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thesunisatangerine · 7 months ago

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playing for keeps – chapter three

alexia putellas x barçakeeper!childhoodfriend!reader

warnings: coarse language, light angst

(a/n in the tags) [chapters: one, two, three]

word count: 8.8k

[1]

Just before you turned thirteen your body, finally, began to change.

While Alexia’d gone ahead of you a year prior—with her limbs now lanky and sinewy, and her muscles stretched close to the newly grown bones—you were left behind. She’d grown taller, yes; not by much but the two-inch difference (two and a half, as Alexia was always inclined to remind you) felt like a foot to you. So the change was welcome when it finally started, and more importantly, it happened to coincide with something that completely altered the trajectory of your life.

During the spring after your birthday, your father got a promotion at work. To celebrate this milestone, he took you and your mother for a trip around Europe. And as a gift for your hard work and for getting into La Masia with Alexia just a few months before, your parents surprised you with tickets to at least one game in the country, or area, you were visiting.

In Gelsenkirchen, Germany, you found your destiny.

Or at least that was how you liked to look at it.

Before seeing the match between Schalke 04 against Stuttgart, the idea of keeping never entered your mind; you’d played forward your whole life, and you thought that would be the position you’d play in professionally. But as you saw Manuel Neuer controlling the outcome of the game with his hands, a spark ignited within you—this overwhelming surge—and right there and then, you were enlightened to the art of keeping. That spark returned home with you and, playing into the hands of fate, your journey to keeping began.

[2]

The crescendo of the cicadas’ song was this close to lulling you to sleep. It didn’t help that Alexia’d curled herself up beside you in your bed, her head on your lap while her math notebook laid forgotten at the foot of the bed, and her eyes already closed. It was a rare occurrence for the both of you and even more so for Alexia to ‘slack off’—if you were to put it as Alexia had—but this afternoon was a particularly hot one. Summer had practically bled into spring, and even someone like Alexia clearly wasn’t immune to its soporific effect.

The numbers from the homework you were working on began to blur when you heard a knock downstairs. Out of curiosity or just surprise, you snapped awake. And so did Alexia, apparently.

“You expecting someone?” Alexia yawned, stretching out her long limbs before settling over to her other side. The movement made a lock of hair fall to her cheek which you brushed away with the back of your finger.

“No, it’s probably Mamá’s.” You hummed in answer, relaxing down on your pillow to finally chase that nap that continued to tempt you.

But then came your mother’s voice, “Guille! Hello, my boy! How are you?”

Alexia let out a startled yelp when you jumped out of the bed, now fully awake, tripping on the rug as you rushed into the closet.

“What the hell? What are you doing?!” Alexia hissed with annoyance but you were too busy trying to get changed to address it.

You snatched the closest pair of shorts and jersey shirt, and began to shed the ones you had on before you slipped the fresh ones on in quick succession.

As you did, you began to explain, “I completely forgot! I was supposed to meet up with Guille today!”

When your head popped out of your shirt, you found a deep crease between Alexia’s brows. She was sitting in the middle of your bed, cross-legged, looking very much like a disgruntled cat woken from a nap with the way her hair stuck out in odd places.

She looked adorable.

You bit your tongue before you could say it.

Crossing her arms, Alexia retorted, “Why? It’s Saturday.”

The tone she used made it seem that today being a Saturday was a valid enough reason for you to not go.

“And it is because it’s Saturday—and no training, Alexia—that I can go with him.”

At that, her frown only seemed to deepen. You had half a mind to tease her but you knew that’d probably just piss her off even more, although if you were being honest, you didn’t understand just why this seemed to bother Alexia so much. So instead of teasing, you tried a placating tone, “You could come with if you want?”

Alexia opened her mouth, “I—”

Your mother’s shout cut through the air.

“Honey? Guille is here for you!”

You sent Alexia one last apologetic glance.

“I’m really sorry! Please stay for dinner! I’ll be quick!”

And with a quick hug goodbye, you rushed out of your room and practically flew down the stairs. At the bottom, you found Guille leaning against the bannister, hands in his short pockets, with a small rucksack on his back who, upon seeing you, gave you a bright smile.

“Hey! You look—” He began but then suddenly, his eyes darkened and the quirk of his lips turned upside down, his tone flattening, “Oh. You’re here.”

In the same second you noticed Alexia beside you, Alexia’d slung an arm over your shoulders.

“Lovely to see you as always, Guille. And I could say the same about you.” Alexia deadpanned, flashing Guille a smile full of teeth, her eyes void of any warmth as she stared at him down her nose. Then she turned to you, her face lighting up as she asked with a little too much excitement, “So, are we going or not?”

“Wait, she’s coming with us?” Guille blurted out, but before you could even answer, Alexia left your side and ran down the steps.

“Of course, Guille! Come on, keep up!” Alexia exclaimed on her way out of the door, tapping Guille’s stomach as she did—not without force apparently with the way Guille expelled air out harshly.

When you got to him, you placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

He let out a strained, “Yes.”

You gave Guille an apologetic look, grabbing your ball bag.

“I’m really sorry for the last minute change. I’ll make it up to you.”

Still clutching his stomach, he said, “Don’t worry about it.”

The three of you got to the field near your place—which you were glad to find empty—without any more incidents. You were faced with another problem as it was only after you’d begun warming up that you realized that in your haste to leave, you forgot to bring water with you. When you told Alexia, she offered to go to the nearest corner store to buy some.

You stretched as you waited for Alexia’s return when Guille suddenly said behind you.

“Here.”

Turning, you found him holding a paper parcel bag. You considered his outstretched hand with curiosity before you met his eyes, taking the bag from him slowly. “What’s this?”

“Just a little something to get you started,” he answered, scratching the back of his head. “You said you wanted to keep, so I thought you’d need them.”

Peering into the bag, you gasped at what you found inside.

A new pair of keeper gloves.

“Guille, you didn’t have to!”

He shrugged, smiling, “Yeah, but I wanted to anyway.”

“Thank you! Come here, you big baby!” You laughed, throwing your arms around him. Unlike Alexia, Guille was only taller than you by mere centimeters so it was relatively easy to ruffle his hair as you pulled away.

“Mess up my hair again and I won’t teach you anything,” He threatened with a faux glare as he swept his fingers through his curling locks in an attempt to tame them.

You rolled your eyes, grinning at him. “Okay, Antonio Banderas. So, what are the basics?”

He imitated you, rolling his eyes before he shook his head slightly, his smile never leaving his lips. Then he pointed to a spot by the goal line. “Put your gloves on and stand right there.”

You did, noting the way your new gloves fit perfectly over your hands and fingers. It felt different—stuffy—and you could already feel your palms beginning to sweat from the trapped heat. When you stood where Guille pointed, he walked around you all the while he instructed you to correct your posture: he told you keep your feet shoulder-width apart, to bend your legs slightly so that your chest was just past your knees, and to hold your palms facing out.

“The main thing to worry about starting out is your stance. It will take time to get the balance right but once you get it down, you’re set.”

“Is this alright?”

Guille took a step back and he gripped his chin as he hummed. After a moment of scrutiny, he nudged you back suddenly. It wasn’t quite forceful but it made you tumble down on your rear all the same.

You smiled at him sheepishly, getting up. “I guess that’s a no?”

“Yep. It looks like you keep your weight on your heels too much.” He crouched down at your feet, drawing a square over the front half of your foot. “Keep your weight spread out around here and you should—”

Guille scrambled back suddenly, yelping as a football went flying past where he was just a second ago and into the net. Turning to the direction where the ball came from with your mouth agape, you found Alexia there with water bottles clasped to her chest, an eyebrow raised, while one corner of her mouth was set in a bemused droop, another ball rolling beneath her left foot.

“What the hell was that for, asshole?!” Guille shouted as he stormed his way over to Alexia. He was in front of her now, looking up at her with flame in his eyes but Alexia remained unfazed. She put the water bottles down before she settled her hands on her hips, cocking her head slightly to the side.

“I’m sorry, Guille. I didn’t see you.” Alexia said flatly, “And aren’t you supposed to be playing keeper?”

“Really. You didn’t see me? Besides—”

“Ale, I asked Guille to teach me.” You huffed, running in between them and separating them with your arms before things got out of hand—again.

This wasn’t the first time this… row between them happened. In fact, you noticed it’s been occurring more frequently lately. For all their similarities—the main one being their short tempers—the two never got on well together for reasons you never really understood and the only thread that tied them together was you.

They weren’t always like this though; they were nice with each other the first time they’d met. Guille transferred to your school not long after you’d joined Sabadell, and if you and Alexia were inseparable there, it was always you and Guille at school. And when an opportunity arose for your two favorite persons to meet, you took it. It went well; they were friendly with each other. You only noticed things had changed after you and Guille’s school team started playing against Alexia’s so you were never sure when this all started, and by that point, the friction between them was too great to smoothen out which both saddened and disappointed you.

And it wasn’t like you never tried to get to the bottom of it. You’d asked them what happened, they both gave similar answers. By that, you meant completely avoiding answering.

Guille’d assured you, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, we’re friends? Don’t worry.”

While Alexia’d said with a confused frown, “What do you mean? Nothing happened.”

And when you pestered her, asked her if the reason was because she liked Guille as a joke, she looked at you without reply, and when next practice came, she made a nuisance of herself enough to let you know the answer to your question and more.

And here you were again, with them acting like this–always at each other’s throats.

At your answer, Alexia looked at you, confused. “Why would you ask him to teach you how to keep?”

Your gaze lanced away as you bit your lip.

Maybe you should’ve told her after all…

Mustering up the courage to meet her eye again, you replied, low and serious. “I want to start playing keeper, Alexia.”

Alexia blinked, and then she crossed her arms before she eyed Guille who was scowling at her in return. She looked at you again.

“Have you told Alejandro about this?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” A pause. “What did he say?”

“I’ll still start as a forward. But he said he’ll put in some extra technical sessions for me starting next week which was why I asked Guille to help me get started. Alejandro said if I get good enough, he’ll see if I can start as keeper for the team.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over you three.

You caught Guille’s eyes darting from you to Alexia and back again from the corner of your eyes but you remained focused on Alexia’s face. At a glance, Alexia might seem calm—impassive with the way all of her features remained flat. But her eyelids drooped just so they hid more than half of her pupils, how her lower lip was slightly concealed beneath the upper one; she was pissed and even worse, she was hurt. And knowing that you’d hurt her was enough to compel you to reach out and touch her arm, apologetic.

Alexia regarded you for a moment longer. Another word of apology was on the tip of your tongue when she finally sighed, the corner of her lips tilting up to a half-smile as she spoke softly. “Okay. How can I help?”

You couldn’t help yourself. You threw your arms around her and it felt like a weight was lifted from your chest upon hearing the chuckle she let out.

The next couple of hours were spent with the three of you working together: Guille by the goal who continuously gave you notes and instructions, while Alexia—upon Guille’s signal—would send some shots to the net so you could try and stop them. The first… fifty or so shots went right past you—going easy was never exactly Alexia’s strong suit—but the more you focused on getting the timing right and reading the language of Alexia’s body to anticipate the direction of the ball, you ended the session with a few decent saves.

It was a rough start but you were satisfied with it.

You’d left to use the restroom but upon coming back, the two of them were bickering once more.

Oh, no. What was it now?

You heard more of their words the closer you got, but you didn’t have to move too close with the way they were shouting.

“Come on, dude! Please, don’t tell me you’re still pissed off about that? It was a fair match!”

“How was that fair, Alexia? The two of you playing together is never fair! You’re both in La Masia for crying out loud! And even more importantly, she was supposed to be on my team! That was the original plan, but you went ahead and took her away!”

“What made you think I took her away?” Alexia crossed her arms, scoffing. “Let’s face it. She likes to play with me more than you.”

“You don’t know that!”

That was the moment Alexia spotted you and before you could even get a word in, she said, “Why don’t we just ask her who she’d rather play with?”

Two sets of intense eyes looked your way and without meaning to, you gulped, taking a step back.

“So? Who would you rather play with: me or her?” Guille asked, eyes wide and pleading.

Suddenly feeling like you were backed into a corner, you stammered in your panic, “Umm, I—”

[3]

Alexia stayed over for dinner that night. That was normal; what was unusual was she left you alone to do the dishes. You had a feeling where she might be, especially since she’d been mostly quiet throughout the whole evening.

After you put away the last dish in the cupboard, and when your arms were finally free from suds, you took a peek into the living room. She wasn’t there—a confirmation of her whereabouts.

Putting on your flip flops, you headed out of the back door.

The light from the living room casted a faint glow that dissipated the darkness around the garden when you opened the door that led out to it, aiding you just enough to see Alexia on the swing, sitting still with her back hunched forward. Once you were just a few paces behind her, you saw the contours of her headset, but even with them on, there was no way she didn’t know you were there—the fact that your shadow stretched to reach her before you did was a dead give away. Yet still, she made no move to acknowledge your presence.

Okay. That was fair.

“Ale,” you said softly.

She gave you a glance before she went back to looking down at her clasped hands.

“Alexia, come on.”

Still no response. You fiddled with your thumbs as the moment dragged on.

You sighed, sitting down on your heels next to her.

“I should’ve told you about the keeper thing,” you muttered. “I wanted to get a feel for it first, to get a bit better at it before I told you. But I didn’t consider how that would make you feel… and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making you feel that I didn’t want or need you by my side, Alexia. I wanted you to think I was good enough for this.”

Finally, Alexia turned to you, taking her headset off, the movement barely above a whisper. And softly, she spoke, “What made you think that I’ll think you’re not good enough for anything?”

“I don’t know.” You admitted, pulling at the grass in front of you. Your mother would probably see the hole you’d made on the lawn and berate you for it in the morning but you needed something to keep your hands busy. “I just wanted to go through this without too many expectations. And it’s not like I don’t want to keep our dynamic going. I love playing forward with you, Alexia, but I think keeping is my calling, just like midfield is to you.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I completely understand. You didn’t want any added pressure. I’m not going to hold that against you.”

“Thank you,” you smiled at her. Then, “So, tell me why are you sulking?”

“I’m not sulking!” Alexia huffed with indignation. Then she looked away again, working her lower lip between her teeth.

You put a hand on her knee. “Alexia, what is it?”

“I…” Alexia sighed, brushing the bridge of her nose with her thumb. You gave her another moment. She heaved another breath before she began.

“That thing you said… Did you really mean it when you said you’d rather play with him than me?”

Oh. So that was what this was about.

“Of course not. We both know it’s always going to be you, Alexia.”

“Then why did you tell him that?”

“I feel like if I didn’t, I’d lose him as a friend.”

“And you’re not worried about losing me?” Alexia cried out, her tone inflected while her eyes reflected her hurt.

You blinked at her.

There were moments—just like now—where you’d feel a sudden urge to shake Alexia. For all her sharpness and unmatched awareness, she sometimes failed to see even the most obvious of things. Couldn’t she see that you loved her and that you’d follow her to the edge of the earth if she asked you to?

At the absurdity of her question, you really couldn’t help but laugh. You stood up and shuffled behind her before you threw your arms around Alexia’s neck, draping yourself over her broad back, which made the swing move forward. The dampness of her hair felt cool against your cheek, the scent of your shampoo that clung to them filled your senses as you chuckled into her ear.

“Why are you laughing? I’m serious!”

“Because, Alexia, do you hear yourself? I love you, you idiot!” You giggled again. “I know our friendship isn’t that shallow that I’d lose you over this. Or am I wrong?”

Alexia turned her head and you saw a hint of a smile on her lips. “No, I suppose not.”

A pleasant silence blanketed you both. And then Alexia hummed.

“But if there was something that could break us, what do you think it would be?”

You stopped to ponder, twirling a lock of Alexia’s hair with your finger, noting her hair was nearly dry now. When your mind drew blank, you replied nonchalantly, “Honestly, I have no idea.”

“Good.” Alexia leaned away so she could give you a lopsided smile—an earnest one. “Because me neither.”

[4]

“—you okay?”

You blinked and turned to Alexia. “Hmm?”

She glanced at you for a moment before she turned back to what she was doing, sleeves rolled up as she scrubbed a plate in the soapy water in the sink.

“I said, are you okay? Is there something wrong? You’ve been out of it since practice.” When a moment of silence lapsed, Alexia added, “And don’t think I didn’t notice you on your swing the past few days, too, because I did.”

You looked out the window and watched how the rain sluiced down the glass pane. In the darkness behind the window, you saw glimpses of soaked, curly locks and heard the hasty confession all over again.

You sighed, blinking the memory away.

“Guille asked me out.”

The sound of glass shattering and metal clanging made you jump, and you watched as a casserole pot twirled like a top on the hard, kitchen floor, while fragments of a broken plate skittered out to different directions.

“Oh, shit!” Alexia cursed, looking down at the mess, while a voice called out from the living room.

“Alexia, is everything alright in there?'' Came Eli’s voice. A few seconds later, Jaume’s head popped into the kitchen. He glanced at you then his eyes settled on Alexia who was crouched down, looking up guiltily at her father.

“Are you okay, girls?”

“Yes, Papá. I just… dropped some stuff.” Alexia said. You crouched down, too, about to pick up a fragment when Jaume spoke.

“Don’t pick that up, love, you might cut yourself. I’ll do it.”

Jaume shooed the two of you to a corner he deemed safe and the both of you watched as he picked up the pieces, throwing them in the bin by the back door. Afterwards, he gave Alexia a kiss on her temple, and you a hug and a ruffle to your hair, as he retired for the evening, leaving the two of you again in your own company. Alexia went back to the sink to finish up whatever was left, and you returned to your place on the counter beside her.

The silence that intruded was cut short by Alexia when she cleared her throat, “So… what did you say?”

“I haven’t said anything, yet,” you sighed again, looking back out the window, the questions coming back full force. In the eight years you’d known Guille, how long had he harbored those feelings for you? When did it happen? What did you do to make him feel that way?

“Do you like him?” Alexia’s question brought you back to the present.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want him?”

“Isn’t that the same thing?” You laughed slightly, glancing back at Alexia who shrugged her shoulders in answer.

“No, I don’t think so. Desire is a drive, like it makes you want to act. Attraction is just… I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s a weaker feeling. And they complement each other but they’re not the same.”

“And you know this how exactly?” You asked her teasingly, a brow raised.

Alexia averted her eyes, and shrugged your question off with a laugh.

In the moment of silence that followed, you traced Alexia’s profile, and your gaze ended at the elegant curve of the bow of her lips. She looked so pretty casted in the candescent glow of the kitchen light that it made your chest ache just by looking at her. You dropped your eyes to your feet as your mind ran faster than before this entire conversation happened.

Clutching your arms tightly across your chest, you muttered, “I don’t know what I want.”

[5]

Maybe hoping it would all turn out fine was a bit naive because naturally, Guille didn’t take your rejection well. It was your fault really for expecting otherwise but nevertheless, the inevitable discomfort of disappointment settled like lead in your gut.

The thing was, you were ready to give Guille the space he needed to accept your boundaries—friends, or nothing at all—and to heal. But accusing Alexia of making you turn against him? Now, that was something you couldn’t let pass.

He knew he’d crossed a line, too, with the way he kept avoiding you. At first, the silence didn’t bother you; he was hurt, after all. But when the apology never came, you understood that you’d be going through your last year of high school without your closest friend there by your side.

A fortnight passed without any word from him so it surprised you when he showed up at the local meetup that the three of you used to go to. He refused to meet your eyes but he had no problem leveling with the glares Alexia kept giving him. And when you ended up in Alexia’s team, the only sign of his distaste about it was the way his lips flattened to a line. He looked like he was about to say something, but with a slight shake of his head, he turned around and made his way to his teammates.

With one last look at Guille’s retreating back, you tuned back in your team’s conversation.

“—doesn’t need to play keeper. We need her more in the offensive.” Alexia said evenly but when you met her eyes, there was a clear question in them.

You gave her a slight nod to let her know you were okay.

She nodded back.

“How will that work? She’s the better keeper.” And then Marco added, “No offense, Julia.”

Julia only shrugged carelessly, a gesture of nonchalance.

“Julia is perfectly fine and besides, with you, Benji, and Carmen, our backline is already strong. The four of you together lessens our chance of conceding.” Alexia paused, looking over her shoulder to the other team before she faced you all again, continuing, “Our priority is the offensive. What good is a strong backline if we can’t counterattack? That’s why I’m suggesting she play as forward in the meantime, while Martina and I will play as interiors. Does that make sense?”

A collective nodding occurred.

“So just to clarify, we’re playing three–two–one?” Benji asked.

Alexia hummed, nodding her head. “Mostly. If we find the space and some opportunities, we can easily do three–one–two.”

“No pressure on us defenders, right?” Carmen said with a laugh, if not with a hint of nerve.

Everyone laughed but at the end of it, Alexia placed a hand on Carmen’s shoulder. “No pressure because you guys, as I said, are very strong. You got this.”

Carmen smiled at Alexia at that, nodding before she finally moved to her spot. As you and Alexia moved towards the middle of the pitch, Guille was introduced to your line of sight, and a weight pressed in your gut. Disappointment? Perhaps. Or maybe you just actually missed talking and hanging out with him.

Alexia’s teasing tone pulled away your attention from Guille. “I hope you haven’t forgotten how to play forward from all the keeping you’ve been doing.”

“Four years of keeping against the five years of playing forward? You need to brush up on your math ‘cause I think you’ve forgotten how to count.” You said dryly, giving her a look so dirty that had her throwing her head back in laughter.

Alexia leveled you with an unimpressed look but her tone remained playful. “You are such a bitch sometimes. You know that, right?”

“Thank you. I do try, you know. It’s my only defense against your smart-mouth.”

“Stop denying you don’t like my teasing.” Alexia waggled her brows as she smirked. The way she looked just then—with both hands on her hips, the ball beneath her left boot—your throat dried, heart racing; a sensation that’d familiarized itself to you during its recurrent visits over the past few weeks. Your mind blanked out, clear as the white of Alexia’s shirt, and when no words came to you to retort back, you shook your head and just laughed. By the time the game started—or maybe it was because it started—the feeling finally went away, replaced by the adrenaline that shot through your veins the moment Alexia kicked the ball to you.

It proved to be a tight game. The main strategy of the opposition seemed to be to mark and shut you and Alexia down whenever the ball so much turned your way. Alexia was right to trust your backline: any counterattack from the other team was dealt with immediately, and Julia only needed to save a handful of shots that passed through your defense, which she handled well.

At last, your team finally made a breakthrough.

Alexia cut a diagonal through the box, taking two of the defenders as she did, freeing up the space just behind her. You knew what she was doing so you faked a sidestep, turning quickly to lose your marker, before you sprinted in towards the middle of the box. And as you anticipated, Alexia sent the ball back to you with a flick of her heel. Now, if you could just—

The ground tilted, and there was a moment where the whole world suspended. It lasted for less than a breath before everything—the sensations and sounds—came rushing back in.

You slammed to the ground.

Air was squeezed out of your lungs from the impact, while your skull and teeth rattled within the confines of your skin; the taste of green, earth, and copper spread on your tongue. Muffled shouts and grunts filtered past the ringing in your ear but when you cupped a hand over your tender ribs, your resulting groan was all you could hear.

When you finally came to, Alexia’s face was over you, the doubled image of her finally merging into one. Her wide, hazel eyes looked on you with worry and you felt the warmth of her fingers as they grazed over your face: from your temples down to your cheeks which she took in a gentle cradle.

“Alexia?” You let out another groan as you turned on your back while Alexia helped you.

“Tell me where it hurts.”

There was a tension that constricted around the front part of your head, but you could feel the blood pulsing most on the side that collided with the ground. “My head… it hurts.”

“Okay, okay. Just lay down for now, I’ll get you…”

You seemed to have passed out after that because one moment you were lying on the fields, and the next you were beside Alexia on her living room couch. You had a vague recollection of being carried on Alexia’s back, but the feel of the strong plane of her shoulder against your cheek remained there, warm and comforting.

And only then, after Eli gave you ice for your head, did you see the bruise that bloomed deep in the skin of Alexia’s jaw, just below her left cheek, and the scuffed knuckles of her right hand which were splotched with deep reds and purples.

You took her hand onto your lap, gently running over the ice for your head over her knuckles, while you looked at Eli sitting on the opposite couch with Jaume beside her. Eli’s face burnt redder than you’d ever seen before, while Jaume held onto her hand, circling his thumb over the top of it in an attempt to calm her down.

Alexia remained quiet the whole time, eyes casted down as she took her mother’s reprimanding words. There was the unmistakable shine of shame in them, her guilt, but also an unwavering quality that stood for what she did. At the end of it, Eli and Jaume hugged the both of you before letting you retreat into Alexia’s room as you waited for your parents to arrive.

Instead of getting on her bed with you, Alexia plopped down on the floor just by the foot of the bed, her back against the wooden bedframe. You regarded the back of her head, her neck curved downwards, and you suddenly felt the need to be close to her so you shuffled off her sheets, and got down beside her.

“Thank you, but your mother was right, you know? You shouldn’t have done it, Alexia.” You mumbled, unfurling her fingers to rest on your knee so you could access more of her knuckles that way. Gently, you placed ice over it, but she still hissed in pain. “You shouldn’t have punched him.”

“Why not? He deserved it.” Alexia said evenly as she stared at the far corner of the room. “And before you start defending him, you didn’t see what I saw—what the rest of us saw. He didn’t even touch the ball—it was all feet. He meant to trip you up.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest at her words—at how her action showed just how much you meant to her—but the discomfort in your gut marred the surge of your affection for her.

You took a deep breath, sighed it out, and it tasted like disappointment.

“Alexia, I appreciate the gesture, I do. But you can’t just hurt people just because they did something to me.”

Alexia puffed her chest and proclaimed, “I can.”

“Stop that nonsense, Alexia. I mean it.” Firmer now, you said, and there was a hint of desperation in the intonation of your words. There was an urgent need to make Alexia understand the gravity of what she did, what future implications it held if what Eli and you told her didn’t sink in now. “Actions like this can jeopardize you, Alexia, and all the things you worked hard for. Do you understand that? What will Alejandro say when he sees you all bruised up next practice? And if I get tackled dirty during a game and I get hurt, would you risk a red card, or suspension, for behaving like this?”

Alexia became silent, the muscle in her jaw working, and when she turned to you with her mouth open and you spotted a defiant crease in her brows, you were quick to stop her.

“If the answer to that question isn’t no, Ale, I don’t want to hear it.” The sound of teeth clattering filled the air. She casted her gaze aside again, her cheeks growing a shade deeper. “Look at me, Alexia.”

When she kept her eyes glued to the floor, you dropped the ice pack to take her face in your hands. She flinched from the coldness of your fingers but as you looked into her eyes, rimmed with redness and framed by drooping eyelids, you found exhaustion and the shine of apology. You brushed away a matted lock of hair from the tail end of her brow.

“You have a good heart, Alexia, but you have to promise me. Please don’t do something like this again. Ever.”

Alexia looked into your eyes, deeply as if in contemplation, and then she closed them. A moment later, she sighed, sagging into your touch as if a weight had left her shoulders, before she opened them again.

“I promise.”

This time, you believed her.

Smiling softly at her, you whispered, while you placed a light kiss on her cheek. “Thank you.”

Settling into the moment, you rested your head against Alexia’s shoulder, her bruised hand in yours. In the brief silence before your father arrived to pick you up, Alexia spoke in an earnest tone that made your stomach flutter.

“I know you can handle yourself, but that won’t stop me from having your back.”

At her words, your heart felt like it would burst your chest open. And you should’ve known that this was where you’d end up—with her, it seemed inevitable anyway—because the years of you’d known Alexia flashed quickly before your eyes, and the memory stopped to this person beside you, haloed golden by the warm glow of her bedside lamp, and you were hit with a realization that took what little breath you had away.

You liked Alexia.

And, even more importantly, you want her.

[6]

When you got on the field in a Barça jersey for the first time after your return, you didn’t expect to be welcomed like you did. Jona subbed you on after the first half and as you left the tunnel, you heard the crowd chanting your name. The cheers made you feel excited, accepted and seen, but you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t pressure you at all.

It was originally intended for you to come on during the last twenty minutes, but seeing as Caro, Patri, and Alexia gave the team a comfortable enough lead, Jona decided to sub you on ahead of schedule. You didn’t see much action on your end though, something that you didn’t mind at all—a quiet defensive-third was the best kind. The midfielders kept the midline high to sustain pressure in the offensive-third, while the defenders maintained such a tight backline that any loose through-balls sent to the opposing runners were called offside. Of course, there were a handful of times when you needed to get out of your box to ping the ball back into the offensive, but other than that, it was quiet. When the match ended, you were satisfied that Barça had another clean sheet and four goals to add to the season tally.

For the celebration, you moved with your teammates around Estadi Johan Cruyff, and during the procession, you spied your parents, Eli, and Alba who was talking to a raven-haired woman you’d never seen before, clapping and cheering. Warmth filled you upon seeing your family in the stands again—such a scene was a luxury when you were in the States because plane tickets weren’t exactly cheap—and when you felt the familiar weight of Alexia’s arm slung over your shoulders, the fabric of her captain armband against the skin of your neck, it felt like a perfect homecoming.

Well, almost.

After you’d showered and changed to your casuals, most of the crowd had gone while some lounged about, one of which was the raven-haired woman Alba was talking to. When Alexia took her hand, you knew instantly, and your heart—damn your heart—dropped.

“This is Diana,” Alexia said after the both of them made their way to you. And if it wasn’t their intertwined hands that revealed what they were to each other, their gaze—saccharine when they met—made it all the more clear the nature of their relationship long before Alexia said the words, “my girlfriend.”

Diana beamed up at Alexia, her cheeks deepening in color before she regarded you again, sticking her hand out towards you to shake. Preceding the intention, you took her hand and when you did, Diana placed her other hand over yours, clasping your hand between her warm palms.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you. Alexia’s talked so much about you.”

She did? Your eyes flitted to Alexia but when she shied away from that, you focused back on Diana’s face. She was stunning: with her high cheekbones carved to elegance, her brows following the perfect line of her temple, her full lips painted with a terracotta shade made deeper by the bronze of her skin, while her loose, straight, raven hair framed her face in such a way that accentuated the sharpness of her jaws. Her eyes were dark but still light enough to see the outline of her pupils, and they had an amiable shape that reflected her warm nature. And for some reason, her light brown eyes looked really familiar—

“Ah! My favorite cousin made it, after all! Although I’m not sure it was me you went to the game for!” Tori’s playful voice resonated in the near-barren corridor. Diana’s eyes flicked somewhere behind you—to Tori, you supposed.

“Don’t be like that, Tori, of course I came to see you, too!”

“Lies!”

Diana shook her head, laughing, as she took Tori in her arms. “Come here, you!”

In response, Tori said something in Portuguese that made Diana laugh. When they broke apart, Diana said, “Forget you? Never. Especially when I owe you one.”

“Owe her what?” Alexia asked with her brows creased with curiosity.

Diana took Alexia’s hand and squeezed it, looking up at Alexia with a gentle expression. “For giving us the chance to meet.”

“Damn right!” Tori exclaimed, putting both hands on her hips, as she grinned so wide that her dimple showed. Tori must’ve seen your confusion because she leaned in to whisper, “I brought Diana as my plus one for last year’s Ballon D’Or ceremony.”

You allowed your mouth to drop open before you smiled, letting out a small laugh that made your chest ache. “Ah, I see.”

“She kept complaining about going but now, aren’t you grateful I took you away from your precinct, Detective Beauregard?” Tori teased.

“She’s never going to let us live this down, will she?” Diana muttered dryly to Alexia but it was deliberately loud enough for all of you to hear. In response, Alexia threw her head back laughing.

“You’re a detective? That’s amazing!” You said, impressed.

“Please, Tori’s exaggerating. I work in forensics. DNA analyst is the correct title.” Diana threw Tori a dirty look to which the other woman raised her shoulders in response. “It’s a whole different world compared to yours so—and please don’t let this get to your head, Tori—I am grateful I was able to step into it.”

Her eyes, still locked with Alexia’s, grew all the more soft.

“Get a room, you guys,” Tori said with a mock sound of disgust, and then she continued to mutter, “And to think that you’ve only been going out for four months… I don’t even want to think about how it will be like in another three months.”

At that, Alexia raised a brow and then, “Want to do some extra laps tomorrow?”

You and Tori knew Alexia was joking, but Tori being Tori, she spluttered, “That would be a hard no, Captain. I’ll just—Have a great night!”

With that, she ran away, arms flailing behind her in an exaggerated manner as she hastily made her exit. The sight drew laughter from the three of you.

“We’re having dinner at Mamá’s, want to come over?” Alexia asked.

You shook your head, flashing a look at Diana, before you told Alexia,“Not tonight. I’m just about to head over to my parents’ as well.”

“Alright. But Alba’s going to ask about you, you know? I think she wants to hang out with you.”

You laughed. “Tell her to text me. She’ll know what that means.”

“Is that something I should know about?” Alexia smirked.

Flatly, you retorted, “If it’s something that concerns you, I’d be telling you by now, right?”

“You see what I have to deal with?” Alexia told Diana, almost whining.

Inching backwards, you said as dry as you could manage, “I’ll take that as my queue to leave, Alexia might start crying. She’s a crybaby, you know?”

“Hey! I’m not—”

“No need to be embarrassed about it, Alexia. Be proud!”

Diana only laughed, saying, “Alright, kids, I think that’s enough for tonight.”

Nodding, you grinned at Alexia while she mouthed the word ‘bitch’ to you. In kind, you mouthed ‘smartmouth’ back. With a shake of her head and a smile, she gave you one last hug, and after a pleasant goodnight from Diana, the three of you parted ways.

You sent them a look over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of the watch around Alexia’s left wrist. It glinted as they walked together down the corridor, hand in hand, looking as in love as any new couple would.

The sight made you smile, but it felt heavy, and as if the universe wanted to rub salt to the wound, you found Patri outside the locker room when you turned around with a look akin to pity in her eyes.

[7]

The next day, Guille stopped by at your place. He’d given you notice a few days prior but even still, the moment you saw him behind the door, you squealed like you were ten again from your excitement. After you hugged him tight—he made a choking noise when you did to tease you—you held him at arm’s length to see what changes the last few months had done to him.

He looked different. Gone were the long, dark curls; now sheared close to his scalp that left only about an inch of length, his hair retained their luscious shine, their color still as dark as night.

His scar—the one just by the tail end of his left brow—that used to see little light from the obstruction of his hair, now stood apparent and without meaning to, the day he got it came back to you: the bruised knuckles, ice-cold fingers, and the warm blush of a lamplight.

And your chest ached a little.

Leading the conversation to the living room, the two of you ended up ordering takeaways—mostly for Guille’s benefit because you weren’t about to subject him to your football diet—and as you ate, the two of you caught up.

Guille was close to finishing his dissertation—the biomechanics of concussion in sport and its neurocognitive implications—and he was both excited and fearful about what would come next. He then talked about his girlfriend, Iris, smittenly if you might add. She was actually with him in the city, but his mother insisted she steal Iris for the day for some quality bonding, and you laughed at the repertoire of stories he’d relayed in great detail about his mother’s teasing of their relationship.

“When am I going to meet Iris?” You asked with a teasing tone.

He rolled his eyes, “Well, since you’re actually staying in Barcelona this time, we can arrange that.”

A pause, and then, “Is Alexia staying here, too, or are you here by yourself?”

“No, it’s just me here.”

“Oh. I thought the two of you’d be rooming again like—” Probably seeing your change in demeanor, Guille cleared his throat as he ate his pasta a bit too eagerly. “Speaking of, how is she?”

The question was casual but you knew it was anything but.

“She’s doing good, if not a little stressed. Our first Champions League game is just around the corner after all and it’s against Chelsea, so.” You shrugged to complete your thought. You knew what he was asking but you’d rather not talk about that.

His eyes could burn a hole on the side of your head by the way he stared at you in the silence that followed. Then he sighed deeply.

“She still doesn’t know.”

Tension filled every inch of your body and you shrank tight as a coiled spring. You stood up as you felt a sudden urge to get away from him, taking the used plates on the coffee table as a pretense to move from the couch to the sink.

“What’s it to you if she doesn’t know, Guille?” You asked flatly, rolling up your sleeves after you turned the tap on.

“I just want you to be happy. Is that so wrong?”

“And who says I’m not?” Your tone was flat and when you glanced at him over your shoulder, Guille only gave you a pointed look.

Then he said softly, “She could make you happier and you know it.”

And there it was again, that look in his eyes that you just couldn’t stand. Gritting your teeth, you gripped the edge of the sink and your voice quaked when you spoke. “Please stop talking like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like,” you tried to find the words but when they evaded you, you huffed and threw your hands up in the air. “Why are you making it sound like I have a chance?”

“Because you do! You’re the one who’s not giving Alexia a chance by not telling her.”

“Give me one good reason why I should.”

“She loves you.”

A pause.

“That’s bullshit.” You shook your head, letting out a small, disbelieving laugh. As much as your heart wanted that to be true, you knew otherwise.

“It’s really fucking not.” Guille countered.

“If she did, she wouldn’t have said what she did.”

“People say stupid shit when they’re drunk.”

“That can go the other way, too. Alcohol has a way of loosening what’s been bottled.”

“Oh, come on!” Guille scoffed. “You’ve known her since you were eight. You’ve been through thick and thin together! Do you really think she wanted you to leave?”

With the reminder, the memory sprung up on you and you could hear Alexia’s voice, grating and wrenching your heart raw again when you heard the words from her lips. You whirled around to face him, eyes burning.

“You weren’t there when she told me, Guille!” You breathed out sharply and then you continued, in a lower tone filled with resignation, you whispered as you buried your face in your palms. “You didn’t hear the way she said it. You didn’t—”

You choked on your words.

After all this time, it was still too painful.

Darkness filled your vision but the tears escaped nonetheless, branding tracks down your cheeks. You heard the rustling of clothes followed by soft footsteps. Before you knew it, Guille’s arms wrapped around your shoulders and his familiar, comforting scent made you sink into the embrace.

“You’re right. I wasn’t there. But if you could forgive me for being an asshole and what I did to you, why can’t you do the same with her?”

You didn’t say anything after that, only clutched at his shirt a little tighter.

Guille kept quiet, too.

The both of you knew just the reason why.

[8]

“Did you see the news?” Jona asked as he kept the door open for you to an empty meeting room, closing it as soon as you’d gone in.

Sitting down on one of the cushioned chairs, you said, “I did.”

You saw it this morning and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t faze you.

Jona nodded, taking the chair across the table from you. He put his clasped hands on the wooden surface and the way he tapped an erratic rhythm with his thumbs didn’t help your nerves.

“Lyon paid a hefty transfer fee for her and that makes me worried. I don’t know what Bompastor is planning to do with her but her transfer to the European league will be a concern for the club.” With a pensive crease appearing between his brows, he continued. “You probably know why I asked you to come in.”

“You want me to tell you what I know about her.”

He nodded, leaning forward as if to emphasize his point. “She’s a lethal forward and you’re the only one in the club who’s ever played with her. In fact, you two seemed very close during your time in Angel City.”

You crossed your arms, leaning back into your chair, frowning slightly. “I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”

Jona blinked at you.

Then slowly, “Surely you must’ve trained closely together considering she’s a forward and you’re a keeper? Unless training was vastly different in Angel City, then I’m sorry for the assumption.”

“O–Oh, I thought you were implying—” You shook your head, uncrossing your arms as you waved the rest of your sentence away. “Never mind. But yes, that’s right.”

Jona gave you another questioning look before speaking again.

“She’s going to be a big problem. And that’s why I’m going to change things up a bit. I want to put you in the starting lineup as soon as possible—put as many games with our current team under your belt. We’ll most likely face Lyon in the Quarters and that’s unfortunate but what is great is that you’re here: the best counter to what Lyon acquired. If we could eliminate Lyon early, we have a higher chance of winning this year’s Champions League. The question is, are you ready for it?”

“That’s what I’m here for, Jona.” You said seriously, ignoring the pressure that pressed in the periphery of your mind.

“Use me.”

#ap11 #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #my writing #a/n: i'm just gonna drop this here lol #im really sorry for the very very very late update #had no time lately and after losing the first draft for this (8k words down the drain) my motivation kind of just fell off the cliff #but ive been rewriting this on the go for the past month or so so please forgive me for more grammar and spelling mistakes than usual #also im kinda jetlagged and sick atm so im planning to get to your messages as soon as i get my bearings back <3 #i hope youre all doing well and thank you for reading <3

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steddieas-shegoes · 3 months ago

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🪱 Wiggly Wednesday 🪱

cw: temporary character death (Eddie is alive and well in my heart and in every story I ever write don’t you worry)

steve doesn’t know why he still feels such a deep pull towards the trailer park. he thinks it’s because of max at first, but once max is awake and teasing him like she was never in a coma at all, he realizes that’s not it.

he feels…fluttery. like he can’t sit still, or focus, like he’s floating in the universe. like he’s waiting for something.

but he doesn’t fucking know what.

robin keeps telling him he should consider his feelings for eddie, how maybe the friendship they’d acquired meant a little more than steve initially thought. maybe steve has some internal deep-diving to still do.

but steve did that already. he concluded that he very much would’ve liked to kiss eddie on the lips with tongue. maybe forever.

eventually, he gives in and visits the trailer park. most people moved after everything, and eddie’s trailer is still neglected. his uncle moved closer to the plant as soon as he heard eddie was gone. trying to fix the trailer didn’t feel as important to him without his nephew coming home.

there’s no reason for the way his hands shake and his lips quiver as he walks up the porch steps. there’s no reason for his heart racing as he cracks open the busted front door. and there’s certainly no reason for his dick hardening the moment he catches a scent he recognizes as eddie.

the man is dead, dude. get yourself together.

but as he walks further into the trailer, closer to what was eddie’s bedroom before it got raided by the cops and ruined by people who thought the worst of him, the scent gets stronger. steve’s sweating. his breath catches and he nearly chokes on his own saliva.

eddie’s there.

eddie’s there in his bed.

alive.

and suddenly that pull he’s felt for so long makes sense, and he recognizes it for what it really is: some creepy monster connection.

“it’s about fuckin’ time,” eddie grits out. “i couldn’t leave here until you came.”

“what? how?” steve is so lost, so confused. “what’s happening?”

“what’s happening is that you and i both got some major shit to discuss with your friends. the bats gave us some kinda venom and i can hear every single thought you have.” eddie smirks. “which has definitely helped me pass the time.”

steve blushes because he knows exactly what eddie’s talking about. “you can hear my thoughts? why can’t i hear yours?”

eddie shrugs. “i guess my exposure was more so i have more powers? i dunno. but i love what you were thinking with the rope. that was clever. definitely up for it if you are.”

“can i please have a second to come to terms with you being alive before we start planning out my sexual fantasies?” steve rubs his hands across his face. “i don’t understand how you’re here.”

“probably the venom.”

“you seem way too calm.”

“i’ve had two months to find calm.”

steve looks around the room, sees wrappers on the bedside table and dirty clothes piled in the hamper. most of his personal belongings are still sitting at the police station, but his acoustic guitar and a notebook are sprawled in front of him on his bed.

“you’ve been here for two months? alone?”

“with your thoughts, yes.”

“so you-“

“yep.”

“and when i-“

“uh huh.”

“and you’d want to-“

“most definitely.”

steve nodded, sure of himself for the first time in a long time. “can you leave here now?”

“probably. why? you gonna whisk me away to your castle so we can pleasure each other in the moonlight?” eddie’s teasing grin should annoy steve, but he’s gone too long without it and he thought he’d never get to see it again. “quite sappy, aren’t you?”

“if you promise to never refer to sex as pleasuring each other, i’ll definitely take you back to mine.”

“i’m sorry. would you prefer the term making love?”

“yes, actually.”

eddie’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t tease. “then we should…go…do that.”

steve leans down to kiss the corner of eddie’s mouth, shocking both of them with how quickly and naturally it happens.

“should we bring a blanket to cover you in the backseat? until we figure out what we need to do to keep you safe.”

eddie wraps a blanket around his shoulders and stands up. “lead the way, my liege.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #wiggly wednesday #i dunno i just like when they both have something weird going on after the upside down #and i think it’s very funny that eddie can read steve’s thoughts so the last two months were just steve thirsting and being sad

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aliaology · 6 months ago

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SO AMERICAN (short)

SUMMARY: in which holtzy and you are dating, and you are very much in love with him

PAIRINGS: alexander holtz x fem!hughes!reader

WARNINGS: none just fluff :)

driving on the, right side road. he says im pretty, wearing his clothes. and hes got hands that, make hell seem cold. feet on the dashboard, he’s like a poem i wish i wrote. i wish i wrote.

you were the prime example of ‘passenger princess’ but in your very own car. i mean— it wasn’t necessarily your fault that you weren’t the best suited to drive in the city. no no— it was jacks because all he did was drive you and luke around.

but your brother was not the one driving. no, it was your boyfriend who was. you also never understood why he loved to drive your car. but the actual reason was because it was so… you. and he loved that.

your feet were propped on the dashboard, notebook and pen in your lap and hand as you mindlessly scribbled words together. alex’s hand was on your thigh, the warmth from his hand spreading throughout your body like a wildfire.

his fingers traced lightly on your bare thighs, pinky almost sliding up and hitting your shorts with every move he made. the bumps in the road made it so his hand would lightly hit your skin.

your eyes were averted to the pen and paper as you eagerly wrote down word after word, his hand squeezing your thigh every few minutes.

as he squeezed your thigh one more time, you looked over to him. he was the epitome of a love poem and you wished you were the one to write it. with a soft smile on your face, you leaned closer to him and placed your lips onto his cheek.

and he laughs at all my jokes, and he says im so american! oh god, its just not fair of him to make me feel this much. go anywhere he goes, and he says im so american! oh god, im gonna marry him if he keeps this shit up. i might just be in la-la-la-la-love.

you two were at a restaurant, smiling at each other. you spoke, hushed and quietly, almost with embarrassment. your words caused him to burst with laughter, hand slapping over his mouth as his shoulders shook.

his reaction caused you to giggle, a bright smile on your face. the smile would quickly turn to one of embarrassment when you ask a waitress for a meal— one that you have trouble pronouncing. and he laughs as the waitress leaves.

you had a frown on your face— not one of sadness but one of ‘are you kidding me?’

alex snorted as he spoke, “you are so american.”

feigning a look of offense, your eyes narrowed slightly, giving a look of hurt. this just caused alex to chuckle more before grabbing your hand and pressing a small kiss to it.

“how about we just get out of here instead? i think i’d very much rather eat in.” he suggested.

and so you went wherever he did. you ditched the restaurant. you ditched the fancy dinner, and you went home. when you got home; you both eagerly sat on the couch and just watched a movie.

god im so boring, and im so rude! cant have a conversation if its not all about you. the way you dress and, the books you read. i really love my bed but man its hard to sleep when he’s with me. when he’s with me…!

you sat with your friends, picking at your nails as they spoke. their conversation being something about style�� something about clothes. you weren’t too interested, you weren’t even talking.

“anything to add, y/n?” one asked.

you shrugged. “i don’t know— style wise i really like alex’s and maybe i’m just biased but it seems super comfy. shockingly he also has a great taste in books and—“

“girl all you do is take about your man!” your friend cut you off.

another friend piped up, “can’t say i blame her. i mean we’ve been friends for what? seven years? in that time frame shes had one boyfriend and he kinda sucked. if i had a man treat me the way hers does, i’d be plastering that everywhere.”

your last friend shrugged. “i get it— honestly i want to hear more about this guy. she talks about him but its never enough because someone interrupts her.”

“its fine— all you really need to know about him is that he treats me very well, and i love him.”

after your little get together with your friends, you made your way to your apartment. the sun was setting and you wanted to lay in bed. but as soon as you got home, locked up and went to your room and saw your boyfriend, you knew for a fact you wouldn’t be going to sleep.

i apologize if its a little too much, just a little too soon. but if the conversation ever were to come up i don’t wanna assume this stuff. but aint it rough? think im in love!

#hockey #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl hockey #new jersey #new jersey devils #jack hughes #alexander holtz x y/n #alexander holtz x reader #alexander holtz imagine #alex holtz #alexander holtz #holtz10 #10

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starsomens · 1 year ago

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Omg hi!!! I saw your requests are open and I got excited, do think you think you could do headcanons on what would noah be like as a boyfriend?? Have a lovely day/night💕

Disclaimer❗️: THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION!!! Please do NOT take this literally or spread false information, this is a work of what my thoughts on this topic is!!

Note: hello (: hope you enjoy

For me I see him as someone very dominant, but also soft about it!

It’ll be like, say someone who was clearly into you sits next to you a hit too close he’d probably tell/ask you to switch seats because he knows it’s for the better good in the situation

A hoodie boyfriend for sure!

Will complain about you taking them but loves seeing you wear them

Will either game with you or have some kinda of physical touch on you on you while he games. So you feet in his lap or sitting in his lap. Once he sees you’re asleep he’ll quiet down or just get off game completely and just get you to bed

He has a habit when he’s writing songs. Hell do it around you and look to you for visual inspiration. Describing physical appearances that being in lyrics to him

“What are you smiling about?” You would ask

“Oh nothing” he’d always response and just finish a lyric . And if it’s not included in music he’ll just keep them in a notebook (:

Will definitely have some kind of gesture he does while on stage when he knows your watching. Might a hand gesture, or a word, something that is significant to you that he’ll do on stage. A way of tributing his work to you

Big on forehead kisses!

Despite what google says I KNOW this man is a good 6-6’3. I’m 4’12 and I can tell a 6 footer a mile away. Hence, with that height he loves to kiss the mom first contact of skin your forehead or even the top of your head

Either just some pecks on your head or he’ll tilt your head up more towards him so he can plant a good on with lots of emotion and love

If he’s out in another state or even country touring and feels lonely, will email you a plane ticket for you to get there

“Noah why do I have a flight booked for tomorrow at 6 am?”

“….I won’t have my morning wake up WIRH you”

Honestly would hate the start of a tour because it meant saying goodbye to you (sometimes!) the last one to get in the flight/tour bus because he’s saying goodbye to you

I can picture him to be someone who’s like clingy with you, but more when he knows he won’t see you for a while.

GETS GIDDY AND EXCITED WHEN YKU SURPRISE HIM AT CONCERTS

Afterwards he’s just all smiles

Would definitely let you do make up on him and criticize it afterwards 💀

“The eyeliner isn’t even”

“What?? Yes it is you’re looking at it wrong”

“NUH UH-“ I’m sorry

Will wear matching animal ear headbands to do skincare with you .

100000% you’re the FIRST person outside of the band to hear a song when it’s complete. And takes your comments to better his music

Pet names: babe, baby, princess, sweet

For some reason he says stink for cringy/joke

Let’s your paint his nails (:

Will tease you to no end! He knows how much of an effect he has on you and will use it to his advantage. If he’s in his tank top around the house he’ll do the doorframe lean and just stare at you with a smirk and he LOVES seeing you get flustered

I think he also LOVES when you do his hair. So buns, just brushing it, braiding it, just anything from you to his hair

Will secretly try and match your closet so you can be a cute matching couple. But won’t say it as if he planned it

“Oh look we’re matching! Cool!” And just keep on with his day

Jolly is defiantly one to tease him about how much he loves you. And he’ll do it at least twice a day if he sees you

“He always wants to be the cool, and tough guy, but we all know he’s head over heels for you”

Or he’ll tell you how he smiled at his phone today cuz you were calling him

I think he may be the type to have a symbolic tattoo on him for you if it was a very solid and long term relationship

Over all a 1000/10 boyfriend :)

「✨taglist✨」 -

#noah sebastian x reader #noahsebastian #noah sebastian #bad omens cult #bad omens #bad omens band #badomens #noah sebastian davis #requsts #star’s anons✨

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even-disco-baby · 1 year ago

Text

COASTAL SHACK — You wake to find yourself lying in your bed, still very much alive.

PAIN THRESHOLD — Barely.

ENDURANCE — Don’t be dramatic. Aside from a headache and dry mouth, you’re fine.

PAIN THRESHOLD — It’s a *bad* headache.

ENDURANCE — You’ve had worse.

Ouch… No thanks, I’m going back to sleep.

[Try to sit up.]

ENDURANCE — You try to push yourself upright, but your head and your heart pound with the effort and your arms feel weak.

…Look, I said you’ve had worse, I didn’t say you should push your luck.

ENCYCLOPEDIA — It’s the blood loss. A common side effect of getting shot.

YOU — Thanks. Very helpful.

ENCYCLOPEDIA — You’re welcome!

PERCEPTION (Hearing) — As you drop back down to the pillow, you hear a familiar sound. A shuffle of nylon.

PAIN THRESHOLD — You force your eyes open just a sliver, squinting. Despite how dim the shack is, that hi-vis orange is unmistakable.

The lieutenant’s jacket is laid over you, the sleeve of it nearly brushing your cheek.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY — You catch a faint whiff of Taiga Super Special.

+1 MORALE

Oh shit! I’ve always wanted to try it on!

Does that mean he’s out there somewhere *without* it? That mental image is just not right.

I wonder what he keeps in his pockets… [Snoop.]

INTERFACING — Blearily, you reach out and feel for the jacket’s inside pockets. Predictably, most of them are empty. Obviously, the lieutenant didn’t leave any of his essentials behind. His badge and notebook are nowhere to be found. Nor are his Astras.

But…

YOU — But?!

INTERFACING — But in his left breast pocket, you feel something small and flimsy.

PERCEPTION (Touch) — Feels like… photo paper.

YOU — [Pull out the photo.]

MIRACULOUS PHOTO — It’s you.

You, reaching out a hand toward the miracle— the Insulindian Phasmid.

INLAND EMPIRE — No. It said that *you* were the miracle… violent and irrepressible…

MIRACULOUS PHOTO — The phasmid unfolding its impossibly long limbs, its eyes fixed calmly on you, the foam and the sky and your small silhouette, wreathed in sunlight, reaching, reaching…

It’s a great photo.

EMPATHY — In his left breast pocket… The lieutenant keeps it close to his heart…

KIM KITSURAGI — “…You’re awake.”

COMPOSURE — You jump, nearly dropping the photo at Kim’s voice.

HALF LIGHT — He’s caught you red handed.

“I wasn’t snooping! It just, er, fell out of the jacket and I…”

“God, Kim, you scared me…”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant stands in the doorway in a white tank, his silhouette strange and unfamiliar without the bulk of his jacket around his shoulders. In his hands, jugs of clean water from the well. He sets them down by the door and then comes to sit at the table by the window.

“Sorry,” he says flatly, glancing briefly at the photo in your hands, then away. “How are you feeling?”

“Like death.”

“Like there’s a little guy with a sledgehammer knocking around inside my skull.”

“Okay, I guess. Tired.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Mm. You’ve been sleeping on and off for a couple of days now… I’m not surprised. You were bound to crash eventually, after everything your body’s been through…”

He glances again at the photo, his expression difficult to read.

EMPATHY — He didn’t mean for you to find it, but he isn’t upset, either. Strangely, he almost looks a little guilty.

“…Thinking about changing careers, Kim? You might not make such a bad cryptozoologist.”

“…Pretty scandalous of you to keep a photo of me. Whatever will they say back at the precinct?”

“…Lena and Morell let you keep the original?”

KIM KITSURAGI — “They did,” he says. And then, somewhat awkwardly, “Sorry. I should have offered to let you have it. It was your discovery, really…”

HALF LIGHT — He’s almost scared to let you take it. He doesn’t realize it, but needs it.

“But it’s *your* photo. You’re the only reason we got a picture.”

“That’s true. Does that mean I can keep it?”

“It’s okay. Something tells me you need it more than I do.”

KIM KITSURAGI — He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t ask you to elaborate. Just stares at the little piece of paper in your hands.

COMPOSURE — It stirs something in him. Something he doesn’t know what to name.

KIM KITSURAGI — “…You said something about having a vision,” he says suddenly, frowning. “When we encountered it, I mean. Something about the… *khm*… the fate of mankind.”

INLAND EMPIRE — He would not understand, even if you told him…

“I say lots of stuff. For no reason. I was probably just goofing.” [Don’t tell him.]

“…I did. The phasmid spoke to me about it.” [Tell him.]

KIM KITSURAGI — His eyelids flutter, processing your words. “It… *spoke* to you?”

“Um, no, I’m just kidding, Kim. Don’t worry about it.”

“Yes. Those few minutes I was just staring at her, we were actually speaking… She said such beautiful things… Beautiful, but scary, too…”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant’s mouth opens, as if to speak— and then promptly shuts again. His brows knit, lips pursed. He looks at you as if he isn’t quite sure what to make of you.

INLAND EMPIRE — I warned you. He cannot understand…

KIM KITSURAGI — But then his gaze falls back to the photo, and he seems to waver.

“…What did…” He pauses. Swallows. “What did it say…?”

EMPATHY — He is trying not to doubt you like he doubted the miracle held in your very hands.

“She said that our existence must be hell… The fire and the swirling glass and the agonizing awareness… It’s a madness unlike anything else on this planet.”

“She said that she loved me. That she would benefit from our closeness…”

“She said that there really was a Seraseolitic civilization! It’s waiting to be found… right beneath our feet… They really did exist. We just forgot.”

“She said that there was a nearly universal agreement between all other life on the planet that we will be the death of them all. We brought the pale with us… *We* shattered the face of god…”

“She said that we can’t forget anymore… We can’t look away… Or one day, we’ll blink, and find that none of this ever existed. How could that be? I didn’t really understand…”

“She said that the insects are all watching us, in awe of us. That *we* are the miracles… To be able to live like this…”

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant’s lips part in surprise. “We?”

“Yes. You and me. We’re a miracle, Kim. Don’t you think so?”

“Yes. All of us. Humanity is a miracle. That we persist at all is a testament to that. Don’t you think so?”

KIM KITSURAGI — He does not answer. He does not seem to know how to.

EMPATHY — He wishes that he did.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — Your faith is what’s miraculous, detective…

KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant leans over and rests his arms on the table, his shoulders hunched and small.

“What else did the phasmid say?”

YOU — “A lot of things.”

KIM KITSURAGI — “I’ve got time.”

EMPATHY — He means it.

YOU — “She said that when we die, the insects… they will bloom from us like banners, raise us up from the ground and carry us into the sky, all in our honor…”

KIM KITSURAGI — “Mm…” He looks out the window, the light glinting off his glasses and making it hard to see his eyes. “Is that a… comfort to you?”

“Yes. It’s a comfort to know that something is watching. They love us for trying, even when the trying isn’t enough.”

“No. It’s not about comfort. It’s just a fact. We’re horrors, but we survive. Any creature would admire that.”

“No. It’s scary. Is that all that this amounts to? The admiration of *insects?* I don’t know what to think of it.”

“Sometimes it is and sometimes it isn’t. Right now, I just know that I’m not ready to die yet.”

KIM KITSURAGI — He nods silently.

ESPIRIT DE CORPS — I’m glad to hear that. Truly.

KIM KITSURAGI — “Sounds like I missed out.” He gives you a wry little smile.

EMPATHY — And yet, deep down, there is a real disappointment that he doesn’t want to acknowledge. He wishes he could have heard her voice.

YOU — [Hold out the photo to him.] “Well… that’s what you’ve got me for, isn’t it?”

INLAND EMPIRE — You were born to detect her, precisely because no one else could.

KIM KITSURAGI — He looks at you, then at the photo. Then, he reaches out to take it back from you. He has no pocket to tuck it discreetly into, so he just holds it, his thumb creasing the margins of the paper just slightly.

“I guess so,” he says softly.

VOLITION — *That* is the miracle.

#disco elysium #harry du bois #kim kitsuragi #kimharry #harrykim #however the heck you wanna tag it #sorry more of the dora saga is coming soon i prommy #but i felt like posting this old one i wrote a few months ago #‘’how come they’re at the coastal shack but kim has the photo even tho he’s not around to take a picture of the phasmid in the bad end’’#well you see. i don’t know. 👍

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bubbleddisasters · 6 months ago

Text

Since Y’all liked the last one, heres something somewhat similar:

TWST Characters as funny / random ass moments with my friends/family

———-

Ace : A good friend of mine made an entire Cards against Humanity Deck including us, and we played it at like 4 am.

Also, one of my closest childhood friends of now 11 years, the way we first met was he insulted me, and then thirty minutes later I peeked at his notebook while he was drawing (our beds were next to eachother) recognized Sans from a meme, and then managed to bullshit through an entire conversation about Undertale without him suspecting I didn’t know what the hell I was talking about.

I made a joke about it a little less then a year ago, thinking he knew by now, but no. He looks at me and the conversation goes:

“Are you telling me our entire first interaction was you just fucking improvising through a discussion of a fandom you didn’t know shit about?”

“Wait you didn’t know?”

“NO?!”

“You genuinely believed that I knew what I was talking about then for 10 years?!?��

“Surprisingly, yes.”

Deuce: I was biking with my sister, and she accidentally biked straight into a fucking lake. Also when my dad looked me dead in the eye after receiving one of my graded tests and goes

“How the fuck do you answer Maine four times on different questions and be wrong for all four times.”

Bonus Adeuceyuu combo: Me and two of my childhood friends once linked together to grab something we saw in a river, turns out it was just a broken fishing rod.

Also another on me and the above two friends meeting: The first thing one of them did was insult me, and I genuinely have zero memory of how I met the other.

Basically, we met at a sleepaway camp as kids, and for some reason, our sleepaway camp had some wackass shit, but one of them was this game. I don’t remember the name of it, but you had to go in groups of 3-4 and tie ribbons around each staff tent/cabinside without getting caught (and keep in mind each campsite and Cabins were very spread apart) at midnight, and the first to return to the cafeteria, where the staff were waiting, and did so after tying them all, on won.

Kids age 12-17, in the middle of fuck knows where in the woods Long Island, running around in the dark unsupervised with only any light bringing items they brought themselves.

So me, and we’ll call them C and M, teamed up. It’d take too long to go into full detail, but it was a very Prologue Mines fused with Camp Vargas core adventure.

Bonus First year gang in general : Me and three friends were waiting for something I genuinely don’t remember in an abandoned dorm area and got extremely bored, and one of them could do a perfect Donald Duck impression, and another a really good goofy, and this somehow led to us having a fake reality tv show verbal bitchfight as Donald, Goofy, Mickey and Minnie for a solid hour. We all regretted not recording it.

Cater: My friend from Wales entirely forgot about the existence of timezones and called me in the middle of my history class. Her ringtone at the time was just a clip of her screaming “Bread”.

How my teacher didn’t figure out who’s phone it was is beyond me.

Trey : Made Russian Roulette Spilt Cupcakes for a large group of my friends, and one is allergic to strawberries, while another’s favorite is, so I very specifically placed the strawberry filled one on the complete other side of the table with the intention of slipping it in after she picked her two.

Some fucking how, she ended up with the Strawberry one, which I had tied with a bow (basically the ones with bows mean they contain an allergen, and the color is the allergen. Ex: Strawberry was BRIGHT FUCKING PINK.) I’m to this day not exactly sure how, but my best guess is she traded hers with whoever originally got the Strawberry one before we ate.

Luckily, I told her partner, who had been my baking partner in crime and convinced me to add in the strawberry after I said it might be a bad idea, to bring two epi pens just incase.

Riddle : I am around 5’3, and I had a friend (?) who was 6’2-3 in middle school. We had almost the blatant definition of a Floyd and Riddle Dynamic, but he’d out of the blue be extremely sweet to me (kinda like that comic in the anthology), only on days I was going through shit. When I tell you I genuinely thought I was hallucinating when he did though-

Also, I yelled at him for nailing, yes, NAILING, a flag on the ceiling reading :”el sábado es para los chicos” (Saturday is for the boys) In the fucking Spanish classroom. Since nobody was as tall as him and the janitors didn’t notice it, it was there for like a week.

Che’nya : My friend and I have an ongoing inside joke where whenever we spot the other through a window in the hallway, we text the other “behind you” or “to your__”

Leona : I brought a pillow with a silk pillow case (gift from my mom) to a sleepover once, and my friend went “You trust leaving me in the room with this?” and I genuinely responded “Its a pillow, why wouldn’t I trust you.” entirely forgetting that Silk can be pretty expensive.

I felt so bad bro.

Ruggie : My friend once dared me to get a one plate of everything during a party. I misinterpreted this and brought a mostly to full plate of each thing, including water bottles.

Turns out they meant balance one of everything on a single plate.

I did not, infact, return the seven brownies, four cupcakes, two cookies, twelevish tangerines, popcorn and god knows how many grapes, but everything else was returned or snatched by friends.

Jack: My friend was throughly convinced she knew where she was going when we got lost outside at one of the biggest malls in fucking America, and we ended up walking a good 4/6th of the perimeter before finding the target (the store, we were still fucking lost) , which we called her mom to pick us up at.

Bonus: My friend, a few dormmates and I were at Starbucks and this random woman comes up to my friend and goes “Hey, they got my order wrong, want my drink?” and I was literally trying to give him this face of “BAD IDEA”. Yea so he ignored the obvious and drank the whole fucking thing and was bouncing off the walls for the rest of the day. (This one could also work for Jamil I suppose.)

Floyd : I was once walking with a friend of mine and jokingly said Trees are giant salads.

This motherfucker breaks off a branch of the nearest tree, takes a fatass bite, drops it, and goes “I want a refund.”

Jade : Randomly got interrogated my mushroom hunters—-

(I kind you the fuck not, MUSHROOM. HUNTERS. Basically, they go out to hunt/find/ forage for rare mushrooms. Atleast thats what they told us?! I wasn’t paying much attention, I was busy petting their dog tbh)

—While camping, my friend and I had zero clue what they were talking about, so she just pointed in a random direction and they thanked us and left.

The same friend also introduced me to mica, but always called them Mermaid Scales, and we more than once walked around in the water looking for them, I was the only one that would literally stop mid-trail to pick some up though. I have a massive collection.

Also she never let me live down the fact I once trapped myself in my tent with fucking dental floss overnight just to see if I could, then couldn’t undo it in the morning, and our adult / guide / trying to keep us alive person had to cut me out with a knife.

Azul : This one very specific time as a kid I was talking to two identical twins, who were standing on each side of me, wearing the same outfits but color reversed, and nearly had an internal breakdown trying to remember which was which, so I just did verbal gymnastics around using their names.

We later literally spent two hours fighting for ours lives together and I shit you not I STILL COULDNT REMEMBER THEIR FUCKING NAMES.

Kalim : Went shopping with my badass grandma and somehow left with a Second Hand Valentino (the brand) dress for $50 and a free bracelet one of the employees gave me because ….I actually don’t know.

Also, I got trapped on a really high up indoor water slide with my sister because the water entirely stopped (we learned later the water machine tied to that ride blew up) , and where we were was like a weird slope like between two drops. We couldn’t get back up, and going down was too risky without water bcs we could go splat.

There was like a window ish on the ride, so like a smart 8 year old, I start calling for help at the top of my lungs. My sister (10) also did this. There was this guy who I guess heard us that we nicknamed Chad because he looked like the most stereotypical 2000’s beach movie love interest lifeguard and was dramatically looking around for where the voices were coming from but NEVER LOOKED UP??

Anyway, My sister got us out in the end because she found a hatch and managed to open it, and I shit you not there was a spiral staircase with a gigantic fucking sign reading “DO NOT CLIMB STAIRCASE.”

So obviously, my sister chucks me across the gap onto the staircase and then jumps over herself, and we end up spending another 40 minutes after that fiasco trying to find our parents while i’m pretty sure Chad was trying to find us.

After the 40 minutes we just assumed we were now orphans and went back to where we left our keycard and low and behold our parents had just come back from wherever they had fucked off to.

Also Chad found us and felt super bad, and bought us a smore cake?!? Someone throw him back in time to be his destined role as an extra in Teen Beach Movie. The cake was great though, but that was one hell of an 8th birthday lmao.

Jamil : My friend from India (jokily) Divorced me after my dumbass asked her if Chai was an ingredient used in Chai Tea.

Spoiler Alert : Chai IS THE TEA. Apparently, asking for Chai Tea is the equivalent of saying “Can I have some Tea Tea please.”

Yea safe to say I felt real stupid in that moment.

Epel : My sister once locked me in the bathroom so she could test her new makeup on me. She left for one second and I kid you not I snuck out of the window.

Random bonus : Me and my cousins for some reason ended up roughhousing outside after one of our older cousins weddings, and I judo flipped a whole ass 17 year old man at age 12 and I felt so powerful in that moment.

Also If you saw about the ranch in the previous post, me that gang had an anonymous cookie provider who would leave us two tins of fresh cookies every day around 12ish pm, usually behind the kitchen or outside the equipment shack.

Yes, we tried to catch them once, No, we didn’t succeed. Also nobody wanted to risk loosing cookie privileges, so we didn’t try again.

Rook: Once scared the living shit out of my online friend by texting him “I am now several miles closer to your location.” . He lives in South America, and I happened to be in Florida with a friend, so I thought i’d be funny.

Vil : I was going to a cosplay convention with a friend, and instead of bringing like a normal amount of makeup, my indecisive ass brought basically a whole suitcase worth of it.

Also won a costume competition at my boarding school for Halloween, and wasn’t even aware there was a competition until the year after, when a good half or more of my dormmates asked me to do their makeup because they’d heard I was really good at it.

Idia: Ok, so, long story, but my friend invited me and two mutual friends to see Sweeney Todd on Broadway w/ the og cast. However, I was the only one who didn’t know we were going anywhere, because he thought his mom told my dad we were going to see Sweeney Todd, while my dad thought my friend told me, but also he was suspiciously alluding to it, maybe unintentionally

So I show up in a blue hoodie with a bad pun on it, mildly ripped sweatpants, mismatched socks and bright rainbow crocs. Not very “going to watch a musical about cannibalism and Serial Killers” attire. But it gets worse.

So around the 3/4ths into the first act is when I usually get snacks at musicals or plays, since they’re usually just finished setting up and theres no line, so I’m in and out and don’t miss much.

Well, I did that as usual, and its important to know we had front row balcony seats, because…

I slipped on my friends playbill on the way to my seat, and my fucking left croc went flying down into the seats below us, and hit an older woman in the head right at Sweeney did the first oofing, and the stage lights go red for a moment in this scene.

I felt so bad, and was literally too embarrassed to go get the shoe myself, so one of my friends got it for me. Apparently the lady thought it was somewhat funny (thank fucking goodness)

Ortho : My sister and I were biking once, and found out some reason the coats we had (school merch from field day I think). had the biggest fucking hidden pockets known to man.

So the next time we went out, she for some reason decided to put our dads entire laptop in there.

Also bonus: My friend once invited me over to their house to help with their costume, and when I came over, the costume was literally a gigantic trash can. No, not the actual object, They were literally making a giant trashcan costume.

I helped but still remained mildly confused in the process.

Malleus : I had a good friend who lived next to a graveyard, and sometimes we would just go on nice walks in the graveyard.

Lilia: Another Wilderness one: We were making Pasta, and one of the guys in our group was playing with a large thing of moss, tripped, and the moss got into the fucking pasta.

One guide said “Nature Consequence, we can still eat it” while the other screamed they were going to get fired.

Also, me and a friend were singing bo-burnham on a hike, and for some reason we had this stupid ass idea of making a fake fishing rod called…..

“The Child Catcher.”

(The irony ony of us both being 14 at the time so technically we were children)

We found a good fishing rod like stick and a vine, tied a vine on, and I kid you not we carried that thing for MILES. We also made a fork with a flatly shaped stick and a rock named Reddie.

Yea living in the woods does somethin to ya I gotta say.

Bonus: One of my childhood friends had a very giant dog, and one time we had a sleepover, she was laying infront of the other side of the door when we woke , and because of the way the door was, we couldn’t get through.

So my genius solution was to climb out the window (this was on the second floor) , Cha-Cha real smoothed to the nearest other window, go through there, and lure the dog away with a treat.

It worked.

Silver: Went to this make your own dipped popsicle thing with a good friend of mine, and watched in pure horror as she got a mango popsicle dipped in dark chocolate and rolled in fruity pebbles.

Another one: I was at a Sleepover and there was this tent like thing that was meant for tiny people (aka me, not really it was for toddlers but I was small enough to fit at the time), and at some point in the middle of the night, someone tripped on the tent and it entirely collapsed on me, and not only did I sleep through it, I ended up being the last person to wake up because they all saw the tent collapsed and assumed I was already awake.

Also I was camping once and I rolled away from my tarp and somehow down a road, and my friend said when she found me there was just several butterflies and caterpillars on me. I originally didn’t know but I found a caterpillar on my head that morning and apparently it was poisonous (I was fine and I named him Bob)

Sebek: I was in an escape room with some friends, and I discovered that a key we had gotten in the very beginning worked on another lock, so I did that, and later one of my loud friends finds a key and is SPIRALING because she can’t find what it unlocks for like 30 minutes, and after several minutes I realized, unintentionally slammed my hand on a desk and screamed “OH SHIT.” with zero context.

That experience was actually my first time in a escape room with friends, and not my family or a bunch of drunk strangers in suits + my concerned mother.

Second years : My friends in the priorly mentioned group consisted of who I’ll call N, who was doing 70% of the work, we had R, who was angrily searching for the lock to the key, we had T, the birthday boi, who was randomly making jokes about the 1930s, S, who genuinely forgot he had a key item in his pocket, and A, who dramatically serenaded the paintings after misinterpreting a clue and me, who kept accidentally unlocking shit ahead of time.

Third Years: Prior to the other mentioned event, we had gone to a small improv event that ended up being just us, and the poor guy running it kept giving us scenarios and random conditions which we would absolutely make the craziest shit from.

If I remember correctly, one of the skits was we were supposed to be a school board, and the condition was when someone said an idea, you had to say yes.

The result? a organ harvesting business thats front was a school, and everytime someone got detention, one organ of theirs was sold, and the funds went into funding the biogenetically engineered creation of Hatsune Miku and Cat Boys.

For some reason this skit also led somehow into atomic glitter and cocaine missiles, selling souls on Ebay with express shipping, using Sephora Products and Instagram to spread our propaganda, making meme complications of our crimes, and nuking the Bermuda Triangle.

Ask no questions because I have no answers.

——————————-

Yea thats it for now! Enjoy!

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fanfiction4sooya · 1 year ago

Note

yeojin her as a camgirl

I'm slowly getting back into my writings, so hope you like it anon! thanks for your request by the way!!!

tw: +18, smut, size kink, strapon use, exhibitionism, hair pulling, etc; Minors do not interact.

It was an awkward start, specially since the Im Yeojin directly contacted you offering a deal for you to appear on her only fans.

You laughed, a bit taken aback by her bluntness as her eyes scanned you and she began explaining that she overhead your conversation with a friend about your family's money problems and that she could help.

"So, what do you say?" She leaned on your dorm's doorframe, her small figure seemed way too intimidating for you. "I'll make sure to cover your face, no one will ever know that you are the one with me" She stared at your face, impatience eating her insides with each second passed.

"I still have to think" You said, gulping and lowering your eyes. That whole ideia was ridiculously insane and so out of pocket.

She was somewhat famous, didn't care about people's opinions, drop dead gorgeous and she wanted to have sex with you? Like, you knew you weren't ugly, but no one knew you. You were just happy to go through life without anyone noticing you.

That's why her offer, 10k just to let her fuck you live, was way out of anything your mind has ever thought about.

"I searched about your site..." You told her, licking your ice cream after she took you shopping for lingerie just to "make friends" as she explained. "I saw you are one of the best selling content creators..." You timidly said, trying to avoid her piercing gaze. She hummed in response, leaning back on her chair.

"So now you know I make a lot of money" Her voice sounded always so cheerful that it never seemed like she was talking anything near the 'Sex on camera' thing. "Are you still not convinced?" She leaned forward very close to you, boldly licking a stripe of your ice cream. You shivered.

"Well it's not that like... about money and stuff..." You stammered, your eyes locked on hers. "I just feel shy on showing myself to..." You cleared your throat. "All of those people" She smiled up at you, clearly a predatory one. "What if I don't like women?" You whispered to her ear and she nodded.

"You don't have to like me..." Her small hand brushed a hair strand out of the view of your collarbone. "You just need to keep quiet and let me fuck you on live" You gulped. How could such an angelic face have these dirty things to do and say?

"What do you gain with this?" You managed to ask, trying hard not to let your cheeks get redder than they were.

"I gain..." She clicked her tongue. "I want it to be you" She bit her lip. "You seem perfect for what I want. You are taller and bigger than me, which is definitely...exciting"

Your eyes avoided hers again, your mind running wild for a lot of reasons.

"I want 15k" You licked your ice cream one more time, eyes locked on hers now. Her small smile opening wide and her eyes twinkled with excitement.

"Deal" Was her response.

🌸🌸-

You got in her car and she drove you to the hotel room she rented for the two of you. It was fancy and everything was carefully set, the camera, notebook, lighting, everything.

You heart was beating fast as you carefully put on a set of white lacy lingerie, your hair was down. You stared at the mirror, shame and excitement eating your brains.

She was wearing a red set, that color giving her a more sexy look to contrast with her angelic face. She fucked you with her eyes the moment you stepped out of the bathroom, a robe carefully put on over your taller frame. She reached her hand for you and sat you on the edge of the bed with her.

"Are you okay?" She asked, her hand carefully on your thigh. Hot and so inviting. You hummed, nodding. "She fixed your hair a bit leaning over you, her breath hot on your cheek. "Can I kiss you?" She carefully asked and you nodded, squeezing your thighs in an anxious, horny way.

Your heart jumped on your chest when her lips touched yours. Smooth and soft at first, but you could feel on the way she pulled you into her how she wanted that, how she thought about it over and over. Her tongue immediately massaged yours when you parted lips a little and your breath hitched, melting into it. Her hand went up and down on your thigh, making you shiver and you grabbed the sheets under you as she took off the robe from you. When you finally parted ways you felt as if you were on cloud nine, whimpering in a more needy way than you intended because you knew that as long as the live kept going you wouldn't be feeling her tongue on yours because of the mask.

"We are about to start" She said lowly, her pupils blown. She placed the mask on your face, tying it up behind your head. It was a kistune mask, white with red flowers in it. It was picked carefully by Yeojin because it covered your whole face, leaving only your beautiful eyes to be seen.

You felt a little suffocated, but you felt the need to do that. No just for the money but honestly because Yeojin wanted to and you were kind of into the idea of being seen. Just kind of, of course.

"I told you guys I had something special for today" She gleefully said starting the live, pulling you to her lap as if you were just a doll.

Your heart was beating loudly, not really paying attention to what she was saying, just to her hands on your waist and how her small boobs were pressing on your back.

"I know, I have a pretty doll right?" She smiled to the camera grazing her index and middle finger on your covered nipple. You tried really hard not to squirm, but it was almost impossible.

The comments were wild, from asking her to take off your mask to them asking for her to manhandle you, to fuck your ass and do all sorts of unthinkable things to you.

"Oh you want me to fuck her in the ass?" She said, turning you around and laying you across her lap, your ass towards the camera. She massaged it, still talking to the viewers.

You felt yourself growing aroused with all that dirty talk and her hands roaming your ass, massaging it.

"Fuck, don't worry" She said reading the comments. "I get horny just by speaking to her..." She lightly slapped your ass. "This beautiful thing makes me crazy everyday" She sounded a bit out of breath. "Oh is it?" She sounded surprised, turning to your masked face. "They say your panties are getting wet" You wanted to respond but she specifically oriented you not to.

She slowly pulled your panties down and they were sticking to your wet cunt, the cold air hitting your exposed intimacy. You bit your lip, gripping the sheets again.

"Look at this..." She touched your slit to gather your wetness on the tip of her finger, creating a thread of that sticky fluid between your cunt and her hand to show on camera. "Her pussy looks pretty, yes. The prettiest..." She dipped one finger inside you, making you moan. "Oh, I think she likes that..."

She dipped it in again, but this time she pushed it further inside and you clenched, closing your eyes. She started pumping her fingers at a strong, rapid pace and almost losing control over her own actions. She was trying her best to put on a show for her viewers, but she underestimated how badly she wanted you.

She wanted that since she first saw you on the hallways with your cute shy smile and amazing body. Since then she knew she needed to have you.

She grabbed one of the vibrators she placed nearby where she wanted you, turning it on and grazing it from your back to your thighs and next to where you wanted it the most. You were shaking like a leaf on a windy day. She took off her fingers from your wet pussy, licking them and mumbling how delicious you tasted.

"Isn't she such a cute doll?" Her voice dripped with arousal, and you could feel by how her free hand grabbed your hip that she was hitting her breaking point. "I'll fuck her good, don't you worry" She said.

Next thing you knew the vibrator was on your clit.

"yeojinie..." You whispered, taking her off guard. She gulped and exhaled sharply, pulsing hard. No one else could really hear your voice or what you said, and honestly she didn't want them to listen that part. She wanted to keep that cute way you said her name engraved on her mind and her mind only.

Without a warning she pushed it inside your hole and you could feel how thick that thing was, hitting your walls repeatedly as she kept talking to the camera as if nothing was happening. You were staring to feel yourself getting wetter, the pink vibrator coated on that thick white liquid coming out of you.

Suddenly she stopped, leaving a warm kiss on your hip and lightly pushing you off her lap, pulling the vibrator out of you. You whined when she pulled you entirely onto the bed, carefully placing you on all fours with your pussy still displayed on camera. You heard the notifications go insane with the chat and donations, but yeojin wasn't even paying attention to that anymore.

The only thing she could see was you. And she wanted you.

Getting on her knees, she kissed the back of your thighs admiring how beautifully exposed you were for her. That feeling of ownership was growing alongside with her wish to make you feel good. She looked back at the camera and the laptop to make sure both of you were on the frame, smiling and then licking a long wet stripe from your clit to your slit. Your scream muffled by the mask made her grin and grab your thick thighs to push her face further onto your pulsing cunt.

"God, your taste is so addicting" She told you, moaning while taking one hand to her own pussy and lightly rubbing it over her red thong. She shook, knowing damn well her viewers were going insane with that little action of hers.

They liked to see how her petite self fucked you hard and good and honestly? She did it too. Yeojin was honestly used to the fact everyone loved to manhadle her given her smaller frame, but she wanted to experience that too. She thrived on the idea of making someone her doll to play with.

She let go of your swollen pussy with a pop, putting on a show to make them see how wet she got you.

"Stay like that, don't move" She told you, massaging your folds then getting up to the bedside table. You could see when she put on the leather harness, a big dildo attached to it. You gulped, moaning and swaying your hips unintentionally to the camera.

'Fuck, I'm so aroused' Was the only thought inside your brain as she approached you, positioning your body in a way they couldn't see your pussy anymore, only your arched back and the profile of your bobs.

She picked up the camera from her tripod to film herself stretching you, her mischievous tone dripping lust. Your hips were in the air and your face down and she felt herself go weak, her heart also beating fast as hell inside her chest.

"Look at this..." She said, tapping your slit with the tip of the strap and making you jolt. "I always dreamed of doing this... fuck" She slowly pressed the tip to your aching hole, entering you little by little as you squirmed. "My little fuck doll" She cheerfully said, zooming in on your stretched hole.

Her free hand held your hip tightly, roughly pulling you into her and knocking the air out of your lungs. You moaned, your left hand instinctively seeking hers and scratching her arm as she pounded into you.

"Yeojin, oh my god" You loudly said and she slapped your ass, pulling your hair next and lifting your masked face from the mattress.

"I didn't knew dolls could talk" She continued her hard pace, placing the camera on the mattress in an angle that your body could be seen. She held both your wrists behind your back as she kept slamming her big cock inside you and you rolled your eyes to scream into the mask.

You were sure you came, but the way she fucked you felt so fucking good that you didn't wanted to stop as the arousal was still there.

"Fuck, I need to kiss you" She said onto your ear and you shook your head negatively, still very conscious of the fact that you were the one that couldn't be recognized. "I'll stop the live then" The rhythm was slower now that she was speaking to you, only that wet sound was more audible than your voices.

"You'll lose m-money" You managed to say between sobs and she scoffed.

"I don't care" She pulled it off, picking up the camera. "I am sorry babies, we had a slight inconvenience now but soon we'll be back" She immediately turned it off on the laptop and went back to where she left you, turning you around and ripping that damn mask off.

That kiss was rough and needy as your tongues sloppily battled against each other, she placed you on your back on the edge of the bed and slammed the fake cock inside your pussy one more time, her breath was heavy and there was sweat dripping from her forehead to her chin but she looked absolutely beautiful.

Animalistic, but beautiful.

"You have no idea how many times I pictured your pussy stretched out for me like this" She growled, kissing you.

"Please please, keep doing that" You held her face with one hand and the other pulled onto the harness, kind of guiding her hips into yours. "y-yeojinie, don't stop please p-lease fuck" She kept that hard pace, her eyes locked on yours and her tongue deep inside your mouth.

"If you call me yeojinie one more time I'm going to fucking cum too" She said smiling against your lips as her eyes rolled, her clit extremely stimulated by the strap as well.

"Yeojinie... yes baby, argh" You did it on purpose, your pussy clenching hard against her dick as you felt your climax wash over you, your body beautifully arching off the bed as she kept fucking you. Her orgasm hit as well, her eyes closing. Your moans and hers mixed up in a beautiful harmony.

She kept bucking her hips into yours with her eyes closed, kissing your lips kind of in a haze, hypnotized by the way your body felt against hers. You and her slowly stopped the kiss, her wet body against yours in a delicious way.

"I think you turned the live off too soon" You said, feeling a bit guilty for not wanting to take off the mask.

"I don't care" She rested herself against you. "They've seen you enough" She kissed your neck. "But don't worry mask girl..." Her thumb playfully grazed against your nipple and you hissed. "If you are that worried about my viewers, we can do this a second time" She kissed you in the lips and you returned it.

Maybe that wasn't such a bad idea.

#gxg smut #loona smut #im yeojin #yeojin x reader #yeojin x f! reader #gg smut #loosemble smut

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psychedelic-ink · 2 years ago

Text

𝐀 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐈𝐧 𝐁𝐞𝐝

pairing: pre outbreak!joel miller x f!reader, one sided tommy miller x f!reader

genre: angst, smut, romance, slow burn, mutual pining, secret relationship

series summary: After your grandfather’s passing, you find yourself moving into his home in Texas. You meet the Millers; Tommy, his older brother Joel and his daughter Sarah. With time, you and Tommy become close friends and Sarah visits you often. But Joel…Joel keeps his distance. The reason for this is due to one crucial fact you don’t know but he does; Tommy has a crush on you. Which means you’re off limits no matter what. But as your own feelings for Joel grow, things start to get more and more complicated.

word count: 4k

chapter summary: Tommy is trapped in the tedious routine of life that he desperately wants to get out of.

warnings: male masturbation, thoughts of piv and oral, big brother issues, it is heavily implied that tommy has PTSD, tommy being a victim of morning wood

a/n: sorry for the long wait everyone! This chapter was a challenge because I do not feel confident in writing third person at all so hopefully, this turned out the way I hoped that it would! Thank you to the love of my life @pedrito-friskito for beta-reading & editing 💖💖💖

Chapter Two || Chapter Four

Gunpowder. All he can smell is gunpowder.

Tommy sinks into the dirt, wet soil filling his mouth, eyes, ears. He’s drowning, but no one is slowing down to help him. He hears screams and gunshots. He sees one of his friends falling lifeless to the ground. Tears flood his eyes. He claws at the dirt, pulling himself back up.

But he still feels as if he’s sinking.

A bomb. Tanks. More screams. More dead bodies.

It’s humid. His uniform sticks to him like a second skin. Another flash. Screams. He hears Joel. Tommy freezes. Joel isn’t supposed to be here. Joel is supposed to be home safe. Joel. He misses Joel. Misses his big brother who’s been looking out for him all this time.

Tommy turns to him. He sees him on the front line. He’s not supposed to be here—He’s not—

A bullet whistles in the air, cutting his ear. He falls down, screaming. Another one sinks into his stomach, his arm, his chest. He cries. He can’t move. His legs don’t work.

He stares at Joel but only sees his back.

Tommy jolts up from the bed. Sweat clings to his skin, a chill settling in his spine. His heart flutters in his chest; it hurts, it hurts to breathe. It’s gray outside, an ugly color that makes everything look slightly dusty. His chest heaves and he places a hand on top of his heart. He still feels afraid. Nightmares are nothing new, he’s woken up from many. However, seeing Joel has left a bad taste in his mouth.

He kicks at the sheets and places his feet firmly on the floor. His eyes move to the small notebook that collects dust on his bedside table. He’s been told to write down his nightmares, especially the vivid ones. But honestly, why write down the very things he wants to forget? That therapist had no idea what they were talking about.

“Fuckin’ stupid,” he grumbles while reaching out and grabbing the notebook. He flicks through the empty pages, he’s written down only his name, nothing else. A broken sigh falls from his lips and he throws it to the bed.

Tommy doesn’t need to check the time to know that it’s 7 AM. He heads to the bathroom, stripping himself quickly, stepping into the shower. Baths have never really been his thing. Staying in the same place for too long still agitates him, makes his skin crawl.

The warm water hitting his skin, he sighs. He stands still, allowing himself to enjoy the privilege he didn’t have a couple of years ago. Water feels good, be it cold, be it warm. Water droplets trickle down his body, rinsing the sweat of the nightmare. His face is relaxed as he stands under the pour. His entire body is at ease. Tommy doesn’t do much until his hair is wet throughout, then he reaches for the shampoo.

He needs to pick up Joel and Sarah. After dropping Sarah to school, he and Joel have to pick up some supplies. His mind wanders to last night. He’d spent most of the night with Joel’s neighbor. It was a pleasant time. Tommy knew that he liked you the first moment he laid his eyes on you. You have something sad about you, something sweet. You're both the easiest and hardest person to read. Tommy is never quite sure what you want.

The only thing he’s sure of is that you need a friend. And hopefully, he’s good at it.

He also wants to get a few things to make your space cozier. Maybe a bean bag? A nice calming color to paint the walls— a light lavender perhaps? He knows you like purple. He’ll need Joel’s help with a couple of things, but Tommy doubts he’ll say no; his brother is as worried as he is after all. Tommy rinses his hair and drags the loofa across his body.

You worry him.

When he slides the loofa between his legs, he thinks of you. Your smell, your body, your smile. Fucking everything about you, he wants. You're funny, talented, and have enough self deprecation that made him feel less alone in the world. He entertains the idea that you might be into him, but maybe that’s a hopeful dream. The day Tommy attempted to kiss you…your eyes never left him after that. You looked scared, almost. A look he wasn’t pleased to see.

It was easy to slip into the playful younger brother role. That was what people expected of him. You’d even said it. “It’s character.” You would know; you were the youngest as well.

A shudder crawls up Tommy’s spine and he looks down. The warm water beats against the back of his neck, trickling down his back. He’s hard. Not fully erect, but hard enough that smoothing the loofa over it makes a tiny gasp fall from his lips. He repeats the motion, then brings the loofa up to his chest. After the water washes away the suds and dirt, he hangs the loofa to wrap a hand around his cock.

He gives it a firm squeeze, toes curling against the smooth surface of the tub. He really should get it over it and not let his mind wander. However, Tommy can’t help it. He thinks about that night, but instead of you looking at him with unsure eyes, you look at him with lust. He kisses you, slow and soft, slipping his tongue between those lips he admires so much and licks the inside of your mouth.

Tommy’s palm catches against the head of his cock, smearing the gathered precum across his shaft. He treats you tender and soft in his mind, but to himself—in the present—his strokes are hard and fast. It’s a force of habit really. Not much time to pleasure yourself in the army.

He shakes his head, breathing out heavily through his nose. He doesn’t want to think about that. Tommy focuses on you. How you would get on her knees, pull down his pants and swirl your tongue around the tip of his cock. You would have trouble taking the whole thing in, and he would help you through it. Whispering words of praise and encouragement as his hips stuttered forward, filling that pretty mouth inch by inch until you were swallowing him down.

God, the sounds you would make for him, choking and moaning. Tommy’s thighs shake, cock throbbing beneath his palm. The skin above his stomach tingles, every muscle taut like a slingshot being pulled back, ready to take aim.

“S-Shit.” He braces one hand against the slippery wall, eyes squeezed shut. The image of you on your knees fades into one more animalistic. He has you bent over the kitchen counter, fucking himself into you with the sink still running.

His hips stutter into his own hand, his balls tight and full. In his mind, the drag of his cock makes your entire body quiver underneath, you beg him to move faster, harder. You're so fucking wet that he can’t hardly believe it, his cock dripping with your slick.

Tommy comes with a cry, spurting onto the wall and spilling over his knuckles. He continues to stroke himself, albeit a bit softer now. His moans echo in the bathroom, most of it being drowned out by the running water. His eyes flutter closed, hips moving to meet his hand. It feels good. He’s missed feeling good. Feeling satisfied.

The pleasure continues to buzz in his veins, making him feel more alive than ever. Letting out one last breath, he moves away from the wall and allows the water to run down his chest, over his arms and hands. He’s a mess. That’s how he feels.

And the worst part: he doesn’t feel like he can’t do anything about it.

Tommy’s day begins.

His eyes linger on her house as he drives past, parks in Joel’s driveway. Heading inside, he directly heads for the kitchen, where Sarah and Joel are already seated, eating. There’s music echoing from the radio, it’s been turned down but Tommy’s ears picks up on soft guitar.

“What we havin’?”

“Waffles and orange seeds, apparently,” Joel grumbles, eyes glued to Sarah, flicking a seed onto the table. “Would it kill you to be more careful with the juicer?”

“Perhaps. Besides, you’re the one who insisted on freshly squeezed.” Sarah grins, a bit of waffle poking out from between her teeth.

Tommy chuckles, shaking his head. “I’ll just get somethin’ on the drive.”

“No wastin’ time flirtin’ with the cashier, we can’t be late.”

Tommy rolls his eyes. How long has it been since he flirted? Two months, maybe more, and Joel still freaking reminds him of it. “I’ll be quick, promise.”

Joel gives him a nod but Tommy’s positive he doesn’t believe him; he never does. To Joel, Tommy never grew up. He was still that same snot-nosed kid that constantly needed his big brother to fend off the bullies. Apparently, the news that Tommy is now a grown man never reached Joel, which more often than not makes Tommy’s blood boil.

Both Sarah and Joel get up at the same time, Sarah takes her father’s plate and puts the dishes into the sink. Joel heads upstairs. “I’ll be back in a sec,” he mutters, sounding agitated.

Tommy contemplates going outside to smoke until he gets back but when Joel says a sec, it really does mean a sec. Sarah picks up her bag and throws it over her shoulder, she looks exactly like her mother with her hair loose.

“Can I ask something?” she asks, and Tommy cocks his head to the side, nodding. “Could you come to school with me next week?”

Tommy furrows his brow, confusion filling his head, “What for?”

“Miss Crawford asked us to bring a family member that influenced us to school,” she states, smiling. “So, naturally, I thought of you.”

“You—” he shakes his head. “You thought of me?”

“Who else?” Sarah chuckles. “You’ve been around since I was a baby, Uncle Tommy, of course, you influenced me.”

Joel comes down the stairs with loud steps, which he thinks is a blessing because Tommy has no idea how to reply to Sarah. He’s touched, to say the least. Never in his life would he think someone as brilliant as Sarah would be influenced by him, in whatever that meant. Tommy’s still staring at Sarah when Joel arrives, a leather jacket thrown over his shoulders. He gives Tommy a weird look.

“What are you lookin’ at?” he asks, and Tommy just shrugs.

“What’s with the jacket?”

“It’s windy,” he grumbles. “I wanted to try somethin’ out.”

Sarah snorts, “Really, Dad? Leather?”

“Shut up and get your bag. We’re droppin’ you off first.”

“Why do you always say that as if we do it differently every day?”

“Just get your bag.”

The drive goes as smoothly as it usually does. Tommy stops by the gas station; him picking up an apple fritter for himself, a black coffee for Joel (he always ends up eating half of whatever Tommy buys), and strawberry milk for his favorite — and only — niece.

Only half of Joel’s black coffee remains by the time they stop by the school. The fritter now only crumbs on Tommy’s lap, and the strawberry milk box crushed and stuffed into Sarah’s backpack. She hops off, reminding Tommy of when he needs to get to school for her presentation, as she leaves. Joel shoots him a confused look.

“Presentation?”

“Ah, nothing important,” he mutters, turning the steering wheel. “The teachers asked her to bring someone that influenced her.”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“It is.”

There’s a minute brief of pause before Joel speaks again, “I need your help with work today—”

“What?”

Tommy fights the urge to hit the steering wheel, the insides of his palms itch for friction so he ends up just squeezing it instead. Joel sighs, head falling back, he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“M’sorry but there’s no way I can install the insulation on my own, you’re gonna need to help me.”

“Joel, it’s my damn day off,” he grunts. “I have shit to do.”

“Like?”

“I wanted to check out some stuff I could buy for the room makeover— you know, the one I told you about?”

Joel stills at his words, side-eyeing Tommy, and he sits up straighter. The younger Miller’s eyes are on the road but he can almost see a sad expression crossing the other’s face. He pushes the thoughts aside, he’s probably imagining it.

“You were gonna do that today?” he asks, a strange warble to his voice.

“Yeah.”

“How ‘bout we get the things you need, then you help me? It won’t take long.” He swallows and rubs the pad of his thumb against the corner of his mouth. “And then you can go. It’ll take two hours tops,”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Tommy should know by now to take his brother’s promises with a grain of salt.

Of course they end up working until her shift is over, which means Tommy has to go pick you up and drive you home—well, he doesn’t have to, but he enjoys doing it, and the coffee house is on his route back. Initially, Tommy had been hoping to get to your place before your shift ended so they could start brainstorming before they got home.

The turn signal blinks and the truck rumbles as he waits to turn. He has all the stuff for the room in the back; not a lot, just some paint he thought she might enjoy and a bean bag chair he thought would make a comfy seat.

Joel apologized a million times, then promised to help with the room but Tommy isn’t so sure he wants his brother’s help anymore. He’s had a sour taste in his mouth after the whole day. He feels gross with the way his shirt clings to his skin with seat, and he’s just tired. Tired of everything.

The light turns green.

“Fuckin’ finally.”

He’s anxious, hurting, and fully believes he does not belong. No matter what he does it never feels like he’s going any good. It’s the same routine, the same thing over and over again, day in and day out. Nothing ever changes. The world is still shit. His hands are tied. At this point he’s not even sure he’s doing any good by his family. He’s on the road of perpetual doubt and nothing else.

But all of that—the hurt, the boredom, the helplessness—all of it vanishes when he sees you.

You're out on the curb, looking down at your toes as you roll back to stand on your heels. It is windy out, which might be why you're hugging herself, the ends of your coat fluttering.

Tommy honks two times and your face lights up, and so does his chest. He feels his cheeks aching from how wide his smile is, he pops the door open from the inside, you hurl herself in with a sigh.

“I’m definitely not wearing the right clothes for this weather,” you murmur, the truck moving as soon as you shut the door. “Thanks for picking me up. How was your day?”

His smile falters then. “It was…not that great, I guess. Sorry I couldn’t come by before your shift finished. Joel needed me.”

“Hey, it’s fine,” you answer. You playfully hit the back of your hand to the side of his thigh. “It’s just a room, we can get to it later.”

“Or tonight,” he says, eyes moving to you. “It’s still early, we can empty the room at least. And I have some stuff in the back I got for you.”

“You got stuff for me?”

A yellow light switches to red. Tommy shouldn’t have looked at you then, shouldn’t have seen the sparkle in your eyes, the red softening your features. Your smile is tired but wide. His heart skips a beat, and suddenly his head is filled with the same images he thought of in the shower.

Tommy swallows thickly, the turn of his head strained as his hands anxiously stroke the steering wheel. You don’t notice.

“I did,” he answers, sounding a bit breathless, jutting his thumb towards the trunk. “Not a lot, some paint, a bean bag chair.”

You look over your shoulder. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“You don’t like the bean chair?”

“No, it’s not that,” you say slowly, the red turns green, he presses the gas. “I’m happy that you did. I just hate causing you trouble.”

He laughs at that and shakes his head, he misses the way your eyebrows raise with surprise, “You could never be trouble,” he muses. “Not even if you tried.”

The rest of the drive passes with pleasant conversation and you tell him that you're excited to spend Saturday night with Olivia. He smiles, nods, and jokingly asks if he can come and join girls' night. You punch his shoulder, saying that he can but he would have to wear a wig for the night. But despite the light conversation, Tommy feels incredibly antsy. An odd sensation of excitement eats at his stomach.

They carry the supplies and leave them in the living room, Tommy spots a blank canvas propped up on an easel as they head to the room. You follow him a minute later, both hands occupied with cold beer bottles and a bag of chips.

“What color did you get?” you ask, handing him the bottle.

“A very subtle lavender,” he adds. “At least that’s what the guy at the shop said, thought it would look nice.”

“I love lavender.”

“I thought you would,” he steps forward and looks around. “I guess we should start emptying the room.”

The room has definitely seen better days. Every corner is thick with dust, the bookcase lined with more knick-knacks and photographs than books, more like a storage unit. He brings the cold bottle to his lips, picking up a picture from the middle shelf; a man and a woman on the beach, smiling, their toes dipped in the sand. You're next to him, cheek brushing against his shoulder.

“My grandma and grandpa,” you explain. “I used to love that beach, we went almost every summer.”

“Must’ve been fun.”

“It was.”

You take the picture and Tommy takes a gulp of his beer. He’s not good at handling others’ grief. He never knows what to do—hug them? Console them with words? Joel is much better at stuff like this. His older brother has a way about him that even if he does nothing, people still feel comforted. A gift, Tommy often thought. Joel, however, wouldn’t share the same sentiment.

“Have you thought about what you want this room to be?” he asks, noticing a small-ish futon on the ground, pressed into the corner of the wall.

“A studio would be nice. A space to paint, and read.” A bitter laugh escapes your lips, and Tommy’s stomach rolls. “Just a place to escape to basically.”

“We all need someplace like that. You don’t need to feel bad about it.”

You nod but Tommy is highly aware that his words have little effect. He takes another sip of his beer and puts it on the floor. You do the same, leaving him alone before returning with a few empty cardboard boxes.

One by one, they fill the boxes, empty the room. Tommy asks about every object he touches; he asks for the attached memories, if you want to keep them or not. You don’t elaborate, just say keep or toss, keep or toss. As he places a book called New Larousse Encyclopedia of Mythology in the ‘keep’ box, he suddenly realizes why. He doesn’t like talking about the pain either. That notion for some reason resonates in him, he feels closer.

Maybe he should start. Not today, but someday.

The night grows darker, the outside eerily silent. The light of the room tires his eyes and he takes a mental note to buy something better later on, something much softer preferably—

“You were in the military, right?” you suddenly ask, and a chill settles in his spine. “What branch were you in?”

“Ah.” He balks for a second, then he remembers to breathe. “Marine Corps. Infantry.”

She nods, humming at his answer. “My brother’s in the Marines.”

He’d forgotten about your stepbrother, the question makes more sense now. “He still with ’em?”

“Yeah, we don’t see much of each other but I miss him. He’s going to visit, at least that’s what he keeps telling me. You two should meet, talk it out,”

Tommy chuckles at that, he wipes the sweat beading on his forehead with the back of his hand. “Talk it out?”

“I don’t know.” you grin. “Share stories and stuff,”

“I’d love to meet him.” He leans down and scoops his — now warm — beer bottle off the floor. Bravely, he takes a sip. You look around, pushing one of the boxes with your foot.

“We’re almost done.” you fall to the futon, crossing your legs as you shimmy back into the wall. “Let’s rest a sec. Sit.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

When he sits, your head falls on top of his shoulder. Both of them stare at the empty bookcase, the wallpaper now looking more worn out, torn at the edges.

“I worry about my brother,” you mutter. “How does Joel deal with all the worrying? Any ideas?”

A chuckle vibrates in the back of his throat. “Joel ain’t worrying about me. You’ll have to ask someone else, sweetheart.”

“Believe me, he does worry about you,” you answer as if stating the most obvious. “You’re his little brother; he’s always going to be worried about you.”

The room falls silent after that. Tommy has no idea what to say to that, his chest feels heavy, his breathing nearly nonexistent, while your breathing is slow, steady. Your head is still on his shoulder. He’s highly aware that you're about to sleep. Your limbs go slack, eyes fluttering closed. Tommy slowly turns his head toward you, it takes everything in him not to brush his lips across your forehead.

“You should go to bed,” he murmurs. “Come on, now. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Much to his surprise, you stir and shake your head. “Too tired,” you slur, voice thick with sleep. “Let’s just stay here. What does it matter?”

“I guess you’re right.”

He slowly lays you down on to the futon, quickly following suit after switching the lights off. When he lays down, he’s uncomfortable. There’s nothing to cover himself with, the door is wide open, the dark hall taunting him. He can’t sleep. But of course, Tommy can’t tell you that. You're already cuddled into a ball, your back turned to him as soft snores begin to slip out your lips.

Tommy listens. That’s all he can do.

The dark taunts him.

Tommy wakes up with a buzz coming from his pocket. He blinks himself awake, he smells you first, then remembers where he is. His one arm is tucked under you while the other hangs loosely over your bare waist.

Tommy’s eyes go wide, panic flooding his heart. You're so close, body pressed up against his. He fights the urge to clear his throat, and the urge to come closer. He’s absolutely horrified when you move, your backside brushing up against his cock.

Shit. He’s hard as a rock. Fucking hell.

The buzz gets louder with every passing second. Tommy carefully peels himself away. As he lays on his back, he adjust himself so his situation isn’t totally obvious. With a silent groan, he tugs his phone out of his jeans and presses it to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Tommy,” Joel’s modulated voice echoes. “Where the hell are you? We’re late.”

He groans, you're starting to wake up as well, a small moan falling from her lips.

“Sorry,” Tommy answers. “I’m next door. I’ll be right there.”

A moment of awkward silence is felt through the phone. Tommy’s eyebrows knit together; what the hell is that all about?

“A’right,” Joel finally says. “Don’t keep me waitin’.”

The line cuts off.

Another day begins.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller #joel miller x y/n #tommy miller x you #tommy miller x f!reader #tommy miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #hbo the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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meowzfordayz · 1 year ago

Text

when you stay up late — tanjirou, kyojuro

Author’s Note: … sooo, who else is a night owl? 😅

when you stay up late — tanjirou, kyojuro

Kamado Tanjirou x Reader, Rengoku Kyojuro x Reader

Word Count: ~800

CW: none

Emergency Request Fulfilled: I think I’ve been exhausting my body a little tooo much, so parts of my arm and leg are beginning to hurt. I’ve also like, not been sleeping on time lately.. (cough 2am) 😭

So maybe (if you can) do a Drabble (or anything really) in which Tanjiro helps reader get some sleep on time? Maybe even help in keeping reader from exhausting her body so much?

Suggestion Fulfilled: How would Kyo react to finding his s/o up at an inhuman time late at night? What if she is playing videogames and stuffing her face with snacks or something? "my love, it's 2 in the morning!" "yes but this game is so good and I need answers!!" 😂 (def not what I've been doing)

AND AN EVEN BETTER ADDITION, what if he ends up sitting down next to her to stuff his face whilst watching the screen intently because, indeed, the game is very good and interesting and now HE needs answers? 😂😂😂

~faqs~

Has a couple tried and true methods for helping you sleep ~early

Or at least, sleep at all if he falls asleep first, and then wakes up hrs later to you still awake 😅

Tells you stories

They’re always made up, and always ~nonsensical, but the simple act of murmuring softly beside you till your eyes begin drooping is what matters most 🥺

For example:

“Once upon a time, there was a bottle of hot sauce. His name was Frank.” 🔥

“Tan, shouldn’t his name be RedHot, and his dad is Frank? Y’know, Frank’s RedHot?” 🧐

“You’re supposed to be relaxing, not logicafying my story.” ☹️

“Hmpf.”

“Anyway, Frank’s best friend was an apple named Macintosh. 🍎 They went on many adventures together, from apple picking to hot wings sampling events. Their favorite festival was the applesauce and hot sauce festival where vendors from all over the land gathered to provide three days of sauces and fun.”

~at this point, you’ve fallen asleep~

Tanjirou doesn’t always know whether to feel proud or offended that you fall asleep so quickly

Like, is he that calming and soothing? 🥰

Orrr bOrInG?! 😭

Takes you on late night walks

Hear me out

Is going for a walk @ 2am a lil counterintuitive for going to sleep?

Yeeeah

BUT

If you’re already awake, and lying in bed isn’t helping, then a cute, moonlit walk couldn’t hurt any more 🌙

“You want to get up now?” you yawn, fixing an amused stare at Tanjirou’s bedhead

“Why not?” 😁

And altho you could technically think of plenty of this-is-why-not reasons, you shrug instead

“Okay!”

Within a block, you’re clinging to his arm, body feeling heavy and content 😴

And within two blocks, you’re whining cutely into his shoulder, “Taaanjiiirooouuu, m’sleeeeepy.” 🥱

11/10 you’re getting a piggyback ride home 🤗

More often than not, Kyojuro ends up getting roped into whatever’s keeping you up 🥴

Suffering through hw?

He’ll get his own notebook, snacks, and water (to share, ofc), and keep you company 🤓

“My love,” he whispers—after ~30 secs—stricken faced

“Hm, Kyo?” you hardly spare him a glance, trying (and failing) to make sense of your lecture notes

“I realize now why you are still studying at 3am. This is incomprehensible!” 😖

Nonetheless, he persists along w/ you, doing his best to hide his yawns, and insisting on 1 min cuddle breaks whenever you have an epiphany aka finally understand something

By the last cuddle break, you’re falling asleep in his arms, and he doesn’t do a thing to stop you 😌

(spiritually, he fell asleep hrs ago 😃)

Fixated on a video game?

Kyojuro trusts you when you tell him, “No worries babe, go to sleep, I’ll join you in a bit!” ☺️

He shouldn’t have 💀

Unless “a bit” always meant “sometime after 2am” 🤡

“Darling,” he rasps, blearily eyeing your focused position in front of your computer (that you haven’t moved from since he was last awake), “What time is it?” 😵‍💫

“Time to destroy this BOSS,” you exclaim, not missing a beat, nor shaken by his sudden consciousness 😎

“Do you think you have enough snacks?” he asks wryly, surroundings slowly but surely registering 🥨🧀🍫🍿🍪

“Nope,” you grin, “But you can still have some.”

“Why did the screen go black?” 🤨

“Because I died,” you huff, “You really ought to know these things.”

“And become a gremlin like you?” he chuckles, blankets tossed aside as he shuffles himself out of bed

“A WINNER, Kyo, I’m going to be a WINNER.” 😤

“Sure, especially when I have seen that black screen at least three times in the five minutes that I have been awake.” 😉

“Y’KNOW WHAT,” you shriek indignantly, pointing a playful finger at him, “Sit and watch, this game isn’t easy.” 😒

“Is it multiplayer?” 🫢

“No.” 😐

(yes, but no hell in way are you letting him join and show you up now — at least, not tonight)

“I can eat your snacks?” 😋

“As long as you promise to fetch more when they run out.”

And that’s how you and Kyo end up pulling an all nighter, eyes bloodshot, stomachs full, and very hydrated (bc water is apparently a snack too)

P.S. You eventually allow him to play w/ you (after you beat the game yourself)

P.P.S. Watching him struggle brings you immense satisfaction 🤠

P.P.P.S. “Kyo, you might break your record of deaths in a minute.” “Oh hush, I am just warming up!” ❤️‍🔥

#headcanons #modern au #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #kamado tanjiro #kamado tanjirou #tanjiro x reader #tanjirou x reader #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro x reader

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pseudowho · 4 months ago

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Hello, Haitch! I was hoping we could discuss the extent of emotion or attachment towards fictional media? If the topic intrigues you as it has significant personal relevance to me 🤔

I just feel so intensely, so much, towards fictional media. Like it’s a tidal wave of emotion. For example, reading “Annihilation” has gotten my pulse skyrocketing and adrenaline rushing. It’s followed with the urge to have an in-depth book discussion with like a literature professor or something. Or when I’m reading your fics, I’m kicking my feet in the air and I have to pause to take deep breaths because, oh my goodness,oh my goodness, the room just got 10 degrees F hotter. Or when I read the lyrics to “Where our blue is” before bed, I legitimately woke up at 4:00 AM for no reason other than the feeling of emptiness. What did I do solve it? Listen and read the lyrics to “Akari” 💀💀 (Two skulls because I died twice that day.)

It’s strange because I do not have these strong reactions in my everyday life outside of reading and TV. I don’t find myself having the same level of intensity. If I were to describe the comparison of emotional reaction between life outside of media and my attachment to media, it’s almost like a parallel circuit. I will even draw a diagram below:

Voltage represents the intensity of emotions. Path A involves multiple resistors which represent the every day events outside of media. Here, each resistor has less voltage (less emotional reaction). Path B has only one resistor which represents fictional media I consume as a whole. There’s only one resistor which means it has LOTS of voltage, meaning that I experience more emotional intensity towards media than the events of day-to-day life. *Sigh.* What a terrible analogy. I do not know why basics physics came to mind.

I think a lot of my friends who I’ve confided in misunderstand me. This does not mean that I value the lives of fictional characters over my own life. (That’s not healthy.) I place equal importance in both aspects, and hence, that’s why I drew a parallel circuit! The same total amount of voltage travels through each path.

I value media because it’s an opportunity for me to immerse myself in something new, to be able to learn something I’ve never thought about before. It’s an opportunity to be able to empathize with certain characters, to change your perspective, to be able to apply what you have learned from media into real life. So while media and life outside of media seem like separate entities, they are— for me, personally— very connected. The lessons I intake from media combined with real-world experiences make up who I am. Two different paths, but it is still part of the same circuit. (I feel so cheesy for saying that 😂)

Before I’ve always limited myself to being just an observer, never actually participating in discussions. I’d keep my thoughts and feelings about whatever I read or watched to myself in a little notebook. (I have managed to use all the pages of that notebook!) Maybe visit forums or watch YouTube analysis videos and see what others have to say, but I never participated. Only recently have I felt this surge of intensity (borderline overwhelming). And because of this, I have the strong urge to express these ideas and feelings to people who get it and are happy to talk about it.

I mentioned this before, how you’re the reason I downloaded Tumblr and started participating in a community. And I sincerely mean it. It’s because of the fluffy and/or smoldering emotions that bombarded me because of your fics. It was too good, how could I not acknowledge how much positive emotions you 🫵 made me feel. Not only because of how indulgent and engaging (😏) your fics are, but because of how you imbue the essence of Nanami Kento himself into it (and you deny being a goat 🐐). And this prompted me to think more critically about why I admire Nanami Kento, which led to very blissful discussions of Nanami and more character analysis!

This is why I feel an enormous amount of gratitude towards the community. Especially you, @mrhaitch, and @rahuratna. For being open to talk to, for having genuine interest in these in-depth conversations, and for taking the time and effort out of their day to be so thoughtful. It’s very, very meaningful to me.

*This ask has undergone two rounds of revision. I hope it’s comprehensible-ish? 🥹

It's absolutely comprehensible, and a delight to read. Thank you. I adore it.

So, I am speaking as someone who's neuromild, but firstly I suspect you're neurospicy. This isn't an issue, but I have seen and heard this reported much more amongst the neurospicy, especially those with a tendency to hyperfixate on media forms, who perhaps find it slightly more difficult to read and relate to others in 'real life' situations. I only raise this as a contextual element to my upcoming Thoughts™️. I, as a neuromild, also experience it though (just to reassure you).

Characters in books, and the storylines attached to them, are 100% designed to be relatable or repulsive, and to provoke a certain reaction in you. It is structural, deliberate, mapped, with signposts showing you the way. There are even side paths mapped out; you can take detours down trails to explore the reactions of others to this character and scenario, the wider societal impact of events, the past or the future related to these characters or events. Characters and situations are very often explored extremely thoroughly, with just the right terrain to lead you by the hand through how you should feel.

Daily life and daily interactions and daily demands are rarely so well mapped, extensive or well signposted. The ground is tarmacked, genuine emotion suppressed behind facades of social expectation. People won't tell you or show you how they feel, or think, and there is no omniscient narrator behind them to fill in the blanks. Side routes have no-entry signs; you must be Level 10 or over to access this information! You don't want to walk this path, but it's the only route available, and as such, you must; and your disappointment at being on this path makes you look at the ground instead of the sky.

We yearn for connection. We yearn for the power to resolve our own problems and to be the masters of our own story, and at every turn we are corseted by societal restraint, daily tedium, and barely 10-20% of the volume of information and stimulation that media forms will give us. And when our brains cannot work out the difference between adoring real life characters and scenarios, and adoring fictional characters and scenarios, it goes for the bigger meal; why have 10-20% when you could have 100%?

Even worse! Your feet ache and your heart aches, and new paths appear, leading you to fandom and other people who are enjoying this journey as much as you. You can't resist, a glutton for more; why have 100% when you can have 120%? And people aren't writing fanfiction about real life. If they do, it's fiction, and while it's juicy it's still not as satisfying as fantasy, which offers so much more.

This holds hands with your voltage theory, I think.

Again, I say this as a neuromild instead of a neurospicy, but I am guilty of this too. I do often feel greater intensity of emotion for fictional scenarios because they are designed to be that way. When you have a vivid imagination, and are intelligent, as clearly you are, that stimulation sends fireworks through you. You are absolutely alight, every nerve stimulated, and the emotion just fizzlepopping through you.

I don't believe you're 'abnormal', but it is always good to self-reflect. Are fictional scenarios and media forms reducing your ability to enjoy/feel things for real people and daily life, or do you enjoy/feel things for real people and daily life as much as you always did? Think carefully now. The relative hugeness of the things you feel for fictional scenarios may, at first, convince you that it's the former, and convince you that you're slowly becoming numb to life. If you work out that it's the latter, and you are not becoming numb to life, then this sounds like a healthy, if extreme, response to media forms. If you're gradually becoming more numb, we need to address the root issues, mental health worries or life/social dissatisfaction or need to escape something pathologically unaddressed, often being the answer.

I often feel different. I often feel like I connect to emotion harder and more viscerally than the people around me. I am a social chameleon, and exceptionally good at being whatever a social situation wants me to be. @mrhaitch understands what lies underneath, and gets to experience me as I am at base. I often spend so much time being another version of myself, that I forget who I am, and have to come back to myself.

I tend to suppress or limit my involvement, because I like taking the overview, allowing my feelings and opinions to develop as new information comes to light. I am self-possessed over my own opinions and their ability to grow and change, and as such, don't feel pressurised to feel a certain way. I don't feel the need to engage in fandom rhetoric, and actually, I strongly dislike engaging with it; this is as close as I'll get. Being a 'creator' suits me well. I almost never discuss my thoughts and feelings about series' etc aloud, in comments or real life. I'd discuss it, if prompted, but I certainly don't seek it out.

There is also the core part of me that needs/wants to maintain a certain image in real life, and as such, most people don't know that I'm even into anime. The barest couple of people, I can count on one hand, know that I even write. I'm fine with this; I am perfectly happy to conceal parts of myself, that belong to me alone, with my long-suffering husband as a privileged/punished bystander.

I think extreme emotional connection to media forms can show good empathy. I would overall be more concerned about someone who does not show deep emotional responses to media forms that are designed to make them feel this way. I believe that progressive societal numbing to emotion is routinely seen in daily life, and begins in childhood; how many of us recall being told that our emotional reactions are abnormal, irregular, over the top or embarrassing? We learn to suppress, early on. This leaks out, and we suppress more and more as we grow, becoming number and number to the struggles of those around us. Progressive degradation of empathy is real, and we can and should resist.

r.e. my writing, and me, though I viscerally hate to discuss my personality like this: I can acknowledge two traits I have; I am eloquent with a broad vocabulary, and I am very good at making other people feel how I want them to feel. This counts for real life and writing. This is good, and bad, and I try very hard not to be the Evil™️ version of myself. I write with an aim, and I like critical hits. I'm a perfectionist and I always have been. I'm sorry to hurt you in this way. I usually use this socially (not consciously, it's just how I am) or at work, where I advocate for women and make sure they feel loved and safe. I'm quite good at it. Channelling this into creating stories for other people to enjoy has been an ability I didn't know I had until very recently.

I agree that @rahuratna is a very rare talent. Arguably, I find her to be an exceptionally uncommon author. She would do very, very well to write a novel, if she ever felt it. Her writing skill is phenomenal. I only wish I had more time to read all of her work; I sadly find myself having to choose how to spend the very limited social time I have, and I often choose writing, as it relaxes me more than reading. But please know, rahuratna, I'm coming for you. Also know, @bunny584 is one of the rare ones, I'm my humble opinion.

Perhaps that's why you like my writing? Just thoughts.

Thanks for the amazing Inbox. I don't often get the time to do massive responses but I absolutely try my hardest.

Good talk!

Love, always,

-- Haitch xxx

#courtneedsleep and pseudowho #courtneedsleep and Haitch #Haitch #pseudowho answers you #Pseudowho #Rahuratna #bunny blabs

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