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eternally-racing · 4 months

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keep her safe | lando norris

pairing: dad! lando x wife! reader (+ their teenage daughter!)

genre: fluff & angst-ish

warnings: racing crash, reader/lando's kid is in the hospital, some swearing

wc: 1.4k

summary: Nothing prepares you for the feeling of watching your daughter's first crash in formula 3.

note: this fic can be read as part of the racer girl series or as a stand alone as well!

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Lando always hated pulling the “I’m a celebrity” card when you two were out in public. He's never wanted the special treatment that companies wanted to give him before, but the minute he sees his daughter crash in her first Formula 3 race, he’s trying to pull out every trump card he has to get his way into the medical tent.

“That’s my fucking daughter in there, you can’t keep her from me! This is absolutely insane! I’m Lando fucking Norris, don’t you know who I am?” Lando is yelling and yelling and you hold him back by the wrist because otherwise you think he might actually charge at the door to try and get through it.

He more than anyone here knows what a bad crash looks like, and from the minute he saw your daughter, Piper, go into the barriers he knew that it was a rough one. There’s cameras swarming around you both but he doesn’t care (It’s not like he was a PR team’s dream when he was a driver himself). That’s his little girl in there and she’s hurt. There’s now a full commotion in front of the medical area and Lando admits defeat as he sinks back into the wall behind him and crumbles to the floor with you following suit.

“She’s afraid of needles, Y/N.” Lando says no louder than a whisper towards the shut doors “Who’s gonna tell them that she’s afraid of needles if I’m not there?”

You know that if she’s in a state where they’re not letting you see her and she’s being transferred to the hospital that she likely has already gotten a lot of needles and wasn’t conscious enough to feel them, but you keep that information to yourself once you see the worried look on Lando’s face. This exact moment is something you two had worried about ever since your little girl first stepped in a kart, and somehow it was worse than you had ever imagined it would be.

By the time you and Lando make it to the hospital it feels like hours have gone by, even though in reality it hadn’t been more than a handful of minutes. Lando’s never been more grateful for his success when a nurse recognizes him and immediately guides you both in the direction of Piper’s room. He’s not sure he would’ve been able to make it through a conversation right now anyways.

The scene inside is every parent’s worst nightmare. There are lines going in and out of Piper’s arms and bags of fluid are hung next to her bed; there are too many machines beeping and showing numbers and graphs that you just can’t understand. You feel Lando’s knees buckle beside yours and you keep an arm around his waist to keep him steady. You both need each other right now, there’s no doubt about that.

When Piper cries out for her daddy from the hospital bed it brings a fresh set of tears to your eyes. You can’t remember the last time Piper actually called Lando daddy, it had been “dad” for the most part or “Mr.Norris” if she felt like being cheeky, but hearing those words from her mouth brought you right back to when she was a little girl, your little girl.

Lando rushes to her side and has both hands caressing her face. He knows that she’s been checked over by the doctors, but he needs to see for himself that she’s really okay. He presses his forehead against hers as they cry together. You’ll never fully understand what Piper’s just been through, but the man standing in front of her does all too well.

You hang back a bit to talk to the doctors, who try to give you a comprehensive update on her status, but as soon as you hear the words “she’s fine and on track to make a complete recovery” you zone out as you finally let out the breath that it feels like you’ve been holding this whole time. You’re about to go rejoin your family once you hear the next words out of your daughter’s mouth.

“I’m sorry dad, I know this meant a lot to you.” Piper sighs as she pulls the hospital sheets up to her chin. “Did I at least make it around a lap? Am I the youngest ever female formula 3 driver to complete a lap in a grand prix?”

This is when Lando has to face the music - he got so excited about his daughter dreaming of Formula 1 that he may have pushed her a little too far if his daughter is more worried about beating records than she is about her own health. Lando tries to calm his own breathing as he grabs both of Piper’s hands to lay on his own to get her full attention. He wants to make sure she fully understands what he’s about to say.

“You’re always going to be my little girl, Pipes. Racing or not, I am always proud of you. I never want you to feel like you have to impress me.” Lando doesn’t even answer Piper’s question about the record because frankly he has no idea. He’s never once cared about awards and prizes and all of the fancy shit. All he’s ever wanted is for her to be happy, and he tells her exactly that.

Piper stops crying long before Lando does, and you’re amazed by the maturity your daughter shows as she starts wiping the tears from your husband’s eyes. You all just need a little family cuddle so you do exactly that, and take a moment to appreciate the lives that the three of you have and how precious that is. The sentimental moment is only broken by your daughter, who says that she has a little request for the two of you.

“Do you think you can ask the doctors if they can give me the good stuff that you got back in Vegas all those years ago, dad?”

Moments like this remind you that Piper is her father’s daughter and it earns a laugh from you both.

“Not a chance, kid, but good try.”

For the first time in what feels like years, the 3 of you sleep in one bed together. It’s one teeny tiny hospital bed made for a teenager, so you both wake up with extremely sore backs but very full hearts. Piper’s the first to fall asleep, understandably spent from the day she’s been through, but you notice Lando’s eyes never leave her, as if he’s worried she’ll disappear if he looks away. You reach over to grab his hand, you get it. Call it parental instinct, but that feeling of anxiety after something bad happens to your child is just something you can’t push away, and you want him to know that you’re here for him. You both wordlessly take turns watching over Piper throughout the night, holding her hand through blood draws and med deliveries.

Lando spends all day and night at Piper’s side while she’s recovering, and it’s only when you and your daughter tell him that he smells absolutely horrendous and needs to go shower do you finally get him to take a beat for himself. He still calls 3 times on the drive home from the hospital alone to check how Piper’s doing, and you have to threaten to not pick up the next time he calls before he finally takes a bit of a break. So often it feels like children drift away from their parents in their teenage years, but Piper’s recovery has given you both the opportunity to spend some much needed time with her as she grows up.

The minute Piper is cleared by the medical team she’s instantly back in the simulator. She’s a little daredevil like her daddy after all. Lando of course asks over and over again if she’s doing this for herself and not him, the fear of making the same mistakes as earlier weighing heavy on his mind. Your daughter is nothing if not honest, so she tells him about how she loves the sport itself but also loves the way she’s able to connect to her dad through it. Lando makes her pinky promise that she’ll let her know if she ever changes her mind on the subject, and lucky for you both, she never does.

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author's note: this was based on a lovely request from a reader! if you have any requests feel free to drop them in my ask box :) If you liked this piece and haven't read racer girl yet, give it a read because I'm sure you'll love that one too!

Until next time! - Em <;3

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gglitch1dd · 5 months

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Angry Dilfs- Bakugou Katsuki

Husband Bakugou Katsuki x Wifey Reader

Context: Your teenage son has been acting up recently, and tonight your husband has enough.

Warning: Swearing, disrespect, teenagers, reader is referred to as a mother and wife but biology or body isn't mentioned, Violence, punching, angy 'tsuki

You sat with your husband in the sitting room in his black tank top, his arms folded across his chest as pure anger rippling off of him. You watched uneasily as his knee moved up and down as he scowled, ruining that beautiful face of his. Even after two decades of marriage, Katsuki still had his stormy bubbling anger raging inside of him. It was something he had learned to diminish and lower with time, especially after your kids were born, but looking at him now, he seemed about ready to throw in the towel and release all hell.

You placed a hand over his large bicep, trying to calm him as best as you could, leaning closer to him in the quiet of your house. “Be easy on him, Katsuki.” You whispered as you put your head on his shoulder. “He’s just a kid.”

Your husband released a grunt in response but nothing more. You knew that this was going to be a bad one. Ever since your eldest son, Eitsuki, had become a teenager, him and Katsuki had been at each other’s necks like crazy. It bothered you a lot but you weren’t exactly surprised. The two of them were so similar, and that was also the problem. Katsuki saw himself in his son, specifically the part of him that he had grown out of, and he wanted his son to be better. But he sometimes came off harsher than intended.

“Are the kids in bed?” He asked, his gravelly voice pulling you out of your head.

You nodded in response, looking at his sharp features. You had put your two other kids to bed earlier and hopefully they would stay that way, but with the volume level on this family, you weren’t entirely sure. “Yah of course. It’s a school night.” You reminded him. He let out a grunt in response, nodding his head.

Before anything more could be said, the front door to your house opened. Just at the sound of the door opening, you felt your husband tense. You let out a sigh as you let go of him, knowing that it was best not to touch him when he was like this and give him his space right now.

Appearing in the hallway was your eldest son. He ran a hand through his ashen blond hair as he trudged in, pausing at the sight of you and your husband sitting together in the lounge. Just at the sight of his father he knew he was in deep shit. Eitsuki sighed as he moved to take off his shoes.

“Where were you?” Katsuki asked softer than you thought he would.

Eitsuki rolled his eyes as he swung your car keys on his finger. He slipped off his puffer jacket as he turned to head into the kitchen. “Nowhere that concerns you.”

You saw that twitch to Katsuki’s eye and you knew that he was set off. He pushed off of the couch and went storming over to where Eitsuki had gone off to. “Everything that concerns you, is my concern!” He reminded the rebellious teenager. You followed after him shortly.

Eitsuki moved to grab a glass out of the cabinet. “I’m seventeen, old man.” Eitsuki reminded his father as he looked to him unimpressed. “I can go where I want.”

“No the fuck you can’t.” Katsuki placed his hands on the marble counter across from where Eitsuki stood, leaning against the fridge.

“And why can’t I?”

“You’re my son! You’re a high schooler!” Katsuki shouted back at him. You were glad you had taken his glasses from him before he left the couch, the else you might needed to order him new ones (again). “You should be focusing on that!”

“I am fucking focused!” Eitsuki shouted, nearly slamming the glass down beside him on the counter, set off by his fathers comment. He motioned to his chest with wide angry crimson eyes. “I am the top student in the Hero Course at UA! I don’t need anything else!!”

Katsuki tilted his head with a cynical chuckle. “Oh really?” He asked loudly before pulling out Eitsuki’s report card. At the sight of the school report card, Eitsuki stilled. His body tensing as he knew that he would be in real trouble now. Your son’s eyes looked to you. You gave him a sympathetic smile. Katsuki slammed it down on the table between them and pointed a finger down on the sheet of paper. “Then why the hell were you hiding this in the first place?”

Eitsuki turned to you once again once it clicked in his head how his father got a hold of it. His eyebrows furrowed and you saw that mean hateful expression that your husband had passed on to your son focused straight on you. You tightened your hold on your hands in front of you. Eitsuki glared at you as he took a step forward. “You looked through my stuff.”

You let out a sigh. “I was just getting your laundry when I found it. Eitsuki you shouldn’t be hiding your grades from your father and I.” You spoke softly as you motioned between your husband and yourself. “If you needed help, you can always talk to us. We can get you a tutor or-”

“You couldn’t have talked to me first!” He shouted at you.

Katsuki scowled as he looked to his son who was shouting at you. He opened his mouth to speak but you put up your hand, silently telling him that you would handle this one.

You paused as you swallowed down. You frowned slightly. “Reports came out two weeks ago and yet we’re only seeing it now. Eitsuki you had time to talk to us and you didn’t. I just felt like-”

Smoke spilled from his palms as he slammed his hands in front of him, effectively breaking your voice. “I don’t want you to ever look through my stuff again you… you fucking hag!” He shouted at you, malice in his voice. “What type of fucking mother are you?”

You were taking a back as your eyes widened in surprise. You looked at your boy in front of you. Your first son. You always thought of him as so kind, maybe a bit trigger happy and wild like his father but kind. It was painful to hear him say such words to you. It felt a knife into your chest and you felt your emotions build up in your throat.

However, you quickly realised that your husband had frozen in place. You quickly looked to Katsuki. “Katsuki. Katsuki, he didn’t mean it.” You rushed, moving over to him but you soon saw your husband blinded by rage as he pushed you off of him, not being as hard as he could have been. A smile was on his face and you knew that only meant that he had forgotten all sense of reason.

At the sight of his father making quick steps of marching towards him, Eitsuki’s face dropped in slight terror. Nothing could stop the older ProHero who was still very much a large powerhouse to this day, despite spilling out of his prime. Even Eitsuki knew that you could say whatever you wanted about his father, but insulting you was something that no one should do.

Before you could stop him, Katsuki had punched your son in the face. You gasped moving to cover your mouth in surprise. He had never hit any of your children before. His words were far more painful to say the least. However, he was a great parent and had learnt better ways of discipline, but this was a shock to you.

Eitsuki stumbled back but before he could fall back, Katsuki grabbed his son by the collar of his jacket and forced him to look him square in the face. You had never seen your son look so terrified before as he stared up at his father. “Don’t you ever speak like that to my wife again! Do you understand me!” He shouted down at Eistuki, not caring for his volume. “I said, do you fucking understand me!”

Eitsuki nodded his head, tears brimming his eyes. “Y-yes-”

“You think you’re a man!? You think you’re tough shit? That you can do whatever the fuck you want!? Real men don’t insult women like that! If I ever see you disrespecting your mother again, there will be hell to pay. You are lucky that you have even an ounce of relation to me the else I’d send you to hell myself! That!” He pointed a finger at you, who was frozen at the interaction. “That is your mother and you are going to damn well respect her and you’re going to respect me! I don’t want to ever see or hear you lying to us or leaving this house without our fucking permission. Do you understand me!” Your son nodded his head silently, a frown on his face but no retort to give. You watched your husband look your son over and scoff. He let go of Eitsuki and took a few steps back away from his son. He turned around to placing his hands on the sink and looking out the window to outside. “Go to your fucking room. It’s midnight and you’ve got school tomorrow.”

Eitsuki didn’t say anything more and you didn’t move from your place as he practically ran past you to upstairs to his room, slamming his door in the process. You winced at the sound of the slammed door but didn’t say anything. Luckily that didn’t trigger your husband into another bout of rage.

With the fighting now over, you could finally attend to each individual separately. You slowly moved over to your husband. You placed a hand on his back, hot muscle underneath his tank top as he gripped the sink with a white knuckled grip. You leaned your head against his back as you wrapped your arms around him. “Go upstairs, my love. You’re tired. You’ve had a long day. I’ll be there soon.” You whispered. It took Katsuki a second but he nodded his head with a sigh. He moved a hand over yours, giving it a squeeze before walking out of the room as well.

With him on autopilot for a while you, you moved to grab a tray. You grabbed a water bottle from the fridge, a banana, a muffin you had baked earlier and pain killers too. Grabbing an ice bag from the freezer as well, you put it on the tray. You made some of the tea you knew he liked. Taking the tray, you moved out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Catching your eye was a photo of Eitsuki and his father. Eitsuki sat on his father’s shoulders as a young boy, their happy smiles and wide happy crimson eyes as they stood together with gold medals in victory at winning the dads and sons race at his primary school. You smiled at the photo. You continued down the hallway to Eitsuki’s room. Hazard tape on his door. You hesitated but knocked on the door.

You entered his dark room, none of the lights on other than the light that fell behind you from the hallway. “Eitsuki…” Your son lay on his bed, his back towards you as he was silent, not responding to you in his silent anger and sadness. You let out a breath but walked over to him. You put the tray down on his bedside, his phone charging there. You carefully sat down on the bed beside him, grabbing the ice bag. You were gentle as you carefully placed it on his left cheek, hearing him suck in a breath but nothing more. “Eitsuki, you know how your father is.” You started softly. “He’s just worried about you and angry. I know… I know it’s been tough with all the pressure you get being Dynamight’s son but… we love you. I love you. We… we just need you to talk to us, love.” You spoke to him. He didn’t respond as he kept his back to you. You didn’t expect him to either. “I’ve left you some pain killers and something to snack on if you’re hungry. Your father and I are in our room if you need us.”

You gave him a weak smile, feeling tears in your eyes. You removed the ice bag and placed a kiss on his head. You were prompt, knowing he didn’t like much of your physical affection anymore. You placed the ice bag next to him and turned to leave. Right before you could properly stand up and off the bed, you felt arms wrap around your midsection and keep you seated. You froze as you didn’t want to move. You felt his hold on you tightened with his face buried in your side. You looked down at him, seeing soft blond hair and not his face.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled.

You frowned as you tilted your head but it soon moved to a smile. You let out a soft hum as you ran your hand through his soft hair. Bakugou men were all the same, always hiding their faces when their emotions got too much for them. “it’s okay.” You whispered as you stared sitting there for as long as he needed you to. Small sobs and ugly tears coming out of him but you didn’t move. You didn’t move until he eased his hold on you, turning his face away, wiping at his eyes, before you could see. “Take your meds and eat the muffin, honey. Go to bed. You have school tomorrow.” You reminded him as you stood up and left his room.

With one Bakugou male done, you went to your bedroom. You entered it and closed the door behind you. Once again, sitting with his back to you was Katsuki. His face in his hands as he sat in silence in the darkness of the room. The light from outside illuminated him enough that you didn’t have to switch on the lights to see him. You walked to him slowly, moving to position yourself next to him, leaning against his side and remaining silent, knowing that he would speak when he was ready.

It was silent between the both of you for a long time, the both of you sitting together in the darkness.

You heard a tsk come out of your husband as he shook his head. You looked up at your husband who finally moved his hands from his face. His eyes staring out the window absently. “I don’t know what’s up with that boy.” He let out lowly. “I swear, he acts like he’s crazy. I don’t understand him. Who goes partying in the middle of the week and doesn’t tell a soul!! He’s always so fucking angry and reckless. He’s pushing everyone away! It’s like he’s-”

“Just like you?” You tried with a raised eyebrow looking at him with a gentle smirk. He looked down at you with a scowl which only made you giggle. You pushed against him lightly, making him grumble. “He’s just trying to find himself Katsuki. Some people’s paths are harder than others.” You whispered, your head resting on his chest. “Also, you didn’t have to hit him that hard.”

Katsuki let out an amused scoff. “The little shit deserved it.”

“Katsuki.”

He grumbled as he looked away from you. It was silent for another moment. You watched your husband carefully, as he stared down at his hands. “I… I didn’t mean to hit him so hard…” He whispered softly. You saw the regret in his brows as his hands bawled into fists. “I… I just couldn’t allow him to talk like that about you. Son or not, he stepped out of line.”

You nodded your head as you leaned against him. You gave him a gentle smile. “Well thank you…” You whispered. “For standing up for me. Although I don’t like how you did it… I’m happy to know my husband still thinks so highly of me.”

You heard a scoff come out of him as he wrapped an arm around you. He pulled you down so that you could lie down with him. His arms stayed wrapped around you, making you feel safe and warm in his arms. “Of course, I would. You’ve given me no reason not to.”

“Yah… it was… well… a bit attractive too.”

Katsuki’s eyebrows raised in surprise as he turned to look down at you. You refused to look at him as you cleared your throat. He raised an eyebrow as he looked down at you with a smirk. “Oh, so you liked me standing for you?” He asked lowly.

You whined and shoved him lightly, trying to get out of his hold. “Katsuki.”

“No, no, no, there’s no escaping it now.” He chuckled as he tightened his hold on you, as he kept you plastered to his chest. He looked down at you with one of those full of himself grins that made you laugh. You moved your hands to cup his face as you looked up at him. He tilted his head and smirked. “So… since your husband has had such a rough day, it’s only fair that you suck his cock.”

At his words your mouth fell open in shock, heat moving to your face. “Katsuki!” You shouted at him.

“I think it’s only fair!”

-Glitch1d

Hey yall. I'm back from my haitus and I'm taking requests again!! So its so good to be back. Next on this three part tumblr series will be Izuku!!

[Angry Dilfs- Midoriya Izuku]

[Angry Dilfs- Kirishima Eijiro]

#mha x y/n #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou #dilf bakugou #dilf mha

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 7 months

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hi!! can i request a miguel x jealous reader? this has been stuck in my head for quite some time now..

it is no question that spiderman 2099 was hot, even if the people of nueva york haven't seen his face.. his huge frame and voice will of course gain him some fans. one day, reader overhears a group of young highschoolers, fangirling about spiderman 2099 and how hot he was. even showing off some pictures and videos to each other.

of course, reader feels proud since spiderman 2099 is their husband. but also can't help but feel jealous knowing that others also want miguel. they push it down though since getting jealous over a bunch of highschoolers was silly.

however, reader is more bothered about it than they thought and miguel eventually notices their sour mood. after some denying and coaxing, miguel finally gets them to spill the beans. he is extremely amused, and even finds it a little funny. however, he's still going to reassure reader that he is only theirs like the great husband he is.. 🥰 ending can be smutty or fluffy, up to you!!! ❤️

hii!! sorry for the hold up for this. this is cute I love it!! thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

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SUBTLE ENVY

miguel o’hara x f!reader

word count. 644

There was no doubt that Spider-Man 2099 was the talk of the town - his towering, masculine physique often the main focal point. When you'd overhear strangers on the street conversing about the masked menace, your husband, you'd be overgrown with pride - listening in on their encounters of being saved by him.

Many things made you feel proud to know Spider-Man so personally - to know the real man under the suit and mask. Though, some things about the title of the wife aren't as easy to stomach.

Daily, you'd see hundreds of comments online about how handsome your husband is - see fan-made videos and edits with questionable captions. For the most part, you enjoyed them. You loved to watch clips and compilations of the man you love, loved to see how liked and appreciated he is by the people of Nueva York.

However, sometimes the comments would get the best of you. You'd see teenage girls swooning over him online - talking about how they wish to replace his wife. At first, they were small, inconsequential remarks, but over time, they changed how you saw yourself. They made you question if you were good enough for Miguel. You kept your issue to yourself - deciding your husband had enough on his plate and didn't need you complaining about something you could easily ignore.

You kept your problem hidden until one afternoon at your local coffee shop; you overheard a group of high school girls talk about what they would do if they had a minute alone with Spider-Man 2099. What they said should've easily rolled off your back, should've been something that you laugh off, something you silently agreed with, but no. They caught you in a vulnerable mood where you were sensitive to their infatuation, already feeling insecure, and all you could do was leave the queue and head home.

You return to your apartment and change into something comfy, slumping onto the sofa with a blanket wrapped around you. You put on your show and cosy up.

"Cariño?" Miguel calls out from his office doorway. "I thought I heard you," his tone warm and comforting as he kisses your cheek from behind. "How was your day?"

"Good," you absentmindedly reply, keeping your gaze on the tv ahead.

"Is that all? Querida? Are you okay?"

"Mh-hm."

"Pms?" he asks, joining you on the couch.

"No," you chuckle, cutely shaking your head. "Don't think so anyway."

"You seem sad."

You smile sincerely. "It's nothing— it's silly, really."

Miguel's head cocks to the side, sweetly looking at you with softened eyes. His large hand reaching for yours. "Nothing's too silly," he shakes his head, trying to emphasise his statement. "Tell me what's on your mind."

"Miguel, it's stupid," you warn, suddenly embarrassed. "Like, really stupid."

"I don't care."

You exhale, turning to face him. "I was getting coffee and heard a bunch of girls swooning over you," you confess, your words quietening.

"Baby..." he hesitates, an amused smile lining his lips.

"I know it's childish, but it just bugs me sometimes—it's not funny."

"Of course not," he reassures, his posture stiffening from your soft scolding. "But you have to see the humour in it, no?"

"How so?"

"Cariño," he sweetly coos. "I'm here... with you. No one else gets to see me like this. Only you see me without the mask," his smile widens, looking at you in endearment. "You're the only one I want. I don't care about the girls on the internet or in coffee shops, just you."

Your smile mirrors his as you lean into him, nestling into his comfort. "Thank you," you say, your words muffle into the buff of his side. "I appreciate it. A lot."

"Of course," he chuckles, draping a blanket over himself - getting comfortable. He kisses the crown of your head. "Always."

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#request #miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel atsv

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smytherines · 2 months

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Fuck it, here's an Agent Mega dissertation

Alright since I have such elaborate headcanon for my beloved precious Owen Carvour, I guess I should do it for Agent Curt Mega too. Sigh.

So, going off of the last big one, if Owen is born in 1928, then I'm gonna say Curt was born in 1930. I'm forever won to the Texan agent mega headcanon, but I think it's safe to say that Mrs. Mega is not from Texas, probably more like New York or I've seen people say New Jersey.

We know nothing about Agent Mega's dad, but I imagine he was kind of a loser and low level con artist and moved his pregnant wife down to Texas to do scams around the bustling oil industry, and then soon after Curt was born a scam collapsed and he ran off. It's either that or an Aladdin 3 situation where he was secretly a spy the whole time and had to go into hiding.

So we've got mama Mega, raising a VERY hyperactive (read: ADHD) little boy on her own, in a place where she doesn't have any support, and he just becomes her entire world. But she has to work a lot, so Curt becomes used to taking care of himself, and most importantly- keeping himself busy so he doesn't lose it.

In this headcanon Curt would only be 15 when WWII ends- not old enough to fight, but definitely old enough to have personally known a lot of kids from his hometown who come home in caskets. I just truly think of WWII as a formative experience for both these guys. For Curt it just feeds into that inferiority complex.

Now anybody who has ADHD knows that you already spend a lot of your life feeling inadequate, feeling self-conscious about not being able to be the person other people want you to be (*especially* if you're queer). You get defensive, especially when criticized. You also get restless.

I headcanon Curt as growing up in Abilene, Texas, mostly because I have a friend who grew up there and I've visited and the vibe is right.

I don't know if anybody has ever seen The Last Picture Show, but its a film set in small town Texas in 1951-1952 (so a little late for our timeline but still) and it's (more or less) about two high school seniors essentially trying to escape this suffocatingly small, dying town before they become doomed to spend their lives trapped there.

That's definitely what I think about Agent Mega too- this gay, ADHD teenage boy climbing the walls of this little town, never being able to fully be himself. But he's got a lot of energy (and more than a little anger) to burn off, so he does sports. It's Texas, so football for sure. Maybe wrestling too. Perhaps wrestling is even where he has his gay come to jesus moment.

And when he isn't doing sports, he's home, alone (mama Mega is working so hard), out back drinking a beer (or two, or three) and teaching himself how to shoot. I think he becomes hyperfixated on becoming an expert marksman, because with all of this shit he cannot control, all the stuff he is supposed to be but isn't, this is one area where it feels like he has the power here.

What starts off as "kid drinking beer to feel cool and rebellious" starts to morph into a lifetime dependence on alcohol. Substance use is a big issue for a lot of ADHDers for the same reason I think it would be for Curt- it calms him down. It eases that constant restlessness in his bones. It softens the edges of other people's criticisms of him. It makes him care a bit less what others think about him.

In a vicious cycle, he drinks to avoid feeling those big feelings (especially as a man, especially as a gay man, especially as a gay man in Texas), but the drinking leads to more criticism, which leads to more drinking to numb the emotional response to that criticism.

But his hyperfixation on learning to shoot pays off. Let's say he becomes a junior state champion trapshooter (did I look up trapshooting competitions from the 1940s? yes I did). He's good, especially when he hits the sweet spot of drinking just enough to calm his ass down but not so much that he's useless. Maybe this is how he comes to the attention of the A.S.S.

And he fully believes that these skills he cultivated, the ability to hit hard and run fast and shoot accurately, his ability to escape when it doesn't feel remotely possible, is why many years later he just kinda rolls his eyes at Owen for insisting that they do things carefully and methodically. Careful didn't get him out of small town Texas. Careful didn't get him the exciting non-stop life he has now, a life where he *almost* gets to be himself a lot of the time.

When Owen "dies," and its Curt's fault, he naturally turns to drinking to numb that pain. But its a lot of pain, so it takes a lot of alcohol to kill it.

I'm sure I could go on, but as always I have rambled a lot here so I'm just gonna leave it.

#spies are forever #agent curt mega #saf headcanon #SAFtistic

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oceanpulls · 1 month

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Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross have a plan to soundtrack everything

Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross – best friends and Nine Inch Nails bandmates – found unlikely creative fulfilment (and a couple of Oscars) by reassessing what they had to offer as musicians. Now they’re thinking even bigger, and imagining an artistic empire of their own making

By Zach Baron

Photography by Danielle Levitt

Every weekday, Trent Reznor makes his way from his house, a cottagey sprawl behind a white wall in a canyon on Los Angeles’s Westside, to a studio he’s built in his backyard. There he meets his best friend, bandmate, and business partner, Atticus Ross, and they get to work. Reznor and Ross observe the same hours, Monday to Friday, 11am to 7pm. “We show up,” Reznor told me. “We’re not late. We’re not coming in to start to fuck around.” It’s a methodical, orderly existence that Reznor could not have foreseen in the ’90s, when he was fronting Nine Inch Nails and struggling with a drug-and-alcohol problem that was his answer to success. “I would do anything to avoid writing a song,” Reznor said. “I’d rewire the studio 50 times.”

Now Reznor has a wife, Mariqueen Maandig, five children, and multiple jobs. He is sober. Since 2010, when the director David Fincher asked Reznor and Ross to score The Social Network, for which Reznor and Ross won an Oscar, the two men have had steady employment composing for film. This year, Reznor and Ross are also starting a yet-to-be-named company, built around storytelling in multiple disciplines: film production, fashion, a music festival, and a venture with Epic Games.

And then, of course, there is the oldest and perhaps still the most complicated of Reznor’s jobs: being the frontman of Nine Inch Nails. In 1988 Reznor formed what was then a one-man band; the first two full-length records Nine Inch Nails released, Pretty Hate Machine(1989) and The Downward Spiral (1994), have sold more than eight million copies. (Over subsequent years and subsequent albums, the band has since crossed the 20 million mark in sales.) In the ’90s, for a time, Nine Inch Nails were ubiquitous: a phenomenon on the level of Nirvana or Dr Dre. During that decade, the success of the band nearly killed Reznor. “I didn’t feel prepared to process how disorientating that was,” he said. “How much it can distort your personality.”

These days, Nine Inch Nails, which Ross joined as a full-time member in 2016, present a different problem – how do you make something old, something so already well-defined, new again? There are years when Reznor feels like he has the answers and years when he’s less certain. He has put the band on hiatus more than once; after the last Nine Inch Nails tour, in 2022, Reznor deliberately took a break from playing shows as well. “For the first time in a long time I wasn’t sure: what’s the tour going to say?” Reznor told me. “What do I have to say right now? We can still play those songs real good. Maybe we can come up with a new production. But it wasn’t screaming at me: this is what to do right now.”

But he and Ross still come to work, daily, in search of transcendence. “We sit in here every day,” Reznor said. “And a portion of the time organically becomes us just figuring out who we are as people and processing life and a kind of therapy session. And in those endless hours it’s come up: why do we want to do this? And the reason is because we both feel the most in touch with God and fulfilled.”

It is easy to make things when you are a teenager growing up in rural Pennsylvania, near the Ohio border, as Reznor was, and you have nothing to lose and everything to gain; it is considerably harder, once you’ve got older, and found a way to make things that people like, to keep going. It’s an old story: the act of creation can lift you up, but those sharp gifts can also destroy you, and if you make it past that, the sheer blissful regularity of life with money and a family can even you out so thoroughly that there is no friction left to work with. You look inside the cupboard and the cupboard is bare, or it’s a mansion and living inside of it is a person you’re bored of, and so you stop looking. But Reznor and Ross have never stopped looking, and the search for that magical feeling of finding something – that feeling of, in Reznor’s words, “I don’t know where it came from. I don’t know how I just did what I did, but I’ve channelled it into something that worked” – is still the thing that organises their days and their moods.

We were talking in their studio, which was low-lit and cold and full of synthesizers’ blinking lights. Reznor was on a sofa and Ross sat in a chair nearby. The two men first met in the ’90s, when Reznor signed Ross’s band, 12 Rounds, to Reznor’s Nothing Records. Soon after, they became friends, and then musical collaborators. “I was just getting sober,” Reznor said, “and I was in a pretty fragile transitional phase. And I just hit it off with Atticus right off the bat. And part of it was, he was someone who was on much firmer ground, in a mentor-y kind of way, than I was.”

Ross is two years younger than Reznor, but when they met, he’d already been through certain things Reznor was just getting around to. “I got clean when I was very young,” Ross told me. “So I had a bit more experience than him. Put it like this: I knew you could have fun without being high.”

Their friendship has been a constant in both their lives since. “I don’t know if parts of us are broken and we don’t feel good enough,” Reznor said, staring at the ceiling of the studio, “but we know if we work as hard as we can and do the best work we can, it fixes something. At the core of it, that’s what unites us creatively. On top of that, I think his take on the world and role in life helps me understand my place and not feel as detached in some ways.”

Reznor often jokes, or simply explains, that he is a “quart low” on whatever it is that makes people happy. “I think we can both, on our own devices, run below zero as a baseline,” Reznor said. “I don’t mean manic depression, I just mean we don’t take compliments well. It’s like when we won the Oscar, it was the day after: ‘Let’s take today guilt-free, kind of say fuck yeah.’ And tomorrow we’ll have settled back down to a few feet below sea level.”

In their years of collaborating with each other, both men have found some mutual reassurance – a little lift. Reznor gestured at Ross.

“I remember something he said to me – I don’t know if you want me to say this or not – in one of our talks years ago: ‘Here’s what I want today.’”

“I see what’s coming,” Ross said, nervously.

“I just want to feel OK,” Reznor said, quoting his friend. “I want to feel like I’m OK.”

One day this winter, Reznor greeted me at the door of their studio – in the course of reporting this story, I never saw him anywhere else – wearing a black hoodie made by the synthesizer company Moog, black jeans, and black running shoes. At 58, Reznor still retains the angular intensity and jet-black hair of his youth, but time and fatherhood seem to have made him quicker to smile. He looks a little like a college professor now, or an unusually-well-cared-for software engineer. He led me back, past walls of unused gear and several black-clad mannequins, all of which startled me, to their primary workspace, where Ross – a tall west Londoner (he grew up in Ladbroke Grove) with a stern face and a pleasantly reedy voice – sat at a computer, also all in black. (Once, I asked the two men whether their upcoming clothing line would feature any colour. “No,” Reznor said, incredulously. “Of course not.”)

They were on deadline for two films at the moment, including Luca Guadagnino’s forthcoming Queer. “But we’re trying not to work,” Reznor said, drily. Leaned up against one wall was a photo of the two in tuxedos, accepting the Academy Award for best original score for their work on The Social Network. Reznor had contributed to soundtracks before, in the ’90s, but he’d never formally scored a film until The Social Network.

But Reznor and Ross quickly realised that the work, in some ways, wasn’t so different from songwriting. “What do we do when we write a song?” Reznor asked. “We’re trying to emotionally connect with somebody.” Take the Mark Zuckerberg character in The Social Network:“Here’s somebody who thinks this idea is so important that it’s worth kind of fucking your friends over for it. And then realising maybe it wasn’t worth it, or I didn’t realise how I’d feel if I got what I wanted at the price of this. I can relate to that in my own language. Suddenly there’s music.”

“I’m grateful not to be as angry and frustrated and desperate as I have felt in the past,” Reznor said. “I couldn’t have predicted that I would feel this level of fulfilment.”

And Reznor found that he enjoyed the exercise of solving someone else’s problems instead of his own. “There’s something about not being the boss and working again in service to something that I initially felt guilty for feeling kind of fulfilled by in a weird way.”

Reznor said that on another Fincher film, Mank, the director suggested: “What if it sounded like maybe inspired by Bernard Herrmann and as if it were recorded in 1935 and this film canister sat on the shelf for 60 years?” OK, interesting. (Ross and Reznor were nominated for that one too.)

On the first film the two men scored for Guadagnino, Bones and All, “we got a cut of that that was nearly four hours long with no music and we kind of thought, Oh, fuck,” Reznor said. “Four hours we sat without a pee break, transfixed. It didn’t need music. And when you watch that you approach it differently.” Then Guadagnino brought them Challengers, due for worldwide release in April. Reznor said, “He started us down a path, saying, ‘What if it was very loud techno music through the whole film?’” (This is exactly what it turned out to be.)

“I wish I had his notes,” Ross said of Guadagnino. “His notes were so fucking funny on what each piece was meant to do.”

“Oh, yeah,” Reznor said. “‘Unending homoerotic desire.’ It was all a variation on those three words.”

They liked the challenge of scoring, they found, and that feeling of not being in control. They also liked the way it made them crave being in control again: “It makes you more inspired to work on other stuff when we’re finished,” Reznor said. “Even if it’s just, Thank God it’s done now and we can appreciate the freedom we had before we gave it up.”

These days, Reznor and Ross also like having jobs that let them be at home, around their families. Both men had tumultuous or lonely lives when they were younger; both men have found that fatherhood soothes certain unresolved aspects of their pasts. Ross has three kids, and “probably the greatest reward is how balanced and happy they all are compared to – certainly my growing up was an unusual sort of scenario. It was a fairly chaotic youth.” Ross comes from a notable English family, but his immediate lineage was more unstable. “My dad had a club called Flipper’s Roller Boogie Palace in LA in the ’70s,” Ross told me. “He went bankrupt in England and had a judgment passed against him where he couldn’t talk to a bank manager for 15 years. So he moved here and opened this sort of Studio 54 on roller skates on La Cienega and Santa Monica.” Ross held up a coffee-table book full of photos of the club. “You don’t need to look at it, but it was just a mad life. So I grew up in some madness.”

It is particularly endearing to see Reznor, who at a distance was a fierce and terrifying figure in his 20s and 30s, find domestic bliss. I am old enough that my adolescence coincided neatly with the S&M-flavoured, I wanna fuck you like an animal era of Nine Inch Nails; when I was leaving Reznor’s house one day, I noted with some amusement the cheerful mundanity of a basketball hoop in the backyard. “I’m grateful not to be as angry and frustrated and desperate as I have felt in the past,” Reznor told me. “I couldn’t have predicted that there was a world where I would have a sizeable family with kids and feel the level of fulfilment and comfort and be able to live in that.”

Was that something you were consciously seeking before you found it?

“I think I had some abandonment issues from my parents splitting up, or feeling I never fit in, and I’d gotten accustomed to being on my own. And largely due to my own, I think, inability to really be intimate with people, or share or be open or know how to be a friend or a partner to somebody… Trying that out and doing it with pure and full immersion has led to an unexpectedly great outcome.”

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The other film project Reznor and Ross were on deadline for was Scott Derrickson’s The Gorge, a science-fiction thriller starring Miles Teller and Anya Taylor-Joy. They were working on a lengthy, music-dependent scene that they’d already mostly scored. But, Ross said, “the director wants it to be a bit more, I can’t think of a better word than just a bit more scary and intense.” They weren’t sure what that directive meant, exactly, but they were content – they were happy – to try to figure it out: to enter the room once again, carrying nothing, and to try to leave it with something that didn’t exist before.

Ross called up the scene on a monitor at the centre of a long mixing board: Teller and Taylor-Joy in an evil-looking spiky forest. Reznor and Ross have somewhat fluid roles in their collaboration, but today the plan was for Reznor to improvise some music while Ross edited and manipulated it in real time. “Atticus’ superpower,” Reznor said, “is that I can come up with a melody and a chord change, and he can make that sit on the scene in a way that is meticulous, and mind-numbingly boring to watch him do.”

A studio assistant, also in all black, presented himself to help Reznor set up a microphone and a cello next to a keyboard that sat underneath another computer monitor. Ross hit play on the footage and what they’d already completed of the score, a kind of haunted, chanting murmur. “It’s basically atmosphere at the moment,” Ross said. Next to him was a synthesizer whose make and model he asked me not to print and which the two men use as a kind of sound ecosystem to feed stuff into.

Reznor began by pushing down on the piano’s keyboard, while with his other hand he manipulated the sound with a flat synthesizer on the desk in front of him. It began as a kind of mellow pan flute thing, and then, with a push of a few buttons, became more of a sad, Social Network-ish plonk. Ross stood up and started tapping the synthesizer to his left, and the sounds Reznor made began to loop and accumulate – little melodic figures that plunged in and out of feedback. Reznor moved from the piano to the microphone, where he sang a few soft passages in a baritone falsetto, more sad than spooky, and then to the cello, which he played slowly and choppily. Ross moved between the computer and the synthesizer, trying to harness it all as it built to a loud, echoing crescendo.

After about 20 minutes, Reznor sat back in his chair, and Ross soon followed suit. Everything got quiet again. “It’s going fishing,” Reznor said to me, shrugging. “Sometimes something happens.”

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Or, sometimes, everything happens. One of the first things you see when you arrive at Reznor’s home studio are two original paintings by the Yorkshire artist Russell Mills – on the left, a razor against a rusty red background; on the right, a decaying yellow-and-black collage – that ultimately became the insert and the cover art for Nine Inch Nails’ The Downward Spiral. This is the record with “Hurt” and “Closer” on it. It’s an album Reznor nearly didn’t survive.

Why do I bring this up? Well. If I may, for a moment, sound like the ageing dude in a black T-shirt leaning against the back wall of a bar where you’re just trying to be young and free of recitations of what the year 1994 felt like, there was a different quality to the way things would happen in music. Bands would labour for years, unknown, and then just get struck by lightning, is the best way I can put it: one day, you’re just a guy, and then one radio station plays your song, and then every radio station plays your song, and everyone is listening to those radio stations, because there is nothing else to do, and then MTV loops your video, and everyone watches it because, again, there is nothing else to do, and all of a sudden you are known by millions of bored people in a way that doesn’t quite happen now. This is a gross oversimplification, of course, but here Reznor is, one of the very few people who have experienced the thing I’m describing. I thought: let’s just ask him what that was like.

Reznor said, OK, he could tell me exactly what it felt like. He gave me a single moment: Woodstock ’94, which Nine Inch Nails almost didn’t play – “it seemed like it was going to be gross, to be honest with you” – but ultimately did. “And when we got there, it was terrifying,” Reznor said. “It was way bigger than I pictured in my head and walking on stage. But this is the point of the story: I knew. You could feel like you were in the right place at the right time.”

In retrospect, how did you handle success?

“Had a drink. That’s what sent me down the path. I wasn’t the guy that, you know, at 12 years old cracked a beer. That wasn’t it at all. Just, I feel anxious around people. I’m not sure how to act, especially now that you’re someone that’s supposed to act a certain way. There’s a projection. It feels uncomfortable to walk down the street and people are looking at you because they recognise you. That’s weird. Suddenly everybody wants to be your friend and you’re the coolest. Everyone wants to date you and shit like that.” Reznor said he found it was “easier to have a beer before I go in that room, and then a couple of beers before I go in that room. And pretty soon over a period of time, wait a minute, things start to get out of control. And you know how the story goes.”

Here’s how the story went: Reznor began to wonder if Trent Reznor could ever live up to the Nine Inch Nails guy that people had in their heads. “The reason I was having to drink was to fix that problem, my own insecurity. But the net result is: I’m not really who I am because now I’ve got drugs or alcohol in my system and I’m not thinking as who I really am. And that comes into focus once one gets sober and has time to reflect and kind of think about what got you there and shit you did.”

Eventually, Reznor got sober, and built himself back up. Today he’s happy to talk about all of it, obviously, but he and Ross have done a lot together since – 10 albums’ worth of Nine Inch Nails (Ross was an official member of the band for five of them), among other things – and Reznor is, by nature, not one to dwell too much on the past of a band that he’s still very much trying to figure out. “We’re not fans of resting on our laurels. We’ve been afraid of thinking about nostalgia. That’s a whole other conversation, but the reality is we’re getting older and our fans are getting older and that’s a fact. And I think, say, during the pandemic, not that you asked this question, but as I’m sure everybody was, I was pretty genuinely freaked out and very clearly came into focus: I’ve got to protect my family.”

He was consumed by fear, by terror of what might happen, of what he might do about it. “I can’t even fit all my kids in a car,” Reznor said. “But in the midst of that anxiety, sitting alone in here, I found comfort in nostalgia. I found comfort looking back at things from my youth that I’ve been afraid to even allow myself to glimpse at because it meant artistic death. Because one has to look forward. One can’t be self-referential. I was so afraid growing up in a little shitty town. I could see people that thought the highlight of their life is junior in high school catching the football. You know what I mean? That’s it. That was the peak. I don’t want to fucking be that person. I could see my fate if I stayed in that town.”

In those moments sitting by yourself, what were you getting nostalgic for?

“I miss parts of living in Pennsylvania. I miss a simpler life that I grew up with. I really loved the first INXS album in 1983. I was a senior in high school, and when I listen to it now I could almost start crying because it fucking reminds me of driving in a shitty fucking car in the summer in Pennsylvania. You know what I mean? Man. I allowed myself to kind of immerse myself in who I was at that time, and what it felt like.”

Reznor had been trying to remake himself ever since he left where he grew up, and now here he is in Los Angeles, over 40 years later. “And I kind of went on a deep dive for a while and allowed myself to realise: I am who I am. And the things that made me weren’t the cool things. I’d always been ashamed of: I came from a shitty town; I didn’t have an exotic upbringing; shitty education, you know what I mean? That’s who I am. I’m not sure what the point of all that confession was.”

Well, except: “It plays into where I’m at now.”

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The last time I saw Reznor and Ross, it was once again in their studio. They were sitting very still. Had they been working before I got there?

“We were for a little bit,” Ross said. “And then nervously thinking about you arriving.”

Really? It’s OK if that’s the truth.

“That’s the truth,” Reznor said. They’d just been in this room for the past weeks, months – years, really, he said. Head down. Working. He gestured at me. “It’s a different mindset.”

And “I was thinking about something you said the other day,” Reznor said. That was on a Friday. I’d asked a somewhat rude question about their soundtrack work, which was: why would Reznor or Ross work for anyone else when they didn’t have to?

Now it was Monday. “I thought about that over the weekend,” Reznor said. “It’s like, Why are we doing this? The idea comes from what we think is a good place of ‘Let’s break it up. Let’s get sent down the rabbit hole on certain things and feel like we’ve got tasks being assigned to us rather than us just blindly seeing what happens creatively.’ ”

But, he said, “I think coming out of a stretch of a number of films in a row, I want some time of seeing where the wind blows versus: there’s a looming date on a calendar coming up and we’d better get our shit together. And certainly in the last few weeks I’ve been itching to do what we often do, which is just come in and let’s start something that we’re not even sure what it’s for.”

Some of that energy, he and Ross said, would probably become the next Nine Inch Nails album. Doing soundtrack work, Reznor said, had “managed to make Nine Inch Nails feel way more exciting than it had been in the past few years. I’d kind of let it atrophy a bit in my mind for a variety of reasons.”

But now, “I do feel excited about starting on the next record,” Ross said. “I think we’re in a place now where we kind of have an idea.”

And then there was the company, which Reznor and Ross spent the last two years putting together, piece by piece, with the help of John Crawford, their longtime art director, and the producer Jonathan Pavesi. The idea was, what could they do that they hadn’t already done around storytelling? Some of that might take the form of examining Nine Inch Nails from yet another angle – “we’ve been working on homegrown IP around Nine Inch Nails, stories we could tell, and we’re working on developing those in a way that are not what you think they’d be.” (As in: not a biopic.) They also have a show in development with Christopher Storer, the creator of The Bear, they said, and a film with the veteran horror director Mike Flanagan.

Reznor put on a pair of black-rimmed glasses so that he could examine a piece of paper next to him. “We just wrote some notes because I knew I’d forget what the fuck I’m about to say.” There was a short film coming with the artist Susanne Deeken. There was a clothing venture, a T-shirt line made in collaboration with a notable designer whose name they’d like to keep secret for now, which will arrive this summer. There was a music festival that they were currently planning, “where we’re going to debut as performing as composers along with a roster of other interesting people,” and a record label, both scheduled to launch around the same time.

And for two years they’ve been working with Epic Games on something that is not exactly a video game, in the UEFN ecosystem Epic has built around Fortnite – “It’s what Zuckerberg was trying to bullshit us into calling the metaverse,” Reznor said. “You can’t say that word any more, but in terms of the tool kit, thinking about it through the lens of what could be possible for artists and experiences, we thought that would be an interesting way to tell a story through that.”

They were nervously contemplating the prospect of having day jobs again, of being responsible for more than just themselves. Early on, as they contemplated launching the company, they’d sat down with David Fincher to ask him about movie production: how does it work? “And he’s like, oh, you’re fucked,” Reznor said. “I can distil a two-hour conversation into that. Because, he said, ‘I know you guys, and no one’s going to care more than you do, and you will not be able to let it go.’”

Reznor has actually had this experience before, of being sucked into a project bigger than Nine Inch Nails and having it take over his entire life. Years ago he worked as an executive, first for Beats and then for Apple, building a streaming-music service.

“Trent was very clear when we started,” Ross said. “We cannot let this get into Apple terrain.”

Reznor laughed. “What I mean by that is – I will make this brief; I’m trying to think through what I’m about to talk shit on. Just to self-censor for a second.”

Reznor paused for a moment and then explained. For years, he said, he’d wondered: what would make a good streaming service? This was before the advent of Spotify in the US or Apple Music. Jimmy Iovine, Reznor’s old label boss – later, Iovine would also become Ross’s brother-in-law, after he married Ross’s sister, Liberty, in 2016 – was launching a music service at Beats, which was then acquired by Apple, and Iovine said to Reznor: come try to make this thing a reality. And Reznor surprised himself by saying yes.

“It was a unique opportunity to work at the biggest company in the world at a high level,” Reznor said. “And it was interesting, the scale of the people that you reach through those platforms, just the global amount of influence those platforms can have was exciting. The political situation I was dropped into was not as exciting.”

Reznor enjoyed working with Apple’s design team and its engineering team. “But it made me realise how much I want to be an artist first and foremost.” Reznor also became discouraged with the possibility of fixing the problem that he was trying to solve. “I think the terrible payout of streaming services has mortally wounded a whole tier of artists that make being an artist unsustainable. And it’s great if you’re Drake, and it’s not great if you’re Grizzly Bear. And the reality is: take a look around. We’ve had enough time for the whole ‘All the boats rise’ argument to see they don’t all rise. Those boats rise. These boats don’t. They can’t make money in any means. And I think that’s bad for art. And I thought maybe at Apple there could be influence to pay in a more fair or significant way, because a lot of these services are just a rounding error compared to what comes in elsewhere, unlike Spotify where their whole business is that. But that’s tied to a lot of other political things and label issues, and everyone’s trying to hold onto their little piece of the pie and it is what it is. I also realise, I think that people just want to turn the faucet on and have music come in. They’re not really concerned about all the romantic shit I thought mattered.”

Anyway, Reznor said, turning to Ross, “That was a long-winded way of saying, when we talked about this company, I just said, ‘Be aware of what success might look like because it will turn into something that eats up lots of cycles and time and attention and energy.’ ”

But, Ross said, taking on new responsibilities was, paradoxically, also a way to stay a little younger. “I know we’ve all been talking about being dads and being adults and all that,” Ross said, “and there is a part of me that thinks: it’s important to keep the kid alive.” Meaning the child inside yourself, rather than the one you’re responsible for.

He told a story about him and Reznor visiting the director David Lynch at his house to work with him on the 2017 revival of Twin Peaks. “And I don’t know how old he was at the time,” Ross said, “but he was older. But just walking in there, and he had the room set up and there’s a screen there, there’s some chairs here and there’s some musical instruments there and he’s smoking a cigarette. There’s nothing old about that dude. You know what I mean?”

Lynch showed them some Lynchian footage. It was incredible, even if they didn’t quite know what they were looking at. Lynch was probably 70 or 71 at the time. “But it’s that thing of it doesn’t matter how old he is,” Ross said. “He is alive. It’s that bit of it all that one doesn’t want to lose with age.”

The point was, Reznor said: “Let’s try some stuff. We’re bored. We are. You know what I mean? We’re grateful. We enjoy doing films. We can write a better Nine Inch Nails record, I think. We can put on a cooler tour. We are aimed to do that. But man, what if we try to do that?” Meaning, the company. “What if we could take what we’re good at, like we did with film? We identified something I think we’re good at and we figured out how to apply it to something else. What if we take that theory and try it on some other things? And that’s led us into: we’re not beaten down completely yet. And it feels exciting. That’s what matters to us right now.”

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Styled by Mobolaji Dawodu Grooming by Johnny Stuntz using Dior Capture Totale Hyalushot SFX Makeup by Malina Stearns Grills by Alligator Jesus Tailoring by Yelena Travkina Set design by Lizzie Lang at 11th House Agency Produced by Emily O’Meara at JN Production

#my ninposting #my transcription #trent reznor #atticus ross #nin #nine inch nails #trent #reznor #gq

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canonicallyobserving911 · 15 days

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Eddie Diaz's "Ghost of a Second Chance"

IMO, in 7x7, Eddie Diaz will have a chance to see or hear how the life he always believed he was "supposed" to have with a wife and kids is not the life he's been WANTING. Based on his heart eyes and the way he's used Chris as a shield for his heart, his ideal life includes a husband (Buck) and their son (Chris).

Be clear, I ONLY SHIP BUDDIE!

I waited to post this because when season 7 started, it was unclear where the show was going to take Eddie's storyline and it appears the redirection of it that happened prior to 7x4 and 7x5 was not the original plan since it's been confirmed via interviews that Eddie was supposed to be with T*mmy instead of Buck. Also, now that it's confirmed Shannon Diaz will make a return in a future season 7 episode as either a ghost or a hallucination or whatever for Eddie, I decided I was ready to post this.

At the end of season 6 when Eddie asked Maris*l out on a date, I thought about the way the narrative has always shown Shannon is the only person who can help Eddie understand Chris doesn't need another mother. He's been carrying the weight and guilt of their relationship around with him for years because he thought him going to the Army broke her when in fact, they were two broken teenagers who were in over their heads and they were so busy trying to mimic the lives they saw Eddie's parents living that they never discussed what either of them wanted out of life.

Unpopular Opinion: Eddie and Shannon were NOT this perfect high school aged Romeo and Juliet type of romantic couple some people keep trying to make them out to be because the truth is they weren't soulmates and they weren't compatible. While it's true they were best friends, they were never on the same page and they didn't know how to communicate. Instead of talking to each other, all they did was argue and have sex but matured relationships consist of more than just sex, hence the 7x5 depiction of Eddie's relationship with Maris*l. They don't know each other and the episode title, "You don't know me" confirmed it.

Full Disclosure: I'm not a Shannon Diaz fan and it has ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO DO WITH BUDDIE! It's strictly because she ABANDONED Chris, her biological son and the fact that she was a teen mother doesn't have anything to do with it because it does NOT excuse her behaviors. Teenage girls who were/are younger than her don't/didn't run out on their kids just because they need/needed time. If she didn't want to be with Eddie anymore that's fine but to leave and not attempt to contact her son for almost two years was NOT ok. She wrote Chris a letter that she wasn't even sure she would send but what happened to a phone call or her sending him a "Hey Chris, I love you and I miss you" email? Even back then there were too many ways she could have contacted him but the CANON FACTS are SHE CHOSE NOT TO. If Eddie wouldn't have called her to interview at Durand she would have stayed gone. Don't get it twisted because she was getting ready to leave Chris again so people should stop romanticizing their relationship and truthfully, so does Eddie. For CANON proof of these claims, all viewers have to do is LISTEN to the things she said to him in 2x17 when they were at the beach and when they were at the restaurant.

Eddie's my favorite character but he's not blameless in any of this either and by his own admission to Buck in 2x10, he left them first. But the difference is he made the DECISION to leave El Paso so he could provide a better life for him and his son even though his toxic mother, Helena (I'm not including Ramon because he had a redemption arc) offered to take Chris from him. He could have left Chris there but HE DIDN'T. He even told Shannon that being Chris' father taught him more about being a man than war ever could.

One last thing, Shannon and Maddie ARE NOT THE SAME! Maddie didn't abandon Jee-Yun, she left because she thought she was a danger to her and she went to get help. She wasn't in Boston galivanting around, shopping and partying like it was 1999, she went to a center for women to figure out what was wrong with her and why she felt like she did then she continued with therapy.

Now back to the regularly scheduled program...

While I don't like Shannon's actions, I do believe she's probably the only person who can help Eddie understand that he doesn't have to marry a "woman" to be happy. Why do I believe this? Well, they were best friends and they were married which means she knows things about Eddie that no one else does. She was the first woman he "pulled" away from and since they were separated for a long time while he was in the Army and after she left them, it's likely she figured some things out about what he really wants that neither of them was ready to confront.

Since 2x1, Eddie's story has been told in bits and pieces and while a lot of people romanticized what he had with her, I didn't because they were young and neither one of them knew what they wanted. Did he love her? He said he did but IMO he loved her as much as an 18-year-old could but I don't believe he was in love with her. Did she love him? She said she did but just like him, based solely on her actions, she didn't know what love was either.

Reminder, the only reason Eddie proposed they reconcile in 2x17 was because she thought she was pregnant again. He said he was looking for a sign and he thought her begin pregnant was it but before that he didn't want to do it. If you don't believe it, rewatch 2x17 and LISTEN to the conversation he had with Bobby. Bobby was the one who told him he would be a great dad to a second child but Eddie wasn't so sure. At dinner, when Shannon said, "I'm not pregnant", he paused then responded, "That doesn't change anything" but she rebutted with, "It does for me".

It appears she finally admitted to him that the life they were trying to live was NOT the one either of them wanted but he wasn't ready to admit it. He was using Chris as a shield like he always does and he was hoping her love for their son would be enough for them to reconcile and continue doing whatever they were doing. He said something similar to Ana when he broke up with her in 5x3. He said, "Chris loves you so much" but he never said he did and now he's trying to figure out where Maris*l fits since she babysat twice while he was flying in helicopters going to fight matches in Las Vegas and to karaoke with TK.

Believe it or not, Shannon was getting ready to leave again. If she wasn't then she wouldn't have brought up the letter she wrote to Chris. Also, she said she was still learning how to be someone's mother (notice she didn't say Chris' mother she said someone's) and she said maybe someday, she could learn how to be somebody's wife (not Eddie's wife but somebody's). Furthermore, when they were at the beach, she asked Eddie, "Is that all I am to you, Christopher's mother?" but he responded, "Shannon?" and deflected the conversation. Then she said if that's what it is then it's ok. She proceeded and asked him what he wanted and all he said was "All of this" with a hand wave out towards the ocean. He never admitted what he wanted and it appears the reason was because he didn't want to say.

In 2x7, while they were arguing, Eddie asked her, "What didn't I give you?" and her response was "You!" Therefore, Eddie always kept a piece of himself away from her and she admitted it to him but he wanted it to work probably for the wrong reasons.

REMINDER: In 2x17, Shannon was the one who said they needed to get a DIVORCE! She knew they needed to move on but Eddie was the one who said, "But we're still married". It appears he was the one trying to hold onto the life he believed they were supposed to have and I think it goes back to the example he saw from his parents.

Here's the thing, in 6x16, Eddie admitted he didn't propose to Shannon, he just said, "Let's get married" after they found out she was pregnant. They were best friends in high school and they started an instant family that neither of them were ready for. When she abruptly died, he didn't have a chance to discuss all the things they'd left unsaid. That's why Shannon has to be the one to tell him that it's ok for him to want who he wants. Who's that? BUCK!

Shannon vs. Buck

Please understand the show has illustrated it time and time again that Eddie wants to marry Buck so they can raise Chris together. If that wasn't the case, then Buck wouldn't have been included in Eddie's flashbacks in 3x15 while he was trapped in the well as many times as he was. He was shown with Chris more than anyone else which means Eddie thinks about the life he wants to have with Buck A LOT!

Additionally, in 7x1, Buck, Eddie and Shannon all sat on Chris' bed in the same spot to illustrate how they're his three parents while the babysitter (Maris*l) was nowhere to be found (related post linked here).

Also, Shannon's romantic relationship with Eddie and her parental one with Chris were constantly contrasted with the relationships Eddie and Chris have with Buck and Buck has always been shown to be the perfect match for Eddie. Reminder, he agreed to have Buck's back in 2x1 but Shannon told him in 2x7 that he never had her back.

Eddie needs to HEAR he can move on from the first person he married from someone other than the people who've been saying it to him. Also, in the past, someone's ALWAYS told him what to do regarding his relationships. He was "strongly encouraged" to marry Shannon because he got her pregnant. His parents and Bobby told him it was time to move on from her in season 4 (YES! His parents did too because reminder, they stopped by their house to eat on their way back to L.A. after they left Austin, TX [in the LS crossover episode, Eddie said it to Judd] and two episodes later, in 4x6, Bobby told him he needed to move on). Then in 6x14, Tia Pepa pushed him to start dating again even though he tried to tell her he wasn't ready.

The point of this post is Shannon is probably the ONLY person who can show or tell Eddie that the life he thought they should have had, wouldn't have ever been because there would have always been someone or something that was pulling him away from her the same way it did when they were married 👀.

It appears Shannon will be Eddie's "Ghost of a Second Chance" but the question is, will her reappearance as a ghost or whatever for the second time in season 7 help Eddie admit the person he's in love with is Buck? Only the showrunner, writers and producers know the answer to that question.

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abstract-talk · 1 month

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There are older video interviews (2022 and older) of AB where you can clearly she has wrinkles and lines on her face. She looks her age. She is not old she is in her late twenties so yes, of course she looks “young.” But she’s not 12 years old and now that she clearly has had Botox and work done (nothing wrong with that) and photoshops her own photos, it’s easy for people to say she looks like a teenager while CE looks old. But I really hate when they do that.

He is older. Lol. That’s the whole point. But don’t age her down and make her out to be this innocent victim when she is not. The same people on here that want to age him up but keep saying she’s 25 or 16, that’s because they want to make this whole thing a bigger deal than it is.

If AB had been around his age or somewhere in her 30s when they got together, I doubt any of this would be happening. Yes, the fans would most likely still hate her and the whole racist friends and nudes still would have happened, but it would be a lot less worse for him and much worse for her because now she’s a 30s plus aged person posting nudes on IG and racist friends who are fully grown still doing childish nonsense.

She’s lucky she’s in her 20s and she can be “given a pass” because she’s “young and inexperienced.”

They showed up on the red carpet together and he looked awkward but more or less seemed catering or humoring of her. I see the fans getting so riled up over this and I’m like, ok so you don’t like seeing them together but he didn’t act any which way towards her. The worst part of it was the color scheme of his outfit.

The footage caught and passed around on tumblr really made me think of a guy who was just humoring someone who he had been assigned to for the night. I know that’s weird of me to say for a married couple, but their “kiss” was a peck where he’s standing a foot back just like the other video of him leaning over to “peck” while also standing a foot back hands at his sides. The one photo from their vday dump is a car kiss photo where their bodies are once again not touching.

It’s interesting to see the few times they’re “kissing” in public this is what you get. A grown ass man has to kiss his wife where cameras are around and suddenly he looks like he’s being put through a fear factor contest.

Something just isn’t right or natural here and I stand by that.

The teenage bride comments always make me laugh because she's not a teenager. She's a woman of legal age by all accounts. There's so much more to discuss than a physical feature she can't change.

I do find it interesting that his fandom gets upset he is in the vicinity of her when that's what has been presented since this sideshow started. Once you can take emotion out of it, it's a lot funnier than it should be.

#anonymous talks

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hezuart · 10 months

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So I'm still planning Helluva Boss video reviews, but I'm gonna take a break from it for a while, might wait until season 2 ends to do an overall of the final half of the season. But yeah after season 2 I'm planning on abandoning videos for that series since I don't see it going anywhere. As for Season 2 Episode 5: ~~

WHOAH the pacing is fixed!!!!! Adam fixed his pacing issues! This episode was really well paced??? I could follow it so nicely, I was so surprised... like I know the bar is low but man it was so nice to watch a well-paced episode for once, it was pleasant.

As for the rest of the episode, ironically sexist writing, I don't even think they realized it. I don't know the proper term for this, but this has happened before in other media. They dumb down the male character so the female character doesn't even have to try or put in any effort to look better than him. Ergo, Moxxie writing off his wife for finding their first suspect. Moxie is right, they shouldn't assume the first person they see had truly done it, but he completely ignores this person the entire week. That should have been the first person they should have investigated. Moxie is typically the logical one of the group. He's smart and logistical. But he completely blows off his wife's input. He ignores their first lead and decides to waste time with popular teenagers. He's like... so insecure this episode its uncomfortable and doesn't make sense. He's literally like "ME MEMEME ME IM SO GOOD IM SO MUCH BETTER THAN ALL YOU" and im like ... these are human children Moxie ,,, what are you trying to prove,,,, what is happening right now,,,, he even gets jealous that everyone likes his wife more than him

excuse me? you guys are on an assassination mission right now. What are you doing.

I'm happy to see them fight, since I'm so tired of their "perfect" flat relationship, but they're fighting over something really weird. Moxie is SO out of line. Its weird to see Millie insecure. "I finally get to be somebody!" "Its nice no one is screaming at me to not kill them this time!" I laughed at the lyrics to her song. "I'm so boring and plain, why do these girls keep screaming my name?" im like YEAH MILLIE FANS.... TELL US, MILLIE FANS even when Millie got her "episode" she's not the focus. It's all about Moxie feeling inadequate and wasting time on his first mission lead, meanwhile Millie is just screwing around in the background

and in the end, Blitz calls Moxie stupid because Moxie got caught up and wasted time on their mission, basically justifying Blitz's distrust in Moxie and also wrecking any character development of Moxie's? He's always called weak and incapable, and this episode just solidifies it Who is he without Millie tbh Like if anyone should be insecure about their marriage it should be Moxie because Millie is the only ace around here anymore and Blitz manipulatively and creepily stalking his sister Barbie was uncomfortable Barbie is also a bitch, basically Blitz but female. I was expecting her to be something more than that, but nah, she's pretty unlikable

and she makes it clear she wants nothing to do with Blitz. I find it ironic that Blitz tries to break into the hospital to go visit her and doesn't give a fuck about Stolas, not visiting him at all. Watch Stolas x Blitz fans try to be like "OH STOLAS JUST HAS MORE GUARDS SO BLITZ CANT FEASIBLY BREAK INTO THE HOSPITAL TO SEE HIM....PROBABLY" nah, Blitz just doesn't care man... Blitz x Stolas is so badly written now and it makes me sad but like... are we supposed to feel bad for Blitz? He's just an asshole who stalks his sister. He ruined her life somehow in the past, and then he wrecked her new job as soon as she's out of the hospital. Like he's awful? She is too, but? I don't get the point of having them here.

Anyway this episode got a chuckle out of me once or twice. Pacing again, really nice. Millie and Moxie's personalities were out of wack. Millie even suddenly knows how to play a dozen musical instruments and suddenly has this insecurity about "being somebody" which I can't connect anything in her past to. She was well loved by her family and she scored a sweet husband and she's also Blitz's best assassin like... I WANT her to have more depth, this insecurity would be interesting, but there's nothing to support why it exists for her.

So yeah honestly, an alright episode. Hasn't bothered me as much as the others, but yeah Millie and Moxie's writing just gets more and more confused as the episodes go on. im just tired

#helluva boss #helluva boss critical #text post #ask #not even gonna comment about the incest joke #im just so tired folks

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ryndicate · 1 year

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How bad do you want it? ⨳ Ichida Ryuken

"Then you know what to do."

notes: for @semisgroupie 's what's done in the dark collab! I've finally written something for bleach and I couldn't be happier to be writing about daddy Ishida >:3

warnings: uneven power dynamic, abuse of position, reader is given multiple outs aka consent, unprotected sex, public/risky sex

By expanding you are agreeing to viewing adult content and all warnings listed above. 18+ Minors DNI

Rules & Main Links

Whispers have been echoing around you since you arrived at work this morning, early but not so bright at a severe three in the morning.

"Have you seen next week's schedule?"

"I haven't had a day off in three weeks."

"At least you don't have four back to back doubles. I've done nothing but work and sleep for god knows how—"

"Ma'am!" The youngest nurse in the lineup, Sachi you think, pops up from her seat after catching sight of you frowning at your boards. You turn to see her pacing towards you and grimace.

You had seen the schedules too and were feeling the drain the same as everyone else. A few staff members from your department had been transferred last month with no replacements in sight.

"Can you please talk to Dr. Ishida," she all but begs you, her voice carrying enough to draw some of the other nurses towards you, their expressions taking on a hopeful outlook. "If anyone can convince him to hire more nurses it would be you."

Too late to escape, you try to ready a smile as the other nurses chorus at you, anxiety climbing.

"He always listens to you! It's probably because you're so good at your job."

"Yeah, I couldn't even get him to order new pens."

"He's so curt with everyone else."

"It wouldn't hurt to try, right?" Sachi throws on her best puppy eyes for good measure and you feel your willpower splinter. "Worst he could say is no?"

"Fine," you sigh, the pulsing of a new headache sounding like the last nails in your coffin. "I'll ask him after my shift today; he's got surgeries for most of the afternoon and a consultation in the evening."

Everyone relaxes measurably, breaking off one by one to get back to their duties and thanking you in hushed tones as the man in question appears around the corner.

Dr. Ishida Ryuuken barely gives you a cursory glance before breezing right past and you stiffen, making a show of studying the papers in your hand until he's gone.

It's right to feel intimidated; tall and fit with vibrant snowy hair and a sharp jawline, he's incredibly handsome, barely looking a day over thirty despite having a teenage son. Quiet and icily strict, he’s a talented and sought after doctor despite losing his wife all those years ago. You could hardly imagine a man as cutting as him to even have had a wife, but you've never married so you guess you don't understand what it's like to lose a partner.

"Wouldn't hurt him to be nicer though." You rub your eyes, mumbling the words under your breath before glancing over your shoulder to make sure no one heard you.

It’s a long day, like always. The work is hard, but in the end it’s good work. Infected stitches, bed sores, endless looping conversations with worried patients… someone has to do it, right?

You’re standing in the nurses bathroom exhausted, starving, and making a small attempt to wash some of the day’s grime away while you work up the nerve to go back upstairs to your department head’s office. This is honestly the last thing you wanted to do today, but you’ve been here longer than the rookies who swarmed you this morning, and honestly? They’re right. If they tried to talk to Dr. Ishida, he would have sent them running with their tails between their legs. You, on the other hand, have a little more backbone than that.

Feet still sore from the day you take the elevator up, thankful to find it empty and silent, and make your way down the familiar path to his office. You pause outside the door at the sound of muffled voices coming through the door. You check your watch. It’s nearly eight; you thought he’d be done with his consultation by now. There’s no way it would have run this long. Listening intently you try to make out the words.

“Sir, it’s the board of directors again. They’re trying to schedule—”

“Tell them I’m not here.”

“They’re not going to believe that.”

There’s a beat of silence and you can almost feel the undoubtedly stormy glare roiling behind his glasses.

“Then tell them to contact me during my operating hours. I’m off duty. They can leave a message like everyone else.”

“Sir, it’s the board.”

There’s more silence, and you step back from the door quickly when you realize their conversation is over, trying to appear unassuming.

Ishida’s haggard looking aid doesn’t spare you a glance as they leave, and suddenly you feel less pessimistic about your own job.

The door is ajar so you tap your knuckles on the door, peeking in.

Dr. Ishida looks up from his desk, eyes still sharp, but some of the severity dissipates as he realizes it’s you.

“What is it this time?” He goes back to the papers on his desk. He’s aloof, bored, but with no direct dismissal you gather your nerves to do what you came for. You leave the door open to make the point that this won't take long.

“The nurses are still having a hard time since the transfers finalized,” you start, haltingly.

There’s several long moments of silence and for a moment you think he’s going to ignore you indefinitely before he looks up, raising an eyebrow at you.

“And?”

The dry expectancy of his tone has heat rising beneath your collar, but you grit your teeth and work up your customer service smile from the days you worked retail to put yourself through nursing school. You never thought that experience would actually be useful, but here you are.

“Well, I understand how important your time is, sir, but we were hoping you might take some time out of your busy schedule to hire some additional staff to help balance the workload.”

As much as you try, there’s no curbing the biting undercurrent to your words. You’ve been in this position too many times to not be tired of it, and today you really just want to go home.

The good doctor turns his chair to face you, and his now piercing stare is enough to whittle away at your faltering confidence shakily propped up by indignance. You find your feet shifting as you try to ease your discomfort as he looks you over.

When he doesn’t say anything you’re getting ready to turn and stalk out of his office, but he finally speaks.

His voice is smooth now, nonchalant. “How important is this?”

“It would really help, sir,” you sigh, meek and defeated as he moves his chair a few feet back from his desk, the wheels giving a light squeak as they catch on the carpet. He leans back in it, crossing his arms. There’s an intensity in his eyes now that's different, an unspoken dare.

“Then you know what to do.”

There's that moment of resistance, there always is, where you simply maintain his stare with the blankest expression you can manage. But you inevitably crumble.

With a silent sigh, you reach for the hem of your scrubs and pull the colored pattern over your head. You're reaching for your bra when you pause, remembering the door is still open.

Your hands drop and you're turning when Dr. Ishida's voice quietly rumbles across the room.

"Leave it." You glare at him and he stares back, immovable. "Unless you're done here?"

There it is, your best chance at walking out. Ignoring his bait you swallow your biting retort and unhook your bra, heat rising beneath your skin as he eyes your exposed tits, already hard from the scrutiny. You don't give him much more time than that, kicking out of your shoes and shoving your scrub bottoms off before coming around the edge of his desk.

You're left in nothing but a simple pair of gray cotton panties. Trying to hide your nerves, you lay yourself over his desk, nipples tightening painfully against the cold wood, hips raised and jutted out, displaying your ass for him.

You inhale slowly as he trails his hand up your outer thigh, skimming over the curve of your ass with such a gentle touch that it’s almost too sensitive. It makes you want to shy away, but you know that would only displease him, so you bite your inner cheek and steel yourself.

“Laundry day?” Ryuuken hums idly, sliding a finger in the band curving your left cheek and letting it go with a soft snap.

“With respect, fuck you, sir,” you sigh wearily, not in the mood for his brand of teasing today.

There’s a single note chuckle behind you, and you hate the way it sears against your skin like a brand, goosebumps rising down your spine in anticipation as you feel him move closer behind you. Instinctively you raise yourself to the balls of your feet as you feel his erection against your ass.

“Good girl.”

He’s amused now and you want nothing more than to hiss at him like a disgruntled cat, but your anxious eyes keep flickering to the open door, the risk of someone walking past keeping you silent.

Ryuuken rolls his hips into your ass a few times and smoothes a palm up your back, apparently content with taking his time.

“Will you hurry up?” you finally hiss, shuddering as his fingers make a third pass up and down your spine. You can feel the uncomfortable wetness growing between your thighs, the damp patch against your entrance sticking to your pussy.

His hand immediately wraps around the back of your neck, effectively scruffing you, and you can’t help but let out a little squeak of surprise. He presses more tightly against you, leaning down to put his lips by your ear.

“Be quiet or get out,” Ryuuken murmurs, soft and dangerous, but the apparent lust roughening his tone is like little sparks bursting in your gut. You go limp, resigning yourself to his petting, arousal building like bubbling pressure in a coffee machine.

You’re a hot flustered mess by the time you hear the clink of his belt, and you can’t help the tiny moan of approval as he finally tugs down your panties. The ache between your thighs has you biting every ounce of self restraint to keep your hips from arching towards him, letting him press on the small of your back and bump your feet into his preferred position like you wouldn’t have done it yourself given the chance.

A mewl is on the tip of your tongue, half choked as you chew your lower lip, at the feel of his fingers swiping through the slick you’ve accumulated. It receives a low hum of approval before his fingers are replaced with the blunt tip of his cock.

There’s a fog swirling over your mind. You can’t remember hearing the sound of a condom, but the heat and warmth of him slowly sinking into you is enough to send any worries of that flying from your mind. Your knuckles are white on the edge of the desk as you chew on a whine; his girth is something you’ve always reluctantly referred to as perfect, just enough to leave you full without making you grit at any pain, but his length always has you holding your breath because it never seems to end. He gives a little sigh behind you that has your mind fill with fluff, crackles of electricity sparking like exposed wires through your nerves.

“Breathe,” Ryuuken instructs calmly, and you hiccup, drawing in air like you just remembered how. “Again.”

There’s tears threatening your lashline as he stills, and you want to growl and posture at this stupid, sexy, rude as hell doctor being kind enough to give you time to adjust, but the alternative isn’t worth it. Knowing him, he’d rub it rather smugly in your face just how much you’re dripping all over him. So you sniffle instead, and tip your hips up just a little more, moaning in your throat as it has him pressing tighter against the front wall of your pussy.

One of his hands is stroking over the fat of your ass almost absentmindedly, as your pussy ripples around him at random, finally growing impatient for more stimulation. As if sensing your frustration, his grip moves to your waist and you curl a forearm under your cheek, ready to muffle any sounds if you need to.

His thrusts are quick and dirty right from the start, and your teeth are making divots in your arm before you know it. You get the sense that you’re not the only one stressed from today’s workload; it’s as if he’s trying to slam every ounce of pent up frustration out through your cunt. The unbreaking pace is mind-numbing and your eyes glaze over as he strikes deep in your core.

Ryuuken’s grunts are quiet but they bathe over your ears, causing your pussy to squeeze down on him, and the hand supporting the brunt of his force flashes back to grab his wrist as you feel pleasure curl so close to the surface that you’re sure you’d crumble if it didn’t peak. He shakes his hand out of your grip and you almost sob, but he’s tugging your hips back further off the desk and reaching under you, the tips of his fingers brushing over your clit and your whole body locks up as your orgasm rips through you.

His breathed curse falls on deaf ears as you ride out the blissful storm, extended by the way he savagely pulls you back on his cock, jerking into you unevenly, frantically, and you taste iron and salt as he sinks deep and grinds.

He’s still for a moment, breathing hard before his cock slips out of your cunt, and you feel warmth spilling down your thighs. One of these days you’ll have half a mind left to pay attention when Dr. Ishida Ryuuken loses his composure, but you’re too preoccupied with riding out the final aftershocks as he straightens his clothes behind you and smoothes his hair down.

Only then does he slide your panties back up your legs, making sure they’re firmly in place. There’s the soft sound of rustling fabric and finally your awareness rouses. You raise your head to see the office door closed, and your discarded scrubs sitting on the corner of his desk.

Ryuuken watches you silently as you redress, offering no words, and you don't need them. You've been here before; you did what you came for, and he got what he wanted. Words weren’t necessary. Words complicate things.

He opens the door for you as you slip on your shoes. “Until next time.”

Something indescribable brightens inside you at Ryuuken’s words, and you give him a searing glare. In return you receive a small smirk, and he closes the door behind you with a light click.

As you walk down the hall, you tell yourself it’s only to gain favor with your employees, to help everyone out. That it’s altruism in its finest for you to pimp yourself out to the head of the department. That it has absolutely nothing to do with how well he fucks you and sends you on your way with shaking legs and a dripping cunt. Absolutely nothing at all.

Sachi is sitting at the nurse's station when you get down there, and you belatedly realize she was one of the nurses working double today.

“Oh, your arm!” She gasps, peeling out of her seat and dashing for the first aid cart. “I hate it when patients bite.”

You look down to see the mark on your arm; it’s bleeding, barely, but the crescent shape is like a ghostly reminder of his smile right before he closed the door in your face, and your heart jumps against your wishes.

Your glare returns in earnest.

Damn him.

#ishida ryuuken x reader #bleach x reader #bleach smut #bleach oneshot #ishida ryuuken #wditdcollab☾

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plentyoffandoms · 5 months

Text

Main Masterlist ♡ Pedro Pascal Masterlist

Three Weeks (18+)

Frankie Morales x f/Reader

Warnings: Some swearing. Smut under the cut. Descriptive sexual acts. Unprotected sex. Breeding Kink. Oral (f receiving).

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy

Gifs and photos do not belong to me. 1st gif @@uuuhshiny

Also, Frankie doesn't have a kid in this story, but Tom is still dead.

WC: 1343

Summary: It is Frankie's wedding day, and there is only one thing on his mind. How he can get his new bride alone.

After months and months of planning, it is finally my wedding day. I am standing at the altar with Pope next to me as my best man, Will and Ben next to him.

The three of them in the tuxedo that my bride picked out, with my input, of course. She made sure I was involved with every single step of this wedding, right down to the napkin colour. I still remember when I tried to pass off all the planning on her shoulders.

"This is your day too, Francisco, and I will not be the only one planning this. You will be helping." She told me with fire in her eyes.

When I told Santi what she said, all he could do was laugh at me and tell me, "Good. She keeps your ass in line."

The music changing brought me back to this very moment. She was walking herself down the aisle, even though many men in her life offered to walk her down it, including Santi, but she said that she could do it herself. That no one needs to give her away.

All I could focus on was on her. It was like everyone else in the room disappeared, and it was just us two. That usually happens when I see her.

She looked absolutely beautiful. My eyes raked up and down her body, and I felt myself twitch in my own tuxedo pants.

It has been three weeks since the last time I touched her.

Three weeks since the last time I had her crying out my name as I made her cum on my tongue and fingers.

Three weeks since my cock was engulfed by her pussy.

Three weeks since I got to cum in one of her holes, instead using my own hand like a teenager.

Three weeks since I had her trembling beneath me as I thrust my cock in and out of her pussy, groaning her name loudly as I came, feeling her pussy flutter around my cock one last time before she finishes for the last time.

Three fucking weeks.

◆

The ceremony went by in a blur, and the moment the two of us were announced as Mr and Mrs Morales became one of the happiest moments of my life.

I wanted nothing more than to leave and take her to the hotel room that I rented a suprise before we actually left for our honeymoon, but I did what was needed.

We took our photos, were announced as husband and wife, and had our first dance to Yours by Russell Dickerson.

Her and I are not the biggest country fans, but this song was on when we first danced together, and it has been our song since. I leaned down to softly sing my favourite line.

"I came to life when I first kissed you."

"The best me has his arms around you."

"You make me better than I was before."

"Thank God I'm yours."

◆

As we ate, I knew I couldn't wait any longer. Her hand was on my thigh as she talked to her Maid of Honour.

I leaned over and told her to come with me. She looked at me, and she most likely could tell by the look in my eyes what the hell was going to happen.

She told her friend she would be right back, and the two of us left the reception. Some probably already knew what we were going to do. Some probably thought we just needed a break from everyone, as many people know that I hate this type of stuff, but for her, I would do anything.

"Frankie, baby, where are we going." She asked me. The sound of her heels clicking on the floor, as she tried to keep up with my pace.

"Need to be alone. Yes!" I opened up the first unlocked door and rushed her inside.

I closed the door to the bathroom and made sure to lock it. I cupped her face with my hands and smashed my mouth against hers, letting out all my sexual frustrations into this one kiss.

I turned us around, so her back was against the door. "Three fucking weeks baby." I muttered against her lips. "Making me wait this long, well, no more waiting."

I kissed down her neck and down her chest. I groaned as I pushed my face into her cleavage. Kissing and nipping at the flesh that was showing, once again muttering how I missed her tits, missed her body.

I got down on the dirty floor, not caring at this very moment. I needed just a taste.

I ran my hands up her legs and thighs, making sure not to break eye contact with her, but once I got to my destination, a surprised look came over my face.

I bunched up her skirts to make sure I was correct, and I couldn't help but smirk. "My naughty bride isn't wearing any underwear." I tutted.

"I was Frankie, but seeing you in your tux and knowing that we can finally touch after so long, they make soaked."

I groaned against the thigh I was kissing. "No need to wait any longer, baby." I wrapped my lips around her clit and slid two fingers in her pussy, the both of us moaning. Her moan was due to the fact that my fingers and mouth were quickly bringing her to the edge, and my moan was from finally tasting her.

I pulled my mouth away, can feel her juices on my chin and beard, but my fingers never stopped fucking her. "Come on baby, cum for me. You know she needs to be dripping for me to fuck you how you like. Your little pussy needs help to take my cock."

"Frankie, Frankie...shit." Her back arched the door as she came, her pussy gripping my cock. My mouth went back to her pussy, as I fingered her through her first orgasm.

I stood up and moved her so she was leaning over the sink.

Our eyes made contact in the mirror, I never once looked away from her as I undid my zipper and pulled my cock out of pants.

I placed the tip at her entrance and slowly pushed in, the both of us loudly groaning. I pushed in slowly until I bottomed out. I leaned down and kissed between her shoulder blades, knowing she needed to get used to my size again.

"Move Frankie, please. Fuck me." Came a broken whine, falling from her lips.

I pulled back until just the tip was left, and then I slammed into her pussy, quickly covering her mouth as she screamed. I fucked her as hard and fast as I could.

Never once stopping as I fucked her through each and every one of her orgasms.

I had sweat dripping down my forehead as I fucked her with all the pent up frustration I have had over these past three weeks.

"Never make me wait this long again." I said through clenched teeth.

My hand was still covering her mouth, so she couldn't answer.

"Gonna cum baby. Gonna fill you until you are dripping all night long. Gonna make you round with my child. Fuck."

The image of her round with my child had me moaning her name as my own hips still, flushed against her ass, as I came. The both of us groaned at the feeling of me finally finishing inside of her.

I was catching my breath, ready to help clean her up when there was a knock on the door.

"When you two are done in there, we are waiting for you to cut the cake." Came the voice of Pope. I could hear the snickering of Ben and Will.

"Be out soon." I called out as I turned her around to help fix her makeup and hair.

"I love you, Mrs Morales." I said as I gently cupped her face in my hands, leaning down to kiss her.

"And I love you, Mr Morales."

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