Tumgik
#but at the same time i shouldn't have to turn the volume all the way up
in-som-niyah · 2 months
Note
soft/domestic!Jason with an overstimulated!reader where he just squashes her in a hug until she calms down???????/
GIVE US THISSSS PLSSS
i keep my promises <3
"These arms are always yours, love"
soft!Jason Todd x overstimulated!fem!Reader
WARNINGS: graphic description of skin picking?? (not self-harm)
Today was going to be a shitty day.
The moment your eyes cracked open to an absence of sun peeking through the window, you knew outside was going to be gloomy.
You turned your head to face your nightstand, but in doing so, increase your awareness on how the sheets feel on your body. Were they always this rough? Surely the fabric softener did its job, right?
Groaning, you made your way out of bed, your feet planting themselves on the small rug on your side of the bed. It was a soft contrast from your now-cold, rough sheets.
As you took a step toward your dresser, you felt a crunch beneath your left foot. Though it was dark, you could make out the leftover potato chip crumbs from the bag Jason was eating before he went on patrol for the night.
You asked him not to eat it there to prevent this exact scenario, but here you fucking are.
Now, you were annoyed at not only the fact that the sun in Gotham is apparently having the same shitty day as you, but now you also have to clean up something that shouldn't be there in the first place.
Thankfully, it was a Sunday, meaning you had Jason all day to make more fucking messes. Yay.
Your spitefulness wasn't warranted, but in the moment, you didn't care.
As you carried on picking the remains of the food off of your foot, Jason stirs on the bed, scanning the other half of the bed with his arms. Seeing that he can't find what he's looking for, he relents and opens his eyes.
Jason knows something is up.
But, he won't push. Not yet.
"why're you s'far away?" he slurs, half awake and starting to shiver since he flung the covers off looking for you.
You wanted to answer him, you wanted to jump back in his arms and hold onto the scent of his skin forever, but you were too annoyed and anxious to say anything.
"No reason." you quip. Far too snappy for such a groggy early morning. Jason knows you've been up for a while now.
Before any more words could potentially be exchanged, you tugged on a pair of clean sweatpants and one of your own shirts. Usually, you would wear one of Jason's to the point where you genuinely forgot you had your own drawer full of clothes.
You storm your way out of the room quickly and go straight to the bathroom to take off your bonnet and fix your hair.
Lo and behold, the twist out didn't work out as intended, and now your hair didn't look as you wanted. The curls were wonky, there was almost no volume, and the back was still wet.
Your frustrated eyes land on Jason's clippers. Through and impulsive rage, you wanted to take it to your head and juts be done with it. This was not the first time your hair didn't work out, nor the first time you wanted to cut all of it off.
Suddenly back in reality, you begin to feel guilty for snapping at Jason earlier, and thinking so badly of him.
God, is this who I am?
All you wanted to do was burst back in there and hug him and tell him that you didn't mean it and that you were sorry and-
Hot tears began streaming down your face, burning rivers into your sullen face. Above all, you craved Jason, but he deserved the sleep and peace on the rare occasions he has to relax. Why couldn't you be peaceful?
You covered your sobs, which only made your feelings worse. The bathroom tile was too cold, but you were too warm at the same time.
It was so dark but too bright. Your skin felt hot but frigid at the same time.
Every quick expansion of your lungs pushing against your ribcage hurt badly. It didn't help that you were beginning to hyperventilate.
Speaking of hyperventilation, you soon realized that even though you weren't sobbing anymore , you couldn't breathe.
Your lungs were taking in all the air around you but also none at all, and you felt lightheaded.
At the same time, your skin began to itch from the beads of sweat surfacing, and your sharp nails began to dig into your skin to scratch it.
Drag after drag of nails on your skin caused it to feel raw and exposed.
While you were caught in your own whirlwind, you didn't hear Jason call out to you. Or his frantic footsteps when you didn't respond. Or his pleas for you to open your eyes and pay attention to him.
Jason was beyond worried when he saw you, panicked and frightened, digging into your skin and rushed to stop you.
He gently pried your fingers from your skin and made a mental note to talk to you about it later.
"Hey shhh baby, no more of that...it hurt's doesn't it?" he cooed as he began to hold your sharp fingers in his hands.
You nod tentatively, still trying to will air to stay in your lungs for longer than half a second.
"Alright princess, you're gonna breathe with me, okay?" Jason says as he tries to hide how concerned he was in effort to keep you as calm as possible.
"Okay breathe in" he begins, eyes trained on your eyes and hands massaging your palms.
You follow his prompts to the best of your abilities, trying to control your breaths the way he does.
After a few cycles of calm breathing, the guilt has nested itself fully in the pits of your stomach.
How could he be so kind after you thought so ill of him juts a few moments ago?
Surely you didn't deserve this.
Surely, he was playing a sick joke on you.
There's no way that he could actually lo-
"Princess? You here with me?" Jason's calm voice cutting through your thoughts.
You look up at him, shame set deep in your eyes.
"I'm so-"
"Nope." he quips with practices ease.
"But I-" you try again, this time determined.
"No. You will not apologize to me for being human." He insists as he rests his forehead against yours.
You close your eyes at the contact, a stark contrast to the sickly feeling your skin had moments ago.
Your eyes begin to sting once more as thoughts of being undeserving of such kindness resurface. You turn your head away from him and haul yourself up from the floor in effort to avoid him seeing you cry again.
As you turn away to step out the door, barely holding back a sob, Jason's warm, soft hand catches your wrist. Gently, he pulls you back into him and wraps his strong arms around you.
Careful not to crush you, he squeezes, physically pressing all his love for you into the hug as you continued to cry softly.
"'m not upset baby, I promise i'm not" Jason reassures as he rocks you in his arms.
He is all too familiar with the guilt you're feeling and so desperately wishes he could make it go away. He knows what it's like to say and think hurtful things you don't necessarily mean about the people you love.
His arms begin to rub at your back, soothing your inner hurt. You felt safe, calm and protected in his embrace.
Slowly, you calmed and your sobs were reduced to sniffles.
Jason tried to let go and move you, but you clung to his tighter in silent refusal.
He chuckles at you gripping his shirt and barely shaking your head that was buried in his chest.
"Alright, alright. These arms are always yours, love."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
i'm so sorry its taking me so long to finish these requests my chronic pain is making it hard to be a human rn
317 notes · View notes
sassy-stupid · 2 months
Text
Pairing: Halsin x f!reader
Angsty fluff
Word count: 1,3k
Content warnings: none as far as I'm aware, but feel free to correct me if I missed anything.
Summary: Halsin is going through it, and you're worried about him.
Tumblr media
Okay, so seeing the vid of all the companions as barbarians changed me. Not only do I now think Halsin would be perfect as barbarian in the 'nature's wrath' typa way, I also decided to make Gale a barbarian in my next playthrough. My boy had the most pathetic little shout, and i happen to think that's great.
Anyway, here's reader getting worried about sweet druid Halsin turning into raging barbarian Halsin. There will be a part two eventually. It will be smut. Sorry guys, but i can't keep the horny in check.
Also, this is rly more of a drabble than a fic, so I'm not naming it :)
Tumblr media
Ever since you'd been unable to save the grove, Halsin had been unable to change into an animal. This change hit the archdruid hard. Not only did this mean that Silvanus saw no chance of redemption in him, it meant the rest of his connection with nature was gone.
At least that's what he had convinced himself of. You were not so sure. You still saw the way nature seemed to respond to his presence, a spark of natural magic still present in the large elf. And yet, you also saw the rage, the new way of fighting he'd adapted to at least try to end the shadow curse alongside you.
The first time he fought by your side since the loss shook you to your core. It seemed for a second that the gentle giant had disappeared. The deep war cry that left him would have stunned you had you not also been fighting the claws of a shadow monster off.
It left an impression on you. You didn't necessarily dislike his new demeanor, but it did worry you. It simply didn't seem like him.
"Halsin!" You call out to the man as he stands next to lae'zel's tent, sharpening his newly acquired battle axe. "Come look!" You'd spotted the ducklings near the ruin in your camp before, but you'd never pointed them out to anyone before. Something about seeing Halsin with the axe made you want to take his attention off the blasted thing as soon as possible, though.
Your plan was working. He put down the axe, jogging to your side in a way that made your heart flutter. What can you say, the man was big in a way that was very attractive to you, and his normally gentle ways only endeared him to you more.
"And what is it I'm here to look at?" He asks, looking straight at you instead of looking around. The lack of his usual perception skills bothered you a bit, but at the same time, you didn't mind his attention being on you either.
"Look over there," you speak more quietly now that you're closer to the animals, not wanting to scare them off. You softly guide him closer to them when you notice he still hasn't spotted the ducklings. "Thought I saw them in the grass yesterday, but the mother finally had the courage to come out!"
The heat of his skin against yours is nice but you chastise yourself for focusing on that when your mission is distracting him, not yourself.
"Oh, younglings this late in the season? The mother has her work cut out for her if she is to keep all of them safe until adulthood." Halsin's voice seems to soften and you can almost physically feel the connection between him and nature. "Though maybe she should give up while she's ahead, protecting what is dear to you is sometimes...simply impossible."
The pain in his voice is clear to you, his eyes steeling. "There will always be new dangers to threaten it after all," Halsin speaks, a new edge entering his voice. "Always new ways to fail," anger. "Always injustice." Rage.
The increasing volume scares of the mother duck, sending the ducklings scattering across the lake. The seething man next to you seems to be too caught up in his anger to even realize. But you do, you realize maybe more than you should have.
A moments hesitation, maybe you shouldn't be getting this involved in Halsin's feelings and inner turmoil. After all you were part of the cause of it all, you'd failed to protect the Grove just as much as he had. What would you do if he turned this newfound rage to you?
You shake your head to clear your thoughts. This was no time to fear consequences to yourself. Halsin could use your help, so you have to try, even if that possibly leads to your favourite man in camp hating you.
"Halsin," you speak softly, almost like you're attempting to soothe him. "Look." The same words from before, spoken differently but accompanied with the same gentle guiding gesture.
It snaps him out of his inner spiral but the anger is clearly still there, barely even hidden beneath the surface. "I know nature has been rejecting you lately, that Silvanus has all but abandoned you." You subconsciously start stroking the man's back in an attempt to further soothe him as you try to make your point. "But this right now? It's you. You're scaring them off. I'm not sure if there's space in you for all this rage and the power of nature."
His eyes linger on your face for another while after the last words leave your lips before he diverts them back to the ducks. He doesn't speak, and for all your nerves, you're not as scared anymore. His posture became less tense and as he crouched down by the edge of the water, you see the old him again.
His hand reaches the water without disturbing it, and as the ducklings regroup near their mother, she swims up to him. You see the change in him the second she touches his hand. Like a world of weight fell off his shoulders, his burden still heavy, but bearable now.
A soft golden glow emanates from the water now, and before you can question anything, Halsin begins chuckling.
"By Silvanus, you were right! Nature never severed my ties, I was burning them with my own fury." he turns to you, still crouched by the ducks who've started nuzzling in his palm now. "You've returned an important piece of myself to me."
"I only pointed out some ducklings, Halsin. You did the rest." You send a wink his way before turning back to the rest of camp. "Oh! Does this mean I can give that sharpened axe to Karlach? She's been eyeing it," you ask, turning back to Halsin, barely noticing the blush creeping over his face. He merely nods in return, feeling his heart stir at the grin you give him.
You'd been right about the axe, Karlach's face when you handed it over to her could only be described with the same words one would use for an overjoyed child. She'd even vowed to you to keep the ribbon you'd put on the handle clean of blood so she could keep it on there.
Unbeknownst to you, as you were accepting the barbarian's expressions of gratitude, the druid that was admiring you form afar got cornered by the two other elves in camp.
"Say Halsin, if I didn't know any better, I'd almost say you're fawning over our dear little (y/n)." It was Astarion who spoke up first, but by her proximity, Halsin could tell Shadowheart had some words for him as well, most likely less sugar coated than Astarion's.
"She's not just our leader, Halsin," Shadowheart begins, "if you hurt her, we'll be forced to hurt you." The clear threat from the cleric was endearing to him. He liked knowing how much the others cared about you.
"Actually," Astarion continued. "I'm fairly certain if we really needed a druid on our travels, we wouldn't be too hard pressed to find one. Jaheira seems entertaining if nothing else." Astarion's thinly veiled threat was less endearing but the same thought process kept the smile on Halsin's face.
"Thank you both for stepping up like this. Though I assure you, I do not give my heart lightly, and I'm ready to offer her all of it." His eyes returned to you as he spoke, watching you fondly as Karlach lifted you into the air and swung you around.
"There is nothing in this world that could make me hurt her."
164 notes · View notes
pedripics · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
"He is still the same as when he was 5 years old. That's the best thing about him."
(via Revelo - July 2023)
"Now I'm not going to be able to mess with him or make jokes. I'm not going to be able to hit him, because if he's going to hit me back...", laughs Rubén Delgado when we talk about the strengthened physique of Pedri, whom he coached between the ages of 9 and 12 at U.D. Tegueste, when he was a " just small boy, but what he had from a young age was great footballing ability". Pedri has always said that Rubén is the coach who taught him how to compete.
"He arrived at Barça with 60 kilos, very little, and when he completed his first season with Barça he had already gained three or four kilos. With Koeman, he started to do the same work as he does now in that first year, with three days a week of more strength training. Then two, then one, because he arrived as a youngster and there was even the possibility of going out on loan; he even had offers from Bayern to go out on loan. What happened was that when Koeman saw him train, everything changed. From 'we're going to give him a work plan of three days a week' he became a starter, playing every three days, he played everything and, obviously, you then can't have three days of strength work, it's impossible," explains a person close to the midfielder, whom we will call E.P.
"This year is the first time that he has had a real five-week holiday. De la Fuente wanted to take him to the Nations League, but in the end, Barça and the Federation came to their senses and understood that the best thing was to let him rest, have a normal summer for the first time since he is at the highest level and take advantage of it to train, because in the end that way you can see his evolution. He's had five weeks in which he's been able to rest but, above all, to train, because in competition the muscle is eaten away, especially in the lower body. Maybe Tchouameni, who has a great physique, can do more. What Pedri has is a lot of endurance. When he was a kid, he also did athletics at school as an extracurricular activity, and he was very good. That resistance lacked to generate muscle. Chema Martínez has one type of muscle, Usain Bolt another. He had a more fibrous muscle and now he had to gain a bit more volume for 1v1s, and also at the lower body level. The image that has made an impact is that of the arms, but the work above and below has been compensated and worked on following a guideline set by Barça", says E.P., who puts Pedri's current weight at 67 kilos.
The Tenerife native has gained two kilos with that physical work done this summer and is not recommended to gain "more than one". "To take him to the 70 would be too much. That would be the limit. What all parties consider is that he is a player who has to gain muscle mass but he shouldn't change his physiognomy completely. He is a lightweight footballer. His mental rapidity leads him to have quickness of movement, to have some dribbling. If he is heavy with the size he is, 1.74m., he would become in quotes, a 'barrel'," explains E.P., who is clear about what is not the goal in the work that the Barça midfielder is doing: "The objective is not to turn him into a muscular beast because he is not like that. He has a similar physique to Messi. Messi is obviously the best, I hope he comes as close as possible, but he will never be able to be Cristiano. Neither Messi nor Pedri could be Cristiano. Neither does he have the physique of Gavi, who has a more powerful lower body, but Gavi's style of football demands more of that than Pedri's game. It would be a mistake", reflects E.P., who specifies that the Tenerife native has done "a lot of cycling, eccentric pull-ups - those where you go up and then you have to hold on when you come down - and work on the pitch, above all".
'Four Friends'
Those who have closely experienced the physical work and nutritional diet that Pedri has followed during these five weeks have been Dani Carreras, Fran Llarena and Rubén Suárez, the three best childhood friends of the footballer, ex-players of Tegueste, where they were under Rubén's orders.
The 'Four friends', like David Trueba's novel, have shared a summer in a villa in Adeje (Tenerife), although their coexistence has been stricter and based on rest, physical work and a rigorous diet that they have all followed. "In the villa, we had a cook who prepared the food for Pedri's diet. Lots of vegetables, lots of vegetables with spices and fish, sometimes meat. But above all, lots and lots of vegetables. I wanted to eat more, but well, we've adapted to him", says Dani, a striker in the team that Pedri played for from "4 to 16-17 years old".
"It has been a hypercaloric diet, with a high intake of calories to be able to compensate for the expenditure of energy and to be able to evolve the muscle. It depends on the day, the work to be done, the moment, but it has been over 3,000 calories," says E. P. with a figure that is far from the perception of Pedri's friends.
"We ate a lot but, of course, few calories in reality: a lot of vegetables, obviously more than five pieces of fruit a day, when it was time for pasta we ate a lot of pasta, but always in measured quantities. We could skip it a bit because the diet wasn't really for us but for him. Everyone followed his diet...", laughs Fran, Pedri's friend "practically since they were born". "My mother put me into a small football team when I was 3 and he was put into the same football team from 3 to 5 years old. We also lived super close here in Tegueste, about 200 meters away, and we've always been friends since we were kids," says Fran, mediocre "like Pedri, but a bit further back. "
They played together until they joined the youth team, when Fran was signed by Tenerife. This summer, as well as being a friend, he has acted as a personal trainer to the Culé footballer. "He has worked every day: in the gym, he worked five days, rested on Saturdays and Sundays, and outside of it is true that he worked more because we went to the football pitch almost every day for speed training and cardio. We went here in the south of Tenerife, to Tenerife Top Training - where I am also told that Courtois occasionally goes - to a field called T3, and there we worked with cones. I helped him with explosiveness, if I had to pass him balls, put the cones on him... I helped him and trained with him. There was a day when he killed me to run with him and I said: 'No more'", recalls Pedri's friend, with whom he has also shared afternoons of paddle tennis and paddleball.
Tumblr media
They have hardly left the village for anything other than training or eating out one day a week. In Adeje, they have enjoyed the swimming pool, "we have played a lot of Monopoly and Catan, and cards, baraja española (spanish card deck); al Presidente", says Dani.
It's been days based on the physical and nutritional discipline that Pedri has been fulfilling to the letter, with a self-demanding attitude that has grown as a result of the injury he suffered last February against Manchester United in the Europa League. In a solo action, he injured the rectus anterior of his right leg. It was the 41st minute. He himself asked to be substituted. That day was a before and after for the player, explains Fran: "He is very demanding because he has already had several injuries and since then he has changed his training and eating patterns to try not to relapse. His nutritionist was on top of it, because there have been many injuries to the same muscle in the 2-3 years he has been in professional football, this would be his fourth, which is noticeable at the end of the day; the 70 games he played in his first year at Barça are going to take their toll on him now, at any time. He's always taken care of his training, but this time it's more exaggerated".
A task in which he is helped by his disciplined personality. "He has never, never, never been a soft drink drinker, he always drinks water or isotonic drinks, sports drinks", Dani explains. Rubén recalls that "he has never been one for sweets either". "He likes chocolate, but chocolate products are another thing that has completely disappeared: sweets. In fact, he goes to events and takes his heavy, calibrated snack, his fruit, grapes with I don't know what nuts... And, look, one thing he loves, a healthy vice, is pistachios. He loves them, but he can eat very little because it's a good source of energy, but the ones he eats he eats without salt and so, zero problems. There is another food that he has been eating since he was little, obviously, which is bananas. He can put bananas in everything, it's incredible. Before Plátano de Canarias was his sponsor, when he started as a professional, he put a banana in his boot. Now he eats, but the range of fruits has expanded a lot. And another thing about Pedri is that he never drinks coffee. We've joked with him once or twice: 'Oh shit, if you drank coffee, you'd get nervous from time to time and you wouldn't be the same anymore'," says E.P. anecdotally, who also reflects a striking feature of Pedri's personality that is helping him to follow a disciplined life: punctuality.
"He's hyper-punctual. You say 'This is a Canarian, a relaxed guy...', and yes he has that relaxation, that pause, that semi-Caribbean Canarian tranquillity, but in terms of punctuality, he's a fucking German. He has many points of discipline but before they weren't united in anything. Now everything has some guidelines, it's blending and uniting well," reasons E.P., who says that Barça, "at least since the arrival of Xavi", forces them to have lunch or dinner at the Ciudad Deportiva.
Rosi’s Croquetas
But there is a common denominator between the four voices that paint Pedri's sporting and nutritional life: the croquettes of his mother, Rosi, which the Tenerife player himself mentioned on Saturday during Barça's American tour when asked about his physical change. "Above all, not eating my mother's croquettes," said the player.
"His mother is a spectacle, she's a machine. Her croquettes are a different story," Dani laughs. "The only treats are his mother's food or going out to eat. I had one meal a week off, so maybe we'd go out to eat somewhere, healthy food too, but eating differently from what your diet is. And it is true that he ate pistachios, he usually eats a lot of them, because he likes them, but healthy ones, of course, without salt. And little else", explains Fran.
"He has always had a fairly balanced diet and well, above all, the famous mother's croquettes, he was very well fed," says Rubén, who assures us that "you need to take time to try them because they are delicious." "They offer a variety: chicken, cod... They have it all. I can vouch for it, I recommend it," he says with a laugh.
Rosi is Pedri's mother and cook at the Tasca Fernando, which she runs with her husband and the footballer's father "at the entrance to Tegueste on the Nacional", explains E.P. "It's the typical small-town place, traditional, where you eat very good homemade cuisine, with very good produce. And of course, Pedri ate there every day until he went to Las Palmas, where he stayed in the residence, in La Casa Amarilla. They could make him slightly different dishes, but in the end, he ate what was available. It’s a normal, ordinary, hard-working family. When they go to see him in Barcelona, they also cook for him, but now the whole family is very conscientious and they are helping him a lot", he says.
His brother Fernando has played a key role in his healthy eating since his arrival at FC Barcelona. "He lives with his brother in Barcelona, near Ciutat Esportiva. As the first year they were at Barça was the year of the pandemic, they went to live together. Fernando studied cooking. He is two years older but as Pedri was always ahead of his time, they played football together for many years. They are like friends and brothers at the same time, and he cooks for him".
"Skinny and tiny"
Talking to Dani, Fran and Ruben has been visualizing the Pedri who started playing football in Tegueste in his earliest childhood, when their lives came together and it was clear to all three of them that that "weak and small" child would go far. "He had something," says Rubén, who always told his partner and his parents, to those around him. "It was to be expected," Fran says. His coach recalls how the three, Pedri, Dani and Fran, "were very good, were the best, and super nice people."
"He has always had a mentality that is not cold, because he is not cold, but a very relaxed mentality, so to speak. If the game is at 100, he would stay at 25, to give you an idea. And that control, and especially at the ages that I coached him, it was very difficult to see a child who controlled the guidelines of a match as much as him; who knew that if the match was very, very tense, he would take it to his own ground and take it to where he wanted it to be. And it's very difficult to find that at that age. Obviously, today you see him and it's even more difficult because you see him inside a stadium with so many people, and with that calmness that he shows and that relaxation and that control of his state, it's very difficult to find that in a player and, above all, as young as he is, who is only 20 years old", recalls Rubén, the coach who moved Pedri's position from the front to the centre of the pitch.
"From a very young age, he stood out from the rest. He did things that a normal 9-year-old didn't do. I always highlight one thing about him and that is that on a footballing level, he obviously had spectacular technique, quality and physique. Because despite being so small he was the first to attack, the first to defend, a spectacular sacrifice towards his teammates... But if there's one thing I've always highlighted about him, it's the footballing maturity he had at the age of 9. He knew how to position himself, he knew where he had to be at all times, which even nowadays professional players work on and not all of them are practically ready. And he, at 9 years old, already knew how to read a game, he already had a very adult sporting maturity for the age he was", says the coach proudly.
"I remember that when in one of the many games in which he was playing and he was killing it and doing things that were not normal, of course, the game ended and at that time I asked him: 'Hey, why did you decide to do this?', and any other child would have said to me: 'Well, look, I did this because I saw it like this…'. And he came in with the little soft voice he had and said, 'I don't know, Ruben, it just came out of me. ' And my colleague and I looked at each other like: 'It just came out of you?, but I didn’t even do that at 25 years old…", recalls the coach.
A similar situation to the one we experienced in the 2021/22 season, when on April 3 Pedri gave Barça a 1-0 victory over Sevilla and placed Barça second in the table. "He cuts once, twice, three times and then hits it with his left. He said he didn't know what he had done, that it just came out of him like that," remembers Rubén, who confesses that when he had the opportunity to talk to Pedri he told him: "Man, that was the same thing you said to me when you were 9 years old."
"The problem for me is that as I've known him all my life, I'm not surprised by what he does. Yes, on the one hand, he surprises me sometimes, when I realise and say: 'Woah, my friend is doing this' and I see him in a different way, but only for a moment because then I remember that it's him and that it was to be expected. From the minute he stepped on a professional pitch he remained the same. He doesn't care who he plays against. Even when we were little, we played on a court, in a pavilion, and he would tell me: 'You play with me', and the brother, and we would play against 20-year-olds, and we were 14. And they'd say, 'Well, come on, but just for a bit.' There were three teams and the one that won was still there. So we got with the team, we were 14 years old and some were 16 and 17, and we beat kids who were 20, 21, 25, and of course, they were shocked. They said: 'But what about these kids?', and especially with Pedri, because he was the youngest and the best. If you see him doing that on the pitch from a young age, with 20-year-olds, knowing that he doesn't care if he gets kicked, or if he gets his body thrown around, or if they take him out, because that has adapted him to professional football, it doesn't surprise you" recalls Fran about a physical and sporting stature that has always accompanied Pedri. Just like the Barcelonismo, which he also lived from his cradle. His grandfather Fernando founded the Peña Barcelonista de Tenerife-Tegueste.
Tumblr media
"He is still the same as when he was 5 years old. He's the same person. That's the best thing about him. He also has a very good family that helps him keep his feet on the ground. When you're with him, you say: 'And this guy is playing for Barcelona'. Also, one thing he has is that when he gets picked on... Maybe you say to him: 'How few goals you score'. Me, for example, I'm a big fan of screwing with him. Yes, yes, I don't know what, but you don't score goals', I say things like that. And when he's picked on, he always gets it. And this year is going to be quite important for him and for Barça. He's going to start to be one of the leaders, I think. He already is, but his character is not that of a leader, but the way he plays. He's a very fundamental player, but he doesn't feel like a leader. No way, no way, that's not the case", admits Dani, who reveals Pedri's joking character. "He seems shy, but he jokes a lot, he's always joking around, with everyone in general. I'm always calling him silly and stuff like that," he laughs.
Calm, familiar, punctual… and with a low heart rate
"The important thing is that you have clear ideas, because at the end of the day, that life is not easy. It's very easy for many things but it's not always easy to carry all of it, not being able to go out, that kind of thing. That he knows his priorities and that he doesn't get too carried away, that's the key for me, beyond a kilo more muscle or not, because you have to be very good in everything and that luck is with you, but if you're not focused, success will not last long. He is familiar, calm, with a low heart rate. May he continue like that", asks E.P. for the future of Pedri, who is going to live an important year this season after the departure of Busquets, the arrival of Gundogan and his demanding summer to get back in top physical shape.
"When he has been asked the typical question: 'What do you need to improve on,' he has never said anything other than these concepts: more goals and physical improvement. In five months, he scored seven goals. If he hadn't been injured, he would have doubled that. This year he should have at least 10-12 goals. Xavi asks him to do that and he will always work to the maximum", explains E.P.. When the competition begins we will see how he establishes his physical form on the pitch. His appearance is already improved, muscular, in a "work of prevention and evolution" that his friends hope to see in sporting terms, in the present and in the future.
"Remember that he is still only 20 years old, normally a footballer explodes at 25, 26, 27, 28 years old. And that's the beautiful thing, that he still has fifteen years of football left and hopefully he continues to rise," says Fran.
"You know what happens? He has the gift of knowing how to win people over. He has a great gift for companionship. So, he is lucky that if he says 'everyone around here', I think they will follow him. Why? Because he has that gift, he has the personality he has, a personality that engages, that transmits good vibes, as they say around here. He is still a bit young to perhaps be a leader, but it is true that I think that at "Barcelona they have noticed that his presence on the field helps the team play in one way or play in another. And I think that is being a leader," Rubén reasons.
Winning leagues, taking Barça back to great heights in Europe, winning a European Championship or a World Cup are some of the challenges that the four protagonists outline around Pedri, but one stands out above all: after having lifted the Golden Boy 2021, it would be to win the Ballon d’Or. "It would be a dream for all of us," says Rubén with a huff. "It’s just that this kid surprises you every day, you don't know where his ceiling is, he's only 20 years old," stresses Fran.
E.P. has this to say on the matter: "It's not something that torments him or keeps him up at night, he prioritises the collective trophies, but obviously it's a consequence of everything, it's an evolution. Neither Iniesta nor Xavi managed to win it, none of his idols have been able to do it. Rodri has done very, very well and his team has performed very well. There is already talk that Rodri could or should have a Ballon d'Or. If Pedri continues to be one of Barça's flagship players, as he practically already is, and Barça regains its usual status of the last 20-25 years and the national team is up there, then why not, but that's a long way to go. To win a trophy of this type, you have to have powerful collective trophies, because Haaland or Cristiano could win it if they score 50 goals, but it's different with him. Let's see, for the moment, how he settles in this new season in which he wants to have continuity again".
And it’s up for the future to see how his new physique responds, but if there is one thing that does not generate doubt among his friends it is his name: "With this new bodybuilding, is it going to be necessary to call him Pedro instead of Pedri at some point?" I asked. Dani laughs before remembering that Pedri was given the name when he was 8-9 years old, "because there were two Pedros in the team and the other one was much bigger than him, so they kept calling him Pedro and him, who was much smaller, Pedri". "For us and for everyone he will always be Pedri," adds Rubén. "He is Pedro González López. Maybe when he is 55 and playing dominoes in his village they will start calling him Pedro, but in the meantime, I doubt he will stop being Pedri", reflects E.P. "Pedri is and will always be Pedri", says his friend Fran.
Tumblr media
109 notes · View notes
laucian-evernight · 5 months
Text
𝒮𝑒𝒸𝓇𝑒𝓉 (𝐵𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝐹𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹 𝑀𝒾𝑔𝓊𝑒𝓁 𝒪’𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶 𝓍 𝐻𝑒𝓇𝑜 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇)
Tumblr media
Kinktober Day 26: Masturbation + Overstimulation
Reverse au where your the hero and Miguel is your best friend
Im skipping so many of these lol.
Warning: tentacles, miguel watch you masturbate without you knowing, etc, etc you get the point not for kid
Genre: filthy filthy smut
Word Count: 2331
。・゚・。+☆+。・゚・。+☆+。・゚・。+☆+。・゚・。+☆+。・゚・。+☆+。・゚・。+☆+。・゚・。+☆+。・゚・。
Miguel groaned as he got ready to turn off his screen to retire for the night. The nightly patrol already finished and you were safe and didn't suffer from any injuries.
He didn't like the fact that you were spending the majority of your night patrolling the city and he couldn't do anything to help you.
At least not as much as he wanted, only being able to be your tech guy and making sure all your missions happened as safely as possible.
He should be glad that you told him the second you got bit convinced you were on your way to die and told him to prepare for your funeral. Otherwise, he wouldn't even be able to help you as the tech guy.
He really did consider telling you to stop after seeing you get thrown into a wall a few times. You were more important to him than anything else, but you blatantly rejected that advice and commented on how he would have done the same if he was the one bitten.
Begrudgingly he agreed, you guys both know each other too well.
Sighing again he sat in his chair and started closing off the screen, suddenly he froze when he heard your muffled voice through the screen.
Shit, they must have forgotten to turn off the video transmitter on their wrist…
He should have expected this from you, always so forgetful and careless.
He should turn off the video link from his side, before telling you tomorrow and tease you for being so careless.
But instead, he found himself pulling up your screen and turning up the volume.
He watched you intently as you moved around in your room clearly tired out of your mind from the nightly patrol.
Your eyes droopy and your hair a complete mess, yet somehow you still look perfect. Even your little yawn as you grabbed a loose shirt and headed to the bathroom was adorable. Reminding him painfully of how much he already missed you and that he’s just your best friend.
Wait the bathroom?
He was snapped out of his thoughts when he realized that you were on your way to take a shower before sleeping.
I really should turn off the video now…
Instead, Miguel watched in fascination as you stripped off your outfit and tossed it to the floor. The sight of your bare body made him feel things he shouldn't feel…
Feeling guilty, he adjusted his camera and mic feed to ‘manual only mode’ so it wouldn’t be triggered by any sound or movement.
As you began to shower the steam made it hard for the camera to focus, but his imagination more than filled in the blank for him.
Miguel continued to watch you in his feed till you stepped out, drying yourself off with a towel. He felt like a creep as he watched you, but he couldn’t help himself.
As you dry yourself off you take a break to look into the mirror. Opening your mouth you licked over your incisor, making sure they’re sharp and in good condition.
As he looked at your bare body, now in complete focus from how close you were standing near where you left your watch. He can feel himself getting flustered as he stares at your soft curve, wondering how it will feel to have you bite into his body with those sharp teeth of yours. Also making a mental note to tell you to wear something immediately after showering to not catch a cold later.
Pulling on a loose t-shirt and a pantie you quickly leave the bathroom to flop onto your bed, grabbing the watch with you while you're at it.
Having already misplaced it several times in the past.
Miguel let out a sigh as he watched you bury yourself in your bed.
He felt slightly guilty at the fact that he was spying on you, but he also couldn't help wondering how you would look curled up in his arms. How you would look at his hand explore yo-
Stopping his train of thought Miguel let out a large groan, this is going too far. He needs to stop, he was your best friend nothing more nothing less.
Miguel moved his hand to close off your video screen before stopping.
Just a few more minutes, to make sure they’re okay and asleep…
But he knows he’s just lying and looking for excuses.
After a while you suddenly sat up, your face flushed and your breathing erratic. You could feel your heartbeat pounding in your ears and your body burning up from the inside.
You open the blind to check outside and let out a frustrated groan when you see the blood moon shining down on you.
Miguel noticed your frustration as he began mentally searching for why you were acting like this.
You have mentioned that your power comes with side effects. You never mentioned what they are, only brushing it off and saying that it has something to do with the moon cycles.
Before he could delve deeper into his thoughts he noticed you pulling a box out from under your bed.
Miguel was curious about what could possibly be in the box. Obviously, something that will help you and your side effects, maybe a serum of some sort? He zoomed in on you wanting to know exactly what was happening.
You let out a stream of curses as you pulled a dildo out of the box.
You weren't happy with the fact you had to use it, you didn't like the fact that you’re losing control, but it's just something you have learned to live with. A necessary evil is what you like to call it.
Miguel's brain has been in overdrive since he saw you pull out the dildo.
The erratic breathing, flushed body, your irritation, and the dildo all pointed to one conclusion.
You were in heat.
The side effect of your power is you go into heat whenever there's a blood moon.
You sat on the floor not wanting to dirty your bed, before spreading your legs and getting ready to prep yourself.
Miguel couldn't take his eyes off the screen, enthralled by the sight of you and the way you seemed to be losing control of yourself to your heat.
You pulled down your panties and gently touched your sensitive fold. As you suspected it was already wet, some lube would probably be ideal at this exact moment, but you decided that was too much of a hassle and you just wanted to get it over with.
Biting down on your lip, trying to hold back any noise you will be making as you slip two fingers inside you. Your body is rigid as you thrust in and out of yourself roughly, moan and whimper escaping from you.
As Miguel listened to your soft moan he could feel himself getting harder. He was breaking your trust just by watching you, but his thoughts wander, and wonder how you will feel if instead of your fingers it was his cock pounding into you. Fucking you stupid as you desperately called out his name.
Pulling down his sweatpants and boxer he gripped his hardened erection in his hand. Making a tight circle with his fist as he begin to fuck into his fist, his eyes not leaving the screen as he watched your shaking form.
Your body was sensitive from the heat so it didn’t take long for you to cum onto the floor. Letting the feeling wash over you, you closed your eyes as you removed your now sticky and wet fingers.
You let out a sob as you felt a wave of heat coming over you, a single orgasm wasn't enough, you needed more. You could barely stand and you fumbled as you grabbed the dildo on the ground. Your body tensed as you slowly pushed it inside you.
Miguel's hands were clenched into tight fists, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he watched the scene unfold on screen. The sight of your legs trembling as you thrust the dildo inside you, your fingers slipping as you tried to reinsert the dildo, made his body tremble with need.
He couldn't tear his eyes away from the screen as you moaned, your skin glistening with sweat. His fingers gripped his cock tightly, sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout his body as he imagined himself filling you to the brim, your tight walls clamping down on him as he thrust inside you.
You cried out as another orgasm took you by surprise, but even as your body convulsed with pleasure it wasn't enough the heat was unrelenting threatening to tear you apart with need.
Sobbing you let go of the dildo before letting your power take full control of the situation.
Sensing your control over them loosening, the tentacles that normally hid within your shadow burst out and tighten around your limb, making sure you can't get away till the heat cycle is over.
Two tentacles spread your leg apart, as another one grabs ahold of the dildo and begins thrusting it in and out of you roughly.
Miguel watched as the tentacles assaulted your body, your fingers digging into your skin as the dildo pounded against your sopping wet folds. Your body shook and trembled with the force of the tentacles pounding into you.
Your cheeks flushed, your eyes glassy with lust and need as you writhed beneath the tentacles. Their thrusts became wild, as your fingers claw at the floor beneath you, the sensations threatening to consume you whole.
Your body continued to tremble, as though begging for more, the tentacles refused to release their grip on you, every thrust becoming more intense, every moan more desperate.
“S-stop, slower, guys p-please!” You sobbed out, your body trembling as you climaxed again,
Miguel panted as he watched the tentacles keep their fast pace pounding into you. His heart pounded in his chest, a bitter taste of envy filling his mouth as he watched the tentacles continue to ravage you. The desire to take their place threatened to consume him.
With trembling hands, Miguel ran his thumb against the tip. His gaze remained locked on the screen as he gripped his cock tightly, he can feel his climax coming as he watch your shaking body.
Suddenly your eyes widen and you let out a whine as you felt your tentacle wrapped around the dildo, before pulling it out violently. The tentacle unhappy with how the pace was going, dived into your cunt replacing the dildo as they filled you up to the brim.
Miguel could barely contain himself as he watch your cunt being filled by the tentacles, his cock twitched as jealousy consumed him. His mind filled with desperate fantasies of him dominating you, your tight, wet cunt wrapped around his cock milking him dry as you cried out his name.
His body was trembling and all Miguel could think about was you, your body, and your moans.
You were like a drug and he was an addict, needing more and more of you every second that he watched you.
The way you cried and moaned, the way the tentacles ignored your pleas and demands and used you like an object.
They were using you, just like the way Miguel wanted to use you. He wished he could've been the one fucking into you, the one driving you deep into this cycle of lust and desire.
You let out a scream as you were brought to another climax. Your body was overstimulated and in pain, as the tentacles finally left your body with a wet pop, before laying you on the floor trembling.
Miguel's heart raced in his chest as he watched your shaking form, your body trembling and shaking from the intense orgasm that had just taken you. You were a fucking mess, your eyes glazed over, saliva and tears dripping down your face.
He couldn't stop himself from fantasizing about what it would be like to join you in your heat, thrusting into you until the very end of the cycle. His fingers continued to stroke his fisted cock, his mind incapable of breaking away from the thought of using you to satiate his own unrelenting, insatiable needs.
The image of your writhing body beneath him, your climaxes echoing in his ears as he drove himself into you seemed like a fantasy that could become reality at any moment.
With a loud groan, he reached his climax, his cum splattering onto the screen in front of him, making it look like he was covering you with his cum.
Groaning he felt his cock hardening again in his hand at the sight.
He watched as the tentacles wrapped around you again and took you to the shower to wash you off.
As he watched the tentacles cleaned you off, gently washing your abused and puffy cunt. You let out a little moan as they cleaned you, sending Miguel into a deeper spiral.
The tentacles place you into bed and gently tuck you in, despite the brutality they put you through and allowing you to fall asleep, your body thoroughly abused by them.
Miguel continued to watch, his desire for you only growing as he saw you tucked into bed. His desire for you was like a fire inside him, burning and burning with every passing second.
The way you were so soft and vulnerable in that moment drove Miguel to madness, his heartbeat erratic as he gripped his cock again. He needed to hold you, to kiss you, to touch you.
You looked so soft and vulnerable, so helpless and pure. He wanted that for himself, he wanted to be the one to tuck you in like that and to kiss you goodnight.
As you fall asleep, Miguel saves the recording before pulling it back up again.
This was going to be a long night…
181 notes · View notes
moremaybank · 7 months
Text
UNDERCOVER — j.m
day five how you get the girl with jj maybank
pairing jj maybank x fem!reader
summary you and jj navigate through the changing feelings of your friendship.
warnings fluff, mutual pining, mentions of a physical fight (reader), smoking a joint, i think that's all but let me know.
obx week ‘23 masterlist ;; jj masterlist
Tumblr media
JJ had never been one to crack open a book. He rarely did so for school, and never did so for leisure. 
You, on the other hand, were your happiest when you were curled up with a good romance novel propped up in your lap. 
One afternoon, you’d dragged JJ to the bookstore over on Figure Eight. The scent of aged paper and the soft creak of the wooden floorboards flooded your senses as you perused the shelves. JJ lingered behind you, watching your fingertips glide over the spines of each book and carefully removing the ones you planned to buy. 
By the time your arms were filled with books (not including the ones JJ had taken over for you), you made your way up to the cash register. Your eyes locked on a novel you’d sought after for ages, and you pouted. 
“Damn it. The one time it’s here and I’m already over my monthly budget.”
JJ listened intently. He didn’t say much, but he made a mental note of your wish and stored it in his memory bank for later. 
Two weeks after, you received a mysterious package lying on your front porch. You opened it once you got inside, and you were greeted by the sight of the very same book you’d longed for but weren’t able to take home with you. 
A handwritten note accompanied the gift: “Happy reading, pretty girl. From, JJ.” 
Happy tears welled up in your eyes as you held the book close to your heart. JJ had not only listened to your words, but had taken the time, effort and last few scraps of his money he had to fulfill your wish. The cherished gesture spoke volumes about how he cared for you, how he’d do anything to see that stunning smile on your face. It was the kind of thoughtfulness that made you rethink your connection with him. 
That evening, you showed up to the chateau unannounced. You pulled JJ into your arms, squeezing him so tightly that his organs felt as if they were shifting. You pressed three kisses to his cheek, hearing his melodious laughter filling your ears. 
“Woah, what’s with all the love?”
Your hands braced on either side of his neck. “You got me my book. You’re amazing.”
He shrugged casually. “It wasn’t a big deal, princess. I know you were bummed that day when you couldn’t get it. Just wanted to do somethin’ nice for you. You deserve it.”
Tumblr media
“Well, well. How the tables have turned.” JJ couldn’t wipe the smirk off his face as he tended to the cut etched over your cheekbone. He’d placed an ice pack over your bruising knuckles, and was now using a q-tip to clean and disinfect the small gash on your face. 
“Shut up, JJ.” 
“‘M just sayin’. You’re always scolding me for picking fights, and yet, here you are doin’ the same.”
He was right. You did lecture him every time he got into a fight with someone the way a parent would with their child. You'd be fuming, telling him that he shouldn't let people's comments get to him, that they aren't worth his time.
You shot him an irritated glare. “Watch it, or you’re next.”
“Woah. Cool it, Southpaw. No need to get feisty.” 
He was enjoying every second of that role reversal far too much. The permanent smile on his lips was enough proof of that fact. 
JJ helped you off the counter, holding your hips steadily as he walked behind you and followed you into your bedroom. You both got all cozy beneath your comforter, and JJ’s arm slung itself over your shoulders. 
“You could’ve taken it easy on her, though. You yanked her hair out.” 
“And I’d do it again. She was a bitch,” you huffed. 
“So you really aren’t gonna tell me what happened, then?” He asked, watching as you flipped your TV on and started to scroll through Netflix in search of something to watch together.
You hadn’t told JJ that the reason the fight broke out was because that poor girl had made the mistake of telling you that JJ would never be interested in you. That she’d done all sorts of dirty things with him, and you’d never get to say the same. That you were a fool to even have eyes for him. 
“It was dumb. She just, she pushed my buttons, that’s all.”
The hand on your shoulder moved to smooth down the hair atop your head. “Well, fuck her.” 
“Why? You already did.”
He could sense the icy tone in your voice, and he felt your body grow rigid. His brows furrowed. “What? No I didn’t.” 
It was your turn to be confused. “What do you mean?”
“Dude, I don’t even know her name. I’ve seen her a few times at the boneyard, but, I’ve never hooked up with her. Never even spoke to her.”
Your silence was enough to tell him that he’d been the reason you got into that tussle. The same smirk from earlier found his lips again, and he pulled you closer into him. 
“You tellin’ me you got into that fight ‘cause you were jealous, pretty girl?” 
You kept your focus on the TV, muttering at him to be quiet. 
He laughed softly, using his other hand to turn your face toward him. His bright eyes found your nervous ones, and he gave you a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, princess. I wouldn't choose anyone over you.” 
And with that, he turned his attention to the show you’d chosen as if what he’d just said had been a casual thing. Your heart stammered, and butterflies erupted in your stomach. 
Did this mean you had a chance?
Tumblr media
You were laying in the hammock at the chateau, smoking a joint that’d you’d stolen from JJ’s stash. The gentle sway and creaking of the ropes were a comforting sound. Your mind was lost deep in thought, and the subject taking up your mind was none other than JJ. Lately, things had been changing between the two of you, and you couldn’t help wonder where it was all heading. 
As if he sensed your crowded mind, JJ appeared as he hopped down the stairs outside and approached you with a comforting grin. He plucked the joint from your fingertips, hitting it and exhaling the smoke with a chuckle when you frowned at him. 
“Hey. I was smoking that.”
“It’s mine now.” 
After the two of you finished smoking, he put the joint out and he extended a hand toward you. “Come on. Take a ride with me.” 
You accepted his hand and let him guide you to the pogue. The anticipation built in your chest as the two of you glided across the water of the marsh. The breeze tousled your hair, and the stars were beginning to take over the sky, sparkling beautifully.
JJ was the first to break the silence. “You looked like you had a lot on your mind back there. You wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?”
You gave him a faint smile. “Just thinking about stuff.” 
He raised an eyebrow, the curiosity in his face evident, even in the dark. “Stuff, huh? Care to expand on that?” 
He was always so perceptive, especially when it came to you, so it was a difficult task to hide anything from him. You took a deep breath and decided to take a chance. “I’ve been thinking about us, J. It just, it feels like there’s something more going on with us lately, and I can’t help but wonder where its’ going.”  
JJ leaned back against the chair beside you, looking into your gaze nervously. “You noticed that too, huh?”
You nodded, your heart now in your throat. You couldn’t tell if his response was a positive or negative one. “Yeah, and I don’t know about you, but it’s been driving me a little crazy.” 
“Well, pretty girl, since we’re both goin’ a little crazy, how about we do something about it?”
A puzzled look washed over your features. “What do you mean?” 
He hooked index finger under your chin and used it to fix your gaze on him. Then, his hand moved to cup your cheek. His thumb smoothed atop your cheekbone, and before you knew it, his lips met yours. The kiss was soft and sweet, full of all the yearning the two of you had felt for the past couple of months. Your cheeks flushed with warmth as your hand found the back of his neck, and your fingertips wove into the hair that sat at the nape of his neck. You urged him closer to you, and melted fully into the sweet moment. 
Breaking away, he smiled at you. “There’s somethin’ here, princess. Somethin’ special, and I really don’t wanna hide from it anymore. I like you. Like, a lot.”
Your heart soared. “I feel the same way, J. I have for awhile now.” 
“Yeah?” 
You nodded with a shy smile. “Yeah.” 
You two shared another intimate kiss, this time throwing yourselves into it completely as you were now devoid of the fear that had been holding you back for so long. His touch was warm, and everything felt so right. There wasn’t anyone else you wanted like this, no place you’d rather be. All you wanted was JJ, and all JJ wanted was you. 
“So, like, you’re my girlfriend now, right?”
You laugh softly. “I better be after that kiss.” 
Tumblr media
JJ TAG LIST (JOIN HERE!): @oncasette @taintedxkisses @maybankslover @goldenroutledge @penny4yourthoughts @bmo-bri @hemogloban @princessbetsy123-blog @slytherhoes @whoisdrewstarkey @aliyahsomerhalder @dreamingwithrafe @vigilanteshitposting @poppet05 @wildflwrdarlin @adoreyouusugar @f4ll-for-you @tell-me-when-ur-ready @bbycowboi @venomwh0re @jjmaybankisbae @enhypens-hoe @loverofdrewstarkey @earth2starkey @angelofcigs @glen-powells @papillonoirsworld @koalalafications @aerangi @cantstoptheimagines @bloody-mf-bsc @maybanksbabe @sarah5462 @slut4drudy @lvvrgrl @dancinglikeaballerina @somerandos-world @shahanaazsoumah
Tumblr media
293 notes · View notes
livwritesstuff · 28 days
Note
Just in connection to my reply to one of your posts with little baby Moe (Okay she wasn't a baby but you get it.)
I really, really need some scenes with the girls (all of them or one by one) where they tell Steve (and Eddie too) how amazing he is as a dad. Not as teeny tiny children but rather as teenagers or even as young adults. Just genuine love between them, no ulterior motives.
Because I feel like Steve NEEDS that too. Every now and then. I know parents always have moments where they feel like they've fucked up or that their children don't really like them. And I feel like Steve could spiral about these things on a bad day. Eddie telling him that the girls love him to pieces doesn't help a lot on these days, I believe (You can correct me since it's definitely your universe and your Steve and Eddie).
So I'm just asking, very VERY politely :))), what you think those moments could look like and what the girls would say or why Steve even feels like he failed them. (Okay that's a LOT I'm asking of you, I'm sorry.) Just see where the flow takes you, if it does.
Thank you thank you thank you 🥰🥰🥰🥰
HAZEL
Steve was home alone with the kids because Eddie was away for a few days of work meetings in New York. The second day of Eddie’s absence, Steve was hit with a killer migraine – his first really bad one in a while – so he set the girls up with a movie (a long one) to give himself a couple hours to try sleeping it off.
A while later, he woke up to an alarm blaring – weird, he’d thought in the moment because he probably wouldn’t have set a loud alarm for a migraine nap (seems a little counter-intuitive), but everything about his brain was foggy so who's to say.
Then, outside the door, he heard this exchange between his two oldest daughters.
Moe: Papa can turn it off.
Robbie: But we’ll get in trouble.
Robbie: It’s on fire.
Half-convinced he was dreaming, he got up and followed the girls into the kitchen where, yep, the microwave was on fire. All Steve really remembers is unplugging it and leaving it to the elements outside.
Turns out Moe had wanted to make mac and cheese (which she knew how to do – they’d actually been about to graduate her to toaster privileges until this incident) and it had been a fluke timer-based accident.
Eddie had thought coming home to a melted microwave in their driveway was hilarious, but Steve was seriously rattled about it because it was the first time he'd felt like something had happened because of a failing on his part. He shouldn't have let himself succumb to the migraine, he should have pushed through it to be there for the girls, but he’d let himself slip and then they set the goddamn microwave on fire.
The same day he got back from his trip, Eddie went out and bought a new microwave (even though it’s one of those purchases Steve would normally handle because he doesn’t trust Eddie for a second to not buy the dumbest appliances he can find), and he took all three girls with him so Steve could have a bit of time alone. When they all returned an hour or two later, the sheer volume and amount of excitement they brought with them pretty much confirmed for Steve that whatever microwave Eddie bought had way more bells and whistles than any person on Earth could possibly need.
Steve didn’t go downstairs to greet them and not too long later, the door to his and Eddie’s room opened, and then three-year-old Hazel was climbing into bed and snuggling up close to him.
“There’s a new microwave,” she told him in her matter-of-fact way she reported on everything that happened in her world.
“I know,” he replied, running a hand through her tangled blonde curls (unlike Robbie, Hazel’s tolerance for “hair time”, as they call it, is pretty much rock-bottom – her hair is more frizz than curls these days and Steve is figuring out how to cope).
“Daddy wants to turn the old one into a diagram,” she continued.
Steve furrowed his eyebrows.
“A diagram?” he repeated.
“He wants to put all the melted spoons in and make them look cool and put it on a shelf.”
Oh – also, no fucking chance. Not in Steve’s kitchen.
“I think he said diorama, Haze.”
Hazel nodded.
Then she said, “You were like a firefighter.”
Steve refrains from pointing out that he shouldn’t have needed to be like a firefighter in the first place (because that would be putting his own issues onto his children and he doesn’t want to do that), even though he knows it’s true. He should have been there.
“You’re the best dad ever,” Hazel continued.
“Yeah?”
“Uh-huh,” she nods, and she’s just as matter-of-fact now as she was before, and she’s sitting on his chest in a way that has her little knees digging into his ribs, which should hurt but instead feels like a tether to the real world he can grasp onto and pull himself out of his head.
 “You think we should go check out this microwave?” he asks, starting to sit up.
Hazel nods.
“Alright, let’s go.”
MOE
When Moe was 21 – a junior in college in New York City – she and her best friend since kindergarten, Gray, started dating (finally, in Steve’s opinion, because he’d seen that coming for ages).
Steve and Eddie have known Gray for as long as Moe has, and they’ve watched Gray grow up nearly as much as their three daughters – as a kindergartener with freckles and dark brown pigtails, as a middle-schooler tearfully coming out as non-binary knowing they’d have to hide it from their family, as a high school senior, still with all those freckles, eager for the fresh start that college would bring.
It was nice to be for Gray (and for a handful of their daughters’ other friends over the years) something that Eddie and Steve had needed when they were their age – a place where they could be themselves without any consequences, a place where they didn’t have to hide, because sometimes, as was the case for Gray for many years, you have to hide. It’s nice to have a safe haven where you don’t.
During Moe and Gray’s senior year of college, the pair made plans to come home for their final spring break. When that first week of March finally rolled around, Moe called from the train to tell them that Gray was finally pulling the trigger – finally coming out to their parents, finally telling them about their relationship with Moe.
“Are they sure,” Steve had asked – not because he doubted Gray but because he hadn’t been too much older when he’d taken that leap for himself and he’d felt the subsequent loss of his parents like mourning a death.
“Positive,” he’d heard Gray reply.
Three hours after their train dropped Moe and Gray off at the Wellesley Farms station, Steve and Eddie heard the back door open. A moment later, Moe trailed in with something heavy in her eyes.
“How’d it…” Eddie started to ask from where he and Steve sat on the couch, but he stopped when Moe shook her head.
“Not over yet,” she told them, “Gray made me leave. It’s a fucking trainwreck.”
And even though he knew that was always going to be the outcome, Steve’s heart still sank.
“Damn,” Eddie commented while Steve shook his head, “They’ll always have a home with us, but…”
“Yeah,” Moe nodded, “Still sucks.” 
Steve recognizes something of his own experience in that – he feels so damn grateful that Jim and Joyce had slid into that parent role for him, especially after he’d become estranged from his actual parents in his mid-twenties. Still, they weren’t his parents, and Steve would’ve never not wanted his parents to pull through like they should have.
Moe sat down on the couch between her dads.
“Why did Gray make you leave?” Steve asked (even though he had a sneaking suspicion why).
“Uh…” Moe paused, pushing her blonde bangs back, “Well, I wouldn’t say I was yelling, exactly, but…I dunno. If you ask Gray they might tell you I was yelling.”
Yep, that seems about right.
“I just,” Moe continued, “I know Gray was prepared for this – for their parents, like, rejecting all of this – and I know they’ve always totally sucked so this was obviously how this was gonna go, but I think I had a hard time seeing it because I’d never really had to consider what it would be like for that to happen.”
Moe shook her head, her bangs falling right back into her eyes, and Steve had to resist the urge to ask if she wanted his help trimming them like he’d done when she was little.
“I just mean – it never made a difference to you who me and Haze and Robbie were or what we did. You just, like, love us regardless…and always, y’know? I never had to imagine anything happening to make that stop, and I never had to consider that it might not be like that for everyone.”
She paused again, this time for a while, her eyes trained on the carpet as she fiddled with cuffs on her jeans. 
And then Moe looked Steve dead in the eye.
“You’re the best dads,” she said, “and I’m really, really lucky.”
ROBBIE
There were eight hours between Steve and Eddie finding out their fifteen-year-old daughter had been in a car crash during a school trip to Disney World and when they finally made it down to the hospital in Orlando she’d been taken to. There were another agonizing two before Robbie woke up.
When she did, her eyes groggily blinked open, and she looked blankly around the hospital room for a moment, and then she saw them.
Then her pale face crumples and suddenly she’s crying.
And that had Steve’s heart plummeting even faster than the phone call from hell he’d gotten eight hours earlier, because Robbie doesn’t cry.
He can’t remember the last time he’d seen her cry – not since she was a baby, anyway. She’d cried constantly as a baby, but the second she had a firm enough grasp on the English language it had ceased entirely, replaced by an endless stream of words – demands and trains of thought and exclamations and everything in between.
Eddie had joked that she’d only ever been crying out of frustration over not being able to tell them what she needed, and as soon as she could tell them, she had no use for it anymore, so seeing Robbie sobbing – the kind of crying where no sound could come out, where she was barely breathing, where her tears were soaking her cheeks and staining the collar of the hospital gown someone had changed her into – it practically had Steve crying himself.
After a few minutes of we’re here and you’re okay and what do you need, Robbie had tearfully admitted, “I need a hug,” and then she’d broken down again.
She wasn’t exactly in any position to get up, obviously, so Steve had taken off his shoes (because even through tears she’d still side-eyed his sneakers) and slid onto the hospital bed so he could pull Robbie into his arms just like he used to do when bad dreams woke her up in the middle of the night.
Later, when Eddie was just outside the hospital room talking to the nurse and the chaperone for the trip about the accident and how the school was planning on moving forward in the aftermath, Robbie finally spoke.
“Papa,” she said, her face pressed into his shoulder.
“Mm-hmm.”
“I’m sorry.”
Steve looked down at his daughter.
“Robbie, you don’t need to–”
“Not for this. For…just, like, in general. You–”
She paused, and Steve let her.
“I just mean…” she continued, “I haven’t been, like, good lately, and I’m sorry.”
Steve didn’t know what to say.
She’s not exactly wrong – it’s true that Robbie had been a total piece of work lately, especially since she started high school, especially since she got bumped up to the senior-level band class because she’s that good at the violin (which he and Eddie had been thrilled about initially until they realized it meant she was making friends with high school seniors) – but Steve didn’t exactly know how best to explain to her that up until this, up until she’d nearly died because of it and no matter how much Steve didn’t like it, it was normal.
It was normal for teenagers to do dumb shit, to hurt themselves, to hurt others, to drive their parents goddamn insane with worry. It wasn’t normal for them to nearly end up dead because of it, and this time it wasn’t really even her fault.
It sort of reminded him of Nancy in a way, of how Nancy had never been the same again after what happened to Barb, how Nancy had never let herself be a dumb teenager, never let herself relax, even though picking a boy over a friend was normal. Sneaking out and drinking during a badly-supervised school trip was normal. Sure, there were supposed to be consequences but there shouldn’t be a goddamn death toll.
“I know, Bean,” he finally said, something about the situation pulling out a nickname for her that he hadn’t used in a long time (because when she was born, Moe had turned Robin into Robbean and the rest was history).
“You’re really good to me,” Robbie whispered, “You and dad are so good to me, and I’m not always good back, and I’m sorry.”
“I don’t need you to be sorry,��� Steve told her because, for right now at least, it was true, “Just…just stick around long enough to work with us, okay?”
Robbie nodded.
“Okay.”
126 notes · View notes
muzicgenerator · 7 months
Note
pls could u do a tom kaulitz angst? like he’s arguing w reader and mentions something he knows the reader doesn’t like bringing up, and he has to make it up to her, then it can turn into fluff <3
yep here it is!!
hope u like it and sorry for late reply T_T
(BRO OHHH MY GOD THE ORIGINAL STORYLINE DIDNT SAVE 😭😭😭 so i just made a new one which is this one AGHHH SO MAD RN btw i didnt proof read the entire thing)
⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒
Atonement
Pairing: Tom Kaulitz x Reader
Genre: a bit Angsty, Fluff
Warnings: None
Request Status: closed :(
✩°。⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Last Night on Earth : Green Day
Playful bantering was one of the things you and Tom would do everyday in your relationship.
Sure, serious arguments would rise up which a simple kiss and genuine apology would quickly fix.
However those two won't do it right now.
"The hell do you mean I have trust issues?!"
"What?! It's true! Your ex cheated on you so you're scared to trust me; It's not like I'm gonna do what that guy did!"
Definitely, Tom shouldn't have brought your ex up who has no relation to this quarrel.
He knew how much of a prick he was to you and how he treated you; he even witnessed how devastated you were when you once came to him to seek comfort when you found out for the second time he had been cheating.
And he knew damn well you never wanna hear about the jerk ever again.
However, you did appreciate him admitting he wouldn't repeat the history you had with your past lover.
"The fuck, Tom? That bitch has no connection whatsoever about what we're fighting about right now.
And I saw the way you looked at her! It's like, if I didn't interrupt you both would've shared spits by then." enraged by what he said; you raised your voice to match his volume - which was unlike you since you're the composed one out of you two during serious arguments.
"Sorry but he kinda does! This issue you're having surely started with him. I remember the way you wasted your snot and tears on him and I dried it off.
And please stop being overdramatic, she's just a fan and I wanted to make sure she's happy. Not only with her; I mean with everyone of them!"
Tom tried hard to defend himself instead of admitting his wrongdoing.
"You are such an ass for bringing that shit up again when you know damn well your ass had issues too that I helped you get over with and all I've ever done was try my greatest to understand and care for you!
All I ever wanted was for you to stop looking at other people and look at me.. Am I asking for too much?" your voice whispered in offence and slightly croaked which made you resent yourself more.
Tom realized with wide eyes of what he had done,
"No, no of course not ____. No, look- I'm really sorry for what I said, I really am and-"
"Just shut the hell up, Tom. Save it, I don't wanna hear it right now." you harshly brushed past him to storm off to your apartment's bedroom in fear of hot tears falling down to your cheeks.
He sighed; ashamed in himself. Tom truly regrets letting those harsh and unnecessary words slip his blunt mouth. He knew he was better than this - definitely, he should control his mouth more and think about what he should say carefully during times like this.
The night spent alone in the bed you'd always share with Tom felt cruel.
Not for the reason he's not by your side; it's rather the fact that you're in bed without properly making up with him since you'd always forgive one another the same day.
A big part of you wanted to forgive him - believe that he truly didn't mean what he told you and only accidentally slipped because of the heat in the moment; that we all say things we don't mean when we're mad, and that he really wouldn't stab you on the back with a woman like your past lover did.
The smaller part of you scolded for being such an idiot; for believing a man would stay loyal - that you should call it off before he could do any further damage.
Honestly, you felt devastated just thinking about not being with him; so you eventually came into terms with yourself that the fire will settle down and you'll forgive him and he'll do better.
Don't know when it'll die down but it will. Hopefully soon.
Some relationships are worth fighting for, like you have with Tom.
Hence you will stay strong and prepare for many wars.
But tonight; you wanted and allowed yourself to fall asleep being upset and disappointed at Tom.
You'll let tomorrow do its thing.
✮✮✮
It was the next day and the back of your head was pounding alongside a stiff neck.
You sat up and glanced at the digital clock placed on your night table that read 11:37 AM.
After stretching your limbs out while reminiscing the night before; you decided it's time to wash your face and start making lunch for yourself.
When you turned the knob and pushed it open; you were greeted with the aroma of your favourite dish; one that was always served to you as a child when you still lived with your family - one that you shared its recipe and process with your lover.
"Tom?" you asked in disbelief. You were certain he had left since your ears picked up the sound of the front door being pushed open then close in the middle of the night.
Certainty assured your mind that you'd rather not see his face first thing in the morning after such a night. Boy, were you wrong.
Your lover turned his head quickly; unaware of your presence since he's so caught up finishing, as well as perfecting the dish.
"Oh- love, you're awake. I um.. made breakfast but you didn't get up and it's uh, it's almost time for lunch so I thought I'd make your favourite." he stumbled over his words; which is bizarre.
"The pancakes are on the table, you can eat them later as a snack."
You nodded your head with a tight lipped smile and mumbled a thanks before heading to the bathroom.
Once the door had shut; you quickly drowned your face with water to remove the image of Tom cooking without a shirt on.
It's not like it's the first time you've seen him like that; but the way you're reacting right now is how you feel when you catch him in these types of situations - preferably without the post-fight shit going.
After peeing, washing your hands, brushing your teeth washing and drying your face, and doing your skin care - you forced yourself to go back outside for you cannot stay in the bathroom forever.
When you opened and closed the baby blue painted door; your eyes wandered off to the table and drooled at the sight of the newly cooked meal.
Tom patted the seat beside him with a smile; gesturing you to sit beside him.
You had no choice but to join him for lunch; after all, you are starving.
Instead of giving in to his request, you sat in front of him.
Instead of painting a frown on his lips; he still kept his genuinely proud smile (from cooking such a delicious dish) and handed you your plate and utensils - to which you accepted.
"Let's eat?" Tom asked.
"I don't wanna eat without talking about last night." you said with a straight face.
The man in front of you softly breathed a sigh,
"You're right." he agreed with a nod
"I'll start by saying I'm really sorry, and I didn't mean what I said. I just want you to know I would never even dare to think about betraying you like that, and I was an ass for what I did." Tom seemed to look everywhere but your eyes.
He couldn't bring himself to look at your mesmerizing hues for he was certain his shredded heart would be turned into dust.
"I don't even know why I said those things, I- I know this sounds like bullshit but I swear I really don't mean those things and you're the only person who I have my eyes on.
Please give me another chance I- I'll be better now, promise!" he trailed off and fearfully continued;
"But y'know if uh.. if you don't and wanna call it o-"
"Shut up Tom we're not breaking up." you sighed
"I know you said those to defend what you did, and it slipped out because of the heat of the moment. We all say shit we don't mean when mad, I understand. But what I don't understand is why you'd caress her cheek and look into her eyes like that?" your eyes examined his facial expressions and only saw genuine regret on his face. You hoped he'd look at your eyes and tell you directly why.
Hence, before his ready mouth started to explain; you tell him, "Tom, look into my eyes, please."
You caught the way the ball of his throat bopped up and down; swallowing his saliva. His eyes slowly trailed up from the table to your chest, neck, chin, nose, then eyes.
"She said she'd been a fan since the very beginning of the band's debut. She loved all us a lot, especially me. I asked her if meeting us was a dream come true, she said yeah, and we talked a bit more. Then she asked me to touch her face because she really couldn't believe that it was all happening, which I did."
Tom would look away from the two windows of your soul for a second before meeting again.
He was replied with silence; which kind of scared him.
"____? Please say something."
"For God's sake Tom, why didn't you just start with that last night when I brought it up?"
Tom rapidly blinked once, twice, thrice, then for the fourth time. "... I must've forgot to bring it up because I was so caught up in the moment."
You laughed; a true one, "You mean too focused into bringing my ex up?"
He was speechless by how just a second ago you were dead ass serious, and now crying laughing at what you said.
"Sorry, I'm done laughing now." you giggled before continuing, "Fine, I'll forgive you if you tell me where you went last night."
"I went back to my apartment and did some thinking how to make it up to you and slept there. I went out really early to buy groceries so i can cook your favourite food here."
It was your turn to be speechless.
"...You seriously did that?" you asked with doubt in your voice.
"Yeah, I mean the proof is on the table." Tom chuckled.
You said nothing and finally dug into the 5 star looking meal, soon your lover did as well.
"Sooo, are we good?" Tom hopefully asked after sipping his water from the cylinder glass.
"I guess so." you blessed him with a small smile to which he returned with a big one.
Conversation flowed naturally between you as you ate the savoury food.
If Tom didn't make it as a famous guitarist, he'd definitely be a winner in Hell's Kitchen.
After Tom cleaned put the dishes to the sink; you insisted to wash it since he cooked. He declined numerous times but it wasn't going anywhere since you're more stubborn than him.
"All right, fine. Only if you let me hug you from behind." Tom made a deal.
"Pshh, why're you asking as if you don't do that whenever I do shit in the kitchen?"
Tom rolled his eyes with a smirk drawn on his lips as a reply and proceeded to snake his large hands to your waist; then pressing his chest to your back and resting his chin on the crown of your head.
Nothing could be heard other than the clanking of pans, plates, and utensils, along with the flow of the running water from the faucet.
The comfortable verbal silence and physical contact was very much needed after a fight.
After drying your hands with a cloth; you walked towards the couch and sat with your boyfriend still embracing you from behind.
"What do you wanna watch?" you turned your head to the side to look up at his face.
"Whatever you want, I'm fine with anything." Tom looked down to your eyes, then lips.
Slowly, he leaned his fave closer to yours so he could taste your lips.
Once contact had been made; you couldn't help but melt even more to his touch and wrap your arms around his neck - and he couldn't help but deepen the kiss and caress your waist and back.
Soon enough, the passionate kiss had come to an end to catch their breaths.
"I love you so much. You know that, right?" Tom stared into her hues as the tip of their noses touched.
You slowly nodded and brought your hands up to his hollow cheeks, "I love you more." you said before pulling his face closer to kiss each other's lips once again.
Tom mumbled in-between the kisses, "I love you the most, sweetheart." before deepening it. His tongue soon entered your mouth and both your hands rubbed and caressed your bodies.
The hot post-fight make out session would last as long as half the length of the movie you played in the middle of the session; playing Atonement for the millionth time from your entire life.
After pulling your mouths away due to your jaws hurting; you slept and cuddled like babies.
Feeling the safest in each other's arms.
242 notes · View notes
rowanwithaz · 6 months
Text
How Katsuki's Character Is Misunderstood.
I think people that hate Katsuki just don't really understand his character or how he breaks the cliches of most rivals in shonen.
Accidental rant :D
No Tragic Backstory.
Vegeta had his home destroyed,Sasuke's clan was murdered,Shadow lost everything,etc. They have "reasons" to be an asshole,people excuse they're actions because people say "You can't blame 'em,"
Which is kinda an awful way to look at people's actions and why they do it. A character always needs a motive,and killing half their family,giving them abusive parents,makes it easier to write them. (kinda like a cheat code)But,with Katsuki,he doesn't have a "good" reason to do all the bad things he did.Katsuki stands out because he has what we would call a good life. He has good grades,he has both of his parents,who love him,he has an awesome power,he has so many things going for him,so,in most people's minds he doesn't have any issues and he's just a spoiled brat who doesn't get what he wants. And I think that's what trips people up the most,because he doesn't have a objectively good reason to do anything,but,here's why it's GOOD he doesn't follow that formula. Katsuki is just a kid who was an asshole,that's really it,in reality it's so simple,but some how Horikoshi took one of the most simple things and made it so complicated and gave it so many layers.
Katsuki just felt like he wasn't enough even though people told him he was,he knew he had what people would call a "perfect life," that he was "perfect," and that's what messed him up so bad. He felt deep down,despite what other people were saying,he was inadequate; because one person who he shouldn't think is better than him makes him feel weak. It doesn't make sense. If you were pampered and told you were essentially perfect,then one slip up happens and someone who you have been told is beneath you,that should be beneath you,is the one who helps,it would confuse you too. (Also,remember,Katsuki is a CHILD when this all happens,and he had no one to talk to about it,so of course those feelings would build up over time). It also doesn't help Izuku always wanted to be near him,and when you look at it from Katsuki 's perspective,that person is only there to see you fuck up,that person (Izuku) is WAITING and WATCHING your every move. Waiting until you fuck up just to leave you and or mock you. You would feel like shit too if that's what you thought for ten years.
Katsuki is not some "brat throwing a tantrum because he doesn't get his way," He's confused and coming to terms with a lot of things. His arc is about acceptance. He learned to accept he isn't the best or strongest,he learned to accept he needed help,he learned to accept himself,he learned to accept Izuku.
Tumblr media
The person Katsuki has been losing to his whole life,is the person he thought he should be. He had to let himself lose to win. GOD,THAT IS SO DEEP.
(*I also hate the whole thing of, "Well, Katsuki had no reason to be the way he was," then those same people will turn around and get mad that Toga is having a redemption arc because "nothing justifies killing" first, no one is saying it does,second,you were just saying you need a bad past to be forgiven for your bad actions,which is awful. Like,you can't make mistakes if you haven't suffered. That's fucked.*)
KaTsUkI DiDn'T fAcE aNy CoNsEqUeNcEs
My honest reaction:
Tumblr media
Katsuki faced defeat his VERY first day at his dream school. It wasn't just that he lost,he had his HERO his IDOL the person he looked up to,insult and scold him while he sang the praises of Izuku right in front of him. I hate that argument so fucking much. Like,did you seriously read this blindfolded? It happens in the first VOLUME. And it just gets worse.
He gets kidnapped and then has to deal with all of that shit on his own. I also can't image being called a villain when you're trying your best to be a hero,and you got kidnapped because of your personality. Katsuki faced,in my opinion,the most brutal and most instant humbling ever. And real quick,I made a post about All Might and why I don't think he's going to die,and I brought up he sucked at teaching,and in my opinion,he was an asshole too. When he sees on of his students having a panic attack the first thing he says is:
"U.A. Will humble ya :D"
That is beyond problematic.
(Not All Might bashing! I think he's a great character,but I think he was an ass at the beginning of the series,that has a lot to do with his hero persona and his inexperience with children,and just socializing as a whole. And that's why I like him,because we see him grow to be less like his persona and more like his true,sweet,authentic self.)
Inconsistent Writing.
A lot of people get Inconsistent writing and...y'know...more than one tone and personality trait mixed up.
I've see people say, "I don't like how he's written because it's inconsistent,'' and I think that is bullshit. Mainly because out of all the characters Katsuki is objectively the most consistent one.
I saw this person say they didn't like how Katsuki's anger is treated as a joke then the most serious thing in the room,and I say that's valid,but I think the thing they don't understand is tone and context. In the context when it's a joke,Katsuki isn't necessarily even "mad". I think when it's used as a more comedic device,it's not his anger,it's his inability to express himself without yelling. And I think it's funny and interesting to see how Katsuki struggles to articulate himself when he's not "mad" or "yelling." He also lives in a household where communication is done by yelling.
The atmosphere and tone really matter too. When Katsuki has his more "funny mad" moments it's with a group of people all smily and happy. No one is actually "mad." Including Katsuki.
DAMN. I didn't mean to go on a rant like that. Uh,anyway;Katsuki is my favorite character,if you couldn't tell.
109 notes · View notes
itsclydebitches · 3 months
Note
CLYDE. I was thinking about the RWBY vs Ace Ops fight again because it's one my least favourite moments in the entire show and I realised that Qrow/Clover/Robyn weren't part of the conversation prior, nor were they ever acknowledged. Nothing of the effect that "Hey, maybe we should wait for Qrow/Robyn/Clover's opinion on this plan before moving onwards, considering their experience and leadership skills?" before being shut down that time is of the essence and they can't wait for them. It just feels illogical to have the Ace Ops leader, Mantle's primary representative and the leader of the Happy Huntresses and one of James' closest allies be completely absence from one the most impactful turning points of the Volume. It feels they were either purposely left out arbitrarily for the sake of two poorly conceived fights or the writers just forgot...which wouldn't be the first time. This show is very...frustrating to say the least.
YEAH. The other day I was thinking about RWBY and ludonarrative dissonance in video games. Specifically, the number of action/adventure games I've played that have a, "OMG COMPLETE THIS MISSION IMMEDIATELY TIME IS OF THE ESSENCE SOMEONE IS GONNA DIE!!" narrative paired with a "Look at all these fun side quests populating the map, you should totally spend a month of in-game time leisurely exploring them" gameplay. RWBY feels similar to me (minus the interactive elements, obviously). The narrative continually pushes the urgency of the situation, but what the characters do don't align with that. Waiting in the mansion is the classic, go-to example of this, but it's also seen in questions like, "If the group is so concerned with the safety of the Relic why don't they.... put it in the vault?" and "If Qrow needs to speak to Ironwood so badly, why doesn't he just... go to Ironwood in handcuffs rather than starting a fight that, unforeseen airship crash or not, is gonna SUPER delay him getting there." Importantly, these moments go beyond the characters simply making impulsive, fallible, human decisions. It always feels like the writers haven't thought through the situation, or are so focused on one (badly chosen) outcome that they'll ignore all logic to get there.
So, same idea with this fight. I completely understand Ironwood's position because there is a clear line of logic here. Salem is about to attack, the group has consistently lied/undermined him, ergo he is removing a potential threat by locking them up until this battle/escape is complete. No one has to agree with him, but I think the reasoning makes sense both in general and for his specific character. (Which is also one of the reasons why I think some fans are willing to hear consider his side: his writing, however messy in other places, is leagues beyond the group's, particularly in the first half of the Atlas arc.) The girls though? They're all over the place. They don't want secrets but they're going to keep them from Ironwood. But they're also going to spill them all to Robyn, someone they don't know and shouldn't trust. They want to save everyone but have no idea how and can't/won't troubleshoot an answer. They're determined to unite the people but are simultaneously determined to solve their problems with a fight. They start said fight and then Ruby immediately tries to talk her way out of it again. And, as you say, they ignore that unity/experience/help available to them by not looping the others in because, supposedly, there's just no time... but then we have long scenes where they just sit around the mansion, tearfully bemoaning the fact that they don't know what to do and getting angry that no one has magically shown up to help.
I can EASILY picture a better-if-not-perfect scenario where the girls' decisions in that fight actually follow their proclaimed intentions AND the not-actually-very-critical timeline they have (because remember, even after all this Salem just sits there for an extended time.) What if Ruby ordered the team to let themselves get arrested and then we got a cool break out of jail scene? (I mean... Ruby blasts through Ironwood's steel doors that are meant to keep people in + they sneak into Atlas HQ. Clearly this would not have been difficult for them.) What if they ran into Qrow and Robyn while in their cells? Or what if they escaped, realized they needed their uncle, and started a help Mantle/find Qrow dual mission? What if instead of broadcasting a horrifying and near incomprehensible message to the whole world, they spoke to all their allies in Atlas about the plan they'd come up with, calling them together? Maybe coded so Cinder wouldn't understand. Maybe bluntly honest like a gauntlet throw-down: we know you're here, but we're ready for you this time.
Instead Ruby forgets she exists...
There are just SO many things you can do with that fight/the aftermath that don't completely undermine the themes, the tension, the proclaimed desires, and the narrative expectations. If there has to be a battle of ally vs. ally when Salem is on her way and half our villains are roaming the streets (god I can't emphasize that enough), why is everyone with the wrong person? Why isn't Robyn fighting the Ace Ops, her political enemy long before the girls showed up? Why isn't Qrow fighting Ironwood, the guy he (stupidly) blames for Clover's death? Why isn't Clover with his team? Why isn't Ruby facing Salem? Why the hell would you have Qrow team up with Tyrian?
As a side note, I've seen a resurgence of discussion about Ruby's breakdown in Volume 9 and everything above re-emphasizes for me just how much she HAS demanded this power and responsibility. "Hey, maybe we should wait for Qrow/Robyn/Clover's opinion on this plan before moving onwards, considering their experience and leadership skills?" is one of MANY considerations when weighing the question of whether Ruby has truly been burdened with the unwanted expectations of others... because they've never been unwanted and she has never down a thing to lessen that burden. She doesn't wait. She doesn't ask. She doesn't lean on others' experience and leadership. And this goes all the way back to Ruby responding, "Yes, I want to attend Beacon and take on all the responsibilities of that despite not being old enough," but there is also a LOT in the Atlas arc - right before her Volume 9 breakdown, literal hours in-world - where Ruby stood her ground and said, "No, we're doing this my way and my team, whether they've disagreed with this decision, or suggested this course of action in the first place, will ultimately follow me because I am the leader." She told Qrow to stand down and let her continue fighting Cordovin. She made the decision to lie to Ironwood and talked the others out of coming clean. She made the call to attack the Ace Ops instead of submitting to arrest. Using the Relic and dropping Atlas was a group suggestion, but Ruby sanctioned it. Based on literally 8 Volumes of content, if anyone HAD said no to her Ruby would not have listened to them. That is an overt, consistent characterization of hers.
And then Volume 9 expects me to feel bad because she's going, "Everyone expects me to take the lead"??? Like sure, in a very general, "That's indeed stressful no matter who's at the helm" sense, but Ruby has spent years at this point loudly yelling, "I'M THE PERSON YOU SHOULD LOOK TO AND I'LL FIX IT. IF YOU DON'T LIKE MY PLAN I'LL FIGHT YOU :)" Not roping Qrow and the others in is a part of all that. Not overtly on screen - we don't have a scene where Ruby goes, "We don't need to talk to them" - but the story doesn't think their input is important. We get the closeup on her smiling face when she thinks of using the Relic and then the others just inform Winter of what is happening when she happens to call. Major decisions in RWBY have often been collaborative when it comes to suggestions, but the final call is always Ruby. Whether we're talking about "This is my fight too!" when Qrow warns her to stay back, or using the Lamp's question when Ozpin is begging her not to, or shrugging off Yang's concern that she lied to Ironwood, or telling the whole damn world about Salem when numerous people with more experience than her have said, "That's a terrible idea" for generations, Ruby forcibly takes the lead and will not back down no matter who is asking that of her, or how they're asking. In fact, I'd say that is the most OVERT and CONSISTENT way in which she displays agency in this show (which, ugh).
63 notes · View notes
Note
the fact that blake, who was alluded through volumes 1-4 to be this outcasted, thief on the street, possibly an orphan with no hope in sight, so she turns to the white fang in order to change things before leaving when things get too heated, and then SNEAKING into beacon, only for it to turn out she’s literally a princess(chieftains daughter), up there with weiss in terms of power and money, and had very loving parents??? and everyone just thought that was? cool? like she is NOT one of the little guys c‘mon now 😭
I mean, if I were to play devil's advocate, you can absolutely write a character who is interested in progressive reform and change and "fighting for the common folk" and yet is a hypocrite surrounded by wealth.
The issue is that that shouldn't be Blake, and the show STILL doesn't treat her that way even though they had inevitably ended up writing her like that. Especially since the show wanted her to end up the one who is "in the right".
Remember all the times she lectured Weiss about how Weiss just doesn't understand her plight and suffering and is so privileged? How Blake would have had to fight to get any modicum of respect or anything while Weiss lived cozily in her palace? When their standing would likely have them in the same cocktail parties, lmao.
The character whose whole story arc is supposed to explore the idea of discrimination and prejudice ended up being a rich girl who had a spat with her parents and then joined ISIS (and her parents just shrugged and ignored her for years then, which is another can of worms). But it's okay because, in the end, she realized her mistakes and delivered a speech about how it's actually minorities who are at fault for all the racism!
Sure feels silly in hindsight.
Her getting into Beacon with her own name is even dumber - oh look, the daughter of the (former) leader of the White Fang and the current head honcho of The Menagerie is here, trying to hide who she is by... wearing a bow?
They really didn't think it through.
Blake never should have been that character nor was she ever intended to be one.
Blake should be our window into the discrimination that exists in the world - a different point of view that contrasts with how other leads might view things - someone who didn't grow up having everything given to them or being able to rely on support systems and social structures.
How she views even the simplest things in the world around her should, by all means, clash with others - especially since each of the four leads has fundamentally different experiences growing up.
Would she view same towns, same locations, same historical facts, same interactions the same way as her teammates? Would she get treated the same way as they do? Would some characters behave fundamentally differently around her than around others?
Likewise, Blake would have a completely different approach to a lot of the same issues than the others - IF she grew up on the street, struggling for survival and dealing with prejudice, then she would have developed fundamentally different methods of achieving what she wants and have completely different lines she's willing to cross than others.
And on top of that she's a survivor feels constantly stalked and threatened by her past.
It's such a fascinating angle to tell the story through - to deliver world-building through - and the show just throws it away.
45 notes · View notes
pinkrelish · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.
Tumblr media
bestfriend!eddie x fem!reader
✶Back in town, and back to your old ways, Eddie asks if you want to hang out for old times' sake, and you can't resist. It feels so familiar, sharing a blanket in the back of his van. Your relationship almost seems on the mend.. until he gets a little too high and admits something he shouldn't have.✶
NSFW — hotboxing in eddie's van, porn mentioned, lots of flirting, fluff with angst, hurt/comfort, 18+ overall for eventual smut
chapter: 5/15 [wc: 6k]
↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11
AO3
Chapter 5: Sausage Pizza
He could always find you.
“Bingo,” Eddie said, spotting your car at the rec center.
Pushing open the double doors, he made a right, past the basketball court, to the end of the dawn blue hallway where the shadows led him to a stretch of orange light coming from the last room. Smacks from the spring floor echoed like thunder in the lonely building. Rhythmic beats in sync with the music playing over the speakers, drowning out the squeaks of Eddie’s Reeboks on the polished tile and the jangle of chains adorning his jacket as he crossed his arms in the doorway.
It was as if nothing had changed.
The gym was painted the same dingy shade of white and decorated in Hawkins-green-and-gold banners hung on the walls, along with plaques and trophies. In the corner adjacent to where Eddie waited, there was a simple power rack and bench mostly used by the basketball team before they bought their own on school grounds. Extra pompoms lined the wall. Otherwise, there was room for one gymnastics apparatus each, save for the two balance beams in the back. And at the center of it all, you stood on the raised blue floor, a hand on your hip. Head down. Moving your lips in what he could assume was a self-deprecating comment.
Your midnight purple leotard was covered in chalk, glittering with each heave of your shoulders on your way back to the corner near the power rack. Inhaling deep through your nose, out your mouth. Zeroing in on the opposite corner where there was a padded mat hanging off the side.
You were in your element.
The world stilled for you. Dust motes filtering in from the high ceiling windows avoided your charge. Pure power. Muscles and grace working in coordination to perform tumbling feats Eddie didn’t know could be achieved at heights which slackened his jaw.
Twist after twist; a dizzying amount, as proved by your landing. Not having enough room for the last turn, your move was cut short. Getting your feet under you by a prayer to break your fall and launching backwards, slamming onto the mat.
Coughing, you rolled and groped at your thigh, reaching, digging your nails in as you caught a breath and hissed it out.
How he didn’t notice your pain earlier spoke volumes of where his wandering attention lied. Your right knee was wrapped in layers of sports tape; a few of your fingers and your ankle, too. New and old injuries supported by temporary bandages to stave off the inevitable. Maybe he should’ve stepped in to convince you to give yourself a break, but you were already pushing yourself up and shuffling to the corner you began at.
Like a ceremony, you drew yourself to your full height. Your hands were made into fists at your side, bouncing them off your thighs as you went into your zone. And then, at once, you smacked your legs and slapped yourself across the cheek. A ritual he recognized when you needed an extra boost of adrenaline.
You attacked the sequence again.
“That’s it,” he whispered.
Impressed was an inadequate word to describe the feeling residing in his chest when you stuck the landing. Not a step or hop out of place. Feet together. Chin up and proud. A shine of accomplishment in your eyes, staring ahead at the wall painted with a mural of your former high school, replacing it with a vision of a standing ovation.
“Wow!”
His enthusiastic clapping had you clutching your heart. “Jesus Christ, Eddie!”
“Sorry, I couldn’t help it,” he said amidst a laugh. “And hey, you’re not actually doing a routine to a song about falling in love with Lucifer, are you?”
“How long have you been standing there?” you asked, turning off the stereo and walking over to him. “Actually, better question, how did you find me this time?”
He trained his gaze on your face as you chose to stand less than a foot away, head craned to look up at him. He hadn’t even answered and your hands were on your hips. “I just know.” He paused. “Plus I saw your car on the way to school.”
You read the clock above him. “Didn’t school start an hour ago?”
“Right on time, baby.” He flashed a smile and spun his keys on his finger.
Rolling your neck side to side, you imbued your disappointment in your sigh, “You’re impossible.”
“I try.”
Things weren't what they used to be. A casual string of tension entwined itself in the knowledge he was supposed to graduate two years ago; however, thirty-nine business days made a difference. The anger ebbed. It didn’t seep into his thoughts quite so ferociously, turning them hostile for the purpose of inflicting you heartache equal to his own. The scar was there, under the surface, but the silence was no longer tainted with stages of grief. It was an acquaintance. Always existing beside him. Closure; hand in twisted hand with his addictive impulse to keep you in his company.
Not realizing he’d spaced out while talking to you, you drew a circle on the floor with your toe, glancing at him from under your lashes. “Is it weird seeing me in a leotard again?”
“Miles better than that annoying tracksuit you were wearing.” He curled his lip in light-hearted disgust. “Swish, swish, swish. I hate the sound of that fabric. Grates on my nerves.”
Kicking something just out of his view sounding an awful lot like windbreaker material, you forced out a loud giggle. “Ha-ha, yeah! Totally! So annoying.” Your laugh petered out to the tune of his raised eyebrow. “Anyway, uh, they’re demolishing the trailer today.”
“It was a little hard to miss all the equipment blocking my driveway this morning.” He nodded along to what he was saying, waiting for you to steer the conversation in an emotional direction, and when you continued to mirror his nodding, he asked, “Did you want to watch them do it?”
“Not really.”
“Are you busy later?”
“No.”
Now or never, Munson. “Wanna hang out? I can pick you up after band practice, at around 7.”
“Sure, would love to.” You narrowed your eyes. “Do you need me to tell you I’m staying at the Motel 6, or do you like, already know that because you keep tabs on my whereabouts at all times?”
His smugness was the champion of your annoyance. “Could’ve found out for yourself if you didn’t tell me,” he said, making his exit. Digging the sharp edges of his keys into his sweaty palm. Rolling his lips inward as he locked his gaze ahead, chastising his brain for doing this to himself.
~~~
Calm. You could do this. Calm, like you’re on the balance beam. No fear. No hesitation. One motion linked to another. Dressing in jean shorts and a tank top, all cotton. Not because he said something about your tracksuit, but because this was just as comfortable. Totally. Comfortable and not at all like you were trying too hard. Calm. Unlike your dumped out suitcase spread across the floor. Wearing this was your own choice. Totally calm. Definitely calm. Until his van came to a screeching halt outside your room.
Eddie greeted you as his usual self, headbanging to the end of a song before thinking to turn down the volume–not because people were glaring at him, but because he wanted to ask you a question.
“What’s in the duffle bag?”
You set it between your feet. “None of your business.” Reaching over your shoulder, you buckled your seatbelt, pulling on it to make sure it was extra tight. “And if you would be so kind as to keep in mind I’m trying to survive until Nationals, that would be lovely.”
Your sarcastic, saccharine smile was matched by his identical one. “I wouldn’t dare to drive recklessly with you in tow.”
Liar.
~~~
“Where are we even going?”
“You’ll see,” he said, grinning over the steering wheel. Not at all concerned with you cursing his ability to avoid mailboxes at this speed. “Just a few more minutes.”
Cresting hill after hill, narrowly missing a curve of trees, Eddie shifted his van into a lower gear and stomped on the clutch and break, veering into the grass. He gripped the back of your headrest to see where he was reversing. Upper body twisted. Hair everywhere. A wondrous line of anatomy from the hollow of his throat, where he cut out his shirt’s collar, to the soft underside of his jaw, flaunting his pulse. Nerves alive. Singing, sending a zing to your core when he flexed his hand. Alluring pressure just behind your neck. And what a shame it was when he took it away.
“You okay?”
You arranged your face to one of neutrality. “Y-Yeah, fine.”
Not entirely convinced, he made a doubtful “mhm,” and stood up. Having to hunch over against the roof as he wedged himself between the seats to reach the back doors, unlatching the lock and throwing them open to a sprawling field of flowers flowing like kaleidoscopic rives to the horizon of Hawkins. Your awe was evident, stumbling over yourself to take it in.
He used his foot to shovel loose wires and guitar pedals out the way. “We’ve been here before, do you remember? It was dark, after I got my license in December, so the flowers weren’t in bloom. I thought you’d like to see them and the sunset. No one really takes this road to leave Hawkins, so we don’t have to worry about being bothered.”
“Holy shit,” you gasped at the swathe of pink clouds basking the untouched meadow in an ethereal glow. “Who knew this shitty town could be beautiful.” You followed Eddie to where he had spare blankets stashed, helping him unfold one and spread it out. Going through the motions as a thought occurred to you.. One which clenched your stomach.
Tumbling the words out in the most casual manner you could summon the courage for, you asked, “Do you take all the girls up here?”
Obscured by his shaggy bangs, his eyes held a mischievous edge to them as he regarded you. “I’m not exactly the lady killer you think I am.”
“Guys, then?”
Blossoms did not unfurl for sunshine. Flora did not emerge for spring. Shy buds did not fan their petals to drink the rain.
Flowers bloomed for Eddie’s snort.
“Can’t even deny it. My van’s usually packed with equipment for our shows, I only cleaned it out for you. Gareth’s passed out back here more than any girl has.” He grabbed a lightweight throw blanket and shook it out, laying it on top of the makeshift bed he made. “But uh..” he faltered. “Why I brought you here.. What I wanted to do, that’s just–uh–that’s just a you and me thing. Kinda sacred, I guess.” He was no longer paying attention to you. “Old times’ sake.”
“Just band equipment, huh?”
At the opposite end of the van, Eddie peered at you from where he was crouched, lifting his head to get a better look at what you were giggling at in your hands.
Dragging your finger from your neck to your sternum, tugging your tank top down with it, you shifted your wry tone to a deep, sultry octave. “Home alone for the weekend, 18-year-old Missy orders a hot, and savory medium size sausage pizza.”
“Stop!” He lunged.
You spun around and used yourself as a shield to keep the VHS out of his reach, snickering at the picture of a guy’s cock flopped onto the aforementioned sausage pizza. “When Josh shows up with more than she bargains for, and she can’t remember where daddy left her allowance–”
“Jesus fucking Christ!” He was draped over you. Chest to back. Arms wrapped to confine your squirming, scrambling for the porn you had locked in a hug. He was strong, but you were stronger.
“–She pays the only way she knows how!” you squeal and smack the VHS out of the sleeve, erupting into silent convulsions of laughter, water at the corner of your eyes, going limp in his embrace upon seeing the tape had spools of movie left on either side. “Oh my God, you didn’t even make it to the end.”
Prying it from your devilish grip, he flung it out the back of the van like a frisbee, landing somewhere amongst the flowers.
You clapped your hand over your mouth. “You’re not gonna return it? But you’ll have to pay full price to replace it.” Slumped into the curve of his body, you struggled to see his face, but his burning cheeks were hard to miss. As was his arm loosely hanging around your waist.
He noticed as well and ensured there was space between you. But not too much. Looming over you. Formulating a response, bouncing a single finger pointed at you, eyes narrowed, mouth open. Rising chest pressed to your forearms. You stared transfixed on it all, still suffering from the burn of his arms digging into you as if they were still there. Cold-to-the-touch leather on your naked skin. Dissipating warmth along your spine. The taut ruggedness of his jeans rubbing against yours. His grunt in your ear. His hair sweeping your clavicle.
Fuck. This one interaction could last you a lifetime.
Eddie warned you, “If you ever bring this up again.”
“Wanna know a secret?” You appealed to him with pure innocence, bringing your shoulder to your chin in a shrug. “They don’t eat the pizza in the end.”
His eyes followed you as you sidestepped him to the passenger seat. “You’ve watched..?”
“Were we having a picnic or something?” You held up your duffle bag and sat on the bed of blankets, blinking at him with doe-eyes.
Muttering choice words, Eddie found his handcuff-shaped belt buckle to be uncomfortably tight and adjusted his pants on his way to grab his metal lunchbox. He sat in front of you, a hand on the latch. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he said, impish grin growing when you grabbed the zipper of your duffle. “One.”
“Two.”
“Three.”
He threw open the lid. You ripped your bag down the center, tilting it to show him.
Both of you fist pumped and yelled, “Knew it!”
“Just like old times, huh?” he teased you, pulling out copious amounts of weed, a glass pipe, lighters, and rolling papers.
You, on the other hand, set out an array of snacks–cookies, packaged cakes, chips, cheese crackers–and water bottles for the inescapable cottonmouth. “We know each other well, don’t we, Munson?”
“That we do,” he agreed softly.
He began setting up the fun for the evening, heeding your suggestion to start off with bowls first. “The NCAA doesn’t start testing for street drugs until next year. Might as well go out with a bang.” That would not be a problem, for you had a long night of celebrations ahead of you, made apparent by his smirk and unending supply spread out on a black book he used as a tray. Deft fingers working with an expert’s finesse. Grinding and rolling. Bringing the papers to his tongue to lick the adhesive, careful to not make eye contact when he did so.
Finding another goodie at the bottom of your bag, you asked him a pointed question, “Are you excited for Dio’s new album?”
Eddie’s instantaneous smile was infectious. “Just two more days.”
“And what if.. say, you got it two days early?” His eyes grew watching you pull something from behind your back. “Turns out, if you flirt with the cashier enough, he can find a copy in the back. Here, it’s yours.”
“You’re kidding me.” He snatched it and tore the cellophane off, holding the tape to his face like it was the second coming of Christ. Rushing to turn the radio on and put his gift in the tape player, he delivered his gratitude with an unassuming ache, “You know just the way to my heart.”
Painful words spoken to you in a playful inflection.
“Yeah,” you mumbled, “Guess I do.” Calm. Smothering the twinge of hurt until it no longer throbbed at the unfair accuracy of his statement. You took the packed pipe and sat at the edge of the van with a lighter. Resting your feet on the bumper, willing to do just about anything to avoid looking at him. Though, you could feel him approaching behind you, headbanging to King of Rock and Roll while you stared at his jerking off material laying atop a patch of white wildflowers.
After your second hit, you passed it to him as he sat down gratuitous inches away from touching you. Just like old times, indeed. Keeping his distance. Establishing some invisible wall to ensure you never accidentally brushed your leg alongside his like you did at the diner, or, God forbid, graze his hand in any meaningful way that couldn’t be excused as reaching for the same thing at the same time.
It was as if you never left.
“So,” he started, igniting the lighter and tilting it to the bowl, putting his lips to the pipe and pulling smoke into his mouth, filling his chest with the drug and exhaling towards the sky, “Penn State, huh?”
“Penn State,” you repeated absentmindedly.
“What’s it like?”
“It’s fine.” You shook off the remnants of his rejection wearing you down year after year. “Classes are tough. Gymnastics is okay.”
“And your knee?”
“It’s fine.”
“You say that a lot.”
Taking the pipe from him, you emptied your lungs, depriving yourself for the sake of a longer hit. Composing yourself for the rant this man was about to endure. “College fucking sucks. I love my classes and professors, but it’s like everyone can tell I’m not supposed to be there. Like I’m a charity case that got in by an athletic scholarship alone and not because I’m educated, or whatever. I just feel so fucking stupid all the time, like I’m missing something, and I can’t figure out what it is. Everyone treats me like there’s some sign over my head telling them I’m not actually smart. I mean, my grades improved after I moved, but they all use vocabulary words I’ve only ever read, and when I try to use them, they laugh at me because I didn’t pronounce them right. They joke about things that go over my head. They don’t use ‘fuck’ every other word. I never made real friends.. I couldn’t find someone who likes the same things as us.” Another toke and you were fed up with the universe. “The girls on my team are nice, but we never hang out. I don’t fit in with them. I think it’s because they can tell I’m poor. My scholarship covers a lot, but not everything. When they ask me out to the movies, I have to turn them down because I work that night. Or if they want to eat out after a meet, I’m alone in the hotel with my stupid Cup Noodles, panicking over if I can rely on what gas I have left in the tank to get back to the dorm.. Oh, that’s a positive, I guess. I live in a dorm and my roommate watches wrestling with me.”
Eddie paused with the pipe to his mouth and handed it back to you, sensing you needed it more than him.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to dump all that on you, I just don’t really have anyone else to talk to.”
“At least you don’t have to worry about your mom anymore.”
“Too true,” you said, lifting the lighter in a cheers and handing it to him as you blew smoke the other way. “It’s not all awful, I promise. I’m just bitching. Things will get better once all her bullshit is over with, and I’m done cleaning up her messes; I have faith. Even so, my GPA is pretty good and I’m one of the best on my team, so that's something.”
“I’m not surprised after seeing you earlier.”
You squirmed under his unrelenting gaze pursuing your muscles. Enamored over your biceps, the flex of your thighs as you swung your legs, catching him stopping more than once to admire just below the patch on the back of your jeans. He hadn’t noticed he’d been caught staring, and your modesty went out the window at being the subject of his compliments. “I’m not one of the best.. I am the best.”
“That’s..” You strained to hear him. The flick of the lighter muffled the rest of the sentence.
Too shy to ask him to repeat himself, you pestered him to fill you in on his life. “What’s been up with you?” He gave you a condescending look.
“Do you really want to know about my pathetic life here in Hawkins, going through my third senior year of high school?”
“I want to know everything about you.”
Regardless if he could read the honesty in your statement or not, he answered you apathetically, voice raspy from smoke, “Not much has changed. Dad’s still in jail, obviously. Mom’s probably sucking off some guy behind a McDonalds in Ohio. I skip class when I want, sleep at my desk when I can’t. With you gone, there’s no one fun to hang out with, or pass notes to anymore, so it’s fucking boring. And I guess other than that I play gigs at the Hideout. Not a whole lot of turn out, but I think the lineup of me, Gareth, Jeff, and Lloyd has potential.” He gave you the last hit of the pipe. “You’d like us if you went to one of our shows,” he ended with a suggestive tone.
“You tryin’ to drag me back to this forsaken place?”
“Just something to think about,” he said, nonchalant. “When were you leaving?”
“Saturday morning.”
It was as if a lightbulb burst above his head.
Eddie laid back and stretched for the Advanced Dungeons and Dragons Player’s Handbook, sending a cascade of joints across the blanket, leaving you to be rendered speechless by the trail of hair on his stomach leading to the top of his jeans.
“Have you ever played?”
“Huh?” Thank Satan weed dulled both your senses. “Oh, hey, I remember when you got this.” You set the book on your thigh and flipped a few pages, landing on one illustrating the different races you could choose. “Never played it, no.”
“We have a little DND club at school. No big deal, just me and the guys, and a few freshmen. Would you wanna.. tag along, y’know, if you want to and you’re not busy. I mean, you don’t have to, but we meet every Friday, and I could just swing by and pick you up after school tomorrow. All you have to do is fill out a character sheet. I have one with all the stats laid out for newcomers and a spare bag of dice around here.. Somewhere.” He began scouring his empty, yet disorganized van. “Got ‘em! And here’s the sheet, I’ll put them in your bag. If you want to play. No big deal if you don’t. No pressure.. Uhm, I’m the Dungeon Master.”
“Do I have to call you ‘sir’?”
There was no missing the subtle spark in his eyes when you voiced the title.
“You don’t have to,” he said. “But.. If you want to.. Hey, is it hot in here? I think it’s kinda hot in here.” He was a stuttering whirlwind. Stripping off his leather jacket and vest, tossing them on the floor, and gathering the joints before he stepped on them, unnerved by the way you stared at him. “S-Shall we?”
“Since when did you get tattoos?”
~~~
With the van doors shut, a soft glow from the dashboard lit the side of your face against the backdrop of early night. The B-side of Dio’s Sacred Heart played from the speakers in the front, considerably quieter now that an opaque fog hung in the air. Heat of your bodies fogging the windows. Eddie tapped your knee to rouse you to another joint he prepared. You graciously accepted it. Starting on his own, he watched your eyes fall closed again, swaying to the music; cherried end of your drug getting lost to the smooth guitar solo you bounced your head to.
“How come we never do shrooms instead of smoking pot for hours?” you asked.
“Dunno,” he answered. “Never tried them. We can next time, if you want.”
“I think you’re just trying to trick me into coming back again.”
Exhale by exhale, dense smoke filled the van, and still, he could feel your stare across from him, searching for a reason to flee. Or to stay. “Is it working?”
“Oh, yes, very tempting, Mr. Munson. And throwing DND into the mix? Oh, ho, ho, you spoil me.”
Laughing at what little he could see of you puffing on your joint like a cigar, putting on an old Englishmen’s accent, he yielded, “I get it, I get it. It’s just awful hanging out with me again. Terrible, even.” The tape clicked and the music ceased. “Over already?”
“I’ll turn on the radio,” you said, back to normal.
It could’ve been minutes or seconds later, you were both on your backs–a fresh joint in hand–sinking into the blankets as if you were made of bricks. “Or maybe putty,” one of you spoke out loud, and the other laughed. Side by side. Not touching, but almost. Letting the high wash over you both. Liberated from the past. Existing in bliss. Writhing in the giggly phase of feeling good, but not good enough. Wanting more. Needing more. Another hit. Still not enough for him to commit to rolling onto his side and capturing your euphoric smile for more than the split second required to tap the ash from his joint. Taking a longer drag than necessary before affixing his bleary eyes on the gray expanse above. Embracing the tumultuous journey of forgiveness.
“You’re not a failure,” you whispered in his dream.
“I’m not exactly an achiever.”
“I think you’re perfect,” you faded in and out, swimming in his head.
“I just wanted to be different from my old man.. I wanted to graduate. To be something. To make something of my life.”
An ethereal, everlasting ring like chimes. “You will, Eddie. I’ll make sure of it.”
His guards were evaporating. His armor was shed. Your hand rested upon his bicep and the thinness of his t-shirt unthreaded itself to bow before your split knuckles covered in scabs from your artistic endeavors worth far more in merit than his inked skin deserved. Your sweetness was on him, touching him. Eliciting his arm hair to stand on end. Thrilling the part of him that couldn’t indulge. Ways he could confess, in wholeness, that would scare you off.
“Eddie.. They’re playing our song. Isn’t that amazing?”
Wish you were here.
Wish you were here.
Click.
Play it again.
Click.
Play it again.
If he had more time, more time. More time. Time. Time. Time. If he had more time, he would’ve confessed. Then you wouldn’t have left him. Maybe, if you knew, you wouldn’t have left him.
If he had more time, if you hadn’t left, maybe he wouldn’t have been a coward.
Wish you were here.
More time. He needed more time. And you wouldn’t have left.
Thirty-nine business days was not enough to heal a broken heart.
––1981––
It took two pebbles thrown at your window for you to open it this time.
“Shh, she just went to sleep,” you said as he crawled in. Placing one foot on your bedside table and stepping down, holding his breath, listening for your mom to make any movement in the living room.
When nothing alerted her to Eddie’s presence, you set the lamp back where it was and moved your blanket, motioning for him to sit next to you on your bed.
“I thought my toes were going to have to be amputated from frostbite, you took so long to answer,” he moaned and groaned, sifting through his backpack for the book he brought, setting it on his lap with a pencil and sheet of paper.
You rolled your eyes. “Oh, whatever. I told you the season finale was on tonight.” Hunched at the edge of your mattress, you engrossed yourself in your show, forgetting he was there.
Doing his own thing, he opened to a page in the Player’s Handbook and continued his sketch of a chimera. That is, until his pencil was ripped from his hand.
“Are you–kidding me?” You flopped onto your back in utter dismay at the man laying in a pool of his blood on the TV. Eddie would’ve asked if you could continue living life after the plot twist, but you were already arguing with the screen and turning the dial off. “They killed my favorite character,” you supplied as an excuse for your tantrum.
“Uh-huh.”
“I already said sorry.” You handed him his pencil and paper.
“No, you didn’t.”
“Shush.”
Picking up the comforter, you first snuggled yourself inside its cocoon, then he experienced the warmth of it draped over his shoulders. The weight of your arm around his neck. Patting him. Shifting closer, closer. Becoming one in the dip of your mattress. Body against body. Dressed in a thick sweatshirt that belonged to his father, and yet, he could feel you intimately. Cheek on his shoulder. Hand on his hand. Skin to skin contact.
It had been two years since he touched you. Two years since he showed you any sign of affection.
He wondered if you could hear it–what he was always hiding. Whispers of truth transpiring in your fingers turning his palm upwards, examining the burn mark he earned from neglecting a pot holder when making dinner. More than friends. More than friends. These treacherous misgivings. You were supposed to be friends. Best friends. And he wanted more. Needed more. But he couldn’t. What if you rejected him?
What if he confessed and you rejected him, souring your friendship?
He couldn’t risk it. You were everything.
He couldn’t risk touching you. Snatching his hand away. Recoiling from how near your lips were to kissing his. It must’ve been an accident. An act of subconsciousness. He got too close. Too close to ruining what he cherished above all else.
For now, he’d keep his epiphany in his lungs, never to escape his throat, nor his betraying tongue. He’d keep his confession locked away. Maybe, in time, he’d mature and learn to make the first move. Or perhaps you would do it for him; then, there would be no guessing. No risk of failure.
––1985––
Thirty-nine business days was not enough to heal a broken heart.
Dozed off, or in a daze, you opened your eyes to the sting of smoke. A nub of a joint nestled between two fingers. Groggy from whichever state you had succumbed to, you surveyed your surroundings, and blinked at the strange sound coming from next to you.
An opaque screen separated you. Extending your arm, fingers outstretched, you found your companion, and your stomach sank.
Eddie shook with another sob. Hand covering his face. Shoulders curled in, gulping in air as soon as it was choked out.
You were suddenly very, viscerally, sober.
“Oh shit,” you exhaled. Clumsily getting to your feet, you opened the back doors to let smoke out, and oxygen in. Radio off. Peace. Quiet. A breeze to cool the sweat on your neck. Sifting through the swirling images in your mind palace to focus on the one in front of you.
You knelt beside Eddie, encroached into his personal space, the length of your folded legs against his arm. “Did you get too high?” You doted on him. Rubbing your hand in circles on his chest–a gentle pressure–encouraging his hand from his face so you could assess the damage.
Tears pooled at the outer corner of his eyes, flowing into his hair as he looked up at you. You caught them on your thumb and index, devoted to alleviating his distress. His bottom lip trembled. There were too many emotions passing in his gaze. Confusion, panic, the ugly sheen of bitterness.
“It’ll be okay,” you assured him. “It’ll pass.”
Stroke of your thumb. Circling your hand on his chest.
“There’s water right behind you,” you whispered. “You’ll be okay. I’ve got you.”
Eddie clenched his teeth. In the span of a suppressed breath, his expression changed to pure resentment. Loathing. He spoke, and it echoed. It infiltrated your mind’s home. Haunted you from the walls. Chased you as you ran.
“I still hate you for leaving me.”
“Oh..”
The years of rejection piled. Another burden on your shoulders. A swipe of your palm from pec to pec, bunching the graphic on his shirt, shifting the guitar pick necklace stuck to his throat. An agonizing gesture. Tender touches. Running your fingers through his hair. Thumb tracing the edges of his face; cheekbone to temple. Soothing him. Feeling his shudder beneath your hand. Becoming the reason he closed his eyes and underwent another sob.
I still hate you for leaving me.
Pec to pec. Best–friend. Best–friend. Over his heart. Best. Friend. All you could ever be. Afflicted by each word he threw at you with perfect clarity.
You knew Eddie. And you knew he wasn’t as high as he appeared to be. He was far too coherent compared to other times when he couldn’t string a single sentence past the first word. This wasn’t him babbling nonsense. This was intentional. Intentional and therapeutic for him to slide into a place where he was vulnerable. And you would take care of him in this place where he could utter the truth. Your friend. Suffering at the hand of unaligned fate; experiencing the lurch in your muscles–bones–sinew to feel him again after all this time. His smile, his admiration, his skin on yours. Incomplete without his affection, but you stole it. For just this moment. To cope.
“You can hate me. You can be mad at me. It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere.” I can take it, Eddie. Years and years of watching him develop crushes on other girls while you sat beside him in complete loyalty. Waiting for your turn. And it never came. But that was okay. I’ll be strong for you, Eddie. You were attuned to the misery you hid beneath a mask. You’d be there for him again, even when you caused his pain, and you’d make it better. “Sit up and have some water. I’m still here.”
Guiding him up, you allowed yourself a passing second of extra shamelessness in the spare moonlight. Combing his hair back from sticking to his wet cheeks. Grasping him below the elbow, where his flight of bats soared. Squeezing your hands up and down his biceps. Telling him everything would be okay scant centimeters from his lips. Foreheads almost pressed together. Enveloping him in a shroud of dear kindness without the relief of hugging him.
“When you’re ready, we can move you to the front. I’ll drive you home.”
Willing his eyelids open, he mumbled, “Back to the motel.. I can drive by then.”
~~~
“Are you sure?” you asked, parking outside your room. A somber end to what started as a fun evening, now scarred with his heavy sigh.
“Yeah, I’ll make it home.”
You stepped out into the middle of the night. A void feasting on the noises you dared to make, shivering at the goosebumps crawling up your legs in the stark loneliness, shuffling the treads of your shoes across the cracked concrete where weeds grew, grabbing your bag and ignoring how sad he seemed in your periphery. “See you tomorrow.” He didn’t say it back.
You closed the motel door behind you. Calm. Waiting. Hearing him switch seats and shift the van into drive. Listening for the rumble of the engine to fade up the street, and then you collapsed face-first onto the bed, drained.
“Why is my life so shit?”
Taglist: @xxhospital-for-soulsxx @myfavoritesareproblematic @henhouse-horrors @tlclick73 @sidthedollface2 @i-will-duckyou-up @qnsfwthoughts @captainonaboat @eddiemuns0nl0ver @godcreatoreli @harrys-tittie @eg-dr3amer3 @trixyvix88 @venomsvl @lacrymosa-24 @sashaphantomhive @sharp-and-swift 
725 notes · View notes
imtrashraccoon · 2 months
Text
Hey! Remember that poll about ice cream I put out like a month ago? It was for this chapter! Congratulations those who voted for having a hand in the plot!
@owl-bones
First Day, Previous Day, & Next Day.
Bad Sansuary: Killer - Dance
Word Count: 2,081
"wait, are you able to walk now?"
You startled at his question and quickly turned to look at him, unconsciously clutching your chest. "Sheesh...don't do that to me, Killer!" you hissed.
He laughed and nearly doubled over from doing so. You crossed your arms and fixed him with an unamused look until he'd recovered somewhat.
"sorry, i couldn't resist, angel..." he chuckled.
"Mhm."
"so, have you graduated from the crutches or something?"
You chuckled at the way he'd phrased his question. "I guess so. I've still got to wear a brace but I can put weight on my ankle now." You pulled up your pant leg slightly so he could see what you meant.
He nodded and his permanent smile stretched wider. "we should celebrate! do you know of any good clubs around here? wait no, how about an amusement park instead? or maybe..."
"Maybe something more low key...?" you asked carefully. "I'm still not back to normal just yet so I shouldn't do anything strenuous. How about a walk in the park instead? We could get ice cream..."
"sure, that's sounds good too." Killer shrugged and flashed you a carefree smile, completely unbothered that you'd interrupted him to suggest something different.
The world was just starting to warm up again after a cold Winter and while Summer was still several months away, you were glad the weather was taking a turn for the better. Maybe it was still a bit on the cool side for ice cream but you didn't care. You'd been cooped up in your tiny apartment for over a week and you were starting to go crazy for some fresh air. In your books, this was a welcome change from the monotony.
You went to get out your running shoes, when you remembered that with everything that had happened, you still hadn't found the missing one. You checked the shoe rack one more time just to be sure you hadn't missed it, but when that proved fruitless, you turned your attention to Killer.
"what?" he asked innocently when you held up the single shoe.
"What'd you do with its partner, buddy?" you demanded and advanced a few steps closer to him.
He held up his hands in a defensive way. "i swear it wasn't me!" he exclaimed all too quickly.
"Mhm, right."
He really tried his best to maintain a straight face, but the longer you continued to stare at him, the more cracks that began to show. Finally, he sighed and walked over to your tall bookshelf in the living room. Reaching up, he plucked your missing shoe from the top and handed it back to you.
"Seriously? You put it all the way up there?!" you grumbled. "How was I supposed to find that?"
He shrugged, "you would've found it eventually..." He tilted his skull and smirked before adding in a quieter tone, "eventually..."
"Yeah, when I moved out a couple years down the line!" You huffed as you pulled your shoes on. "Just because you happen to be gifted that way doesn't mean you get to hold your height over me!"
"mhm, right~"
You nearly smacked him for the illegal volume of sass he had thrown back at you. "Come on then, you oversized oompa loompa. Or I'll leave you behind and eat all the ice cream myself!"
"hey-!"
You cut off his protest by leaving your apartment and abruptly shutting the door behind you. A smug smile crept across your face at what you'd just done, but he appeared in front of you a second later.
"i resent that..." he hissed and pointed a boney finger at you. However, the mischievous smile gracing his skull said otherwise.
You made a show of dramatically rolling your eyeballs. "Aw man...it doesn't have the same affect when you can teleport."
Starting your way towards the stairs, you motioned for him to follow. "The park isn't far from here and there's a nice walking trail that goes around a pond."
Killer fell in step with you and while it took a little longer than the trip normally would take, you both arrived at the nearby park without incident. On the way, you noticed he seemed to be casually observing the area around you, but it wasn't like there was anything interesting to look at. Although, you were well aware that you lived in a rough area, so you chalked it up to him just keeping an eye socket out for potential threats.
You decided it would be best to get the ice cream first and then you could walk around while enjoying it. You knew there were some nice benches scattered along the path that you could rest at if you got too tired too.
To your surprise, Killer got a very normal flavour of ice cream. He didn't even scan the menu before picking chocolate and while you were tempted to get the same flavour, you had to get your favorite, which was chocolate mint.
After finishing your ice cream, you two continued walking slowly down the gravel path in relative silence, before your ears picked up the familiar sound of quacking. Killer seemed to notice as well and his skull snapped in the direction of the noisy fowl.
"I guess they're back now that it's Spring?" you wondered aloud. "I wonder if they have any babies yet, although it is still rather early I guess."
You wandered off the path a few paces until you could see half a dozen ducks paddling around and dabbling in the large pond for food. They seemed to be regular white ducks and actually reminded you of puddle ducks like the ones you'd read about in children's books when you were young.
"did you know it's not illegal to just take ducks home and keep them? no one owns them and no one would even care if you did," Killer commented in a thoughtful manner.
You gave him a weird look. "don't...ducknap them, okay?" you asked in a quiet voice.
He chuckled and waved you off. "nah, i can't even if i wanted to. everyone else would get mad if i brought another animal home i think."
You nodded, "Yeah, they're cute and all but they're not pets. It's best to leave them alone most of the time I think."
"hey." He waited until you glanced over at him in a questioning manner before continuing. "why do ducks fly south for the winter?"
"Because it's too cold...?"
He shook his skull. "nope, cause it's too far to waddle."
"...that was awful, Killer."
He held up a finger and grinned. "oh i'm just getting started, cutie." He thought for a moment before asking, "when is roast duck bad for you?"
You frowned, "when you're vegetarian?"
"nah, when you're the duck."
With a groan, you lightly punched his shoulder. "Stop...your jokes are awful..." you grumbled but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corners of your lips.
"mkay, how about one that's less awful?" He chuckled and didn't even wait for you to answer. "what do you call it when it's raining chickens and ducks instead of cats and dogs?"
You stared at him blankly and let out a heavy sigh. "I don't know..."
"fowl weather."
"Huh... That one was actually kinda clever."
Killer seemed absolutely stoked by your compliment and he planted his hands on his hips proudly. You couldn't help but chuckle at his antics which only seemed to encourage him further.
This had been a surprisingly good day. You'd actually enjoyed yourself in the brief time Killer had been hanging out with you today. It was strange though. You couldn't put your finger on it, but it seemed like something had shifted between you two recently. He seemed like he was acting more genuine around you and less like he was hiding behind a specially crafted mask.
Then, a raindrop landed on your cheek, followed by another and another.
"Oh crap!" you gasped and glanced up at the gray sky. "I didn't realize it was going to rain today."
As it began to sprinkle more, Killer looked up as well and hummed in a contemplative way. "it looks like it'll pass over us soon."
"I didn't even think to bring a coat so I certainly hope so."
"hey."
You looked over at him again and hummed in response.
He grinned and took one of your hands in his own. Without explaining why, he abruptly swung you around before tugging you close again.
The sudden movement admittedly caused you to freak out a little. After being on crutches for so long and nearly losing your balance many times throughout, you couldn't help but panic a little bit.
"Killer! What are you...?" you protested.
He chuckled and gently shushed you. "i just wanna have some fun, angel cakes. just relax, i'm not gonna let you fall or anything."
You were confused for a moment, but when he released you and did a bit of a boogie, did it occur to you what he meant. You weren't a dancer and by the looks of things, he wasn't either. But there was something about the absurdity of this situation that just clicked with you.
It was lightly raining and you were being invited to dance by a silly skeleton with only the ducks as an audience. Why not? You couldn't remember a time when you had ever felt so carefree like this.
You both kind of bounced around in a completely uncoordinated way until you were red faced and out of breath. Killer seemed out of breath too, but the sheer joy he radiated was contagious and you found yourself giggling the longer this moment stretched on. His eye sockets had crinkled up and the red target floating above his chest seemed to have gone fuzzy along the edges too.
You braced your hands on your knees to try and catch your breath. When Killer slowly walked over to you again, you straightened up and flashed him a tired but happy smile.
He was smiling too but there seemed to be something else there as well. Like he was curious about something or had a silent question he wanted to ask.
"Okay...that was fun..." you panted.
He hummed in agreement and took your hands in his own. "this was better than going somewhere crowded and loud, cute cheeks," he hummed and lightly bumped his skull against your forehead.
You nodded. "I think it'd be fun to go out somewhere together at some point though, but I'm glad you liked this too."
One of his hands strayed to the small of your back and the other moved up to your shoulder blades. He hesitated for a brief moment, before quickly tugging your body to the right and dipping you. You gasped in surprise but he pressed his teeth against your lips, effectively silencing whatever protests you would've had. Moments later, he'd lifted you back up and pulled you close against his ribcage again.
The suddenness of the kiss left you feeling a little shell shocked and for a moment you just stood there while your brain caught up with what just happened. Your heart was racing and your cheeks felt hot, but not from the physical activity you'd just done together. And yet, there was a fluttering feeling in your chest and once you'd recovered a bit, you couldn't help but smile.
"are you okay, cutie?" Killer purred against your hair.
"I... Yeah, I'm fine..." you managed to mutter.
He chuckled and gently stroked your head before asking another question. "was that too far...?"
"No... I liked it."
He pulled back and seemed to scan your face for a moment. "if you're sure... i didn't even really think if you'd get mad or not. i just felt like it made sense in the moment," he said in a quiet voice.
You chuckled and playfully shoved him. "Well, a week ago I would've been really upset. Just...maybe ask next time before you do anything like that?"
He nodded and winked at you. "i'll try to remember, angel~"
You rolled your eyes and took his hand. "Come on then, buddy. I'm getting soaked and I really don't want to get sick after my ankle was just about back to normal."
He nodded in agreement and smoothly intertwined his phalanges with your own. You felt yourself blush slightly, but didn't pull away and let him keep holding your hand all the way back home.
43 notes · View notes
13thdoctorposts · 28 days
Note
Just had to laugh at an idea trying to tear down 13Yaz because it wasnt planned from day 1 so we shouldn't act like there's any subtext or hindsight. First of all, it is an Amazing thing that the cast and crew responded to fan interest by going with the chemistry and creating the canon relationship that is literally something that should be encouraged!!! Secondly, something not being intentional doesn't mean it isn't there, especially because the intentional stuff is built on that foundation.
Yeah, and I think more shows should work with the chemistry of the actors they have because the ships that get shipped the most tend to be the ones where the actors have the most chemistry with each other. The fact that Thasmin wasn’t intentional, but so many felt and saw it before it was actually speaks volumes considering 13 did have such a full TARDIS team so her attention was divided between the 3 she wasn’t just playing off Yaz unlike previous Doctors and yet people still saw it and felt it and then the actors saw us seeing it took that to the writers and it became intentional. It should ok for a show to not know exactly where their characters are going to fully end up in 3 series time.
And while it may not have been intentional from the writers Mandip was throwing out heart eyes at the Doctor every chance she could get so it’s not like no one was thinking about it.
Also as the 13th Doctors story evolves it actually makes complete sense that Yaz would fall for the Doctor her awe and admiration turning into love, it’s the most logical progression for Yaz, they didn’t need to know that at the beginning for it to work for her trajectory. The traits of the Doctor are the kind of traits Yaz would fall for, caring, always wants to help, puts herself between danger and others, inquisitive, and knowledgeable. As for the Doctor, her falling for Yaz that makes sense to because Yaz has been her rock her whole life, minus the prison years but the Doctor would have seen in the other TARDIS how dedicated to finding her Yaz was, she has stayed by the Doctors side through thick and thin, all her trauma despite how the Doctor reacts to the trauma and the way that makes her treat Yaz at times. Yaz is by no means a push over but she’s also understanding, caring and drama free. She’s not creating any kind of extra chaos in the Doctors world. She can always count on Yaz being there, which she probably does take a bit for granted but also a reason why you could her falling for her.
Sometimes letting the writers figure somethings out as they go is the best way for things to happen. And it’s not even like that’s new, no one has a a million seasons mapped out with every story and every relationship, shows evolve. If it was a straight couple that wasn’t intentional from the start I don’t think we would see the same discourse honestly.
21 notes · View notes
izvmimi · 9 months
Text
a surprising truth unfurls itself in front of you as you stand behind the mountain of a man that is your coffee date, waiting patiently for him to finish clearing his throat, then hear his voice fall to a paltry fourth of his normal speaking volume -
- former #1 hero Endeavor is too shy to order himself a coffee.
armed with that knowledge, you settle into the seat across from him, watching him slide in awkwardly in the booth across from you. shoulders slumped, he looks less like the grandiose being he once was, or perhaps it's because he's forgone the flaming mustache you've once though ridiculous. you giggle to yourself, and he looks up from where he stared into his steaming cup, to meet your gaze.
"what's so funny?" he asks.
between you are too many scones, pain au chocolats, and the like; far more than a normal pair of individuals could beat to share between the two of them. nevertheless you reach for a scone, and take a bite. he watches a little too intently as the pastry crumbles, a bit dropping into the bosom of your sweater - you look down and he quickly looks away, sheepishly.
"mm?"
"n-nothing."
endeavor's hands rest around the small americano and their size look comical in comparison around the tiny cup. he still hasn't figured out something to say and you consider striking up more of a conversation, but you have the feeling that anything said out of place will make him sweat entirely out of that turtleneck.
why is he so nervous? you wonder.
"you know, if you were going to ask me on this date, i expected you would... at least talk to me a little."
you lean in as you say so and he remains somewhat stoic. his hands are still around the cup; your hands now rest on your hazelnut latte, mirroring the action.
enji had not thought this far. it's been the first time he's been on a genuine date after years, and he only realizes now that he can't remember the last time he's truly ever been on one; after all, he did not court rei...
... but that's another story.
"do you come here often?" is the only thing he manages to say.
you look at him, blinking, then pause, and against your better judgement you laugh.
enji quickly becomes as red as his hair, and you catch yourself, then reach for his hand, tapping the back of his palm gently. it's meant to be a kind gesture but is oddly intimate in this small, quiet corner of the shop. you feel something warm for a moment, then quickly let go.
"yes, this is my favorite shop if you must know. that's why i recommended it." you take sip of your coffee and bid that he take one as well. he does and nods.
"best coffee in the city right?"
"possibly."
he's measured in his words still, the classic way an older man handles embarrassment. you finally decide it's time to rip the bandaid.
"enji, it's okay to be embarrassed."
he gives you a look, and you can tell he's about to disagree, but you keep going.
"it's been a while for me, too."
he remains silent, then looks out the window. outside, just where both of you can see, there is a crosswalk and a large billboard showing a cast of heroes, one of which is his own son. he isn't looking at them in the picture, but he could be, taunting him, reminding him of his mistakes in all manners of love.
then he turns and looks at you, and while you are about the same age as his prized son, and perhaps more appropriate, he hasn't had the chance to fail you yet.
and perhaps he shouldn't anticipate it.
he's redeemed himself in some ways, why not give himself this chance?
he takes a sip of the americano again, and its bitterness gives way to a sweet warmth. he makes his best attempt at a smile.
"i'll try my best," he starts. you grin.
"okay. tell me about yourself."
146 notes · View notes
inksandpensblog · 6 months
Text
AvA Sticktober 2023 | Prompt 1: Sticks
"And this," Orange proclaimed, flourishing the object in his hands, "is the master stick. Whoever picks this one up can use it to move other sticks during their turn. It also has the most points out of all the colors."
"Oh," Yellow's brow furrowed. "It's not just one point per stick?"
"I thought the colors were just so we could tell them apart," Red chimed in.
"Nope." Orange glanced at the rules. "It says that each individual stick has a set value of points, based on color: yellows are one, greens are two, blues are five, and reds are ten."
Yellow frowned, staring at the collection of sticks on the floor between them with a thoughtful hand held to his chin. 
Green seemed to be of a similar mind, pulling out his phone and swiping his hand across the screen. "Greens are only two?"
"Uh, yeah? Why?"
"Are you mad that yours aren't worth as many points?" Blue guessed, a smirk dashing across his face at Green's answering pout.
Orange stared. "What? They're not- the colors aren't assigned to players. Anyone can pick up any color; otherwise there'd be a way to eliminate players. And there aren't any orange sticks, so I wouldn't be able to play if—"
Orange cut himself off when Green scowled at his phone, swiping at the screen with more vigor.
Red leaned in, peeking over Green's shoulder. "Huh, different variations?"
Green pushed him lightly away. "Yeah, I was just checking the numbers. There's other versions of the game where the colors are a different amount of points."
"But it's the same order every time," Red persisted, trying to lean back in as Green kept shoving at him. "See, look, red is always the most, and—"
"Shush, you're ruining this!"
"Green does have a point," Yellow ventured.
"Yeah, I do!"
"No, he doesn't," Blue maintained. "You two are just grumpy that you aren't more points."
"Guys," Orange insisted, "the colors have nothing to do with you."
Yellow shook his head. "I didn't mean like that! I mean it doesn't make sense that some colors are worth more when the game has the same number of sticks in each color!"
"Oh," came the answering chorus, followed by everyone joining Yellow in squinting at the collection of sticks on the floor. 
"...huh, that is a good point..."
"Yeah, shouldn't the sticks that are worth more be rarer, or something?"
"That is odd..."
"...maybe we should just play it as one point per stick, then?" Blue suggested.
Orange scratched his head. "But where's the challenge, that way? If everything's worth the same value then there's no reason to not just go for the easiest ones every time." 
"And speaking of easy, what about all the ones that end up outside of the pile?" Red gestured at the floor around which the collection of sticks lay. "Whoever goes first can just sweep all of those up on their first turn, they'll have a head start." 
"Oh, we don't need to worry about that, actually." Green looked up from his phone. "This says that a lot of people have it so that those loose sticks are removed from play before the first player goes." 
Orange nodded. "Okay, I like that, we'll do it that way."
"Hey, what if we use that to determine the value?" Blue volunteered. "We look at those loose sticks that get removed from play, and measure the value of each color based on how much of each one got taken out?" 
"That...that could work, actually," Yellow mused.
Orange nodded again, a smile beginning to form on his own face. "We'll make it so that whichever color is present in the greatest volume is one point, next two, then five, and then the least-available color will be ten. If any of them tie, we can just re-drop the pile."
Green grinned. "Well, since you brought it up...this also says that there's a version where, on their turn, a player can decided to re-drop the pile instead of picking up a stick."
Orange froze. "Uh, I don't know if I want to worry about the value of each stick changing partway through the game."
"Oh, fine, play it safe."
"I'm not being safe, I'm trying to keep it fun for everybody. Including the scorekeeper."
"Eh, fair point."
"How many points is the master stick worth?" Blue piped up.
"None, right?" Yellow reasoned. "It helps you pick up more sticks; that's it's value. Oh, but wait," he frowned again, turning to Orange. "You said it had more points than the others, didn't you?"
Orange winced. "Yeah, actually. It's, uh, twenty-five."
"What?!"
"How is that fair?!"
"It's- it's not an automatic win! If it's at the bottom of the pile then—"
"But what if it isn't? What if it falls on the top?"
"Oh forget it just falling on top, what if it's one of the ones that rolls away? If we were keeping those in play, whoever had the first turn could sweep it up with the rest of 'em and then they'd have it for the whole game when they already have a head start!!"
"But we already decided we're not keeping them in play!" Orange raised his voice, waving his hands. "Why is it an issue then?!"
"Because points!"
"There's only one! It being more points is actually justified!"
"Maybe it would be, if that was all it did. But it also helps you pick up other sticks. Anyone who picks it up is already gonna be getting more points, even without it having twenty-five pre-attached! You have to admit, that's a little unfair."
"Well, I'm not hearing any better ideas! What, should we just set it aside and not have it in the game?"
"No, no!"
"What? Oh, no."
"No!!"
"Nobody's saying that."
Orange blinked at the sudden shift. "...no?"
"Yeah," Red insisted. "It's the only stick that can move the other sticks."
Green nodded. "Having it to obtain during the game is, like, it's own prize, regardless of who has the most points by the end. That's why we don't think it having its own points is fair."
Orange considered, taking a moment to breathe. 
"Okay...what, then? Should we just have it be worth no points?" 
They all spent a moment in thought.
"...what if we passed it around?" 
Everyone looked at Blue.
"You mean," Yellow inquired, "once it's picked up, it has to be passed to the next person at the end of the turn? That kind of takes away that challenge, if everyone has it. And the prize-aspect."
But Blue shook his head. "Not quite; I mean, what if it gets passed around every time another stick is picked up?"
There was a pause, then everyone leaned forward.
"That way, it can't be used on every turn," Blue elaborated, "so whoever picks it up first isn't just guaranteed an easier time picking up sticks as the game continues. It'll be up to chance, whether anyone has it when their next turn starts." 
"...I think...I like that," Orange murmured cautiously. 
Blue nodded excitedly. "It also means that whoever is holding it by the end of the game will also be up to chance."
Orange's eyes widened. "So, it could still have the twenty-five points?"
"And it wouldn't be unfair," Green caught on, "because it wouldn't go into effect until the game ends."
"You know, if the master stick is only passed along when a stick is picked up, then if someone holding it were to purposefully botch their turn, they could prevent the person next to them from having the aid of the master stick at the start of their turn..." Yellow grinned.
"Ooh," Red wondered, "what if instead it starts at no points, but then has another point attached every time it's used successfully?"
"Whoa," Blue marveled. "So you can botch your turn and keep the master stick from your opponents, or increase the overall value of the master stick as you pass it along."
Orange felt his own grin form. "Oh. I do like that. Alright, are we all agreed?"
The quartet nodded enthusiastically.
"There's just one more thing: we need to repaint it."
"Huh?" Orange looked at Green, then at the others, then down at the black stick still in his hand. "Repaint it?"
"Like you said," Green teased. "There aren't any orange sticks in this game. Let's fix that."
39 notes · View notes
stxrvel · 1 year
Text
and still (3.5)
series summary: you woke up from a long coma with no memory of a part of your life only to be told by your teammates that you're married to the man you hated seven years ago. even though that seemed to be the only problem, as time goes on you're realizing there's a lot more history and mystery behind the accident that left you in medical care for months. blackouts, more memory loss, mistrust and a strange man who seems to be connected to everything. every day it gets harder to trust anyone around you, but you won't stop until you can finally uncover the truth behind the accident.
chapter summary: the team has a curious discussion.
pairing: bucky barnes f!reader (the don't appear here)
words: less than 1k
warnings: none
note: i picture this like an interlude haha, it's like less than 800 words! really short. i thought i might give you an advance of what's really happening bc??? if you find out quickly what's happening don't tell me, let me live in a bubble where i'm perfect at hiding stuff 😭😭😭. just kidding haha, anyway, hope you all like this mini part! you can know some things about the team coming from this conversation... apart from the elephant in the room, of course. enjoy! 💜
masterlist | next | series masterlist
Tumblr media
“There's no one else here but us.”
“We should be more careful, just the same.”
“Everyone wants to tell him, what's the point of being more careful at this point?”
Everyone looked away from the door to stare at Tony Stark's contracted face. The room at that moment seemed too small for what they intended to hide within those four walls.
“We can't make the decision to do this if you don't agree.”
Tony raised his head to look across the room at Steve. His ingrown eyebrows reflected the contradiction he must be carrying inside. The mechanic sighed, the feeling of defeat coursing through his entire body like the current of a river. He felt the same way he had felt the first time they had all had that conversation, when they made a decision that no one agreed with and the sighs of loss lingered for months as if they were in permanent mourning; when they had to refuse to help and still expected someone to help them at some point.
“Tony,” Stephen Strange's voice boomed in the silence, his dark eyes fixed on the man he was addressing. “You're right about one thing, we shouldn't have hidden that from the beginning…”
“But we couldn't break the promise we made,” Natasha interjected, her figure in the middle of the room.
“… However,” Stephen continued, “we can't afford to keep hiding it. It's too dangerous.”
Tony ran his hands over his face, his mood souring much more if possible. Stephen was right, he knew it, everyone knew it, but he couldn't convince his head to understand no matter how much he tried. All his instincts were screaming against that idea, even though it was the right thing to do, even though it was what they had to have done from the beginning.
“If we want to help her, we have to,” Steve added.
Clint was sitting next to him on the table. He had barely uttered a word since he arrived less than ten minutes ago. When he had entered the room, it was so full of shouting and opinions being thrown left and right that he decided to sit in the corner and turn down the volume on the device in his ear. A subdued silence with static reigned in his auditory field, he could still hear the voices of others if he concentrated on what they were saying. But the subject was causing him so much discouragement that he wasn't sure he wanted to understand what they were saying.
And still, from their faces he could understand everything. They were all agreeing to proceed, except Tony. The look of hopelessness he wore and the lack-luster eyes showed his reluctance to accede to the group's requests. Clint wasn't going to say it… but he felt similarly.
“She matters to you, doesn't she?” Stephen turned again to Tony, who with a wary look nodded. “Then you have to know that saying this is the only option we have to find out what's going on.”
Natasha knew Tony was going to give in, the guilt that gnawed at him wasn't going to let him put a life at risk. And still, she understood his dilemma. She had it herself every day she woke up and looked in the mirror, every time she brought up the subject with someone, every time she had to keep her thoughts to herself because it was too dangerous to say it out there out loud. Being on guard and having to be on her toes every moment was wearing her out, and only to find out that it had been in vain in the end. They hadn't won, even if the mission reports said otherwise.
“We're not getting out of this alive,” Tony finally let out.
It was true. They all knew it. Figuratively, it was what they'd all expected. They had been trying to handle it for so long that they were already a ticking time bomb. And still, they always allowed themselves to hope, because there was no way things could get any worse.
“We have to look for the right time,” the mechanic sighed.
Even though they should take that as a victory, every person in the room shuddered. It seemed that a frost had taken over the room and none were prepared for the cold it brought with it. They should feel glad that Tony had agreed to what they intended to do… and still, the feeling of hopelessness and defeat remained in the room, tied to their bones, carved into their minds.
--
👀
Taglist: @cjand10 @yallgotkik @ruffdog921 @coracal @its-just-kayy @pono-pura-vida @vampiresarezombies @kaz11283
83 notes · View notes