checking in with you to make sure you were good.

“It’s just a small piece baby, I’m ok.” You always pressed a kiss to his nose to reassure him and get him back to work.

He looked so handsome, locked in concentration, that it almost completely distracted from the pain. You’d seen him work before, and you loved it, but this wasn’t just work right now. He was giving you something important, and you sensed that.

When he finally finished, he sheepishly, almost fearfully, asked you what you thought.

“It’s everything Johnny. When everyone asks who’s the talent behind it, I can’t wait to say he’s my man.”

Soap has no regard for anyone or any place when he wants you, which is all the time. You’re all over the clubhouse together. The couches, the hallways, the armory. Officially, clubhouse outer-walls are your spots during cookouts.

Gaz walked into the storage room, focused on finding a part for a customer. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed you through the empty space on a tall shelf.

“Hi, eh, Kyle!” All that was visible was your face, and he wondered for a second why you were out of breath.

“Hey (Y/N), what’re you doing back here?” He gave you a side glance and smile, his attention mainly on the organized shelves.

“I’m..” you bit your lip, unable to form another word as your eyes rolled back.

Kyle froze, realizing what was happening. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me mate?!”

“You walked in on us!” Johnny’s indignant cry came from below his line of vision.

Sooo many lunch break dates. Technically, Johnny is on shift at the garage, and should be preparing for the next day’s run, but his best girl needs him :( . You work so hard at that cafe, and they never appreciate you. Not like he does.

So when he takes the work pickup truck to get you, knowing Price has told him a million times it’s not for that, he can’t be bothered to care.

“Johnny, tell me you did not go across town to buy me this sandwich.” You already knew the answer, and you wanted to scold him for neglecting himself again. “You’re gonna be late getting back to the shop!”

“You love it though. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t take care of ya.”

“That’s not the point, you-“

“You’re so pretty baby.”

And you melt and forget to be upset.

You can’t stay mad at Johnny with heart eyes and loving, grabby hands. Especially when those grabby hands start to get a little more focused…

What happens in the work truck, stays in the work truck. Until he gets drunk and brags at a club party….

The fun times were well and good, but Soap knew that the day would come when you got a glimpse at the uglier parts of the life. He barely got you back, and you throwing up your hands and declaring it was all too much was all he could think about.

They’d been having issues with the Shadows MC, and it was starting to boil over. They didn’t like the 141 moving in on their territory, but his table had made it clear that wasn’t up to them. This resulted in many skirmishes he could keep under wraps, but then it came to a head.

They’d hit the Shadows hard at one of their core locations, and in preparation for retaliation, Price and Ghost had called a lockdown. This meant all old ladies, kids, and friends of the club were to hunker down at the club compound until they gave the ok.

The day was here, and he’d been dreading it. He couldn’t very well leave you out there, he hadn’t exactly been subtle that you were his girl, but surely you wouldn’t go for it.

Nothing had been asked of you so far, and he was trying his best to keep from burdening you like the typical old lady. He felt you’d be less likely to leave if he kept the weightier things from you.

He must have paced up and down your street in the dark for over an hour. His phone was blowing up with demands he ‘get his ass back to the compound’ with you, ‘NOW’, but he had to do it right. It wasn’t easy to say “We mowed down some of our enemies, and destroyed their operation, and some guys could make you pay for that.”

He could lose you tonight. He could relive his past.

When he finally did get up the nerve to tell you, he was shocked at how well you took it. He knew you were scared, and you couldn’t have been too happy either, but he loved you for your strength in that moment.

All you did was quietly pack, while his mouth ran a mile-a- minute. Swinging wildly between telling jokes, assuring you you’d fit in just fine with the other old ladies, and apologizing. You kept telling him you were fine, but your smile didn’t reach your eyes.

It took a week to beat the Shadows back. In that time Johnny had been in and out of safe houses, with barely a spare minute to check in with you. If he was being honest, he was terrified.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that when he got back to the compound, you wouldn’t be there. You’d be long gone, and when he went to your place, the things he’d left (so sneakily) would be in a box waiting on the doorstep.

He was so sure of this, that he wanted to go by your place first, but his bone-weary brothers were barely sitting upright on their bikes. Battered and bruised to hell, he couldn’t ask them to indulge his paranoia. The table didn’t like to be too far from each other until they were fully assured they were whole back home.

He was the last to walk through the door, to the shock of his brothers, but he didn’t want to tell them he was probably about to scream his throat raw when he saw you weren’t there.

He clenched and unclenched his aching fists in anxiety. ‘Just look around the room you daft fucker!’ He mentally scolded himself.

He didn’t get a chance to. You barreled into him, arms locking around his neck. He stumbled back, weariness and shock combining to make his footing unstable, but his back hit the solid metal door behind him.

“I was so fucking worried.” You whispered into his neck, and he felt his neck dampen with what he presumed were tears.

“I was too…” he admitted, finding it in him to grip you to his person with a desperate strength.

Relief flooded his body when you started pressing kisses all over his face, and all he could do was stand there. Receiving your love.

“Oh!” You tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let you. “Johnny put me down, the girls told me about how tired you guys are when something like this happens. You should be resting.”

“I’ll get to that bonnie, just keep kissing me like that.” He whispered, hands slipping into the back pocket of your jeans to keep you close.

You took over as soon as you got him back to his dorm room. You helped him undress, made sure he didn’t collapse in the shower, and even straightened his precious Mohawk while he struggled to pull on the sweats you’d grabbed him. All the while, awkward apologies from him. From you, excited recollections of all the things you’d learned from the strong women around you over the week.

Johnny supposed he had them to thank. In the back of his mind he’d been wondering what flipped the switch, and gifted him the kind of welcome home he used to envy the taken members of the club for getting. You were the best girlfriend he ever had, but an old lady was something else, yet here you were, excelling at that too.

And later, in his room after the hot shower, he collapsed face first on the bed. It took one, deep inhale of the fresh linen to know someone had done laundry. He exhaled with a hum, openly appreciating the clean scent.

“Yeah, you can thank me later.” You laughed, entering the room from his bathroom.

Johnny heard the sound of a lid pop, but was too far gone to look back and see what it was. Then you straddled his back, your soft hands kneading out a week’s worth of tension, self-inflicted and otherwise. He groaned, feeling the soothing lotion follow your hands over the peaks and valleys of his muscular frame.

“Addin’ this to my tab then?” He slurred, half in the dream realm, half with the love of his life.

“Yep, but I know you’re good for it.” You leaned down, nipping his ear, and making him mewl in frustration as he hardened against the mattress, knowing there’d be nothing he could do about it at the moment.

He used the last of what he had to flip you over, mentally cataloging the adorable squeak you let out. Cupping your cheeks, he shared a soft look with you for just a moment, before he sealed his lips over yours. All he could do was hope you could feel everything he wanted to say behind the movement of his lips.

Judging by your soft sighs, he guessed you could.

He pulled away, settling half on you, half off. “I’m settlin’ my debts soon as I’m up hen. Bet on it.”

He makes Ghost promise to take care of you if something ever happens to him.

“Johnny, shut fuck up,” Ghost glared at him, faint facial scars following his frown. “You’ll outlive us all.”

Johnny stared at him from across the meeting table, more serious than a personification of the sun had any right to be. They were the only two in the briefing room, for some reason the place felt sacred enough to Soap for such a request.

“‘m serious VP, that’s ma heart, I love her.” His accent thickened with emotion, and he sipped his bar as if to wash it back.

His fingers flexed around the sweating glass. “‘m gonna marry her.”

“Lads and I knew that the first time you talked about her.”

Soap smiled at that, but his expression quickly returned to its serious state. “Sweet girl and me have been talkin’ about kids, preferably after.”

A fond quiet bloomed between them at that admission. The two of you had told no one else, and Johnny felt guilty violating your pillow talk confessionals, but he hoped it would get Ghost to agree.

“Want that more than anythin’ VP, but I can’t pull the trigger until I know they’ll be looked after.”

“The club-“

“Not just the club!” He ran a hand through his mohawk in frustration.

Why couldn’t the stubborn fucking giant just agree?

“I know the club will look after them in general. I know I can trust our table, hope I can trust the other charters.” He sighed, refocusing. “You’re my best friend Simon. I just have to know my girl, and my bairn, would always have you at their back. If I died.”

“Wouldn’t happen. I’d lay my life down so you could make it back-“

Johnny shook his head, choosing not to repeat himself. Instead, he gave his friend a pleading look.

He could see a storm of thoughts and emotions competing for dominance in his friend’s mind. His expression didn’t change much, but it was in his eyes if you knew him.

He saw why Simon was resisting, he didn’t feel worthy of being looked to in that way.

Finally, Ghost responded after grinding his cigarette out in the dish on the table. “Promise the same f’me then. I’ve fucked her life up enough, shouldn’t still be doin’ it when I’m gone.”

“On my honor.” Soap didn’t even have to think, it was an instinct.

“Then tell your missus you’re ready. I’ll cover my end.”

———

Price:

Head honcho. Chief. The Boss. Captain of the ship. It’s all the same no matter who calls him what, President Price is in charge.

He founded the club after leaving his original due to lack of loyalty, and thoughtless endeavors. He works overtime to make sure his club doesn’t fall in the same way. His code of ethics may not make a lick of sense to anyone outside of the outlaw life, but they’ve garnered the respect and admiration of some of the toughest men around the globe.

They’d follow him through hell because they know he’d be the first one in.

When they’re on a run, selling guns or attending a meeting in neutral territory, John’s mind is all business until business is done. Then it’s all you. He loves hearing his guys talk about how they’re going to spend their new check, or swapping stories about their old ladies. Sometimes, he even joins in.

But what he really wants to do is celebrate with you. Most times you’re already up at the compound. Seeing to the legitimate businesses, taking care of the girls, helping the member’s families, etc.

He respects what you do, what you’re capable of, beyond borders. However, he can’t help but be jealous. You always come to him first, tight hug and a long soft kiss, but then you’re quickly looking over his guys. The men revel in it, almost becoming kittens under your motherly ministrations. Especially Soap and Gaz, who you’re in the same age group as, but you scold all the same.

When the last man has been sent on his way, he’s dragging you away to the little bedroom off his office. He knows you find it amusing, to see his selfishness win out over any tiredness he’s feeling.

Before the door can even close, he’s pulling you close and kissing you his favorite way. A kiss he didn’t know he was capable of until you became his wife. Anytime he was gone too long, you did something that knocked him off his feet, or your affection wasn’t directed solely at him, he kissed you that way.

He cradled your head, holding you steady when he pressed his lips to yours. He left no room for there to be room between the two of you. Rough thumbs slid under your chin, tilting your head up slightly before he slid his tongue between your lips. He knew he had to release you soon, let you remember how to breathe, but it was hard to fight the hunger.

“Nothing flatters me like my big biker husband being unable to share me for two seconds.” you teased, but your teasing came out in short puffs, as your lungs weren’t cooperating with you at the moment.

He could feel you swaying, going dizzy, and he brushed his beard over your ear to make you squirm before he said. “Jump love.”

You did, feeling his heavy hands grasp your thighs seconds later. He slid your legs over his hips, encouraging you to lock down around his waist.

“I’m just making sure you take care of what’s yours.” he thrust upward, hardness touching. “I promised it to you that first time.”

He laid you across the bed, staring down at you with a darkened smirk. “Take some responsibility for the state of your possessions.”

He’s the head of an organization that now exists in several countries. All that responsibility is tiring, even for a man so skilled at navigating it, and there’s been many a day when all he can do is lay his head down for the pain of the headaches.

You can’t count how many times you’ve come up to the club when he didn’t come home, only to find him furiously puffing a cigar and downing shots to dull the pain.

The guys had families to feed, there were good men behind bars for them that needed to be taken care of, he had tables back home that needed guidance, there were property expenses, legal retainer fees, and more. Much more.

That meant more risky non-legit work, which meant stretching the legitimate business to cover what that brought in. He had to know when it was time to expand, when it was time to halt, and when it was time to move to something else.

But he’s just a man, one man, and you’re there to remind him of that.

“John?” You had been expecting to find him in his office, but the moment you stepped into the club house, you saw him at the bar.

He wasn’t alone.

Phillip Graves, president of the Shadows MC finished off his drink and clapped John on the back.

“We’ll talk again.” He nodded his head towards you with a wink and a smile. “Ma’am.”

Your narrowed eyes followed him out of the door, remaining there until his motorcycle’s engine was a distant roar. At that point, you turned back to your husband.

He was gripping his forehead, lit cigar balanced on the heavy crystal ashtray next to him. The last remnants of whisky mingled with the melting ice in his glass, which he threw back before attempting a fake smile.

”Hello darling, you just close up shop?”

”Yeah, and I got home to find my husband wasn’t there. What the fuck John? You said you were going to work on this.”

You tossed your purse on the counter. “And Graves?! I can’t even-“

”(Y/N), don’t start.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I do not have that in me right now.”

Sighing, you placed one hand on his back, using the other to put out his cigar. He protested with a disapproving grunt, but was too tired to do more than that. Your face softened at that realization.

He pushed back from the bar a little, allowing you to slide onto his lap, legs splitting over his thighs. “I’m just worried. You can lead a table, you can lead the whole organization, but you can’t carry the whole thing on your back.”

You cupped his head like he often did to yours, and massaged the base of his skull. His eyes slid shut, body going lax, and he practically purred.

Leaning down, you scattered gentle kisses on his face, careful to leave no spot untouched, before going in for a whiskery kiss. It was here John took over, thanking you for the attention.

“You know that it’s not you I don’t trust right?” you asked between kisses. “It’s him.”

“I know, and you know I value your judgment.” He got underneath your shirt, hands rubbing your sides slowly.

There was a moment of domestic peace and quiet. You massaging his temple, and he massaging your sides. Though you trusted the capable man going soft under your hands, you hoped he wouldn’t regret whatever Graves was bringing to your door.

John doesn’t come to your shop often, but it’s not because he doesn’t support your career. It’s because he can’t watch you work for very long without wanting you biblically on every surface.

You love his open attraction to you, so it’s not exactly the easiest thing to ignore. No matter how much you try to stay focused on the job, the man is the love of your life, and he looks handcrafted by god.

Hunched over a client’s thigh, your brows were drawn in concentration on the elaborate Victorian cameo piece.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see John lounging in the plush desk chair he’d dragged over. A good distance to respect your client, but close enough, he could keep eyes on his favorite person.

Your client was amused, laughing through a wince, she nodded in John’s direction. “You’ve got a not-so-secret admirer.”

“I’ve been caught lovely, what to do now?”

”Ignore you.” You quipped before glancing up at your client. “He’s my husband.”

”Oh,” she hummed. “That explains the heart eyes.”

At that, you did have to look up, instantly wishing you hadn’t. It was a visual trap.

John, sitting there like the king he was, manspreading with no shame. Black beanie, tight jeans, dark sweater with his royal kutte draped over the sweater, and leather boots. You told him more than once he could model, to which he feigned offense.

“Focus on your work.” John admonished, but the smirk he said it though was pure sin.

Your eyes had strayed below the belt, and John was fully aware of this. Reveling in it really.

”Don’t you have a bike to fix? A prospect to bottle feed?”

”Nope,” his arms crossed behind his head, an action you saw out of the corner of your eye. “I belong to my missus this evening.”

Your client cooed, undoubtedly enjoying the banter between you and John. You did too, too much, and his bit about belonging to you made you have to pause and readjust yourself.

”Every evening really.”

”That’s nice John.” You hissed, lifting the gun from her skin to wave him off.

Your client laughed, trying hard to hold herself steady for you.

“Don’t encourage him.” you turned yourself at an angle slightly, trying and failing to ignore him.

“Well, it’s really far more than just evenings isn’t i-“

You lifted your foot from the pedal, and placed the tattoo gun on the tray next to you.

“Kitchen, now.” You gave your client a sheepish smile. “We were due for a break anyway hun. Can I get you anything?”

She was visibly entertained by you and John, after all, the two of you had become a legendary couple in these parts for a reason.

“I’m good, take your time.”

John winked at your client, strolling behind you into the back. You waited until he was in the kitchenette before sliding the door closed.

”You’re such an ass.” But your hands were already under his sweater, running up and down his chest.

You appreciated that he took up so much space in the little room, forcing the two of you together. You could blame the room’s dimensions for being all over him, and not your unwavering attraction to the man.

“I haven’t seen you in 15 hours, yes, I counted. I’m always counting when it comes to you. You can’t ask me to behave.”

Large hands slid into your hair, fingers interlocking to cradle your head. He didn’t even have to pull you in to kiss you, and he grinned, clearly also appreciating the size of the space.

“You think she’s a big enough fan to give us thirty?”

You actually have three rings. Your engagement ring, your wedding ring, and one of John’s rings that he gave you the first night you fucked.

In the quiet of the briefing room, somewhere you were surprised to be, you sat on his lap. The two of you soaked up the afterglow, the party raging outside fading to a dull noise outside of your own world. Coming down from your high, you let out a soft noise of surprise when John gripped your hair to kiss you with one hand. The other hand grasped your own, the one that had come to rest on his chest when you’d ridden him into his throne.

He slid the silver, braided band onto your ring finger, promising. “The first to come”

He loves to get in the ring and show off for you. Sometimes, there’s a loud mouth from a visiting club, or another table visiting, and John takes them to the ring they have in the back of the club’s compound.

Usually, it’s Konig’s or Simon’s domain, but it’s not because John doesn’t love dishing it out as much as them. That becomes apparent when he delivers careful, strategically brutal, blows to his opponent. Enough to win, and then a few more to humble.

You had long ago stopped lying to yourself about how much it turned you on. So when John emerged from the ring, panting, abs catching the compound’s lights on a sheen of sweat, you always dragged him off. Under the guise of cleaning him up of course ;).

John’s breeding kink goes wild when he sees you with a baby, or any kid really. He’s been around the club life long enough to see many couples welcome kids. One of the first outings the two of you made as an official thing was to the hospital to see the birth of a member’s baby.

His old lady bonded with you, and you were quickly given child holding privileges. It came so naturally to you, and John felt what he figured the two of you would get to eventually quickly build itself a home in his chest. New Kink unlocked: breed you on any surface he could find.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away, it was hypnotizing. His family around him saw it for what it was. Their president had this future scene, starring you and him, written all over him.

He thought the intensity of it was something he had to keep under wraps until he noticed you had the same feelings.

Baby showers, shopping for 141 babies, school drives and charities the club did for the local youth, seeing cute kids on social media. It didn’t matter, John caught on to the fact that you fucked him like a feral rabbit whenever you got that maternal glint in your eye. He didn’t call you on it until after you were married. The day when your shop receptionist went on maternity leave.

You’d been going on all through dinner, and then while doing the dishes, about how cute the kid would be, and you loved helping her with her nursery, and how she was already glowing. The more you ranted, the harder he got, until finally, he trapped you against the counter.

“I reckon it’d be easier to just say you want to be a mum.” he lifted one leg to his waist, and bucked against your clothed heat. “Say it.”

You stammered, eyes wide, pupils blown. “J-John..”

“Say it.” his voice somehow found a lower octave to sink to, choked with desire.

“What are you talking about?” you whined, embarrassed at being found out.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I’m hard as steel love, you feel that?” he grabbed your wrist, kissing the knuckles before quickly brushing them over his length.

“That’s how bad I want to make you a mum, can’t you just admit it too?”

Tilting your chin up, he placed tiny kisses under your chin, purposely dragging his beard across the soft skin after each kiss.

“C’mon then, tell your husband the truth so I can give us what we both want”

You whimpered, clutching the fabric of his t-shirt. “John..”

“Go on, invite me in.” he slipped his index finger in the top of your panties just enough to play with the elastic. Stretching it until it threatened to fly back against your skin before he eased it back in place.

You moved forward in an attempt to make his finger slip lower, and he laughed darkly, holding you in place. Shaking his head, he repeated his precious statement.

“Give me a baby John.” you huffed, frustration rising until all that you could do was spill the truth.

Gasping, you felt the cold tile of the counter beneath your thighs. You tried to process how he’d gotten you up there so fast, but your mind didn’t want to focus on anything other than your husband kneeling before you with the most determined look you’d ever seen.

As he slipped your panties and pajama shorts down your legs, he whispered how it’d be best if you prepared an excuse for work while you could still think straight.

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heartsteel-heartbeats · 6 months

Text

More dating Heartsteel Kayn HCs (Birthday + Halloween Edition! ft. Rhaast)

Brief mention of drinking, but doesn’t go into full detail.

(( Happy birthday to this silly guy!! 😚😚 )) ~ OBBY 💗

You’ve known Kayn’s birthday was on the 30th and not the 31st thanks to a certain K/DA member texting him at a very unfortunate time, but you did enjoy the idea of celebrating both days in general. Kayn, on the other hand, prefers the 31st because that is what he says his birthday is. It doesn’t hurt to just simply indulge him. If he wants his birthday on the 31st, who the hell are you to say? Don’t let that stop you from doing something fun on the 30th though. Try to take advantage of the fact he has a habit of staying up very late. As long as you two aren’t caught, perhaps you could get away with a thing or two. Maybe a little spray paint to liven up this boring alley right?

Kayn might catch on to what your intentions are and he will tease you about it and telling you his birthday is tomorrow, but he truly does appreciate what you’re doing. Any moment he can spare just to be with you is everything to him.

“Is this for my birthday? You know that’s tomorrow.” “Whattt? Of course I know that.” “This is for my birthday, isn’t it?” “Totally not.” “It’s totally for my birthday!” “It’s past midnight anyway! It’s your birthday right now!”

On the 31st, do expect Rhaast to make an appearance. In fact, it may or may not have been his idea for you to dress up like him. He thinks it’d look cool, and luckily for both of you, some people seemed to have the same idea to dress up as him. Of course, it’d be obvious to tell which one was the real Rhaast, but you? The media can just say you were just a “mysterious talented artist” who practically nailed the costume. At least they never got a picture of your face or even your name, and they’ll never know that you actually got help from the man himself.

Rhaast does eventually escape from the crowd just to go to you and drag you onto a rooftop to watch everyone else. Does he make fun of other people’s attempts to dress up as him? Absolutely.

“[name]! Look at that one over there!” “A for effort, at least.” “No, that’s too high! Bump it down to C tier.” “Hah! That’s a little harsh, don’t you think? Not even low B tier?” “Not at all!” “Oh come on, look at that one. That one’s not that bad, right?” “Ugh, more like cheaply made.”

Rhaast himself is pretty anti-paparazzi. Not in the “literally blinding in the camera” kind of anti-paparazzi, but rather the one that tends to scare them away quite literally. Popping out of nowhere with a loud “BOO!” and a boisterous laugh. Although in general, Rhaast is just really hard to get a good picture of if it’s not during a show. I mean have you seen him? Look at him go.

tbh he’d probably scare some kids too

Since we’re talking about Rhaast, let’s talk about your relationship with him. He loves you. In fact, he’s the one that pushed Kayn to approach you when he realized how Kayn felt about you. In a way, you could say this relationship is polyamorous. Rhaast still gets very jealous if he’s not let out to have time with you, though it’s not so different with Kayn. Both of them can get pretty jealous in general.

“You’re such a wimp! Just do it!!” “No..!” “Oh come on!! They’re perfect! You even thought it!” “Well-! Yes, I did! But-!” “They even love the way I work things! If you want them, you have to get them before someone else does! Have you seen how that other guy was looking at them earlier?!” “I am not doing it.” “What’s that saying? “The worst they can do is say no”? Just do it Kayn!!" “Ugh! Fine! Tomorrow." "Pussy."

Rhaast was Kayn's personal alarm that next morning. He wasn't going to let Kayn forget the plan. Let’s just say he was a bit of a mess when he finally came to you thanks to Rhaast, but when you said yes, he was ecstatic. Kayn struggled trying to keep a straight face when all he can hear is Rhaast yelling triumphantly. That was also the day you realized Rhaast wasn't just his "alter-ego," but rather a whole other person that only Kayn hears and lets out time to time. Well, you did like Kayn, and you did like "not simply an alter-ego" Rhaast, so it worked out.

He definitely tried scaring you a few times. Maybe he succeeded, maybe he didn’t, but he’s done a handful of things to you and others to try and get a reaction. Maybe you grew a resistance to it overtime and your reactions gradually changed.

Rhaast does let you snap some pretty cool photos of him which probably includes him doing dangerous stunts. Still, seeing him go do what he loves to do without anything to stop him was nice. That didn’t stop you from being worried if he’ll actually get hurt, though. He sometimes teases you on that. To be fair, he does this all the time and comes out unscathed.

Heading towards your next destination (which would be wherever they had agreed to celebrate his birthday) had to be done with the two of you doing in different routes so that attention wasn’t drawn to either of you, or to you specifically. Wouldn’t want too many speculations now, though it is fun to see the fans create their own thoughts on the matter. They were either entirely wrong, or they were so close to the truth. You were going to meet up again a few blocks from the location, and of course, he was there first waiting for you in a wall just to kind of surprise you. You were greeted by Kayn instead of Rhaast, and he lifts the mask on your face to give you a kiss.

“Hey there gorgeous~” “Hey yourself. Were you just standing in that wall the entire time?” “Guilty as charged. You’re so slow.” “Says the one who can walk in walls.” “Yeah, but you love it when I do it.”

Serves as good time to just walk and chat now that you’re away from the crowd. Most people, and kids, would be at home and maybe sleeping by now, so the streets are rather empty.

“Not that I’m complaining, but are you here because Rhaast is tired?” “If I let Rhaast drink to his heart’s content, none of us will be going home.” “Since when did that ever stop you?” “Yeah… But Yone won’t be letting me off the hook, so I’m unfortunately at a limit.” “And on your birthday. What a shame.”

Whether this is your first time meeting the rest of Heartsteel or not, it’s safe to say you get along with them fairly well. Ezreal wanted all the details, but gets cut off by Kayn who would pull you away from him. K’Sante and Alune are always fun to talk to, so if things get too rowdy, you can run to them and chat for a while.

You’ve spotted Aphelios taking pictures of some stuff happening, like how Kayn and Ezreal are still bickering which he’ll post somewhere later. He’ll probably go to you to show you some photos he took of the others a few days or weeks prior. There was even a photo of Aphelios and Kayn beating Sett with plushies and pillows (Ezreal took the photo). He’ll send it to you if you ask.

You know those little charms he has on his belt of Rhaast and his shadow assassin form? Your gift to him were matching charms of you and him. He wears the charm of you with so much pride, he loves it so much. You're even placed between the two he already had. No one would suspect a thing either if they see your little charm of Kayn. It's normal for people to have silly pins and charms of their favorite artist, and if anyone asks where you got it from, just say you made it yourself. It wasn't a lie after all.

It’s safe to say both Kayn and Rhaast had fun on their 48 hour birthday.

#obby’s scripts!#WOO FINALLY #dude i like #love the idea of Kayn and Rhaast having an Eddie and Venom relationship here?#heartsteel #league of legends #league of legends heartsteel #heartsteel kayn #lol kayn #shieda kayn #league of legends kayn #kayn x reader #league of legends headcanons #league of legends rhaast #rhaast #league of legends x reader

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salteytakesonmanga · 8 months

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Your explanation about retconing made me think Oda's way of writing is exactly what bring people to think he has every single thing planed down from the start, even if he didn't.

The story has been going on for 20 years, and Oda himself has admitedly had ideas along the way that he added. But the fact he's still able to connect every new idea instead of having to retcon things is what makes one piece feel so perfectly planned and tied.

Anon, you innocently sent me this ask to share your thoughts and unknowingly triggered one of my rants. I’m sorry/thank you.

Anon is referring to this post.

Oda is just a good writer! He is good at the craft of writing! Even if you don’t like the story (I’m assuming you do, but for people who don’t…) it’s just WELL WRITTEN. People really aren’t used to seeing good writing anymore, to seeing tropes deployed effectively and having plot lines actually connect. This isn’t just me being cranky and old, it’s just truth. People are talking about this in film, TV, books… One Piece has been around so long that it comes from a generation of storytelling that is vastly different from our modern media landscape.

I think people are burned out on the way modern storytelling never delivers (looking at you, JJ Abrams) or constantly jerks people around to elicit a reaction, all for the sake of nabbing that viral moment. When they see Oda deploy a trope or a storytelling device they’re immediately suspicious and fearful that it’ll turn into another unsatisfying gotcha. They rush to look for proof that it’s either all part of a detailed master plan, or it’s just a cheap trick to sell more issues.

In both cases, people are looking for a reason to be LESS INVESTED in the story. If he has a master plan, they don’t need to get worried or excited because it’s all heading to some inevitable conclusion that’s been clearly telegraphed and once you’ve cracked the code then you can already tell what the ending will be, so you don’t actually have to care. If he’s winging it, then the story is just a sequence of loosely connected meaningless scenes whose only purpose is to get you hype about a plot leading nowhere, so you don’t actually have to care.

And it breaks my fucking heart.

When it comes to One Piece, so many people are insistent that One Piece is EITHER 100% planned in advance down to every minute detail, or Oda is completely winging the whole thing. But the real answer is somewhere in between, in some muddy grey area that people find really unsatisfying. They want one clear answer that they can hold up as “The Right One,” but life is not made up of black and white answers.

Honestly it makes me really sad that people can read ALL THIS - pirates are evil except actually pirates are good and the Marines are evil except the Marines are trying to protect civilians by keeping countries stable so that's good except the rulers are evil tyrants so that's bad except when they’re not and then they’re good but only sometimes and… - and what they come away with from it is, “Okay but what’s the RIGHT answer.”

The thing that makes One Piece feel like it’s so cohesive despite Oda constantly changing his mind and making shit up is that he has a very strong and clear idea about what’s actually important to the story and what’s flexible. Because he has that as a guide, he can add the Shichibukai and change Vivi from a villain to a princess and make up who Ace’s parent is without diluting what he wants to say.

That’s what it MEANS to be a writer. Foreshadowing isn’t “boring,” it’s good writing. A plot twist you didn’t see isn’t “cheap,” it’s good writing. Fleshing out a backstory isn’t “reconning,” it’s good writing.

#anon ask #asked and answered #saltey takes on one piece #sorry to bombard y'all with these walls of text #saltey says #<- is the tag to block if you don't want to see them

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billskeis · 4 months

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tom fluff please

ᡣ𐭩 tom w his new hair do

a heavy sigh was heard from the front door, your boyfriend had just came home from a hair appointment the both of you were anticipating. as shoes shuffled, waiting to be taken off, you ran at the speed of light outside your bedroom and beelined it for the front of the house.

“hi baby! let me see your hair,” you almost tripped going down the stairs due to your hurries to see tom’s new hair.

“sorry schatzi not right now..” his voice and breath was thick. he sounded upset, as though he just didn’t want to talk to you or anyone at the moment.

you didn’t want to pressure him into showing you, but he seemed so excited before he left? what happened?

he places a kiss on your cheek and heads towards the bathroom, you stand there, confused. next thing you hear is the sound of the bathroom door being locked, and tom never locks the door.

what’s going on?

you knock on the door, “tom? what’s wrong?” silence. you didn’t hear anything from behind the door, until he finally spoke for after what seems like forever, “n-nothing baby.. just, give me a minute i’m taking a shit alright?” you let your hand rest on the doorknob for a moment.

at this point you just thought to leave your boyfriend alone, maybe with some time, he will show you. ready to leave the foyer, you take your first step to go back into the bedroom to wait for him.

that was until you heard the door creak open and a sniffle.

whipping to turn your head around, you’re faced with your boyfriend who’s head is down. he has a hat covering his head, unrevealing his new hairdo to you. you witness a couple of tears fall from his face to the floor, “baby! what’s wrong??”

“will you like it?” he says every word with a sniffle following after. his voice is shaky, how could tom be so upset after something so exciting? “like what?” “like my hair..”

you soften your gaze at him, you rub circles on his shoulder to comfort him knowing how much he loves physical touch. feeling him ease under your touch, he begins to remove the hat, slowly, you bite your lip in anticipation.

not about the new hair, but how sensitive your boyfriend is. you’d love it regardless to what he’s done to it.

“the media.. it’s only been a few hours since i’ve gotten it done. four fucking hours. but those four hours let people to just—fuck, say shit.. mean shit..” “like what baby?” “go back to your old hair, you’re not as attractive anymore, we don’t like this new hairstyle, blahblahblah—like i can’t fucking take it anymore schatzi..”

you bring tom into a warm embrace, his head immediately falls into your shoulders, nuzzling his head into the crevice between your neck and head. because he’s taller than you, he has to lean a bit down.

and despite the size different between the two of you, he feels so safe within your arms.

“oh tom… don’t listen to them, come, raise your head and let me see.” you let go of your boyfriend so he can show you the new hair he got.

they’re braids, he also went from his lightbrown matt locks to black hair. and god, did he look so fucking hot.

“what!! tomi you look so incredibly good with them..” “my so-called fans don’t think so,” you cup his face with both your hands, his cheeks are soft. you use your thumb to wipe away the tears still shedding.

“then they’re not your fans.. real fans would appreciate and love the new look, i know i do!” he looks at you, eyes all glossy and shiny. tom smiles slightly feeling more comfortable in the compliments you unleash at him.

“my beautiful, handsome boy, how could anyone ever hate this new look? i love it…” he turns his head a bit to kiss the inside of your palm, “thank you, thank you liebling. you don’t understand how much i really needed to hear this,” “anytime! it’s my duty, isn’t it?” “that it is.”

the two of you share a laugh, “now come, let’s get you into bed yea?” you take your hands into his and lead your new, dashing boyfriend upstairs.

“y/n baby, you haven’t stopped touching them ever since we got into bed,” the two of your bodies are intertwined with another, a movie playing in the background as this is how you guys wanted to unwind for tonight.

“not my fault! i’m toootally obsessed, i mean, no sane person wouldn’t be!” “i guess you’re right.” finally, he agrees. he’s been so insecure since this afternoon, and after some time, he’s finally getting used to the hair.

you twirl one of the braids in between your fingers, asking him a bunch of questions such as how long did it take, who did them, and how do we take care of them. to the opposite of your surprise, tom was able to answer all these questions.

you really liked hearing him talk, the reason for this was to also let your boyfriend ramble and forget about all the negativity from earlier.

he was so cute, the way his lips curled upwards into a smile as he mentioned how nice the ladies were when they were doing his hair. the way he licks his lips to wet them after his mouth gets dry from talking too much.

oh, and don’t forget the eye contact.

he will look at you the whole time, endearingly, he will probably tell you later but you can tell how much he really appreciates it that you were so understanding of him and his concerns.

“oh! and they gave me this oil to put in them, and this, uh—silk to put around my head to sleep in, it’s so cool!” he pauses, “you good schatzi?” “yeayea, nothing’s wrong.. i just really like hearing you talk, voice s’nice,” “really? thank you :).”

man, the way he smiled at you.. your boyfriend was extremely beautiful inside and out.

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x y/n #tokio hotel x you #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel fluff #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x y/n #tom kaulitz x you #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz fluff #2000s #fyp

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toaster-trash · 10 months

Text

It’s always so interesting to me how so many people tend to look at protagonists’ reactions in 19th century gothic media and immediately slap a label on them as “over-dramatic” or “weak”, when in reality I don’t think we (as a society) know what we’re talking about. I think our society is collectively desensitised to concepts, and what I mean by that is that the concept of a story like Dracula or Frankenstein isn’t something that we’d ever bat an eye at because it’s been so ingrained into our very understanding or the concept of basic modern horror premises that we no longer appreciate it for what it is, and I’ve been guilty of it too. So a lot of people take the protagonists reactions to their circumstances, and paint it as melodrama or even worse, get high and mighty and claim that if THEY were in that scenario, they would NEVER do something so stupid, right?

But I need you to take a minute to actually think about the positions these characters are in. We’ve become so desensitised to these concepts, but if we were actually in those positions in real life we would probably not be able to handle them half as well as some of these characters. For example, Dracula. Sure, guy goes to stay in spooky castle, client turns out to be a vampire, pretty standard, easy to point at Jonathan Harker’s decisions and blame him. Oh Jonathan, don’t you know walking through an abandoned castle when your client tells you not to is bound to get you hurt? Don’t you know going to a remote area with villagers crossing themselves every five seconds is dangerous?

But actually think about this. You’re a solicitor, you have a fiancée back home and you need this job. You meet your client, he’s a little creepy, you feel unsafe, but you need this job. What are you going to do, turn back and tell your employer you couldn’t do it because the vibes were off? Obviously not. You suck it up. Then slowly, your world starts collapsing around you and slowly getting smaller as you find yourself trapped inside this man’s house and you slowly come to the realisation that you are being held captive in the house of a creepy old man who has access to all the rooms in the house, including your own, and can enter it at any time, in a secluded area far away from everyone, and with no hope of reaching out for help. He has the power to do anything to you, and you’re completely helpless, and does. You are going to die there and none of your loved ones will ever know what happened to you. Your abuser might even fabricate your identity or conduct a lie to ruin all memory of you forever. Then things get worse, and you realise that your abuser and captor isn’t even human. Throw in the infanticide and assault scenes, and that is a horrifying scenario, and I don’t think some people fully recognise that when they read it.

The very same with Frankenstein, oh haha, Victor gets ill often, look at him fainting every five minutes, what a whiny bitchboy, right? But Jesus Christ, again, think about this scenario that he’s in properly. My guy digs up corpses, brings them to his dorm room and stitches them together, only for him to bring said corpses to life and watch his inanimate amalgamation of dead bodies come to life in your house. Now again, imagine cutting up corpses and sewing them together. If you can’t manage that, imagine a friend of yours came to you and told you that they’d been stealing corpses, cutting them up, and sewing them together, and they now have an 8ft tall giant amalgamation or corpses in their room. Now imagine going to their house and seeing that amalgamation of corpses. Good luck not passing out and vomiting all over their bedroom floor, and extra good luck not needing extreme psychiatric care afterwards. Again, corpses. I’m willing to bet half the people here have never even seen a corpse, and this isn’t even freshly-dead-grandma-in-the-coffin, these are decomposing and rotting corpses of real human beings. Observed. And some corpses cut up. And pieced together. Into a giant corpse. Genitalia included. Intestines included. Everything else included. And then that corpse then starts killing everyone you’ve ever loved and you have the added guilt that it IS it’s own person and you’ve abandoned it.

Which of course, could lead me into a whole separate rant, on how I believe that Victor’s flaw doesn’t lie in his horror at his own actions, and his fainting and illness and whatnot, but rather at his deliberate avoidance of the consequences of those actions – (horrifying as they may have been to come to terms with, his avoidance ultimately led to the mental distress and death of tons of completely innocent people, and his avoidance, however difficult, was still very much wrong and Victor is still very much to blame for it) – as well as the mania and obsessive justification he kept using to reach that goal. Although again, it could be argued there was avoidance in that as well – Victor pasting clinical lenses over all his actions, ignoring his family and friends, which ultimately all caught up with him. It’s my reading that Victor isn’t to blame whatsoever because he’s “over dramatic” or that “whiny”, he has every right to be severely traumatised by his experiences, however much his own fault they may be, he is to blame because at every turn where he could have faced his actions and confided in a friend or likewise, he did not, and it led to the deaths of everyone he loved. Except for Ernest, who likely then had to live with the death of his entire family.

But that’s a side rant – my primary point is, I genuinely do not remotely believe that authors in the past were really any more “emotional” or “melodramatic” than we are today. The only difference is that because the premise of these plots have been so deeply engrained into our society, we do not understand how horrifyingly traumatising these situations are by nature and dismiss them out of hand. Dracula did not exist yet when Dracula was being written. Frankenstein did not exist yet when Frankenstein was being written. Don’t come looking to read old gothic literature expecting a camp B-list horror film, and then call the characters over-dramatic when they react like average actual human beings to absolutely horrific scenarios.

And what’s more with regard to general more open affection between friends in older books, no it isn’t unrealistic, we’re all just cynical assholes now. (There’s a limit, obviously. Some characters are just raging homosexuals and there’s no other explanation. “His form so divinely wrought and beaming with beauty” my ass alright now just admit you had gay sex and be done with it)

#gothic lit #classic literature #gothic literature #goth lit #classic lit #frankenstein #frankenstein weekly #dracula #dracula daily #frankenstein or the modern prometheus #re:dracula #re: dracula #victor frankenstein #Jonathan Harker #clervalstein?#clervalstein

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leaderwonim · 2 months

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꒰ 사랑𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆: 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧. 🫀

✴︎ 005: I miss home

bold italics are what the characters say in the kdrama

Today was the first day that you would film with the entire cast, since Sunghoon’s slip up pushed the recording date back a week.

You were entirely sure he hated your guts, and that made you feel miserable inside and out. Your members, especially Dabin, were always looking at you with concerned eyes, ones that looked pitiful in the eyes of a bystander.

“Are you ready?” Hanni could sense your anxiety from a mile away; she felt the same way when she had first began to film with Gyuvin. After hearing about your scandal, the girl felt even more terrible for you. You were barely a rookie, you genuinely didn’t deserve this. “Hey, it’s okay. I was just as nervous. The director picked you for a reason.”

The director picked you for a reason.

Despite only being 7 words, it made you almost drop to your knees. Thank God for Pham Hanni and her angelic voice.

The first episode had began with your character, Yunhee, entering the high school. The stylist had followed the director’s order of making your hair perfectly straight and shiny, saying it’d pop out in the film and it really ties together the schoolgirl look.

Suho, Sunghoon’s character, leans back against one of the lockers, talking to Gyuvin’s character, Wooseok.

“Hey,” Sunghoon says to you, giving a smirk so good that you almost forget he’s acting.

You walk pass him, your character had loathed Sunghoon’s character due to their conflicting personalities. Suho was a bully—Yunhee was a sweetheart, the cliche opposite attracts trope.

“Yah, I’m talking to you.” Sunghoon grabs onto your shoulder, pulling you back harshly. Gyuvin laughs from beside him, knocking shoulders with the boy.

“Isn’t this Baek Yunhee? The smart one who scores the highest in our grade?” Gyuvin snickers.

Despite this being his first acting gig, he sure knows how to act like an asshole.

“Of course it is.” Sunghoon yanks a bit of your hair down, making you yelp. “You wouldn’t mind doing my homework, would you?”

“In your dreams Suho,” you shrug him off hardly. “Don’t you have anything else to do than bother students all day?”

Sunghoon’s nose flares up, and he stands up straight along with Gyuvin. “What the fuck did you say to me?”

His sudden grip on your shoulder makes you flinch, and although you know it’s all acting and the grip isn’t even that tight—you can’t help but let tears escape from your eyes, unable to distinguish between acting and reality.

“I’m sorry Suho,” you say, now full on crying, and the tears come out so quick you’re unable to stop it. “I’m so sorry Sunghoon.”

You know you fucked up when you called Sunghoon by his actual name, and you almost want to die when you hear the director’s loud shout of CUT!

“Are you okay?” Gyuvin places a concerned hand on your shoulder, lips thinning awkwardly as he tried to comfort you. “A little help Hanni?”

Hanni approaches from behind the camera crew, arms wrapping themselves around you as she led you away from Sunghoon and Gyuvin.

“She needs 5,” Hanni says quietly to the director, who nods. “We’ll be right back.”

You’re already outside with Hanni before you could hear the director telling the camera crew that crying wasn’t apart of the script but it was a good addition because you made it look so real.

“Keep it.” The director says. “Just cut out the part where she says Sunghoon. It looked too real for us to scrape.”

It was real to you. It really felt like Sunghoon was saying all those hurtful things to you.

“What happened?” Hanni frowns, searching your eyes for answers. “Why’d you cry?”

“Everything is just so overwhelming,” you say, frowning as you wipe away your tears. “Sunghoon hates me, the media hates me, and I’ll never be good enough as an idol.”

Hanni shakes her head, her eyebrows furrowed. “What? How could you say that about yourself?” She grabs ahold of both your shoulders, looking at you directly in the eye, “Yoon Y/N, I don’t know you that well, but I know you’re an amazing person inside and out. If Sunghoon hates you, well screw him. The first day I met you when we were taking pictures, I knew in my heart that you were kind. The media just likes to twist and turn stories to stay relevant, it says nothing on your part but theirs. You are more than what the media or Sunghoon portrays you as, do you understand?”

Tears come rushing out again at Hanni’s words, and you force yourself to nod, practically becoming glue in her arms.

“Now stop crying, you’re too pretty to cry.” She lifts up your chin, wiping away the tears that fall from your eyes. “You are Prism’s Yoon Y/N, you do not let a man dictate your worth.”

You quietly nod, mouth becoming dry. “I miss home.” You say.

“Home?”

“I miss Canada.” You sniffle. “I was another version of me back in Vancouver.”

“We all miss home,” Hanni says comfortingly, rubbing your back. “I miss Australia too, you know? But we can’t keep reminiscing of the past, we have to keep looking at the future.”

“Does it ever get better?” You choke out.

“You’ll start to realize home is where your members are.” Hanni breathes out. “And then you don’t really miss your home home anymore, you know? It gets better though, I promise.”

You hug Hanni tightly, making her widen her eyes in surprise. Although the two of you only knew each other for 2 days at most, she felt like a sister to you.

“Thank you Hanni,” you say, smiling into her shoulder. “Really.

“Of course Y/N.”

synopsis. you’re a newly debuted girl group under belift, and in order for your group to gain more popularity, your ceo offered you the lead role in a new romance kdrama. this all seems great, so what’s the problem? well, for starters, your co star is your senior, park sunghoon from enhypen, and he doesn’t seem too happy about being in a romance drama. especially when your fans have started to ship the two of you!

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 9 months

Text

Outside the Lines 5

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsessive compulsive behaviour, kidnapping, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader has her routine and her fellow patient gets in the way of those.

Character: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, (lumberjack AU)

Note: I'm feeling it so why not.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Steve takes you downstairs. You marvel at the large kitchen, finished with dark walnut and brass. Bucky sits, dragging his fingertips over the island, leaning as he stares grimly at the wall. His eyes drift to you slowly and you flinch, cowering and shifting to hide partly behind Steve.

“She calm down?” He asks brusquely as he taps his metal fingers on the wood.

“Buck, she just needed to settle in, isn’t that right, sweetheart?” Steve reaches back blindly and grabs your arm, drawing you forward, “she’s going to apologise.”

You look at him. You can’t hide your surprise at his declaration. Apologise. For what? They lied to you. How could you know any better? But you suppose you should’ve listened. You nod and Steve lets you go.

You face Bucky and step closer, folding one hand over the other.

“Bucky,” you begin.

“Sweetheart,” Steve hovers behind you, “you call him sergeant.”

Your lips part and you look down at your feet. You place them within the lines of the hardwood and count to three. You’d been standing right on the lines. That's bad luck!

You look up again and bring your hands over your chest.

“Sergeant,” you voice quavers and you swallow to steady it, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. But I know now and I’ll be good because I know you’re just trying to help me.” Your eyes well as you remember his angry voice, “I’m real sorry about throwing the tea at you. I was only afraid.” You touch your cheeks and sway back and forth, “I’m not a mean person.”

His blue eyes are icy and his jaw set. He arches a brow and peeks at Steve. He raises his chin and lets his expression soften as he turns to you fully. He tilts his head as he grips his hip.

“Doll,” he says softly, “I forgive you. But I won’t a second time. Got it?”

“Yes,” you pout.

“We talked,” Steve says, “she understands now.”

“Ah,” Bucky hums, “good.”

You nod and look from one to the other. Steve touches the small of your back as he steps up beside you. You slouch and shy away from him.

“Why don’t you show the sergeant how sorry you are and make him a nice breakfast?” Steve suggests, “you know what they say about men.”

You shake your head. Who is they and what do they say?

“The way to his heart is through his stomach,” Steve chuckles.

“Oh,” you bat your lashes, “so… um, what should I make?”

“Coffee,” Bucky grumbles as he rubs his eyes.

“There’s bacon and eggs in the fridge, can you cook that?”

“Yes! Yes, I can cook,” you proclaim, “I know how.”

“Of course, honey,” Steve drags his fingertips up your arm, “you can do so much. I know you can. A lot more than you think. And we just want to help you learn how to do more.”

You don’t want to seem ungrateful. It’s only confusing. You did overreact. You didn’t even let them explain. It’s no wonder they got a bit pushy.

“Thank you,” you chirp, “you’re so nice.” You look at his hand as he caresses above your elbow, “and this is a very nice house. I’ve never been to a cabin before. It’s so nice you would bring me here.”

“Ha, yeah, you know, me and Bucky built it,” Steve explains.

“You did?” You round your eyes and take another look around. You can’t imagine all that work. “Wow!”

"Coffee," Bucky grits as he leans his chin in his hand.

"Oh, yes," you twiddle your fingers and flutter around, watching your feet as you step between the trim of the hardwood slats of the floor, "I can make... coffee. I don't drink it you know, just tea. Coffee makes me... hyper!"

You spin cluelessly. Not knowing where to begin. You have no idea where everything is. There are no labels like your apartment. Every shelf, every cupboard has the precise contents listed on the outside, just like you like. So everything is in order. You hate chaos.

Bucky grumbles and Steve lets out a soft breath, "sweetheart, one step at a time," he girds.

Steve comes forward as you step back to watch him open a cupboard. He pulls down a bag of coffee, burlap with print stamped across it. The smell of its contents seep into your nose. Comforting even if its too bitter for your taste.

"Oh, thanks," you step forward carefully and hug the bag with your hands.

"Grinder is here," he points, "and the press."

You look between both and try to hide your confusion. Oh. You don't know how to do all that. You chew your lip and loosen the drawstring at the top of the bag. You stare inside tenuously.

He opens a drawer and takes out a metal measuring cup. He offers it to you.

"One scoop."

You take it and scoop out the beans. Then you just stand there with it. You look at him and cringe.

"In the grinder," he directs gently as he pulls forward the little square machine and pops the top.

You pour the beans inside, the rattle of them making a small rhythm that carries in your head. You bop your head, trying to follow it as your nerves get the better of you. You can't help but make up little nonsensical songs in your head when you feel so lost.

He shuts the lid and steps back.

"Press the button."

You obey and press the button. There's a short whir then the machine quiets again.

He stifles a laugh, "hold it down."

You push and keep your finger jammed. You watch the blade turn the beans to powder and he gestures for you to stop. He slides over the press and pulls a spoon out of the open drawer. You reach over to shut it without thinking. He hesitates but says nothing about it.

"So, six table spoons. Open it up."

You try to flip the top of the machine open like he did but it won't budge. You grab it firmly and try to force it open. He moves forward.

"You gotta hit the switch--"

Suddenly the compartment detaches from the rest of the machine and the lid opens, dusting you and the floor with coffee grinds. You stand in stunned silence as a growl rolls up Bucky's throat.

"Steve, just make the coffee, I'm dying here."

"I'm sorry," you push your lip out, "I made a mess."

You look around at the smatter of grinds all around you and littered across your dress. You shake it off and shiver. You glance between the men.

"I'm very sorry," you apologise again, "I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to. Don't be mad."

"It's fine, sweetheart," Steve reaches to touch your shoulder and you flinch, "get the broom out of the closet. Clean it up."

"Uh, uh, alright," you shake off the front of your dress before turning on your heel.

You go to the closet, the weight of Bucky's gaze following you. You open the door and find a broom, taking it out with the dustpan. You shut it and look past it to the doorway that gives a peak of another; a door with windows that look out on a leafy yard.

"Doll," Bucky warns from behind you.

"Sorry, was just looking," you spin and nearly trip over the bristles.

"Can't go outside until we can trust you," he adds.

"You don't trust me," you stand dumbly with the broom and pan. "Why not?"

He gives you a look. Your lips form an O. Yeah, the tea. Fair.

"Sorry," you repeat.

You set to sweeping up the grinds and Steve shows you where the bin is. Then he goes about making the coffee himself as you watch. He peeks over and smiles.

"Bacon and eggs are in the fridge."

You nod and go to the large fridge, a wooden front that makes it blend in with the rest of the decor. You open it and find the eggs easily but can't figure which paper packet is bacon. Not until you see the scribble sharpy scrawled on the other side.

You go back to the counter and peer around. Just as clueless as ever. Steve directs you to the pots and pans and you take out what you need. He tells you to put the kettle on and you stop to do that as he stands back and watches you. It suddenly feels like a test.

You struggle to catch the gas burner, making yourself dizzy as the flame doesn't light.

"She's gonna burn this place down," Bucky snarls.

"Relax," Steve steps forward and gets the burner going for you. "There."

"She can't do anything on her own."

Steve retreats and points at Bucky. You don't look back as he approaches the other man and you hear the scratch of a whisper between them. You put the kettle on the lit burner, then lay the skillet on another. You focus and repeat what Steve did, managing to light the second.

"I did it!"

Bucky sighs as Steve praises you, "good girl."

You could smile. You're good. You can do things.

You turn on the oven, that's easier. You lay out bacon on a sheet and wait for it to preheat as you add oil to the pan. You search the cupboard and find a bowl to mix the eggs. You examine the spice rack, taking your pick of the many containers.

You shake your head and seal your lips as you have to smell them to see which is which. Steve hums before he speaks.

"What's wrong?"

You shrug, "nothing..."

He arches his brow and lifts his chin slightly. You clutch the oregano and gulp.

"Captain," you clear your throat, "in my apartment, I label stuff so I know. I can't find anything without the labels."

"Labels?" He repeats thoughtfully.

"Use your head. Remember," Bucky scoffs and receives a nudge from Steve.

"Labels, how about we make that your first project. Bucky can go in to town and get you a nice label maker of your own," Steve looks at his companion, "won't you?"

Bucky scowls, "if I don't get coffee soon, I'm not doing shit."

You widen your eyes and cover your mouth. Steve tuts, "Buck, watch your mouth."

"She's an adult, she can handle it."

"You're an adult too so stop being a brat," Steve warns, "sweetheart, keep going. I'll get his coffee."

He nears and pulls down a mug from yet another cupboard. He fills it and holds it up, "the sergeant takes his black, I don't mind a bit of cream. Okay?"

"Black," you nod at Bucky, "cream," you look back at Steve, "I'll try to remember."

"I know," he winks before he walks away.

He hands over the mug to Bucky and comes back to pour his own but you're there first. You put down the oregano and reach up to grab a red mug. You shut the cupboard and fill it, scurrying around Steve to grab the cream from the fridge. You add a little and offer him the cup. A grin slowly spread across his face.

"You're so sweet, thank you," he takes it, "you're a good learner, you know that?"

"I am?" You smile.

"Very smart girl," he raises the cup, blowing across it before taking a sip, "perfect. You got it just right."

You clap your hands together proudly, "see," you face Bucky, "I can do it, sergeant."

He squints at you over his own steaming mug and says nothing as he drinks. His blue eyes pierce you coldly. Your face falls and you tuck your chin down, turning back to take the oregano and you go back to the bowl of eggs.

You can do this. You're not going to burn the eggs. Or the bacon.

"Do you have a timer?" You ask. That's the only way you ever get anything done but you don't have your phone anymore, which means all your alarms are useless.

"Yep," Steve grabs a small apple shaped timer from the corner of the counter and places it by the stove, "just twist."

"Thank you, Captain," you take it and look at the numbers.

He leans in and lowers his voice, "he'll come around. You'll show him, I know you will, sweetheart."

You bite down your lip and look at him. His eyes fall to your mouth as it curves, just a little, your cheeks burning.

"I'm trying," you eke out.

"I know," he reaches to rub your arm, dragging his hand up around your shoulder and playing with the sleeve of your dress, "did I tell you how nice you look?"

"Thank you," you preen.

"Doesn't she look nice, Bucky?" He steps back and crosses to the island where Bucky nurses his cup.

"Not bad," Bucky says, not quite a compliment but not as bad as you expect.

You'll just have to do better. Put all those tools that Dr. Makira gave you to work.

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strawberrystepmom · 6 months

Text

izuku x f!reader. enemies to lovers au, workshopped with @izvmimi <33333 her follow up part can be found here. wc 3.6k.

With an exasperated sigh, Izuku points the remote that looks comically small in his hand toward the flat screen TV screwed into his office wall to turn the volume up the moment you come on screen.

“This week, yet another family was displaced by the inaction of heroes. When the focus shifted from merely catching villains rather than protecting the public…”

Your voice drifts into a blur, the man choosing to focus on your mouth and how it’s moving rather than what you’re saying. Plush and soft, topped with camera ready shimmering gloss. Your eyes are wide and doe like, your cheeks round and trustworthy. You’re the picture of empathy, pretty and polished, immaculate in every way.

It certainly isn’t hard to imagine why VOHSV, Victims of Hero Supported Violence, picked you as their spokesperson. Who else could manage this busy talk show circuit with expert precision? Watching you play the crowd and hosts’ emotions like a violin makes him roll his eyes but he can’t deny you are damn good.

Your message is infuriating to him and his colleagues but at least you look like heaven sent while spreading it. It’s probably why everything you say spreads like wildfire across the social media apps he has open on his unlocked phone that rests on his desk.

He’s listened to your spiel enough times that he can already fill in the blanks of what you’re saying but he picks up the remote and turns the volume up an additional click to be certain you haven’t deviated from your usual points. Costly property damage, displacement, lack of available care to those affected by the trauma of villain attacks, blah, blah, blah.

The interviewer appears on screen as the camera pans, nodding at the last comment you made that Izuku didn’t care to actually listen to.

“And how does your organization suggest the Commission begin combating these issues?”

The camera is quick to pan back to you with your perfect smile, teeth striking and bright and dazzling. The man watching from his oversized office and overstuffed chair clenches his fist watching you, uncertain if it’s annoyance or desire that fills his chest, but he doesn’t look away despite the flashing red light on his desk phone telling him he’s being paged by his assistant.

“I am personally calling upon the top heroes to do better.” Your smile doesn’t waver and the camera zooms in on your head and shoulders, allowing your next impassioned plea to land directly where you intend it to. “Deku, you claim you care, yet you are responsible for the most costly property damage caused by a hero in Japanese history. How do you explain that with that big smile plastered on your face?”

Bold of you to be taunting the man chuckling humorlessly from his desk about plastered on smiles with a high definition flat screen sized Cheshire grin of your own on your face but he appreciates the audacity.

“Be a hero instead of just talking about being one.”

Perhaps if your life’s path were different you’d be a hero just like him or maybe he’d even be you, full of righteous anger toward those who only wish to help no matter the means. Or collateral.

Without thinking, Izuku pulls his phone off of the top of his desk and his jaw slackens when he presses the little pen in the corner of the current most popular app in the app store. The speed of his thumbs is almost impressive, big hands on a little phone screen won’t stop the number one hero, and he smirks when his phone pings letting him know his post has gone live.

Deku (@fight4smiles)

Name the time and place, VOHSV. I’ll gladly drop a check by to cover some of the damage you allege I’ve been doing.

He gets to see your reaction in real time, the camera panning from you to the interviewer who grins excitedly, pressing on their in ear microphone and back. The man chuckles to himself, swinging back and forth in his chair, lips curved into a smirk.

“It appears the current number one hero has responded to your challenge. He’s willing to meet.”

Your smile droops but you’re quick to put it back in place, brows raised and head nodding wildly. The adversarial relationship between the two of you is nothing new, Deku having spent the better part of this entire year ducking and dodging your direct invitations to speak with the VOHSV.

He watches you smack your lips together and purse them, primly placing your hands in your lap and laughter comes easily. It’s no big deal to him to cut a check to help put some buildings back together, the many zeros on the end of his bank balance just one of the many perks of being at the top but it has never been about that for him.

Deep down, he knows he’ll never change your mind about your crusade but he would love to shut you up at least for a little while.

“How brave of him to finally step up. I will be reaching out to him soon with details.”

The red light on Izuku’s desk phone continues to blink wildly and just as he leans forward to answer it, his office door opens and his assistant stares at him with disbelief with the current number two Dynamight hot on their heels, pulling his mask off of his head and gently shoving them out of the way.

The assistant scurries back to their position outside of Deku’s office as quickly as possible, allowing the men privacy.

“Why did you do that?”

Izuku looks down at his cell phone and tosses it on his desk with a relaxed shrug. He catches a glance at your pretty face one last time before shutting the TV off, tossing the remote aside and turning his attention toward Katsuki with his arms folded over his chest.

“You know that you’re giving them what they want, right? Giving these shitheads attention is just going to create more of ‘em.”

More of them - outspoken victims’ rights activists. VOHSV is simply one of many groups that have cropped up over the last several years as hero academies have continued to churn out bigger and better heroes with every graduating class. It has been a decade since Izuku and Katsuki graduated and the classes after them have only become stronger, a source of pride for both of the men, given their hefty donations to their alma mater.

Sure the battles have become bigger, spectacles to be adapted into films and documentaries later, but isn’t that what being a hero is all about? What’s left behind after you save the day, no matter who may be affected?

The heroes of today are simply doing what they’ve been taught to do and that’s save the day no matter the cost. It’s hard to hold it against them when it’s systemic and historically that has been the main reason why most advocacy groups have fallen apart but not the VOHSV. They are succeeding because they have you, coiffed to perfection and ready to take anyone you can to task, including the devilishly handsome and arrogant man topping the hero charts.

Izuku sighs, his phone buzzing persistently on the desk in front of him. It’s certainly his agent or his PR team or someone eager to scold him for what he’s done so he ignores it, sliding the little piece of metal aside.

“I’d care more if their points were valid but we both know they aren’t. I’ll cut a check, flash a smile, and hopefully make their mouthpiece look silly enough she’ll stop doing press circuits. It seems like a winning situation to me.”

Bakugou snorts, unimpressed with the answer.

“What if this backfires and you look stupid?”

Izuku’s phone continues to buzz and he opens his desk drawer, sliding the device inside rather than deal with the issue at hand. He’ll comfort everyone later, what matters the most to him right now is when you’ll be brave enough to reach out to show him your hand. Right now, he has you backed into a corner and he simply wants to watch you make your way out of it, smug that he’s the one who has you pinned there.

“Impossible. People don’t take these organizations seriously enough for me to look stupid.”

Katsuki snorts, leaning against the door frame rather than fully entering the office. He was asked to stop by earlier this week, the two of them supposed to be ironing out details to appear at a hospital opening in another part of the city, but the task has clearly been put aside for a petty online feud headed by the Beacon of Hope himself.

“I think you’re already stupid.”

Izuku offers a curt smile and nods at his friend.

“I’ll take that into consideration along with all of your other opinions, don’t worry.”

Any further argument between the two is cut short when Deku’s assistant bursts back onto the scene, peeking around the door frame.

“Uh…the VOHSV spokesperson is on the phone for you, Mr. Midoriya.”

Izuku laughs and raises his brows, shifting forward in his chair and pressing the flashing line one button indicating a call is waiting. He presses his thick finger to his lips to encourage Bakugou and his assistant to be quiet and he hits the speaker button immediately.

“I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.”

It takes all of you not to toss your phone across the room at the sound of his voice through your speaker. You’re in the back of a chauffeured vehicle, phone pressed to your ear so hard you swear that your cheek and head are going to hurt later, nursing a bottle of water in your free hand.

You weren’t expecting to hear from him so soon, either.

“I figured since you are so eager and have so much to say we may as well get this over with. We have an event on Friday night and you will be forwarded the details on location and attire and we are anticipating your donation of over five million yen. It will help many who have been harmed due to your recklessness.”

The blood pulsing in his ears makes the room seem smaller, the walls caving in on him with your words. You’re so adversarial toward him, so eager to bite and nip and bat with your claws out, and he wants to know why. What happened to make you distrust people like him so much?

Remembering he’s the one who has you backed into a corner, he shifts in his chair and tents his fingers on the desk in front of him.

“I’ll have your check, don’t worry. I won’t let you look silly in front of the fourteen VOHSV supporters you have to impress.”

You scoff incredulously. There is something seriously wrong with this man, his arrogance blinding his common sense. Your fingers ache where they grip into the metal sides of your phone and the driver keeps shifting his gaze from the road to the mirror to see your face twist into varying degrees of frustration and anger. Taking a deep breath, you let your lips curve into a smile and narrow your eyes.

Focus. You have him where you want him.

“I didn’t realize this conversation was meant for stooping to petty insults but I can’t say I’m shocked. It’s hardly a surprise you refuse to take anyone else’s safety given your own personal record of injured civilians while you’re handling villain attacks.”

Bakugou’s jaw drops and Izuku leans forward to lift the phone from its cradle, pressing the button to turn it off speaker at near record speed. It takes all of his self control to keep from snapping the cord in two knowing it would effectively end the call and thus his opportunity to antagonize you further.

“Well, you aren’t the only one who has done their homework. We pulled a profile on you months ago and know your entire background. You have no relevant experience that would allow you to criticize heroes the way that you do. Put yourself in our shoes.”

You snort from the other end of the phone, impressed by how bad he is at lying. Arrogance has truly won out over any logic this man may have in his entire body and you suck your teeth, jaw slackening because you have truly won this round.

“See, Deku, here’s the thing. If you were telling the truth about anything you just said then you would already know that I am a graduate of an international hero academy. I have been where you are, or at least wanted to be, but then I came to my senses. I used to hope you’d be able to do the same but it appears my faith was misplaced.”

Now Izuku’s jaw drops, his emerald eyes darting across the room as though the words he needs will magically spring forth from the walls. Sadly, nothing happens and he sits there with his mouth agape dumbly.

“I look forward to seeing you on Friday. Don’t forget that check.”

You pull the phone from your ear and end the call, laughing to yourself knowing that you left this cocky asshole speechless. He mimics your motion in his own office, pulling his desk phone from his ear and placing it back where it belongs. As badly as he wants to be frustrated by the loss to you, he’s impressed by how easily you hit back without an ounce of fear or worry of what you’re getting yourself into.

A woman as beautiful as she is brave and irritating.

He feels his cock stiffen slightly in his sweatpants the longer he thinks about it and frowns, immediately thinking of exploding buildings and grandmas to distance himself from the fact he’s into how eagerly you spar with him.

His assistant and Bakugou both stare at him, his friend laughing and turning on his heel to leave, waving dismissively.

“Like I said Deku, you’re already stupid. Have fun on Friday.”

Izuku’s assistant follows suit and closes the door behind them, giving him time to lick his wounds.

The rest of the week continues like his weeks usually do. He’s called four times to handle villain attacks, each one ending a little less destructive than the last, and Thursday is when he sees you on TV again, smiling brightly on a different talk show in the same time slot you were in on Monday.

He keeps the TV muted, uninterested in what you have to say about the people he saved this week, but he watches your mouth move silently. His eyes narrow every time your tongue darts out, the tip of it wetting your bottom lip and his freckled cheeks heat when your lips twist into that winning smile.

That damned smile.

This man has made bringing smiles to faces his entire personality since the day he zipped up his prototype suit years ago, vowing on that day to work as hard as he could no matter how bleak things seemed. It worked and it’s what he’s known for, joy and hope and safety the things he strives for the most.

Watching you smile while calling his character into question makes him simultaneously furious and hard again and he has to cross his legs and imagine those same exploding buildings when you press your lips together on the screen in front of him.

A knock on the office door captures his attention and his assistant opens the door, clipboard in hand.

“You have a tux fitting for tomorrow.”

Reaching for the remote he turns his TV off and rises with a nod. Everyone knows you have to look your very best for your biggest battles and he has no intention of showing up to meet you face to face looking like anything less than a magazine cover.

He just never imagined you’d do the same yet here you stand, 8 pm on Friday night, draped in dazzling gold silk that hugs every inch of your body. You’re taller than he expected, one long leg jutting from the slit in your dress and elegant neck draped in simple jewelry.

You’re beautiful in a way that TV did little to capture and the arrogant man finds himself speechless when you hold out your hand in his direction, grinning at him. He searches for hidden fangs and finds none, just perfect pretty teeth.

“I wanted to apologize for earlier this week, this organization is my passion and it gets the best of me sometimes.”

Your words catch him off guard so he just nods and shakes your hand. If you notice his sweaty palm you keep it to yourself and he internally chides himself for his nerves. He is the fucking number one hero, his face is plastered on every single corner of Japan, and he needs to remember that.

“Hey, we all have bad days. I’m just glad to be here to shed some light on a small cause.”

Your smile dims and his widens, your palm quickly leaving his. Heat simmers in your core and you feel disgusted by your own desire. Sure, he’s one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen - all big muscles that his tuxedo does little to hide and pretty green waves falling over his face but he’s also the biggest asshole you’ve had the unfortunate luck of meeting.

Drawing your hands close to your body, you fight the urge to petulantly fold your arms over your chest, and he digs in his pocket to produce the check he promised. He holds it out in your direction and you pluck it from his hand, eyes widening when you notice that the amount written on the check is far larger than the five million yen previously discussed.

“Doubled your donation. Very kind of you, Deku.”

He smirks and you feel warm again, cheeks heating in perfect time with your core. Perhaps it’s the glass of champagne you downed an hour ago to calm your nerves or the low lighting of the event space but he is undeniably attractive and you are undeniably attracted to him.

A terrible realization to come to while face to face with a man you called a liar and a fraud four short days ago.

Izuku enters your space and crowds around you, dipping his head low enough that his mouth is just above your ear. He’s bigger than you expected, an entire head taller than you, and you feel overwhelmed by the scent of his cologne and the way he carries himself. He has the demeanor of a man who knows he’s the shit and as much as it aggravates you, it thrills you too, the same heat lashing through your stomach with every flutter of his long lashes.

“Call me an optimist but I think we can still salvage a friendship out of this situation.”

You laugh, shaking your head and clutching the check he provided to your chest.

“There’s an after party starting soon if you don’t have more buildings to go destroy. I’m sure the rest of the VOHSV team would love to thank you personally for your generous donation.”

The hero presses his lips together and raises his brow, blazing green eyes meeting yours. The tension between the two of you is so thick that even the most unaware onlooker would feel it but the room is relatively empty and you’re grateful for it.

“Maybe I only want one person to thank me for my donation.”

Raising a brow to match his, you purse your lips and quickly consider your options. You could give in to the undeniable attraction, a sordid affair with a man you seek to change as part of your life’s work couldn’t possibly be good for optics if you were to be exposed. You could walk away and publicly embarrass him but that doesn’t sound like fun either so you do what you do best - think on your feet and hide your true intentions behind big doe eyes and a winning smile.

“There’s a powder room down that hall, last door on the right,” you motion to a corridor to your left and his eyes follow your movements. “Be there in ten minutes.”

Izuku nods, moving enough to allow you to slip past him and he watches the way your dress shifts across your ass with each step you take away from him. He isn’t going to bother to be polite anymore knowing what is coming next, his mouth watering at the mere thought of watching that pretty little dress drop to the ground below both of your feet while he uncovers the treasure beneath it.

His half hard cock presses against the zipper of his tuxedo pants and he doesn’t bother to adjust himself, taking a shortcut that keeps him against the wall and away from prying eyes to the hallway you instructed him to follow. Each step makes his cock throb and he groans when he reaches for the door handle, wondering what he’ll find when he opens it.

Twisting the handle, he chuckles humorlessly when his eyes fall upon an empty powder room. A large mirror framed by lights with a small sink and counter in front of it are all he finds and he shakes his head, eyes falling upon a folded piece of paper sitting on the counter.

Flicking the paper open with his thumb and index finger, he frowns at the words he reads first.

Better luck next time.

Followed by your name signed in delicate penmanship he traces the tip of his thumb over. The ink is still wet and it smears, his thumb marked with black. His eyes trail further down the note and spot your number below your name, the ink the digits were written in still shining.

At least you leaving your number tells him there will certainly be a next time.

#deku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #kendall writes

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saintslewis · 1 month

Text

𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐎𝐅𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐀: 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 🪩

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 | 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem oc; Nadia Hamilton

summary: social media posts from the most recent chapter! <3

warnings: twitter environment, cussing

saint’s team radio 🎀: 2 for the price of 1 😝. did not mean to take so long so here’s a little gift 🫶🏽

pic credit: pinterest and ig!

fc: @/unclewaffles_ on ig

plastic off the sofa: chapter 7

renaissance: the masterlist

Twitter!

Instagram!

nadiahamilton

liked by taylorrussell, normani and 3,484,913 others

nadiahamilton versace x dua lipa.

view all comments

pinned!

nadiahamilton guys my back tat looks so delicious

loriharvey YOU’RE JOKING? NADIA

nadiahamilton hello 🤭

user and what if this causes my hospitalisation?

dualipa i was so lucky to see this in person

nadiahamilton thank you for such an amazing show!

versace 💗

lilymhe i fainted a couple of times

arianagrande WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU JUST WAKE UP AND LOOK LIKE THIS

nadiahamilton i don’t, i swear 😭

kehlani can your man fight

haileybieber you look like a dream 🥹

user whatever your affirmations were, hand them over!

sza that ass is SITTING

francisca.cgomes i am begging for one chance

alexandrasaintmleux me too omg

user i don’t think you understand what you’ve done now

nataliatheedon you’re actually unreal WHAT

latto777 it’s actually so unfair that he gets you to himself

iamcardib like it’s actually pissing me off rn

amaraonmars this is insanity. do it again

jackharlow oh you was serious

user white boy, what are you talking abt? 🤨

user probably something at the party

user and dare i ask who took the photos….

user there could only be one selfish man who did this

user not you calling him selfish 😭😭😭

lewishamilton had to take a breather

charlottieee we’ll give you your pump, grandpa

fencer THIS IS SO CRAZY???

nataliatheedon CHARLOTTE YOU CAN’T SAY THAT 😭

lewishamilton hi mrs hamilton

nadiahamilton hi 🤭

user they had to remind y’all REAL QUICK

nadiahamilton

liked by bellahadid, zendaya and 845,246 others

nadiahamilton hello monaco! (can we pls focus on how good he looked)

view all comments

user publicly thirsting over him, aren’t you embarrassed?

user girl that’s her husband…..

carmenmmundt we need to get together like that soon, it was so much fun!

lilymhe i felt like i was in a chick flick

francisca.cgomes not when you tripped and your ice cream fell ‼️

alexandrasaintmleux kika let’s be nice but YES tinkerbell, i need another girl’s day or else i will combust

user YOUR SHIRT??????

nadiahamilton super cute right?

user it’s so iconic!!!!

user nadia liked and favourited an edit of mine, just wanted to flex 🙏

user now why would you expose that girl’s secret like that (share the edit)

nataliatheedon monaco isn’t a real place, hope that helps!

nadiahamilton if i were you, i’d keep quiet 🫵🏽

nataliatheedon 😧

user i have the slightest feeling that you can cook, can you?

nadiahamilton yes?

user since no one is talking about it, yes he looked so good that day Nadia

nadiahamilton THANK YOU LIKE SOMETHING WAS IN THE AIR THAT DAY

f1femmepost

liked by fanpage, fanpage and many others

f1femmepost bumping into nadiahamilton was the highlight of our Monaco Grand Prix weekend! Tell us what your favourite interview moments were!

view comments!

user “is this one of those tiny mics?? I LOVE TINY MICS”

user “i promise you, go up to one of these white people and they will give you a paddock pass. i’ve seen it.”

user “sorry i gotta fix my nose ring hold up”

user “there are days where he sounds incredibly british and it’s just so interesting to hear.” “but he is-” “and that’s what makes it better!”

user “these are my ladies, those drivers couldn’t stand a CHANCE!”

user a dog and its owner walk by: “omg look at it, i wanna squeeze that dog.”

user “i won’t hold you, i’m craving a big ass bowl of pasta rn.”

user *sings in the most angelic voice you’ve ever heard*

user “i’ll never stop being a teacher, it’s so much fun.”

user “if you’ve got extremely blue eyes, do not stare at people, it’s so scary. i’m talking about you, pierre gasly.”

user “omg you’re craving cupcakes? let’s go get them!”

user “you like that bag from gucci? let’s go get it.”

user “i love laying on the floor so much.”

f1femmepost because of all these posts, we love Nadia Hamilton so much! 🫶🏽

saint’s notes 🎀: this took so long yoh, hope you enjoyed!

#☆ ‧₊˚ saint’s media pen #saint writes #renaissance: the series #thank you for 750!!! love you all

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applejuicefruit · 1 year

Note

Can i request actress reader comforting kylian after they lost the champions league but he got so mad that he break up with her and so he leaves her alone because she is supposed to go at the oscar on sunday? (since it the oscar weekend) and he regrets it?

kylian mbappe x reader

Oscars

“Oh don’t be like this” you said, only earning a more pissed Kylian. You knew you shouldn’t be mad at him, these past few hours were hard for him, he lost the champions league again, hell, he didn’t even make it in the quarter so once he was back home you chose very carefully the words you were going to say to him but his ego and diva behaviour was making it really hard for you. All you did was comforting him, telling him that you were proud of him and that he shouldn’t give up because his moment would come but he took it in the wrong way, almost blaming you for the loss. You knew you shouldn’t have let his words hurt you but still, he shouldn’t have got mad at you.

“Like what? Just leave me alone” he snapped back at you.

“I’m trying to comfort you Kylian but you’re making it very hard…” you speak, more in a lower tone.

“I don’t want your pity! It’s that too hard for your little brain to understand?” he said.

Ouch. That hurt you.

“I’m gonna pretend you just didn’t say that…” you said back to him.

“Why not? Isn’t that real? You’re talking to me about making it big when you’re the first one who can’t do it…” he said and you felt your eyes becoming glossy.

You knew exactly what he was referring to.

You were an actress, probably one of the most paid actresses in Hollywood nowadays but your success came later in the years and at a very low pace.

You started acting in small shows and movies when you were only seventeen, most of the times never making it pass important auditions but at the time you were young and naïve so as long as you acted, you were happy like that. When you were nineteen you got chosen for an important movie with important people. Let’s just say that Leonardo DiCaprio, Scarlett Johansson and Robert Downey Jr were in that movie too. Last minute you decided that you didn’t want to make the movie, you had your good reasons, more than good reasons but you never felt like telling the public what made you step back from the movie so the media called you a “stupid little girl” for a few years. You didn’t care if they didn’t know the reasons, you knew that in a sick place like Hollywood they wouldn’t understand.

But now you were twenty three and very successful. You’ve been into a movie two years ago that made your career go crazy and that movie was exactly the reason you’ve met Kylian. He was invited at the global premiere and you both started talking that day. One thing led to an other and now you were dating. After that movie you got casted more and more, both in successful shows and films and this year you were going to the Oscar because you got a nomination as best leading actress. You still couldn’t believe it. So what Kylian said hurt you very much, also because he knew the reasons you stepped back from the first movie and right now you were feeling judged.

“We’re not talking about me Kylian…” you said.

“We shouldn’t be talking at all! We’ve lost…that’s it…the team wasn’t focused, I wasn’t focused, maybe you were the reason I wasn’t good tonight” he said shamefully blaming you.

“Me? What have I done?” you asked him in disbelief.

“You’re always on me! Distracting me y/n! You’re just a distraction and you’re the reason I wasn’t focused on the match!” he said and you couldn’t believe of what you were hearing “this thing between us is not working…I can’t be focused on games when you’re around, I’m sorry but it’s better if we break up” his face showing no emotions.

“What-what are you talking about?” you asked him, your tears falling from your eyes.

“That we’re done…I need to be more focused on games and you’re taking a lot of my time…I wish there was a solution but there’s not…” he was avoiding your look.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t love me anymore Kylian” you took a step closer to him.

“Don’t make this harder y/n…” he whispered.

“Do it!” you shouted back.

“I don’t love you anymore” he said, his eyes empty almost as if he was soulless.

You felt your heart breaking in millions of pieces. Like someone ripped your heart from your chest.

“Okay, fine…you’ll never see me again if that’s what you want” you said gathering your jacket and purse just lo leave his house.

He didn’t even say goodbye.

Nothing.

So you left, called a taxi, booked a flight and came back to your house in Los Angeles.

And that’s how you found yourself getting ready for the Oscars all alone. Kylian was supposed to come with you, to be your plus one. To the night that was supposed to be the best night of your life from the night you didn’t even want to attend anymore.

Your team noticed a drastic change in your behaviours. You spoke less, you ate less and you slept more. They didn’t particularly know what happened between you and Kylian, they just knew that something happened.

But here you were, in a hotel room full of make up artists and stylists trying to get you ready for your big night.

You were wearing a sleeveless gold shimmery long dress, the one Kylian chose for you when a month ago he came with you choosing the dress for the big night.

On the red carpet everyone expected to see you with Kylian so you could only imagine how surprised were the other guests when they saw you walking the red carpet alone.

This was your night and you wouldn’t let anyone ruin it, that’s what you thought.

So the ceremony started and you’ve never been thrilled to be there.

And the turn of your nominations came and, of course, you won. You didn’t expect it, not at all, so you got up on stage and gave your speech even if you couldn’t contain your tears and emotions. In the backstage you took all the pictures and videos you had to do and came back to your seat watching the end of the show. You felt like dreaming.

Once the ceremony was over you went back to the hotel, changed your dress and attended the after party and for just a few hours you completely forgot about what happened a week ago with Kylian. You were having the night of your life, the moment of your life and you didn’t want anything to ruin it.

A lot of people congratulated with you, most of Kylian’s teammates sent you a quick text saying how proud they were and you were really happy about it.

The party was over and you came back to your hotel, finally leaving those high heels behind and changing into some comfortable pajamas. That’s when you took a selfie with your golden statue in your hand and posted it back on insta, thanking everybody for the support you’ve been receiving.

Kylian liked it. And commented with a red heart. But you ignored him and went to sleep.

Kylian knew how stupid he was the moment he saw you stepping out of his apartment. He regretted saying those words to you but he knew he was too late. He spent the whole week thinking how to apologise to you. So that’s why he was sitting in the lobby of your hotel thinking what to say to you. He knew that last night was your big night and he didn’t want to put you in a bad mood so he waited until the next morning.

You were happily sleeping when a knock on the door woke you up from your sweet dreams.

You knew you had to attend some interviews but not at seven in the morning.

So you stood up from your bed and went straight to the door not even daring asking who it was.

You were surprised to see Kylian standing there.

“Hi…” he said shyly to you.

“What are you doing here?” you asked him not even looking at him.

“I’m here to apologize…” he confessed and you laughed.

“A bit late for that, don’t you think?” you asked him in a sarcastic tone.

“I fucked up, I know that, please let me make it up to you…” he begged you and you could see that he was saying the truth but it didn’t change the fact that he hurt you and made you feel guilty.

“You fucked up really bad” you said.

“I know…please, please, forgive me y/n…I never stopped loving you, this past week was the hardest one without having you by my side, fuck, I said those horrible things about you and I’m so so so sorry…” he apologised, a tear slipped from his eye.

“It’s not enough Kylian…you talked shit about me, about my career, you made me feel like I was nothing…” you didn’t want to cry again but you were still feeling very empty from the night before so a few tears fell from your eyes.

“I know and I’m so sorry about it…I never meant say any of that, I love you, I love how passionate you are about your career, fuck, look where you are now, with an Oscar! You made it and I wasn’t here with you…I left you alone when you needed me and I’ll never forgive myself for that…” he said truthfully but you didn’t say anything back “…I know you’re mad and you have every right to be mad at me…but I don’t want you to go away from me, I love you so much and I can’t think of living a life where you aren’t there…please baby…” he took your hands and kissed them.

“Okay…” you whispered, knowing how much helpless you were without him.

“Okay?” he asked softly smiling at you.

“Yes…but I’m still made at you! You have a lot to make up for…” you said smiling a bit.

“Okay…” he took a step closer to you “how about we start now?” he teased you when he put his hands on your waist and gently pushed you toward the bed, helping you laying down.

You couldn’t help but smile, finding comfort in Kylian’s touch once again.

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thelastharbinger · 2 years

Text

I’m already seeing male reactors get very verbally defensive about that scene in She-Hulk where Jennifer describes how, simply as a woman, she has more experience in suppressing rage than Banner because speaking out will get you labelled “hysterical”, “emotional”, “difficult”, “too much of a feminist”, the list goes on. And if you snap back at the wrong cat-caller, you can get murdered. So now mcu bros are rushing at the opportunity to cry out “this is just another ‘marvel throwing in another woke scene for woke’s sake’. But like...it isn’t untrue. Comic nerds are all for female superhero protagonists until she, god forbids, talks about the dynamics of what it’s like to live within the confines of patriarchy.

MCU fans are always clamoring for the social commentary to be more “subtle” and not so “in-your-face”, just so they can mindlessly enjoy a punchy fighty show and not have to confront any real-world intersections with racism, misogyny, xenophobia, transphobia, all the -isms and -phobias you can imagine. Additionally, even when the social criticisms are embedded into the story, the conflicts are routinely either overlooked or watered-down and discussed at the individual-level as if these are just isolated incidents and not reflective of larger phenomena. Dudebros forget that superhero comic media, from the very beginning, has always been political. A lot of the mainstream characters we know and love today were created in response to the anti-war and peace movements during the seventies in the United States (this is also not to say that there isn’t some definite war propaganda and Red Scare-inspired comics out there either).

Comics are teaching grounds for morality, human good, and bad, power, greed, corruption. Comics have been about the social commentary from the get-go. The idea that the government (and by extent society at large) is villainizing and surveilling a specific minority group who carry varying physical and genetic traits contrasting to that of the “ideal national subject” because of a perceived inherent aggression or difference based on their physical attributes *ahem ahem mutants*...where do you think they got that from?

I literally sat through a dude being like “IN MY EXPERIENCE AS A MAN, THAT IS NEVER THE CASE! IF A WOMAN GETS UPSET AND MAKES A SCENE IN PUBLIC, THE MAN ALWAYS LOOKS LIKE THE BAD GUY BECAUSE IT IS ASSUMED HE DID SOMETHING WRONG. MEN ARE THE ONES WHO CAN NEVER BE ANGRY.” (Obviously for Black men, my argument is different because when Black men express rage, they are viewed as a threat or turned into spectacle, but the person who made this rant was not a Black man, nor was he factoring race into his argument). As if masculinity and gratuitous violence have not become nearly synonymous. When male celebrities are accused of beating their partners, fans run to their defense to say “well she shouldn’t have provoked him.” When Will Smith slapped Chris Rock, the internet rooted for a televised boxing match between the actors/comedians. We all watched the Trump and Hillary debates right, where his belligerent behavior was coddled while she had to maintain composure?

We’ve collectively grown up watching male newscasters, talk show hosts, and reporters make jokes about angry women in sports, in the media or in news reports being on their periods, as a way to minimize the stressful and abusive circumstances, or people, women are subjected to. The world expects women to react to harassment with class and elegance; women’s anger, Black women especially, is never not mitigated. For male fans to come away from that scene wanting to eye roll is why the commentary is so “in-your-face” because a lot of y’all still don’t get it! Men are still finding ways to make women’s issues about them and the “loss” of their rights. In a world where Brock Turners are able to walk free, are you really trying to argue against this scene? Really? What else do you expect out of a series whose main character is AN ATTORNEY? Y’all are just not going to enjoy this series then, as per usual.

#if you're wondering who the youtuber in question is it is jaby koay from the channel #getjaby #he also has another channel but im not trying to promote his shit #he does reactions to loads of things but i literally want to beat his ass everytime he opens his mouth to make some social hot take bc #you might as well be talking to fucking ricky gervais #he gives major centrist vibes nd he's so fucking condescending nd will jump at any opportunity to mansplain things to his female co-reactor #he's like i'm woke but only to a certain point #anyways fuck dudebros #also are we gonna act like this she hulk scene is more shoe-horned in than that scene in endgame? let's be real #just say you hate hearing about any issues that affects anyone ever who isn't a white man #she hulk #she-hulk #marvel #mcu #mcu rant #tatiana maslany #jennifer walters #hulk #bruce banner #reactors

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kaiijo · 1 year

Note

Hi! I was curious about your thoughts of prompt #9 from the ugly prompts list with Shidou! I feel like it would be a total mess and absolutely hysterical 😋😁

OVERNIGHT ENGAGEMENT — SHIDOU RYUSEI

pairing: shidou ryusei x gn! reader content: set in this universe (pr manager! reader + pro soccer player! shidou), references alcohol consumption + hazy memory due to drinking notes: inspired by prompt 9 on this list (tweaked a little)

It’s entirely too warm in your bed, which, you think, shouldn’t be possible given that you always keep the window screens in, even in the dead of winter. You blink your eyes blearily, wincing when the light glow of early morning sunlight reaches you. You squint at the side table; that’s funny, you can’t remember having a mahogany side table. You also don’t remember getting dark blue sheets. Something shifts behind you, and you glance over your shoulder. You don’t remember inviting Shidou into your apartment.

Wait a minute…

You shoot up abruptly, head pounding, and do your best to survey what is definitely not your bedroom. You peek over at Shidou again and dread fills you. Fuck, what the hell did you two do? You venture a very cautious gaze under the sheets and are relieved to find both of you still in your underwear (and upon further inspection, you realize you’re wearing one of Shidou’s old soccer jerseys). It still doesn’t quell the building anxiety within you.

Beside you, Shidou’s hand blindly feels around the sheets before landing on you and, with a surprisingly strong grip for someone who is half-asleep, yanks you back down. He moves to curl around you, burying his face into your neck. You squirm when you swear you feel teeth graze your skin.

“Shidou!” you hiss, smacking his arm. “Wake up!” He mumbles something and his hold only tightens around you, but you feel his smile curl against your neck and you just know this bastard isn’t asleep. “Get up!” He doesn’t move and you resolve to do your best to grab your phone off the side table, hoping there’s something that will jog your memories.

You’re greeted with dozens of texts, missed calls, and social media alerts. You decide to click the most recent notice, a comment from a former classmate you haven’t talked to in years on the most recent Instagram post you don’t remember making.

congrats on the engagement!!

Your blood runs cold and you stare at the post in horror. There’s a sparkly band around your left ring finger and tagged in the post is none other than the man beside you, Shidou Ryusei. When you look at your hand in front of you — the real flesh and bone one — you see the same ring from the photo.

“Shidou!”

He finally deigns to sit up, blanket pooling around his waist and you try your best not to take a second glance at his well-toned chest and abdomen. He gives you a smirk, eyeing you, and he says, “You look good in my clothes.”

Your face bursts into flames and you huff, “Not the time, Shidou! Do you remember anything about what happened last night?”

He tilts his head. “Not really. Remember meeting you for drinks—”

Right, you two got drinks after a hard won victory of PXG against Real Madrid. And did shots, a lot of shots. Fuck. Shidou hums as he scoots closer to you, tugging on your (his) jersey and he says, “Wish I could remember more of this.”

You gulp as when he rests his chin on your shoulder, but you don’t pull away. He reaches around you and plucks your cell phone out of your hand, taking a look at the post you have open. You feel his breath hitch and you’re not sure what to expect as he then grabs your left hand and inspects it. He’s way too quiet, which honestly scares you more than when he’s yelling and kicking, but then Shidou grins wide. “Well, well, what do we have here?”

“Shidou…”

“Where do you want the wedding to be? I, personally, am a fan of a beach wedding.”

“Shidou—!”

“Think Underlashes will be my best man?”

“Shidou, focus,” you yelp, ripping your hand from his grip. “We need to fix this!”

“I think you need to fix this,” he says. “That’s what PR agents are for, right?”

This fucking jerk. But he isn’t wrong and you groan, throwing your phone further down the bed and flopping back down, staring at the ceiling. How were you going to maneuver your way out of this one?

“Hey,” Shidou says, laying back down and turning to face you. He uses a surprisingly gentle grip on your jaw to make you look at him. “I think we should keep it. We were going to get together eventually anyways. Just skipped a few steps.”

You glare at him and he just pokes your nose, snickering when you wrinkle it and slap his hand away. What the hell were you going to do? Then, another thought dawns on you: “Shidou, please tell me you bought this ring.”

#shidou ryusei x reader #shidou x reader #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock scenarios #blue lock imagines

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accio-victuuri · 2 months

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i have been doing cpn posts here and there about wyb’s alleged song list and here is another one. i’m just gonna name it wyb’s playlist cpn from now on. so the explanation is, some people know wyb’s personal qq music account so if you follow him you can see what he has been listening to. i am not really familiar with the app so idk how the settings work if he can hide some. no one is saying how they found out about the account, which makes sense for privacy. in a similar way that some fans know zz/wyb’s gaming account till now. feel free to not believe it cause i understand that things like this can be sus & people on the internet tend to lie.

for me personally tho, i love this cause i think music really speaks of what someone is feeling. and you have wyb who is not exactly big on social media so we rarely know anything. aside from his now extensive movie list, his playlist is something that is interesting too. not necessarily cpn-wise all the time.

this post will cover golden hour & some recent eason chan tracks added. 🎶🎵

The first one is GOLDEN HOUR which was used in ZZ’s vlog in Milan. It was a pretty popular song back then but it became more know because of ZZ’s post and even the singer reacted to it. Since then, it’s been a favorite among BXGs considering the meaning of it too.

This is what WYB’s playlist looked like on 3/28/23 People who follow said he hasn’t updated it for a week and then suddenly this track is added in. A piano version of Golden Hour. They say WYB usually adds relaxing music like piano tracks and some of nature, but not often. So it’s interesting how this one was added. At the time, they just don’t know the relevance. ( this screenshot was taken 00:38 3/29 but it has been this way since 3/28 )

and um hello to the rihanna songs! he is such a fanboy! as he should. and also kendrick! 👋🏼

then XZS posts the vlog with that BGM the next day.

dude, what are the chances. these vlogs are edited real time, we know that xzs team were working hard to feed content so the song must have been decided then and there. wyb listening to that the day before, next day it’s the BGM for ZZ’s vlog? i’m just thinking about ZZ sending it to him first to watch then WYB decided to add the song to his playlist. Or maybe they have already been lovin it and decided to use it on ZZ’s vlog.

so sweet!!!! 🥹🥹🥹🥹

the most recent one is this updated 2/13 ( the 3rd track i blurred sung by faye wong, i already talked about here ) :

The first one is this song ⬇️⬇️⬇️ which is about accompanying someone as a form of love. and isn’t that so them? it’s a known message that they both believe in, accompanying that person is a way of showing your love. screenshot 1 is from YT of a native speaker translating the title and that’s the one i’m going with.

also, sorry but i’m linking R1SE’s cover of the song cause it’s beautiful. 🫶🏼

youtube

AND THESE LINES! WYB is such a romantic! I cannot! It’s so him! Someone who will like and love this one thing and will stick to it till the end. 🥹

Accompanying you to turn loneliness into bravery

I lost again and again, I didn’t leave

Accompanying is the longest love confession

How long is the future

Stay with you until the story is finished

This is the second one, cloudy day. Which he was also allegedly listening to back in 3/2022 when he was filming and they haven’t seen each other for month.

What does the sky look like

What is love like

Several clouds forgot where to go on a cloudy day

Missing and loneliness

Blowed into the left ear

Maybe I can’t remember, but I can’t forget the time

That secret happiness

What to say to the cloudy day

From what i can gather, it’s about thinking of love and the good things even if it’s a cloudy day. Usually it must feel sad, but this person still chooses to see the good in it. Again, this is so WYB. He sees it and does not mope, he remembers the blue sky and white clouds instead.

Eason Chan is a famous singer that a lot of people listen to so i know that WYB is not the only person in China who probably has one of his songs on his playlist. Compared to Golden Hour which was unusual and the timing being sus. However for this, the fact that it’s added close to Valentines Day? Is this what he is feeling? So freakin in love! ♥️🥹

Anyway, I hope they had fun with the time they had together last CNY break ( allegedly ) and that their love endures & flourishes in the years to come! 🫶🏼

sources: one // two

#yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do

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idkwhatimdoingbutslay · 8 months

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… I can’t imagine that we actually watched the same show. Like I REALLY AISNSOSNWKMEJDND

hold on I’m gonna need to calm down.

Let me just make a list of why I disagree and at least organize my anger. Long post incoming.

Vander was friends and had a deal with Grayson. The sheriff. Idk what else to even add to that

Caitlyn is more than a cop and Arcane isn’t copaganda. Genuinely don’t know what kind of progress some of these people are looking for. Real allies are a necessity for real progress.

SILCO IS A CLASS TRAITOR. HE FUNNELLED DRUGS INTO THE UNDERCITY AND PUT POOR KIDS IN FACTORIES FOR THAT DRUG FOR PROFIT!!! HE PAID THE ENFORCERS TO LET HIM DO IT WITHOUT CONSEQUENCE

Vi is not as much as an activist as you would like to believe

WHY IS EKKO NEVER EVER BROUGHT UP IN THESE CONVERSATIONS????

Silco was not good for the Undercity

Silco was not a great guy. Ekko had to build an entire separate hidden community for the people he hurt and stepped on for his own benefit

Caitlyn is ignorant and naive. That’s ok. That’s what character development is for.

Loving imperfect characters like Silco and Jinx then hating characters like Vi and Caitlyn is peak media illiteracy to me

FOR THE LAST TIME: VI DIDNT ABANDON POWDER!!!!! Silco literally wanted Vi DEAD for trying to stop him from killing Vander??? How could you possibly say silco was there for jinx when Vi refused to be???? SHE WAS IN PRISON BECAUSE OF HIM???

Silco’s manipulation is working wonders on y’all

Embracing all the outrage without at all looking out for the people harmed by bigotry is not activism

SILCO IS A CLASS TRAITOR x929282929394

Caitlyn was the first person in years to show Vi kindness and care. She listened and stuck by her and took care of her after Vi was locked up for years and beat up by cops (i wonder what led her to be thrown in there?). Cait being a cop stopped being a point of contention once Vi recognized her naivety and genuineness.

NUANCE NUANCE NUANCE. ITS NEVER EVER BLACK AND WHITE

The only way I can see Vi touching ‘class traitor’ in season one was the shimmer raid. Guess who the hell put those kids in there in the first place.

Just hanging out with Caitlyn isn’t being a class traitor if Vander’s allowed to be friends with Grayson.

Critical thinking is very necessary for watching shows like Arcane

What the hell did Silco really do for the Undercity???? What changed over the 7(ish) years he was basically in power of the place? All I’ve heard was he made the air cleaner, which would be great except for, you know, shimmer and the child factory workers

Jinx is unwell and feeding into it like this in a fully serious manor would not help Arcane as a show at all

What do you want Arcane’s message as a full show to be? ‘Screw cops’? That’s a little boring and unproductive isn’t it?

CAN WE TALK ABOUT EKKO AND HIS IMPACT PLEASE???? x9382728283

Caitlyn is trying to make Piltover and Zaun a better place. Is that not allowed? Am I missing something?

Caitlyn and Vi’s arcs have only just started. Season one is basically fully set up except for characters like silco and Jinx. This is far from the end.

Genuinely think Vander would appreciate Vi for being friends (using this term loosely because they are in love) with Caitlyn considering he was the one who was opposed to war and Vi wasn’t.

Silco should NOT be your idea of Undercity independence and respect. He oppressed the Undercity the same way the Council and the Enforcers did. He helped no one but himself, his team (barely) and Jinx.

You’re allowed to like and dislike any character you want but pretending like Silco is better for the Undercity than others is just so ridiculous to me. Everyone is of course completely allowed to like Silco, but we can’t pretend like he’s this stand up guy. If you have to pretend like he was, maybe you don’t like him as much as you think.

“Because Cait’s pretty” is also incredibly incorrect. Go check point #14.

Vi never stopped loving and caring for Powder. Powder’s mental health issues were amplified and utilized by Silco because he couldn’t even heal himself.

If all of your opinions of Caitlyn and Vi start and end with “cops suck” and “class traitor” then you genuinely don’t respect Arcane as a show enough to show you nuance.

The misinterpretation of characters is just so … it’s like you go out of your way to love and/or hate characters no matter how much they show you who you are.

Your closed mindedness is clouding your judgement and making you out to seem like you don’t actually want the Undercity’s triumph, you want Silco and Jinx’s, even if it means ruining the Undercity. And that would be fine because father/daughter evil duo but trying to say you’re all for this duo because you want what’s better for the Undercity when they continue to hurt it is simply not correct and very harmful (to fictional characters in a fictional universe 😭)

Only being able to understand how Silco and Jinx were oppressed and therefore should be able to not just destroy Piltover but also Zaun is not the eat you think it is

Why is Viktor never called a class traitor? I think he's great (I also think Silco and Jinx are wonderfully written) but we hardly saw him in the Undercity/ interact with people from the Undercity plus he killed someone (Sky) from there (accidentally)

EDIT TO ADD ANOTHER POINT: Caitlyn has shown little to NO malicious intent and has no real negative impacts other than Jinx’s attachment issues and insecurities being amplified by her mere existence. Again, this is her story and development. Throughout the season she is exposed to reality and recognizes her and her peers/ families wrongs. I have no idea what you want from this character. Should Piltover just be gotten rid of in the story? Then what? Should Caitlyn have just never gotten involved and continued to embrace her privilege? Should she have left Vi in prison and stay ignorant?

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane netflix #point number 32 sums it all up I think #i blocked most of the people who added and made the post so they wont see this lol #i might be overreacting or misinterpreting #maybe i didnt watch the show right #or maybe i did and some of these people are bad at this #some points are most definitely redundant #and im open to people disagreeing.... respectively lol maybe dont wish death on a character and ill hear you out #again i wouldnt dislike silco as much if he wasnt put on a pedestal by people who swear theyre all for the undercity #i wrote this kind of in anger so like sorry about that lol #anti silco #<- for tagging purposes if this is too silco critical for the people who like him #to slay or not to slay #caitvi #this is the second repost because the first two didn’t show up in the tags cuz I messed with my settings 😭😭😭

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