#he also wears glasses but not all the time

[ghost-proofbaby]

"AND JUST LIKE ALL THOSE TIMES BEFORE, YOU WEAR YOUR BEST APOLOGY. BUT I WAS THERE TO WATCH YOU LEAVE."

summary: you finally see all the damage done.

warnings: strong language, angst, mentions of alcohol and drug abuse, direct mention of cocaine usage, reactions to possible overdose, mentions of making someone throw up/someone throwing up, thoughts of death/losing someone. dead dove - do not eat. and, please, minors dni.

wc: 5.3k+

a/n: i need to emphasize the warnings for this chapter. it's not a pretty one, and i must emphasize that this is not meant to be glorifying this behavior at any capacity - if anything, take note of how damaging and destructive it is. if you are unable to read due to warnings, let me know, and i will post a more direct summary of this chapter to be read in place of it. thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for beta-reading this one (and for always letting me ramble about this story endlessly) <3

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Show me what you’ve become, Eddie. 

You need to be more careful what you wish for these days. 

Gareth nearly runs into you when you pause mere steps within the apartment, looking around and trying to swallow down all your shock. He’d warned you, tried to prepare you for the worst, but you hadn’t expected this. 

The penthouse is hardly recognizable from how you’d witnessed it during the weekend. 

It’s a mess, an explosion of loose-leaf paper and empty beer bottles across every room within view – the living room, the kitchen, the hallway. Not one, but two ashtrays filled to the brim sit patiently on the coffee table. You can make out butts of cigarettes, as expected, but there’s also plenty of roaches to catch your eye. Burnt down to the filter, sucked dry for all they were worth. You swear you see broken glass, and when you find the strength to stumble forward one more step, you confirm it. 

Not broken out of anger, but seemingly having slipped off the edge of the coffee table. 

“Fuck,” the expletive falls from your lips before you can think better of it. The longer you stare at the scene, the worse it all comes to light. 

Pens thrown astray, plenty of glasses laying on their side on both the floor and couch.  Sticky rims, sparse ashes flickered about. You see one empty bottle of whiskey, and have no doubt there’s another – possibly multiple – scattered throughout the apartment. 

“I told you,” Gareth says weakly, placing an attempt of a comforting hand on your shoulder, “It gets bad.”

How can so much damage happen over four measly days? 

You try to shrug off Gareth’s hand, but he tightens his grip, “Look, maybe we should leave. Matt and I can handle this-” 

“No,” you snipe, pulling far from him, taking several steps into the wreckage. “I told Matt that Eddie was my problem now, and I meant it. You can leave if you want, but I’m staying.” 

Eddie’s clearly not out here in the living room. There’s a deep imprint on the couch that looks like he may have been there recently, but he’s long gone. All that’s left is the mess, and a sinking feeling in your gut as you spy another terrible item on the coffee table. 

Gareth spots it just as you do, as well. 

“Listen, I really think we should leave.” 

The magazine with that blurry, candid photo of the two of you on the cover, bold and bright letters obscuring it. Those, and the little white line you can spot remnants of across the shiny paper. 

“I’m not fucking leaving, Gareth.” 

What the fuck happened in the last four days? 

Had you said something wrong that night? One wrong step, in a fatal direction, sending Eddie right into this crash out? Had it been the contract, and how hastily you had signed it, that sent him straight into spinning out of control? 

You lean down to snatch up one of the glasses discarded onto the floor, unphased by the residue of alcohol that clings to your fingers. The overwhelming and nauseating scent of pure whiskey almost makes you sick. 

“Does this happen every time?” you ask, trying to keep your voice even, almost too quiet to be heard over the drumming in your chest, “Does this- is this fucking normal to you guys?” 

He gets this way.

You kick a pile of papers, eyes wandering over deeply scratched words in black ink. 

This is sort of normal for him.

“Do you guys just-” you struggle to find the words, looking around at this mess. All the red flags, all the reasons to run, and all you feel is a terrible pull towards Eddie. The need to find him, the need to refuse to leave him alone through this all, is rampant in your chest. “Do you guys really just leave him during times like this? When he clearly needs you most?” 

You swear, you’ve started to see red. 

When you turn to face Gareth, he’s holding his hands up, face twisted in defensiveness, “Hey, listen, it’s not like that-”

“Then what is it like?” 

If Eddie’s in this apartment, he can surely hear you. Your voice is no longer quiet and timid, wavering with each syllable. Loud and clear, ready for a fight. 

“You haven’t been here this last year!” Gareth raises his own voice to match yours, seeming more desperate than agitated, “It’s not like we just- just- gave up on him!”

And yet, that’s exactly what it looks like has happened. 

Every single person that has become a staple in Eddie’s life has seemingly given up on him. They’ve given up fighting for him, on pushing him, on offering a helping hand. They claim to have grown weary, broken bones and patience alike in the battle of forcing Eddie to be a better person. And standing here in this apartment, seeing what they so clearly try to cover up and ignore, you know they’re going about it wrong. 

You don’t have to force Eddie to be a better person. He already is a good person, somewhere deep down. 

“That’s exactly what it looks like!” you laugh coldly, waving about the apartment, “You all clearly knew what to expect, what- what this place was going to look like. You knew what was happening, and you’re doing nothing.”

Gareth’s nostrils flare with one deep breath, and you already know what he’s about to say is going to cut deep, “Aren’t you the one that simply vanished on him? On all of us?” 

He’s right. The blow of the truth would have jarred you more had you not been prepared. 

“I didn’t know,” you say lowly, narrowing your eyes at the boy before you, “I had no idea he had gotten this bad-”

“Oh, c’mon,” Gareth shakes his head, turning and walking carefully through the damage, gesturing about just as you had been, “You’re not stupid. We both know you aren’t. What else did you think was happening?” Another step, and you can hear the crunch of glass beneath the sole of his shoe that has you cringing, “That Eddie was just… having the time of his life? That everything was perfect?” he pauses on the other side of the couch, and you can see a world of hurt behind his big brown eyes. “You knew better than that. You knew him better than that.”

What had you thought was going on when Eddie pulled away so suddenly?

Had you really known Eddie as well as Gareth is assuming right now? 

Your eyes flutter shut as your throat tightens, because the hard pill to swallow is that’s exactly what you had thought. That Eddie’s life was finally perfect. That he was living his wildest dreams. That there was only one bump in the road to his otherworldly success, in the terrible shape of you. 

“You…” You don’t know what those last months were like. You don’t have the sound of Eddie’s voicemail memorized. You don’t wake up from nightmares to the sound of a dial tone in place of future plans bursting into flames. You don’t know the silence. “You’re right.”

You could spend days standing here as you made excuses. One after another, a list longer than the miles once put between you and Eddie. Dissect every possibility you’d deemed possible, and drudge up all the ones you’d simply refused to see in the daylight. 

Fighting with Gareth doesn’t make this right. Fighting with one of the boys you’d grown up with doesn’t erase the situation at hand. 

“Everything was going to shit a long time before you left, y’know,” Gareth’s voice finally breaks a bit, and you look up to find the rims of his eyes pink as they hold back tears, “I don’t know why you left, none of us do, but I’m willing to bet all the blood money I’ve made from this band that it’s because of something an awful lot like this.” 

“I did what I had to do,” you defend yourself so weakly that even you don’t believe the words. 

“Exactly. Just like we have been since you left.” 

There’s more to say and more to argue about, but it’s enough for now. You don’t want to waste another second here, pointing fingers at who’s in the wrong and who’s to blame. Really, all you want to do is find Eddie. 

So you do just that. You decide to make a beeline for the hallway.

“I-” Gareth takes a few steps towards you, but you don’t slow down. He has the common sense to follow, “Where are you going?” 

“He’s obviously not in there,” you say through heavy breaths, fighting tears and pausing between the two doors at the end of the hall. The in-house studio, or the bedroom. “We can fight about it later. I don’t care, I just-”

You choose the bedroom. 

All your words die on your tongue as you throw open the door and see him, all the oxygen in your lungs expelled forcibly to make room for a hole like never before in your chest.

He’s sprawled out across the bed, still in a t-shirt and jeans that look eerily similar to what he had worn Sunday. 

“Eddie.”

You’re not sure if it’s your voice or Gareth’s that echoes through the room as you throttle forward, body in autopilot. 

What happened to him? Is he okay? Is he breathing? Is he alive?

The bed jumps from the weight of you as you crumble beside him, quick to press your ear to his chest. 

Is he alive?

The first thing you notice is the warmth of him beneath your palms. A good sign. 

Please be alive. 

The next thing you notice is the shaky breaths resonating within that chest you cling to. A heartbeat mingling somewhere beneath the press of your cheek as you slump in relief. A grunt as the weight of you pins him down. 

“What the-”

The words are croaked and slurred, as if Eddie hadn’t spoken out loud in days. You feel him start to shift beneath you, and the moment of serene relief that had overcome you from him just being alive evaporates as quickly as it had momentarily lived within your chest. 

Please stay alive.

You sit up straight, eyes finding his, “What did you take?” 

Blown out pupils. Whiskey breath. Powder residing at the tip of his nose, barely noticeable until you were as close as you currently were. 

“I-” Eddie blinks up at you slowly, mouth ever so slightly agape, looking confused as ever, “What do you mean?” 

I need to keep him alive.

“I mean,” you hiss out, sitting up fully and dragging him with you. You can’t focus on the fear creeping up at seeing him this way; it’s as though he might not be within his body, like he’s vacated the premises and you’ve been left with an uncoordinated vessel. “What the fuck did you take, Edward Munson?”

“Maybe we should give him a sec-” Gareth starts, but he’s cut off when you stand up entirely, Eddie in tow with your hands around his biceps. 

The boy makes no move to help you, clearly shocked, but Eddie is pliable. He lets you toss him around like a ragdoll, no protests to be heard beyond ragged breaths that you can’t quite be sure you aren’t just imagining joining your own. 

I need him to stay.

You’re not giving him a second. Depending on what he’s taken, that second could be the line between life and death. 

“Tell me,” you grunt with persistence, working your way under Eddie’s arm to support his weight against your body properly, “What you’ve taken,” Gareth takes a step forward but pauses at your sharp glare, “So I can make sure you don’t fucking die on me, Munson.” 

Your voice is terribly fragile as you start dragging him along towards the bathroom. His feet are moving, stumbling right along with you, but he remains mostly slumped against your side. Head lolling, eyes closed every time you sneak a glance through your struggle.

I need him to stay with me. Please.

Gareth is a foreign stranger, a mere on-looker to the catastrophe. 

That’s fine. It’s fine. It’s becoming abundantly clear that he doesn’t recall any of Eddie’s speeches, lectures, regarding the mixing of drugs that he gave once the group had discovered his side gig back in Hawkins. 

Which drugs did he warn against mixing? Which substances should I be worried about getting out of his system first? What symptoms should I be watching for? 

You rack your brain with each step towards the bathroom, only being able to remember one thing crystal clear. If nothing else, you recall Eddie telling you the easiest way to sober someone up a great deal, across most substances they might have taken. 

The shower. You need to get him in the shower. 

It’s not the cold water you need, although it’ll certainly help. Maybe it can shock him out of this trance just a bit, doing away with his droopy lids and any lingering substances on his body. Sweat, cocaine, alcohol – it’ll clean him up, surely, but that’s not your only goal. 

“Anytime Rick has seen someone try to mix the harder stuff with alcohol,” Eddie had once drawled to you in his van after a party he’d let you join him in attendance of, a milkshake in both of your hands as you’d reminisced on the night, “He makes ‘em chuck it all up. It’s gross. But efficient. Gets ‘em in a shower, or out in the yard, and just… makes it vomit town. Doesn’t do much but does somethin’, I guess.” 

All your movements are robotic, your mind hardly your own as you go through the motions. You don’t know how you’ve dragged him fully into the bathroom so quickly, no help from Gareth – but you have. You don’t know how you kept him upright, pressed tightly to your side as you turn on the water – but you have. You don’t know how you manage to situate him on the floor of the tiled shower, water soaking his knees and calves – but you do. 

Your body isn’t your own. Just like Eddie, you’ve become a witness to the events, no longer feeling as though you’re actually partaking in them as you take the final step. 

It’s not a pretty sight.

You don’t register the feeling of you shoving your fingers down Eddie’s throat, but soon enough, his head is hanging between his knees and Gareth is hovering behind you in sheer distress. 

“Did he just-” he starts to question, trying to peer past your kneeling figure to get a better look.

You don’t make him finish the sentence, doing the honors, “Throw up all that shit in his system? Yes.”

Look at me. Stay with me. Stay alive. 

Your chest feels two sizes too tight as you look at his heaving shoulders, a hand hesitating in mid-air as it reaches out to land on his back. That space between your palm and his shaking back. Two inches of space as your skin constricts a bit tighter. 

Stay with me. Please. 

Gareth is saying something, probably having a complete meltdown as you should be, but it’s static noise. Nothing else matters as you completely destroy that final bit of distance, and you let your palm fall against his back. Feather-light, so unsure, quivering even more than his figure as you go deathly still. 

You can feel every breath. Every little hiccuping gasp he takes as he regains composure. 

Look at me, please. 

Your pride, your fear, and your panic all collide as you give in. Your still hand is now in motion, palm rubbing his back feverishly with desperate comfort. You collapse entirely on the ground, letting yourself fall half into the shower to be close to him. You don’t care about the metal railing digging into your thighs and hip, you don’t care about your clothes growing damp as you enter the edges of the stream of water now washing away all the vomit. 

You only care about him. 

You’re about to open your mouth to say his name, surely being your voice this time as Gareth continues to hang back in shock, when umber brown eyes are finally looking up at you. 

The rivers of blood below the surface of your skin run far colder than the stream of water coming from his shower ever could. 

It’s simple syllables, the quietest of noises, and it has the power to absolutely crush you – all he does is sigh your name, and the world stops. 

You can’t speak. He slowly leans back up, back colliding harshly with the tiled wall of the shower, and you can’t speak. You hardly even move that pathetic attempt of a comforting palm out of the way in time.

He’s squinting as he groans, eyes darting between you and Gareth, “What the fuck happened?” 

You lean back out of the water a bit, unaffected by the feeling of wet jeans sticking to your skin, as Gareth scoffs out, “You went on a fucking bender. That’s what happened. Again.”

“It wasn’t a bender-”

“Bull-fucking-shit.” 

All his words are still slurring. His pupils are still just a tad bit too big for those whiskeyed eyes. 

“I was just having a bit of fun-”

“What about this is ever fun?” Gareth’s voice raises, louder than he had even been when fighting with you in the living room. “The part where we find you high out of your mind, half-dead in your apartment? Or the part where we’ll be cleaning up your mess?” 

I just wanted him safe. Alive. With me. 

You can’t join in the fight, because you weren’t looking for a fight. You had been so focused on simply finding Eddie, making sure he was okay, that you’d never considered what would happen once you did. 

“Oh, fun,” Eddie laughs coldly as his head throws back carelessly, and you flinch at the way he lets his skull bounce against the tile. Your fingers twitch, aching to have stopped it, to prevent any further damage, “We’re gonna have this argument again.” 

I just needed him alive. 

Your palms are sweaty against the tops of your thighs, pressed down tightly to prevent from reaching out to Eddie. There’s a ferocious need to clean him up further, to kick Gareth from the bathroom, to focus more on getting him sober than scolding him right now, but-

“Damn right, we are!” Gareth’s sneakers narrowly miss your lower back, and you’re looking over your shoulder with shock as he begins pacing, “Yeah, we fucking are having this fight again. How many times is it going to take? How many times am I going to have to explain to someone new how this is your normal now? How many times is someone going to stare at me like I’m the asshole here when I don’t do anything to prevent it, because I can’t?” 

“Gareth-” you whisper, trying to calm him down, moving to stand up when Eddie laughs again. 

“I don’t even fuckin’ know why she’s here,” you aren’t looking at him when he says it, and you’re almost glad for it. It’s in the way he says it – words easily mistaken for the ringing of a blade being sharpened, “What’s the point? Go ahead and do it now, Sugar.” 

Slowly, ever so slowly, you turn back towards Eddie, “Do what?” 

Dagger in hand, eyes so cold, he finally hits his mark, “Leave. That’s what you do, right? So just do it. Leave.”

Just how much blood can the human body spill? 

There must have been a time you learned that fact. 

Some time long ago, in a faraway classroom, the fact fell from the lips of a high school teacher in a droning tone. But you can’t remember it, because somewhere in that mystifying glimpse of the past, you’re sitting in a chair beside the man in front of you. You’re not bothered with facts of the human body or blood loss, because all you know is passing notes and giggles covered with coughs, the gentle tickle of knuckles brushing and knees bumping beneath desks. Your mind was on afterschool plans, which diner you’d meet up at and which of you would be picking the flavor of the milkshake you two would share. Who would claim they don’t want fries, and who would be sliding their plate across the table to let the before liar have easier reach. Who would be dozing off on the other's shoulder, as the other one finally brought up the responsible topic of homework. 

Trivial things. Things taken for granted. Things that fall out of reach when you finally extend yourself towards them, with the whisper of never being able to go back. The weight of Eddie’s cheek pressed to your bare shoulder over the roar of summertime cicadas outside a diner window, or the flat tone of a teacher informing their students of a fact they’ll seemingly never utilize again in their life.

You don’t remember, because back then, you’d never expected the man before you to make you bleed. 

You start to shake your head, but he prevents you from defending yourself, “You can’t deny it. You did it – it happened. We wanna air out all my dirty laundry? Cool, let’s start with yours.”

“Eddie,” Gareth has quieted down as you’d wanted, but you wish he hadn’t, “Give her a break, man.” 

Every atom in your body is hardening to try and prepare itself for his next blow. All expression drained from your face, the life fading from your eyes. 

“Why should I?” When he leans forward, you don’t even worry if he might get sick again all over you. He levels you with a wintery stare, and it’s the eyes of a stranger looking into yours now, “Why should I give her a break, or get my hopes up, when we both know how this ends? I’m saving us both some heartbreak, ain’t I, Sugar?” 

The way each word bleeds into one another should lessen the blow. The haze over his eyes should make everything feel a little more dull, a little less precisely sharpened. The sluggish movements and the constant sway of his body even when frozen in place should make it all less painful. 

But drunken words are honest thoughts, and you can’t help as the first crack of emotion bursts in the form of burning eyes. 

Stay with me. I need you to stay with me.

You don’t have it in you to defend yourself, to defend whatever this is that you two have pulled out of the rubble. 

All you can do is meet his stare, so vacant and so chilling, as you say, “I’m not leaving.” 

And then, ironically, you do exactly that. You leave. 

Shoulder bouncing against Gareth’s, you move as quickly as you possibly can out of the suffocating bathroom, the tables turning entirely. The roles have switched, and now you’re the one gasping for air. 

“Hey, hold on,” Gareth tries to reach out for you, but you’re quicker than him in pulling yourself away from the two of them entirely. 

“Clean him up,” you instruct flatly, unwilling to look at Eddie. You’ve seen enough, bled enough, for one day. 

Neither man replies to you verbally, and all you hear as you exit the room is the pattern of water breaking against the tile. It almost sounds like your heart, if Eddie Munson hadn’t already done the honor of tearing it apart in his current state.

—

You stay true to your word.

You don’t leave.

Not the apartment, at least.

For the next hour, you put yourself to work, digging under Eddie’s kitchen sink and finding a large enough trash bag for the current task you busy yourself with. You never let a single tear fall as you glide around the living room, the kitchen, the hallway. 

You don’t go near the bedroom. Near the bathroom. Near Eddie. 

Gareth only shows his face once the entire duration, stepping outside of the room briefly but never glancing your way. You can only assume it’s to let Eddie get dressed, his clothes probably needing to be washed after the entire ordeal. 

If he flinches as he hears you toss all the trash within reach of your hurricane in the bag particularly violently, you don’t say a word. 

By the time there’s any sign of life on Eddie’s part, you’ve already cleaned up most of the apartment. Ashtrays emptied, all glasses not broken in the sink, a semi-neat pile of any pages you could decipher his handwriting upon. You were cruel, if Eddie’s presumption of knowing how this ends was anything to go off of, but you weren’t so cruel as to toss away anything he might have written for his career. 

This time, you don’t snoop. You know better than to read a single line on the pages. If Eddie has something he wants to say to you now, he’ll have to say it to your face. 

There’s a creak from down the hall as you’re finally collapsing onto the couch, a photo frame in hand as the overflowing trash bag is discarded to the floor temporarily, fingers already working nimbly at getting the back of the frame off before whoever it may be enters the room. 

Just as the creased photograph is in your grasp, a throat clears from behind you. 

“I…” he sounds smaller than he had in the bathroom, voice a bit clearer, “Uh, thank you. For…. for earlier.” 

Slow, steady steps. No longer blundering, or needing the support of another body to guide him. 

“I’m-”

If you were to turn around, you know you’d see the Eddie Munson you swear you know. The one who had sat beside you in science class, the one you would kiss under the bleachers every Friday night. You’d see the boy you’d followed across states, followed all the way to New York, sprinting to catch up with him as he’d trailed ferociously after his dream. Clear eyes, somber face, not a single blade in hand. 

But you can’t keep chasing after that boy. You think before Eddie ever turned his daggers towards you, he had taken them to that boy first, and he was buried long before you could even think to say goodbye. 

“Don’t apologize,” you force out, letting the words leave you as easily as the breath you were holding. The air in your lungs, however, stays put. “You were fucked up. It’s fine.”

Over the edge of the photograph you hold, you see his bare feet. New tattoos on unfamiliar ankles, the hems of pants he’d bought without you at his side. 

“It’s not fine, and I shouldn’t have said that,” Each word drips with sincerity. Then again, his accusation in the shower had as well, as you recall it now, “Will you- Please look at me.” 

Please look at me.

Please look at me.

Please stay with me. 

You can’t say that you break. Because, truthfully, you hadn’t been whole to begin with. Some sort of chasm had torn you apart the moment you walked into this apartment - no, the moment you had walked into that damned meeting room and seen his face for the first time in years. 

Two years. Twenty five months. One hundred weeks. 

Your brain has no capacity to break down the hours, minutes, seconds. All the time spent without him, unknowing that the man you had loved was rotting away in the ground six feet under, as the ghost of him haunted stages across the world. 

“I need to finish cleaning,” you say suddenly, jumping up off the couch, keeping your vision downwards. 

What if you look at him, and you decide to leave?

What if you look into his eyes and see the picture once painted by dial tones and automated voices announcing an electronic mailbox was full? 

What if you just weren’t as strong as you were determined to be?

“I have all the cups in the kitchen sink,” the words slip over a frantic tongue, one hand twisting at the plastic material of the bag until your nails are piercing right through the thin veil to prod painfully at your palm as the other won’t let go of that damned photograph, “I emptied all the ashtrays, and-”

Why should I give her a break, or get my hopes up, when we both know how this ends?

When we both know how this ends? 

How does it end? You want to scream at him, ask him the question that chokes you up now. Is this how it ends, with awkward encounters and coming to the rescue recklessly? Does it end with hurtful words said out of spite over the stench of intoxication, or does it end more quietly, over the whispers of apologies and thanks that should never have been necessary to begin with? 

Does it ever really end? Because surely, it didn’t end for you two years ago. Twenty five months ago. One hundred weeks ago. 

Why does this love of yours insist upon being a weapon, just as Eddie had written in his song? 

“Sugar, please,” he tries to stand in your way, force you to look up, but you won’t, “Please, stop cleaning, and-”

“I can’t.”

“You can, just sit down, let’s talk about-”

“I can’t.” 

“Gareth can get the rest of it all, it’s fine-”

“I can’t!”

You both stop all movements, Eddie’s shuffling and your attempts to escape him, as the yell falls off your lips. Finally, you look up at him, shocked to find red-rimmed eyes.

They weren’t that pink when you’d found him. Even when intoxicated. 

The tears gathered proves it. 

“I almost lost you, Eddie!” It feels good to scream. Feels good to watch him crumple right along with you as your voice bounces around the hollow room. “You almost left me this time, okay? And not- not in the- you wouldn’t just be somewhere out there!” At some point, your hands begin to curl into shaking fists, and you let them fall against Eddie’s chest in a broken pattern. Thump, thump, thump, “You’d just be fucking gone! There would be no contracts to fix it! I can’t make a deal with the fucking Devil or God to bring you back!” His fingers wrap around your wrists, fists still in motion. Not stopping you, simply holding onto you, “Gone!” Another smack to his chest, “No second chances!” Tears had started to fall, finally, but you pay your blurry no vision any mind as sobs tear out of your throat along with every weak toss of your fists, “De-”

You can’t finish the word. It’s coiled up at the back of your throat, a stopper to all the sobs you’ve started choking out. 

A chest two sizes too small, a heart with a hole in the center of it. 

Maybe you had been born with the hole in the shape of the man that catches you when you collapse against him. It was always there, nothing to be done about it, except to let him fill it. Slot himself right into your life, place himself over it just like a bandage, wrap his arms around you as small shushes fall from his lips. 

It’s selfish – terribly, terribly selfish – that he’s comforting you now. 

But he does. He lets you cry out, slumped against him without complaint. As though simply holding you might fix this. As if this entire day may be capable of being erased by this very moment. 

At some point, you have no sobs left in you. Your entire body has been pressed into Eddie’s chest, and he’s clinging to you as though his life might rely on it as he buries his cheek against the crown of your head, but not a cry is left to give. 

“I’m not leaving,” he repeats your words from earlier in the softest of tones. 

They hold an entirely different weight on his tongue. 

But the entire Universe holds its breath as it’s set into stone – neither of you are leaving. You’re both here, headstrong with feet cemented where you stand, and you are not leaving this time. 

Your fist still homes the photograph, albeit adding new wrinkles to the picture as it curls within your hold. 

Carefully, you start to pull back from Eddie, and he lets you. Arms dropping away as you take one step backward, sneakers crunching on the broken glass scattered about the rug below. 

There, in your palm, there’s a lifetime you think you may always miss. A time that you’ll always remember like a sore ache in your back molars. 

You, and Eddie, and Gareth. Even Dustin Henderson is in the photo. 

“What’s that?” Eddie asks as his eyebrows wrinkle and he attempts to get a closer look at the treasure you stare blankly at now. 

“A photo,” you blandly explain, another step back before you can collapse onto the couch once more. Eddie joins you this time, “From that first big show at the Hideout.”

There’s more words turning stale on the tongue, but you don’t need to reminisce anymore. You get it now. Sort of. 

It hurts, it might hurt for a while, but it’s over with. It’s never going to be fair to continue to compare the two of you to what once was. You can’t go back, you can’t change a past already written. Two graves need to be laid to rest now, after one hundred long weeks, and it’s time to leave the cemetery. 

That chapter was closed. The book wasn’t. 

“I meant what I said, you know,” Eddie whispers. You swear you can hear noises from down the hall, suddenly remember that Gareth was still here, “I… I didn’t say it the way I should have, but I meant it. If you want out, I’ll let you go.” 

Maybe the Universe had gotten the memo, but Eddie hadn’t. 

You look at him with wild eyes, “What? I don’t-”

“I know, I know. The contracts and stuff. But I could get them nullified. If it’s what you want, I’ll force them to let you out,” you’re stunned into silence as he smiles sadly at you, “You didn’t sign up for this shit, Sugar. I can scrap the album, too, if you want. The guys can help me write new stuff, stuff not about us, and we can just-” 

You toss that photo right onto the ground, let it flutter down to settle beside the trash can. Like flowers on a grave. 

“Do you want to know what my first thought was when I came in here?” you interrupt him, staring up at the front door as you fight back tears. He doesn’t respond, so you continue on, “Please be alive. My first thought was for you to just be alive, be okay.”

That’s what it had been. No care for nostalgia or all that once was. Simply needing him to be breathing inside this apartment.

The callous laugh that escapes him isn’t quite as cold as the ones he’d let out in the bathroom, but there’s still no trace of humor, “Can I be honest? I’m definitely alive, and some of that credit belongs to you, but… Jury’s still out about being okay.”

You turn your body towards him, blinking your sore eyes slowly, “Then talk to me about it.” 

His shock proves that this has clearly become a foreign concept. 

“What?” he tries to chuckle, tries to force a little laughter into the tone rather than sheer nerves, but it’s useless when it comes to you. He used to laugh like that any time that he lied to Wayne – it was always his giveaway. “Look, I appreciate the offer, but like I said, you didn’t sign up for any-”

“I did,” you stress, almost reaching out to grab each side of his head, shake some sense into him if possible. Just make him understand. “When I signed Matt’s contract, I signed up for it. When I agreed to get just a cup of coffee with you, I signed up for it,” you pause, taking a deep breath, eyes shutting for only a moment to compose yourself. It’s hardly a second, a long blink if anything, just so you can keep him in your sights, “You keep acting like you’ve forced me into this, but I’ve always been able to walk away if I really wanted to. Every step of the way. I could have refused to take Corroded Coffin on as a client, I could have told you to go to Hell and meant it. I could have laughed in Matt’s face when he suggested the contract. But I didn’t. Get it through your dense skull, please, Munson – I’m here, I’m staying, and I signed up for it.”

He’s quiet, dead silent as he stares at you with red eyes. You can see the bags shadowing beneath, all the damage done over four days that you can’t clean up with a trash bag and enough anxiety to fuel you for days. Things that take longer to heal, things that eat away at someone if they don’t talk about it.

You remember all that anger you’d felt when you’d realized this wasn’t the first time that Eddie had done this, that this was his new normal. 

How it had stunned you that none of them had ever just offered to talk to him. 

‘You knew him better than that.’

Gareth had been right. You do know Eddie better than that. 

“I can’t force you to talk about it all,” your voice drops, something for just the two of you, “But I can ask you to stop bottling it up. I can ask you to stop self-destructing. Because, trust me, I’ve been there – and look where it left us.” 

He tilts his head as he opens his mouth, but you’ll never hear his argument as Gareth finally enters the room. 

“I, uh, cleaned up the room and bathroom,” he holds up a smaller trash bag, free hand rubbing the nape of his neck, “I just tossed his- your old clothes into the laundry basket, but…. Yeah. It’s clean.”

A small correction, a shifting of the eyes to acknowledge not just you, but Eddie. 

“Thank you,” Eddie says, terribly earnestly, twisting his body to settle his arm along the back of the couch. You’re still thinking about that tilt of his head, and whatever he had to rebuttal you with, “I… I appreciate it.” 

The words sound uncomfortable on Eddie’s tongue, as though he hasn’t said them in a while. 

“I also called Matt and let him know you’re alive,” Gareth breezes right past the gratitude, but it moves as though a weight in the air has finally been lifted as he circles around the couch to drop his bag of trash beside yours, “He said to take a few days to recover, but… Keep in touch. Not specifically with him, if you don’t want to, just- Anyone.” 

Gareth’s eyes catch yours as he says it, and you know exactly what he means. 

Eddie won’t, can’t, speak to them – but maybe he can find a way to talk to you. 

“Thanks, Gar,” you can’t fight the slightest twitchings of smiles on the corners of your mouth as you say it, and Gareth is quick to roll his eyes. It almost feels normal. It’s almost enough to forget what’s happened. 

“If you’re going to start calling me that, I might just have to tell the guys that the pizza date is cancelled,” Eddie’s head snaps from Gareth to you, not angry but simply confused, “They still haven’t stopped talking about that, by the way. Better be good on your word, Hellfire.” 

All you can do is nod, and try to not sink too deeply into the warmth sparking up in your chest at the nickname. 

“Hellfire?” Eddie, for the first time since you’ve found him, is laughing genuinely. It’s a tired sound, a little breathless, but it’s actual laughter. “Haven’t heard that one in a while.” 

“Haven’t had her around in a while,” Gareth is quick as he nods in your direction before finally moving towards the front door, “I’m heading out now, but… Call me if you need me. Or if you start craving pizza. Or… Don’t. I don’t know, I don’t control you two.” 

You almost ask him to stay, but you’re starting to suspect Gareth had heard more of your private conversation with Eddie than you’d like, and that it might be better for him to leave before you two can continue talking.

Before you ask Eddie about the tilt of his head, the argument on his tongue. 

“See you around, Gareth,” you hum, waving as you sink back further into the couch. Already preparing to settle in for a long night, a long talk. 

“See ya,” he makes the effort to not just nod in response to you, but Eddie as well. Just as his hand is on the door, though, he suddenly turns back around, “Oh, and before I forget - catch.”

Your hands move faster than your mind, thankfully, as a shining object flies through the air from Gareth’s palm and into your chest, “What the f-”

“Matt can make a new copy if he really wants one. I think you’ll make better use of it than us for now.” 

You look down at the silver key that Gareth had produced right as you had been on the verge of getting inside the apartment, of getting to Eddie. 

Eddie sees it too, and his brows furrow quickly, “When the fuck did Matt get a key to my place?” 

“Who cares?” Gareth shrugs, “Just be glad he did, or else you’d probably be replacing your front door from her kicking it in.”

It’s your turn to let out a sincere scoff, pocketing the key regardless. He’s right – your ankle almost screams out it’s thanks as you think about whether you would have tried (you would have) and if you would have been successful (you wouldn’t have been).  

With that, Gareth leaves. 

The front door doesn’t slam shut as you and Eddie are left properly alone. A new key to add to your own chain heavy in your pocket, and a million questions weighing down your mind. 

You and Eddie turn back to one another in sync. Something simmers in the air – something hopeful, something promising. The rosy glow of sunset outside the skyline windows illuminates the room just so. 

“Now that we’re alone, I’m going to ask you one more time, and I want you to be honest,” you start strong, sure, ready. Eddie nods along with each word, never shying away from your gaze, “Are you okay?” 

Instead of answering immediately, Eddie suddenly shuffles around his position on the couch. You’re taken back, freezing up, but don’t dare protest once you realize what he’s doing. 

His head falls into your lap with minimal hesitancy, and suddenly, big brown eyes are staring up at you. 

“Honestly, Sugar? No. I feel like shit,” you can’t fathom how he manages to do it, delivering it with a boyish grin that doesn’t feel condescending, only slightly teasing. It should be inappropriate, but if this is how he needs to be in order to open up, then it works. “Got any preference on where I start?” 

Your fingers find home in his scalp on instinct, “Wherever you want, Rockstar.” 

You can bury the old versions of yourself all you want – some habits will never die. Some things will never change. 

“Great,” he sighs, letting his eyes flutter shut for just a moment. You both bask in all the serenity that traces the edges of his face as the dipping sunrise continues to paint his cheeks gentle shades of pink and orange. “Then let’s start with promising I’ve learned my lesson, and I’m never mixing cocaine and whiskey again. Totally cancels out for me. A real buzzkill.” 

“Not funny.”

“I know,” his eyes shoot open, and half his mouth raises at a sorry attempt for a grin. Still tired, still truly looking like shit, but there’s promise behind those twisting vines of amber and chestnut looking up at you, “But I mean it… Gotta start somewhere, Sugar.”

He’s right – it’s a start. And you hope he means it. Because, whether it be fortunately or unfortunately, you’re not leaving. 

☆ prev chapter | masterlist | next chapter ☆

[softtdaisy]

sunday morning / aaron hotchner

summary. you loved Sunday mornings. Especially those spent with Aaron Hotchner.

words count. 1 037

what to expect. pure fluff with no plot, Jack is mentioned a lot  

a/n. the idea popped in my head yesterday while listening to @kiwriteswords playlist and I haven't been able to put it away since then so here it is ✨

F1 masterlist | general masterlist| request

You’ve always loved Sunday mornings.

When you were younger, Saturday was for the things you couldn’t do during the week. But Sunday was to relax and take time for yourself. 

Growing up, that was a habit you kept. Waking up with no alarm, with this feeling of freedom and peace knowing you had no obligations, was in the top five of your favorite things in the world. 

It moved up to the top three when you started dating Hotch.

It wasn’t as easy to make him relax.

First, there was his job schedule. Hotch could leave at any moment and for days. Nothing could assure you that he would be home on Sunday. Either still being on the field or having to work in his office to finish his paperwork. When it happened, you always made sure to bring Jack in your little chill schedule. You even created your own habit of having brunch together in front of the movie of his choice, with him also choosing everything he wanted on the menu. 

Then, you had to admit Hotch wasn’t the kind of man who likes to relax. When he had a day off, he would often run everywhere to make sure he had time to cross out everything on his to-do list. You couldn’t blame him; he wasn’t having much time out of the bureau, and it can be frustrating to add undone things to the list.

So you went step by step with him. There was still a moment in the day where he would go to his office to work for no more than an hour. 

Can take the man from the job but not the job from the man. 

But you were full of resources when it came to making him stay in bed longer, something he clearly couldn’t complain about. And he came to like spending his Sunday afternoon with you in his arms, either watching TV under the cover or outside, both reading a book. With the same habit of interrupting each other with kisses and other lovely moments—moments that lasted longer when Jack wasn’t home. 

This was this kind of Sunday. Jack had a sleepover at one of his friends from his football team and wasn’t coming home until the end of the day. It was only you and Hotch.

As much as you loved Aaron Hotchner, the BAU’s unit chief, with his always so dark suit paired with a perfect tie and a serious look that could make you confess things you didn’t do. 

You clearly loved casual Aaron Hotcher even more. There were simply almost invisible things that you noticed and appreciated: the way his hair would stay messy all day long, how his eyes looked less focused on everything around—there were even days where he would wear glasses, and you absolutely lost it—or how his lazy smile was like a permanent accessory.

And it came with another outfit too. With his simple shirt, bringing out his muscular arms and his dad bod—one of your favorite features on him. And how he would almost always wear jeans, proof that you can’t keep the busy man in the closet. But you didn’t mind. This was what made the man you loved.

After spending more than an hour in bed together, making love and discussing the upcoming weeks, from Jack’s football match to a family weekend planned, you finally got up to have breakfast.

The cold was still here. You were watching the frost on the grass with your hot coffee in hand. Remembering the summer afternoon spent playing with Jack’s water pistol and how you both teamed up to attack Hotch when he came back from a case. He told you by text how tired he had been and couldn’t wait to come home to you. So you managed to give him a smile the moment he passed the door. And the happiness on his face when he put everything away to have a family moment with you two was worth ruining your makeup and outfit that day.

You were so lost in the memory that you didn’t pay attention to what Hotch was doing in your back. Not until you heard the melody playing on his record player.

Everybody loves somebody sometimes.

You turned around and saw him walk over to you. He had this genuine smile that he kept for his family moment. He slowly grabbed your coffee mug to put on the table next to you before offering his hand. “Can I steal you a dance?”

“You can steal whatever you want, sir,” you replied, amused. You took his hand kindly and quickly met his chest. Your cheek against his shoulder, you let him guide the dance. You closed your eyes, appreciating the touch of his hand on your back, the way his other hand was pressing yours with love, the smell of his perfume, and the feeling of his heartbeats against your chest. 

This felt like a wedding first dance, but you found it even better. 

Because you were already in your home, the home you wouldn’t change for anything.

Because you were already in the arms of the man you love. And if taking his last name was very tempting and you would love to be called his wife, you didn’t need a wedding ring to know you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him.

This was all you needed. Sunday morning, dancing in the living room with your boyfriend.

And although my dream was overdue, your love made it well worth waiting for someone like you.

Slowly, the record player stopped playing, but you stayed like that for a second or two. Until Hotch brought his hand to your face to lift it up to his. “Thank you for being my somebody. I love you,” he said, before reaching for your lips. There was so much love in his kiss, the way it was so tender and natural.

“No need to thank me, Aaron,” you replied against his lips, smiling. You moved your face a little backward, just enough to see his face when you said, “I love you too.” 

You loved Sunday mornings. Especially those spent with Aaron Hotchner.

[onlycosmere]

Real world inspiration in Brandon Sanderson's works

grandpa_fathom: As I’ve read Brandon’s books, I smile every time I come across allusions, borrowings, and references to real-world influences. I’m hoping the community can help me flush out this list (speculation welcome).

Kelsier as a Christ figure resurrected & starting a religion

Dalinar as Genghis Kahn

Shards as the Greek (or insert your favorite) pantheon

Wit as a Shakespearean fool

Chana & Shallan as Abraham & Isaac

Nohadon as King Benjamin

translation lenses (Alcatraz) as urim & thummim

Iriali exodus as the Mosaic exodus

etc.

Brandon Sanderson:

Kelsier as a Christ figure resurrected & starting a religion (More that he is trying deliberately to ape off of similar stories from Sazeds myths. Then ended up living, kind of, and now has to work with what he did.)

Dalinar as Genghis Kahn (More Subutai in military strategy and position. But I did intentionally include one Genghis myth for the history lovers in Dalinar's backstory. This is because one inspiration for the Alethi is the Yuan Dynasty, where the Mongols had to learn to rule China.)

Shards as the Greek (or insert your favorite) pantheon (Kind of, kind of not. More uplifted humans in over their heads. I wasnt looking at panthons here as they don’t really involve one another.)

Wit as a Shakespearean fool (Yup. See Lear and 12th night)

Chana & Shallan as Abraham & Isaac (Not intentional, but I can see it might be unconscious.)

Nohadon as King Benjamin (I doubt he was as silly, but this is an influence and a concious one.)

translation lenses (Alcatraz) as urim & thummim (Also not intentional. When I think about powers, I just wish I could speak and read all languages. But maybe there is something unconscious here? For all this looks like a slam dunk, I really think it was just me thinking of powers I wanted, and relating them to wearing glasses.)

Iriali exodus as the Mosaic exodus (Also not deliberately done...but you probably have something here. This is almost certain part of the inspiration.)

etc.

Dead_IM: Was the “Adon” portion in Adonalsium chosen because “Adon” means lord or god in Hebrew?

Would the same be true of Noh”adon”? Brandon Sanderson: Yes to both. I go to Hebrew and Arabic a lot for Roshar. The goal is not to create a full parallel, but to indicate a lot of these words have roots in world to older language variants that people would recognize on a subconscious level, same as we kind of recognize these morphemes.

[yj-polycule]

What each Batkid got Bruce for his birthday, but none of them talked to each other beforehand when getting their gifts.

Dick: A certificate to his favorite massage therapist (one that's hero certified and won't question his scars), a day trip to a hot springs outside of Gotham and a pair of fuzzy black socks and bathrobe.

Barbara: A pair of blue screen glasses because she knows he is staring at screens just as much as she is and the last thing they need is his eyesight. She also got his a pair of socks with those grippies on the bottom so he doesn't slip while sleep exhausted on the manor floors.

Jason: Tires. He gets Bruce tires every single year, but hides something under the hood cap for Bruce to find when he eventually uses the tires (sometimes it takes months for Bruce to find the gift underneath). This year was a pair of patterned socks.

Cass: An IOU of sort that allows Bruce to have Cass sub in for him for Batman business twice a year when he just really does not want to deal with either the current rogue situation or the Justice League (mostly the Justice League). She also got him a pair of Batgirl socks.

Tim: Teamed up with some of the rouges (Harley, Ivy, Selena and Ed) to create Bruce a city wide puzzle taking him to some of his favorite places in the city. (Ed helped Tim make the puzzles while the Sirens handled any crimes that were happening so Bruce would be uninterrupted) It lead back to Wayne Manor where his present was waiting, a pair of new dress socks for WE.

Steph: A custom made T-Shirt that says "I'm not the Step-Bat, I'm the Bat that Stepped Up". Wrapped inside the shirt is a puzzle box that she had built and programmed herself to change its passwords every time it was successfully opened, leading to a harder challenge. Inside the box was a pair of neon purple socks.

Duke: Clears both his and Bruce's schedule to do a full marathon of the Grey Ghost and anything else Bruce wants to watch. He basically blocks out the rest of the world for them to have their marathon go entire uninterrupted for them. He also gets them matching socks to wear during their marathon.

Damian: Got Bruce a cane, but one of those cane that has a sword hidden within it. Damian forged the sword himself and helped carve the cane that cases it himself. Damian makes a joking comment that Bruce is getting up there in age and it's better he has it now rather than later (real reason is his own back was acting up and assumed Bruce's could only be like 15x worse). He also got him a pair of grippy socks similar to Babs.

This is the third year in a row they all got him the exact same thing as a gift without talking to each other before hand. Last year was ties and the year before that was mugs.

[blade-dressed-in-red]

heart-shaped bandages

pairing: noah sebastian x f!reader

content warnings: mentions of minor injury and blood, reader opens up about sensitive memories, but besides that just fluff!

A/N: this idea came to me from realizing i’ve placed bandages on multiple people but have never gotten the same treatment, so here’s this very self-indulgent thing. this is also inspired by a cheeseburger soup recipe off pinterest.

It was nearing the end of the day. you could see the sun starting to set through the windows, golden light dripping onto the floor and furniture. You and Noah had a relaxed but productive day of curling up on the couch while the rottweiler you two adopted when she was a puppy, Princess, laid in her dog bed on the floor. You spent most of the day corresponding to work emails on your laptop while Noah did his own respective work on his. One of the collaborative playlists you two made together on spotify has been playing on the tv throughout the day. Your legs were draped over his lap, wearing (drowning in) one of his hoodies with sleep shorts and some fuzzy socks. Noah was sporting a similar getup, his own hoodie (that fit properly), black workout shorts, with some Naruto socks.

Once realizing it was starting to get closer to dinner time, you averted your attention away from your laptop to ask him

“Are you getting hungry, bub?”

Noah looked up from his laptop to answer you, his warm eyes meeting your gaze, framed with his glasses since he was looking at a screen all day. 

“A little bit, did you wanna order in or make something?” he asked with a soft smile.

You returned the smile before answering, “I think we have the ingredients to make that soup we like, do you want me to make that?”

His soft gaze perks up, “yeah, that actually sounds really good right now,” his smile grew wider. 

He's always enjoyed your cooking (even if you occasionally burnt the food). Sometimes you even let him help you out, but it usually results in a mini-food fight. Someone “accidentally” gets food on the other, resulting in random bits and pieces of discarded food getting thrown back and forth, ensued by fits of giggles and usually a pot of water boiling over since neither of you were paying attention.

While getting up from your spot on the couch, you assured Noah you didn’t need any help this time, both of you knowing he still had some more work to get done before calling it a day. He reminded you that if you needed anything, he was just a room away. While you always enjoy Noah's company, there is something comforting and tranquil about cooking by yourself, knowing that you’re making something tasty and healthy for your beloved in the next room over. 

Princess followed you into the kitchen, but soon realized her dog bed was more comfortable and made her way back into the living room. You began getting out all the ingredients and utensils needed, putting the broth into a pot to begin boiling on the stove. In the meantime you decided to start cutting the vegetables. Swiftly getting through the carrots and began cutting the celery. However, your attention was immediately drawn away when you heard commotion coming from the living room, followed by a chuckled “oh my god” and rummaging. Unfortunately your body didn’t have the time to react and continued chopping, resulting in you slicing your index finger on the knife. 

“Shit!” you yelped out through gritted teeth. you immediately dropped the knife on the counter to hold your finger in your other hand.

You realized Noah had stopped fixing whatever it was that caused the noise. He immediately rushed to be by your side, basically teleporting to you when he heard your wince. He was quickly followed in by Princess. 

“What happened?” he asked with his brows slightly furrowed and a look of worry in his eyes, immediately drawn to where you were holding your finger.

“It’s nothing, just a cut” 

You tried to ease him since you could tell he was getting more worried once he saw the blood seeping from the wound onto your hands. 

“Sweetheart, you’re bleeding” he responded with a comforting tone but his concern still wavered through. He grabbed your finger to fully inspect the damage.

“It's really nothing bub, I'm just gonna go up to the bathroom to deal with it. I'll be right back.”

But before you could start making your way out of the kitchen, Noah softly grabs your hips to still you and grabs a clean dish rag from the drawer and gently but firmly holds your cut finger with it. You couldn’t form any verbal response to his action, as no one has ever really paid much attention when you accidentally hurt yourself in the recent past. the most prominent memory being when you’d scrape your knee on the cement as a child and your mom would put a Scooby Doo bandaid on it and seal it with a kiss. It also reminded you that you’ve always tried to help others whenever they got an injury, no matter how old they were or how minor the wound was.

While holding your finger with firm pressure to help stop the bleeding, Noah noticed your expression went blank. He pondered on asking you about it, but figured he would bring it up later and continue with the task at hand: fixing you up. 

Noah adjusted his stance from slightly bending to normal height, he places your free hand to hold your wounded finger.

“Keep putting pressure on it” he requests with a soft yet stern tone. He turned the burner off then returned to you. He bent down, one arm under your knees and another supporting your back to pick you up bridal style. This quickly snapped you out of your pensive state. 

“What are you doing?” you asked, confused with the sudden movement of being picked up suddenly.

After making sure he had a stable grip on you, he turned his head slightly to meet your eyes.

“I'm gonna take care of you,” and with that, the melancholic feeling inside mixed with something lighter.

Before you knew it, Noah had already brought you to the second floor of the house, carrying you to the master bathroom. Once inside, he set you on the ground gently and closed the door behind you two so Princess didn’t follow you two in. 

“Sit there, and keep your finger above your heart. It’ll help slow the bleeding,” he stated as he gestured for you to sit on the lid of the toilet seat while he rummaged through the cabinets. Keeping your finger still wrapped in the kitchen rag near your collarbone. You stared at Noah like a curious puppy, waiting to see what he’d pull out. Eventually, he located the large first aid kit from the cabinet, which you forgot was in there. You could only recall where miscellaneous bandages were placed. Noah immediately went into nurse-mode, grabbing everything he thought he would need to help bandage you up, definitely got out more than required for such a minor injury but the action warmed your heart even more. 

As he stood with all the first aid contents laid out on the counter, he softly asked “Can you please come here so I can wash your cut properly?” motioning to the sink. You raised to your feet and made the short distance to the sink. Noah quickly discarded the kitchen rag into the hamper and inspected the cut further before carefully running your finger under the cool water. While you felt cared for, as Noah always made you feel, you knew he still had some work to catch up on and felt this procedure was unnecessary for him to be doing.

“Noah, you really don’t have to do all this. I can handle it by myself” you told him in a hushed tone, even though it was only you two in the house.

“I know you can handle it, but I want to help you.. please let me take care of you darling.” he looked at you with a concerned but loving look, his brows furrowed and a pout he didn’t realize he was doing, but that was all it took for you to fully accept his care. With that, the heartrending feeling inside of you grew even smaller. 

Once Noah believed your wound was clean enough, he carefully dried it with some gauze from the first aid kit. 

“Could you please sit back down for me, love?” he asked sweetly. You couldn’t help but feel butterflies with how loving he was being, a common occurrence between you two. 

He grabbed the ointment then followed to where you sat, kneeling down to meet your height. He was being so careful with you and walked you through each step of the process as if he was an actual healthcare professional. 

“I'm going to apply this to prevent any possible infection, okay?”

You nodded in response, even though you already knew what it was for. He squeezed out the appropriate amount and attentively applied it to the cut, careful not to cause any more pain to you (even though it wasn’t very painful to begin with). When applying the ointment, you noticed he was so focused that his tongue was sticking out of his mouth a tiny bit, causing you to stifle a giggle at how adorable he looked. He was too focused on applying the ointment to notice. 

When he was satisfied with the application, he got up to grab a bandage from the counter. He pulled out a variety of different boxes earlier and looked through them all, trying to find the appropriate size. He eventually landed on one, came back over to you and kneeled down again. after giving you a quick peck to your forehead, he opened up the bandage package. you were expecting a normal beige bandage, but what you didn’t realize was Noah managed to find some Scooby Doo bandaids, similar to the ones your mom used to use for your cuts and scrapes. The realization made you start tearing up, all the memories from childhood aligning with this point in time, the feeling of everything from the past fell into place for this moment with the love of your life.

Noah was still attending to your wound, gently applying the bandage to your finger, making sure the design wasn’t askewed, then sealed it with a kiss. When he looked up, he noticed you were starting to silently cry 

He softly grabbed your face, his own full of worry. He had his other hand still holding your newly bandaged hand. He swept away some of the stray tears.

“What's wrong angel? Did I do something?” he was unsure if he accidentally hurt you enough to cause this. 

“N-no you didn’t do anything.. I’m sorry for crying i-it’s just… where did you find these? I haven't seen them in stores since I was a child.” you quickly rasped out, wiping the tears that refused to stop falling. 

He let out a light chuckle, but it didn’t reach his eyes which were still troubled from your state.

“Kind of an odd story.. Do you remember when we were going through old photos of us when we were kids?”

“Yeah” you squeaked out.

“Well there was one photo of you with a Scooby Doo bandaid on your elbow, I think from when you tried skateboarding and it didn’t end well. but I- uh, I thought it would be cute to get some online for purposes like these.. I'm sorry if it was a bad idea, I can get you a different one if you’d prefer.” 

He quickly got to his feet to turn to the bathroom counter, but you grabbed his hoodie before he could step away. 

“N-no it’s fine. I-I like it.. thank you, Noah”

“Then what’s got you upset?”

“It’s silly really.. it doesn’t matter. I’m all bandaged up so I can continue with dinner an-”

Noah cut you off, “The soup can wait, I wanna know what’s happening up here” . He took the hand that was resting on your cheek and tenderly poked your forehead, then placed it back on your cheek. 

“I saw the look on your face earlier, I just wanna make sure you’re okay, angel.”

“W-well, when you first started taking care of me in the kitchen, I realized that no one has ever really helped me take care of any sort of wounds, not since I was a child at least. But I've had so many instances of taking care of other people, l-like when the guitar string snapped and you got that gash on your hand.. a-and have always just thought it would be nice to receive the same care..” 

“Honey.. that isn’t silly at all. I’m glad I could be the one to take care of you, in fact I enjoyed it minus the fact it involved you getting hurt. I'll take care of you no matter how big or small the injury is. Hell, there doesn’t even need to be an injury. I love caring for you and I love you.”

The tears continued to fall from admitting your “not silly” confession, but they turned to loving tears once you heard Noah's piece about it. 

With a sniffle, you responded “I love you too. Thank you for taking care of me, bub.”

He grabbed your unbandaged hand, and raised you to your feet to engulf you in a hug. With a kiss to your forehead,“Anything for you sweetheart.”

Just then, you heard a loud thud coming from the kitchen, you and Noah quickly turned to run out and down the stairs to see what mischievous act your dog-daughter was up to. You two came entered the kitchen to Princess standing on her hind legs, with her front paws on the kitchen counter eating the celery and carrots with the cutting board on the floor. Thankfully, you dropped the knife in the middle of the island, along with any ingredients that could be dangerous to her (parental instincts). Once noticing you two were there, she immediately got down on the floor and pretended nothing ever happened. Noah went to put the cutting board back on the counter. 

“This reminds me, what was the noise that caused this?” You raised your bandaged finger for emphasis. 

“Oh, Princess rolled over in her dog bed and managed to knock over the side table with her back,” Noah giggled.

You went to the living room to see the damage, Noah following behind. Thankfully, it wasn’t terrible. The table and its contents were still on the floor since Noah rushed into the kitchen before fixing it. You set the table upright while Noah grabbed the scattered remotes and controllers from the floor. As you were putting everything back in its place, you heard another thud from the kitchen and looked over to Noah, who looked at you with the same entertained but slightly annoyed expression. 

“Well, I guess the ingredients for the soup have been stolen by someone” you said amusingly.

“I'll start a delivery order, the usual?”

“Yep.”

ok this was my time doing anything like this so i hope you enjoyed and if you have any feedback let me know!! thanks for reading <3

dividers

tag list: @xmads-omensx @alwaysfightforwhoyouare

[sunrisecaminus]

Hello again bbg I hope you're okay o⁠(⁠(⁠*⁠^⁠▽⁠^⁠*⁠)⁠)⁠o may I request shockwave x fem! human reader who he kidnapped for experiment but oh no this one-eyed big BOI falls in love~ you can make NSFW 😉✋🏻😌🤚🏻

Take your time bbg love you 🎀✨

Message - I cooked you some good shit, now eat your dinner. Shockwave is such an interesting weirdo, I like this giant piece of crap. Love you too!

Shockwave x Human Reader NSFW

Summary - Shockwave using his kidnapped human woman as his next "experiment".

Warnings - NSFW

You have been stuck in this testing chamber for weeks now. Being fed and cleaned wasn't the issue, it was that you have not been able to walk around or do anything for forever. Holy crap has it been so long since you have been able to even change into different clothes, they have just been cleaning the same ones over and over. When you complained about it last time, the big purple mech gave you pjs. It was nice, but now you have been wearing this thing for eight days. Even if you hate your life right now, you are still very much terrified of Shockwave. He has tested a lot of things, but Megatron told him to test your pain tolerance or anything that is more "useful to him". If not, you would be disposed of, which is something you wish to never happen to you. What you didn't know, was that Shockwave has taken an interest in you. Whenever he has done his tests, you try your very best even if you were kidnapped. Honestly, he was theorizing you were going to try to escape and fight back, but you were not stupid. Shockwave underestimated you, and is now intrigued by your character and personality. You both have talked before, telling him that you were in college, about to graduate with a n/d (name of degree). He thought it was interesting how humans were kind of similar with Cybertronians, even if their physical appearances were much different.

Now, understanding your history and emotions, he won't admit how much he adores you. Shockwave hated himself for a long time, falling in love with such a disgusting creature…but it has been millions of years since he has cared for someone. He tries to give you better food, and even has been looking up trending clothes he should buy for you. Shockwave has told Megatron that they should be using you as a pet and not a disposable experiment, but it got him no where. Starscream thought you were the grosses thing in the world and told Shockwave multiple times to destroy you. You would get confused why there would be random times Shockwave threatens or hits Starscream, but its because Starscream would tell him how much he hated you quietly so you wouldn't freak out and try to escape. Shockwave is very protective of you and keeps you in that tube for a reason…but he understands that he has a job to do. He has been thinking for a while on how to save himself while also not hurting you…which got him to design a lovely plan. He now has a new test, which he asked Megatron if he should be able to do, and was excepted. Finally, time to get back to work.

You are right now laying on the floor of the tube, trying to take a nap, when you hear a door open and see the purple mech again. Opening your eyes, you get up and watch him going to his desk and grabbing data pads, graphs, and a camera. Crap, its time for the experiment. "Um…can we talk about this? Maybe we can do the running experiment again?" You press your hands on the glass and look at him with pleading eyes, oh how cute you look begging for him. "I have other plans, Ms.l/n (last name)." Oh no you had to think of something. All you can think of is knives cutting you, being smacked around, or maybe even being smooshed. Pain tolerance is something that an experiment could do many ways with, which is not helping your imagination going crazy. "I promise not to complain! Please, I don't want to be killed!" Shockwave didn't look at you, setting up the camera to face you. "Megatron changed the experiment to something else. You will not be harmed…though it is an experiment that can be seen as vulgar." Well that made you relieved at first, but than made you curious on what was about to happen. He already saw you naked when you had to get changed. You didn't feel too much shame about your body, as these bots had different beauty standards than humans…at least you hope. You didn't want to look ugly to them, but why would you care about what they think?! Maybe he will have you eat something gross? You rather do that then be physically abused. Shockwave grabs a data pad and walks ups to the tube, hooking up some wires to it that was connected to a control panel. Oh, he did this once to have you test your swimming abilities by pouring water into the tube with whatever machine he uses. "The question we are about to experiment today on is your mental compacity. We will test how well your brain can function on your ability to read or answer questions while being distracted in other things". You felt as though this was just a normal test, maybe it was vulgar because it has to do with your brain? "Oh, so like multitasking, right"? You asked, trying to sound as respectful as you can to not make him mad. Shockwave wished he could laugh, you were smarter with your vocabulary than he thought. "Something like that, yes."

The big mech goes up to the control panel and starts to press buttons, once he flipped a little switch, you see little wired tendrils coming from the top of the testing chamber. This was very new and you poked one, letting it slide around your hand a little. Shockwave grabs some cards and watches you play with the new machine he made. "I will be showing you pictures of colors or items on these cards. Try to answer them as best as you can without being distracted by anything that goes on inside the chamber. Do not react and stay focused if they poke you, you understand?" After explaining the rules to you, he sees you nodding without any questions as he pulls out of the cards. "Square" You feel one of the tendrils wrap itself around your ankle as you answer the question. You don't move and keep your eyes on Shockwave. He pulls up another card. "Magnify Glass". One of the other tendrils wrap around your stomach. You gasp as it slowly slips under your shirt and slides around. "Sir! Are you sure this is necessary for the test?" Shockwave takes another card out before he looks up at you. Goodness thank god he is recording you, he was probably going to watch this tape more than once. "Of course, I need to test how well you can pay attention. Now name what is on the card." You couldn't believe what was happening, but you didn't mind too much. Your cheeks get red and kept naming the cards. The tendril in your shirt tightens around your lower chest while another goes under the cloth, pulling the shirt off over your head. "Ah! Sh-shockwave wait-"! When you called his name out, his head looks down. He didn't want you to know how much this was making him go nuts. He never gave you a bra to wear for today so your boobs were out already. The tendril wrapped around you starts to wrap around your breasts, squeezing and massaging them. You moan from the sensitive touching and start to get weak in the knees. "Mhmm! U-um car~" You kneels down, feeling the one around your ankle goes up your leg and pulls on it, making you naturally spread your legs on the ground. Thankfully you had nice pants, because then Shockwave would have seen how soaked you were from what was happened. Being in such a sensual position was making your mind think of so many things.

Shockwave watches you, basically saving the picture of your body in his mind. You are right now having your legs spread while kneeling on the ground, having one of his machine tendrils touch your boobs. He hesitated before he pulls out another card. "Y-yellow." You were still going, how smart you seemed to him. Human creatures were so simple and dumb in his eyes, seeing you being able to control yourself while having, what humans would consider, such a distracting experience. You were way stronger mentally than a lot of the soldiers on this ship. He wanted to make it harder, so he flips another switch and out comes another tendril. This one goes up to your pants and slides under the layers of clothes that cover your nether region. "Ngnn! Holy shi-ah!" You feel the tendril rubbing itself in between your folds and that is what makes you feel like your going to lose this experiment. Your hands press against the glass, leaning against to help yourself get more support from kneeling on the ground. You needed to finish the test or he was just going to continue this sinful act. "Cat…mhmm." Shockwave knew you were getting too weak, your eyes were getting dazed and blurry. He had one more card left, but he wants to know if you can focus when you are getting 100% attention. He presses on one of the buttons and the tendril enters into your vagina, going as deep as it can to figure out what it was working with. Shockwave sees your eyes get wide from the sudden pressure and you moan out his name. Shockwave couldn't believe this, but he felt his spike press against his panel, but he was going to wait until after the experiment to treat it. He shows you the last card. "This is the final card. Can you read it?" You couldn't believe what was happening, this tendril was slamming into your walls like it was no ones business…but if this is what he wanted, you were not going to lose this. You press your face against the glass to try and focus, blinking your eyes to keep your vision from giving out. "Purple! It's Purple!" You finally did it, now he could stop before you became a mess. The tendrils stop moving as you try to get the one off your boobs. Your hands shakily grab it, but it wouldn't move. You see shockwave flip another switch as another tendril comes down…oh no. You completed the test, you got all of them right! Why was he adding more?! You see the tendril going down into your pants like the other one. "W-wait sir, I did the test! Did I do well?" That was when you see Shockwave's eye brightens a little, watching as he puts his hand on the On button. "You did very well y/n. Now it is time for your reward." He turns it on again and you feel the second tendril push itself inside you, making your vagina now have two of them sliding in and out of your walls. You moan loudly, feeling your eyes start to water from the pleasure you were feeling. Your brain gets clouded, only thinking about your lower half getting destroyed. It only took a few minutes for you to cum all over the floor. The tendrils stay inside you when you started to slide off the glass and onto the floor. Your chest gets unwrapped, while the ones inside you slide out carefully and put themselves away. This was so embarrassing, you were laying on your stomach in your own liquids. Shockwave ends the recording and looks at the masterpiece he just made. "You surprise me, human. My processor is changing its opinion on you at this very moment. You should be proud."

[buckysgrace]

Hear me out : how about Gator being away for months for his job his dad sent him to and he’s coming home to reader finally and they both missed each other very much ; they’re all over each other being cuddly and loving… can be fluff and/or smut. I just miss Gator

I also really miss Gator <3 My sweet pea

CW: Unprotected sex, slight degradation, some sweet fluff at the end hehehe

Gator visits the first chance he gets.

You tried to busy yourself that day, doing your best to keep from focusing on the fact that at any second he could be back. You knew you wouldn't get a call or a text to alert you, he just couldn't bother. According to him, he enjoyed surprising you. But you knew it was likely because he didn't know when he'd be back either. Business with Roy took a while.

So you tried cleaning, scrubbing the counters and the floors. You fluffed the pillows that belonged on the couch, straightened up the blankets and then started loading up the dishwasher. All of your candles were pulled out and lit, leaving the house in a strong mixture of vanilla and cinnamon.

TV and music didn't help distract you either, it only became background noise as you settled at the window seat with your legs crossed. Your eyes kept drifting across the flat land as you swirled your straw around in your cup, hitting against the now small pieces of ice that had melted far too quickly.

You heard the truck before you saw it, the wheels heavy as it dug into the snow covered gravel. You were quick to pop back up onto your feet, rushing to put your glass on the kitchen table as you heard the heavy truck door squeak open.

You had just barely made it to the front entrance, fingertips stretched towards the handle of the door before it was pushed open. Everything inside of you pulsed with electricity, your heart hammering so quickly that it ached inside of your chest.

Gator. Your Gator. Standing less than four feet in front of you. He looked just like how you remembered; no stubble or messy hair. He was wearing his usual hat, camo pants and a leather jacket that was beginning to look rugged.

"Hi," you grinned, being the first one to speak as you met his pretty hazel eyes. You adored the mixture of dark brown and soft green, how they appeared golden in the sunlight, "I missed you." You said quickly as you pulled him in from the winter breeze, wrapping your arms tightly around him.

He was quick to hold you in the same manner, rocking you back and forth from each foot as his fingertips dug into his sides. He wasn't as vocal about how he felt, never had been, but you could tell by the way he held you. How he dipped his face in between the crook of your neck and sighed deeply, mumbling something about smelling sweet.

You clung to him for a long time, feeling like two weeks was far too long for him to be away from you. Never again. Next time you would throw an even bigger tantrum, insist on going along if you had to do so. You just didn't want him to be that far away ever again.

"Looks nice in here," he hummed as his cold nose brushed against your neck, making a little grin form across your lips, "you've been busy." He smiled as he slowly pulled away, his large hand resting on your hip as he planted a kiss across your chin. Then another. Then slowly began to trail his kisses along your jawline.

"Been waiting for you," you breathed out as you fluttered your eyelashes, enjoying the soft way he was continuing to cling to you, "you took a long time." You gasped at the way his rough hand gripped your chin, tilting your face up so he had better access to your skin.

"M'sorry," he sighed softly as he flicked his tongue out against your skin, making you shudder at the feeling, "wanted to get the bullshit out of the way first." He explained, dragging his hand that was against your hip to the string of your sweats.

You tried not to giggle as he worked with one hand to release your pants, his lips pressed against the corner of your mouth. You sighed blissfully at the feeling, warmth spreading through your body as his nose pressed into your cheek.

You tilted your head up to meet his mouth fully this time, moving your arms around his shoulders to grip a hold of him. His lips were slightly chapped, tasting of watermelon and strawberries. Probably from one of his vapes that you had forbid from being smoked within the house, not that he listened to you.

The feeling of his lips dragging against yours sent electricity through your body, warming your cool skin as he successfully began to tug your pants down the curve of your hips. You slowly drifted your hand down the length of his back in the process, enjoying the wet feel of melted snow against your fingertips in the process.

A yelp left your mouth as you went tumbling back against the closest chair to you. The back of your head fell against the cushions, while your hips remained stacked on top of the arm rest. You laughed at the odd position, your legs dangling in the air as he quickly tugged your sweats and panties off of your ankles.

You had little time to reposition yourself as he freed his hard cock from his restraints, his tip leaking in anticipation against your knee. You squeaked as he gripped your ankles and pushed your knees up towards your chest, squishing the rest of the air from your lungs.

"Like this?" You managed finally, eyes wide as his heavy dick fell against your slick folds. You whined at the feeling, eyelashes fluttering as your hole ached in anticipation.

"Why not?" He hummed, eyes glazed over with lust as he squeezed his fat tip into your smooth walls. You moaned at the feeling, thighs twitching from how badly you had missed feeling him buried inside of you.

You couldn't speak as you moved your hands up to tug him closer to you, gripping his hat and tugging it away. He huffed at your actions, just barely getting to brush his hair back before you had your fingers across the back of his neck.

Your pussy throbbed around his thick girth, fluttering as he buried himself deeper inside your wet cunt. Little moans fell from your lips as you rocked your hips forward, toes brushing against his cold leather jacket as he bottomed out inside of you. His balls were warm and heavy against your skin, the tip of his cock pressing against the deepest parts of you as he dipped his head down towards you.

"Feels good," you whined as you arched your head towards him, your nose pressing against his softly, "fuck. Feels so good, Gator." Moans left your lips as you dipped your hand down between your legs, unable to help yourself as you briefly rubbed your fingers across your clit.

"S'naughty," he teased as he roughly gripped your wrist, pressing it up towards your chest as he began to drag his cock in and out of your wet walls, "knew you missed me." He groaned this time as he looked between your bodies, staring at the way your cunt wrapped tightly around his fat girth.

You moaned as he roughly began to grind the curve of his cock in and out of your pussy, the wet sound of your bodies meeting spreading through the living room. You reached out as best as you could with your fingers, digging your nails into his hand as he continued to hold you down.

Your body filled with electrifying pleasure, burning deep inside of you as the muscles in your stomach twisted in bliss. His cock was stretching your walls in a glorious manner, the tip of his cock repeatedly hitting your bundle of nerves.

"Fuck," you moaned as you licked the drool away from your mouth, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as his cock roughly dragged in and out of you. His balls were hitting against your skin, slick from where you were continually leaking around him, "right there, baby. Please, please!" You shrieked out this time, lungs and legs burning from the way he had you bent.

Your insides flipped as you looked up at him, his hair beginning to fall over his sweaty forward as he pressed his pink lips together. His groans were loud and whiny, filled with pleasure as his grip along your wrist became tighter. You were unable to tell if it hurt, too focused on the way his cock felt inside of your soaked cunt.

He looked like a dream, cheeks flushed and eyes filled with lust and admiration. The sounds that were leaving his lips were heavenly as well, deep and intense as you continued to rock yourself along the curve of his dick.

"Such a dirty mouth," he grunted as he lowered more of his weight on top of you, leaving the back of your thighs to ache from how cramped you were, "fuckin' whore. My little slut." He spit out roughly, eyebrows furrowing as the pleasure etched deeply across his features.

His cock continued to drag along your slippery walls, your clit throbbing as you felt the waves of pleasure rushing over you. Loud moans fell from your lips as you dug your nails deeper into his flesh, marking him as your orgasm crashed over you.

You were loud, the bliss hitting you far too roughly as your legs shook and your toes curled. Your lungs were burning intensely, gaping as your cunt fluttered across the girth of his cock.

"Fuck, fuck," he cursed as he rocked his hips forward faster, his cock hitting the deepest parts of you as his forehead fell against yours, "your tang feels so fuckin' good. Shit." He whined, his balls falling flat against your slick skin as he buried himself against you.

He moaned as he emptied himself inside of you, painting your walls white with his spunk as you cooed up at him. You memorized the way his features contorted in pleasure, how a little grin spread across his lips as his cock twitched inside of you.

"Oh," you whispered softly at the feeling, savoring how good it felt as he slowly released his grip on you, "that was quite the gift." You teased breathlessly, heart hammering roughly inside of your chest. He chuckled as he brought your wrist up to his lips, kissing your skin softly.

"Told you I missed you," he smiled as he met your eyes, making your heart flutter and your insides soar from his words. You didn't correct him, but rather savored in the moment of him admitting to missing you just as much, "how about we get you cleaned up and then we can watch something fun?" He suggested as he slowly let your legs relax, making you hiss from the feeling.

You smiled as you nodded along, deciding you'd be happy with anything as long as you got to hold him.

[athenagc94]

Dear Daddy Long Legs - Chapter 10

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

TW: Underage drinking, sobriety, triggered PTSD

First | Prev | Next

Chapter 10

Dear Weird Mr. Rich Man—  

Sorry. Tell me if I’ve gone too far with these.  

I’ve made friends! I know that has nothing to do with my studies, but We can both agree that socialization has its benefits. It’s an important piece of one’s college experience. I’m sure you have a few stories from your wild college days…  

Maybe you could tell me about them sometime?  

Or not.  

Probably not.  

But it’s nice, feeling like I finally have a foothold in this strange new world. At first, I felt out of place, but I think I’m finally getting the hang of this. It only took a few months.  

Colored lights flashed in time with the heavy bass pouring through the speakers over Jason’s head. It was only slightly louder than the shouts and clink of glasses happening around them. He teetered on the cusp of a sensory nightmare, but he shoved the discomfort aside to focus on what Roy was saying.  

He rarely went to clubs. The noise, the lights, the sheer number of people packed into a confined place spelled trouble for him, but it was Roy’s turn to pick their hangout spot. Even though he stopped drinking a year ago, he liked to surround himself with the noise and bustle of the club. Jason couldn’t relate, but it had been months since they’d had a chance to get away from their busy lives and catch up. He could suck it up for his sake.  

It wasn’t the ideal place to talk, but Roy managed it just fine. “Lian lost another tooth this week.” He angled his phone toward Jason.  

He leaned forward, squinting at the offensively bright screen.  

“Put on your glasses,” Roy said before muttering a soft, “Stubborn fuck,” under his breath.  

Jason scoffed as he grabbed the glasses that hung off his collar. He avoided wearing them when he could. Not only did it not help the nerd allegations, but glasses weren’t the most practical for his line of work. “I wear them to block blue light.”  

“Uh huh.”  

A dunk in the Lazarus Pit fixed a lot of things, but his penchant for splitting migraines was not one of them. He also had a bad habit of reading without an overhead light, but correlation did not equal causation in this scenario. He slid the glasses up his nose with a soft huff and he could finally focus on the photo on Roy’s phone.  

Lian smiled back at him, showing off several gaps in her teeth. He could see Roy the slightly crooked smile and the wrinkle of mischief around her eyes.  

“She’s getting so big.”  

“Tell me about it.” Roy sighed wistfully as he straightened his frayed ball cap. “I fear the day she starts calling me dad instead of daddy . Or God forbid she switches to father like that little demon spawn does with Bruce.”  

“How will you ever survive,” Jason teased as he sipped his soda.  

Roy smirked. Ah, there was that wrinkle of mischief. “I heard through the grapevine that I’m not the only one getting called daddy these days.”  

Jason sputtered, the carbonated fizz burning his nostrils. He wiped his mouth and sneered. So, this was his plan all along. An ambush. It was suspicious for Roy to call him out of the blue. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy hanging out with him, but it was odd that it happened to coincide perfectly with his return to Gotham.  

“I told Artemis it wasn’t like that.”  

“Hey, man, I’m the last person to judge. I like to be called—” He stopped himself, much to Jason’s relief. That was information he could live without. Roy settled on a light punch to the arm instead. “Do you want to talk about it?”  

“No.”  

He downed his drink, despite the unpleasant roil in his belly. The song filtering through the speakers switched to something more upbeat. A cheer ripped through the crowd, and he flinched.  

“But if I did, what would you say? Hypothetically, of course.”  

“Hypothetically, I would say that I’m glad to hear you’re putting yourself out there again. I know you’d never admit it, but the breakup with Artemis hit you hard. This is good…” He bobbed his head thoughtfully. “Though the execution seems a little eh, but I’m not as romantic as you are, so what the fuck do I know? It wouldn’t hurt to try your luck with a civilian partner. Heroes have their perks, but so do civilians.”  

Jason chewed his lip. “I never said I wanted to date her.”  

“You didn’t have to. It’s written all over your face.”  

Jason thought things would get easier once he distanced himself but not seeing you for nearly two months left him feeling oddly empty. He thought distracting himself with the Outlaws or Park Row patrols, but his mind always wandered back to you. He tried to pinpoint when exactly this crush developed, but he couldn’t settle on a singular moment. It just kind of snuck up on him.  

Still, he stayed away. You never asked for his attention, even if he to sit on your floor and read to you until you fell asleep, to touch—  

Roy waved a hand in front of his face, dragging him back. He forced himself to refocus. “What?”  

“I lost ya there for a second. Care to tell me where you went?”  

Not particularly, but Jason tried anyway. “My life is dangerous. It’s inconsistent, and I have a habit of disappearing when things get tough. I can’t put a civilian’s life needlessly in danger like that. It’s not f—”  

“Shot time!”  

Jason looked up as you passed their table, dragged by none other than Stephanie fucking Brown, in all her sparkly purple glory. And you—  

His eyes widened.  

He’d never seen you wear anything except that ill-fitting button up and slacks. He now realized that was a small mercy granted by the heavens because hot damn . You wore a pair of torn black jeans and a tight red shirt that showed off the contours of your body. It was the jacket though, beaten brown leather, two sizes too large, and obviously thrifted, that dried his throat.  

You looked like…  

He muffled the pathetic whine that pressed through his lips. You and Steph stopped at the bar, the latter muttering low in your ear with a twinkle in her eye. You threw your head back and laughed. Jealousy reared its ugly head as Jason stared.  

Since when were you two friends?  

“Jay?” He tore his eyes away from you to look at Roy. Concern furrowed his brow. “Are you sure you’re alright? If this is too much, we can go somewhere el—”  

Over his shoulder, you and Step clinked glasses before knocking back a shot.  

“No!”  

His expression grew more severe. “No?”  

Jason splayed his hands flat on the sticky table. “I mean, we just got here. Next round is one me. Club soda with a twist of lime, right?”  

Roy looked conflicted, but only for a moment. “Yes.”  

He shoved out of his chair. “Be right back.”  

Sweaty bodies pressed in from all side as he aimed for the bar. Your back was to him as you spoke with the bartender. God, you looked great. Casual, but effortlessly so. You didn’t have to do much to turn heads, and you had certainly garnered the bartender's attention.  

You can do this , he told himself. Make it look natural. Jason could strategize and plot with the best of them. Talking to you wasn’t nearly as complicated as infiltrating Black Mask’s base or apprehending a—  

“Babe, get down before you hurt you—”  

Before Jason could react, he hit the ground. Beer dripped from his curls and soaked the front of his shirt. He straightened his glasses as he turned his ire on the dumbass that had fallen on top of him. “What the fuck, man?”  

Tim stared at him with flushed cheeks.  

He stared back.  

“How’d you get in?” Tim muffled a hiccup as he stumbled to his feet. Jason jumped up to catch him before he fell back onto his face, though it would have been objectively hilarious to see. “You don’t have a valid ID.”  

“This is front for one of my dealers. I’m technically their boss, so they couldn’t turn me away if they wanted to.” His eyes narrowed. “You’re underage. How’d you get in?”  

“I’m Timothy Drake.” Jason could smell the mix of hard liquor and beer on his breath. “Do you really think they’re going to kick me and my friends out?”  

God, the entitlement.  

“Friends?” Jason seethed, “How many people did you smuggle in with you?”  

“Bernard and Steph. She brought a friend too. Whatever. The more the merrier. I don’t usually take the night off, so Bart came in from Central, and Kon flew down from Metropolis…”   

He counted them off on his fingers, but he quickly lost the plot and trailed off. He went a little cross-eyed as he tried to find his train of thought again. Jason crossed his arms and waited. He wiggled his fingers as if it were the most fascinating thing.  

“Tim,” Jason pressed.  

He finally refocused. “A few others too. I’m not going to list them off. It would take too long. I know that’s not something you’re used to.”  

His nostrils flared. “I have friends. I’m here with a friend now.”  

“So, Roy.”  

He searched for the right answer. There wasn’t one.  

“Did someone say shots!” Steph pushed through the crowd with two more glasses. She shoved one into Tim’s hands before throwing her shot back. Her expression puckered before she opened her eyes, zeroing in on Jason. Her smile turned feline. “Well, well. This is a surprise.”  

His attention shifted over her shoulder to where you hung back. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. You met his gaze with a narrow look. God, he missed your blatant distrust.  

Steph clocked the tension between you immediately and decided to help by introducing you. “And this is Ja—”  

“Jacob,” he cut in quickly, “My name is Jacob.”  

His heart raced. While objectively the smart move, he’d just dug himself a bigger hole by giving you a fake name. Steph would never let him live this down, and Tim—Jason dreaded to think what Tim had to say about all this. He willed the ground to swallow him whole.  

“Have we met before?”  

He struggled to catch his breath. “Don’t think so. I just have one of those faces, I guess.”  

“Right.” You nudged Steph. “I’ll go wait for our drinks.”  

“Don’t forget to put it on my tab,” Tim insisted as you turned away. His knowing smile rankled Jason. He curled and uncurled his fists. A quick punch to the throat. That was all it would take to wipe that smug look off his face.  

“You knew it was her.”  

Tim shrugged as he downed his shot, confirming nothing, but this was Tim. Of course, he knew who you were.  

“Um, hello, am I missing something?” Steph flicked a damp curl over her shoulder. “Why are we using fake names? Unless that’s what you want to be called now? If so, I’m totally in support of your journey, though Jacob is a little basic. You look more like a—”  

Tim mercifully cut her off, “He can’t let her know his real name.”  

She blinked. “Why?”  

“Drop it.” Jason craned his neck to keep an eye on you. “It’s not important.”  

“If we’re changing our names, it’s gotta be somewhat important.”  

“I’ll tell you in the morning,” Tim assured her.  

“Is it juicy?”  

“If by juicy, you mean kind of pathetic, then yeah.”  

Steph bounced giddily on the balls of her feet. “Oh my god.”  

Jason tuned them out as he settled solely on you. God, that jacket looked amazing on you. For a second, he imagined it was his instead. If it was, that bartender would stop looking at you with those heavy bedroom eyes. He was tall, but Jason was much taller. His skin was smooth and unblemished.  

Did you like that kind of thing?  

He glanced down at the discolored knicks and scars that marred the back of his hands. They didn’t bother him as much anymore. Each mark told his story. At least, that’s what Talia tried to instill on him when he lived in Nanda Parbat. You liked a good story.  

Fuck it , he thought as he abandoned them to head toward the bar. It was too late to pretend he never saw you, and there was no way he was letting this moment slip through his fingers. You did a double take as he sat next to you, effectively startling the bartender who had leaned across the bar to flirt with you.  

“A club soda with lime and a Coke.”  

He cleared his throat and moved to make Jason’s drinks.  

You studied him for a second, your expression unreadable. “Not drinking?”  

Jason forced himself to look at you. It had been easier with the helmet, but tonight, there was nothing to protect him from the full brunt of your gaze.  

“My friend doesn’t drink, so I don’t either when we hang out.”  

“I’m sure they appreciate that.”  

It wasn’t a direct compliment, but his heart swelled all the same. “Nah, it’s not a big deal. Drinking by myself isn’t all that fun.” He cleared his throat. “Not that I would know.”  

“I never assumed that you did.”  

He forced himself to laugh. It effectively killed the mood, and you turned back to the bar, seemingly content to have things end there. Jason was not, but he struggled to come up with something to say. His gaze fell to your jacket once more.  

“So, leather?”  

“Leather?” you echoed as you bit back a smile.  

“I mean, your jacket. It’s leather.”  

You feigned shock. “Really? I had no idea.”  

He choked on another laugh. Fuck, this was going a lot worse than he pictured it in his head, but he pressed on anyway, “I have one too.”  

“Yeah?”  

“I mean, I think it looks—” His head spun. “You look—”  

A hand clapped down on his shoulder. “And here I thought you left me high and dry.”  

Jason sagged with relief as Roy settled next to him, sparing him from the embarrassment of finishing that thought. His relief faded when Roy’s gaze shifted to you, his easy smile turning rueful.  

“Is he bothering you, sweetheart?”  

“Not at all,” you said as the bartender dropped off your drinks. Two in front of you, and two in front of him.   

It barely registered, his beef with the bartender forgotten now that he was faced with the terrifying realization that every conversation with you ended in him acting like a bumbling fool. His mouth worked, but no words came out.  

“But I think he might be short-circuiting.”  

Roy chuckled. “Yeah, he gets a little shy around a pretty face.”  

You smirked as you sipped your drink. “Flirting on his behalf. Now, that’s a good friend.”  

Jason shoved him away, gritting his teeth. “Ignore him. We were just leaving. Sorry to both—”  

“Please. No need to stop on my account,” Roy insisted, ever the helpful one. Jason resisted the urge to smack him. “I think you were about to compliment her jacket, right?”  

“He was,” you agreed, “But I’ll spare him from doing so in front of you.” Your hand fell to his shoulder as you leaned in. Tequila sharpened your breath, fanning across his skin. If he turned his head just a fraction, you’d be nose to nose, your lips sinfully close. He stayed still as stone, shoving that mental image from his mind.   

You whispered in his ear, “If you want to try again, you know who I came with. I’ll even pretend this isn’t our first time meeting, Mr. Darcy.”  

Ice coated his veins.   

“A pair of glasses isn’t enough to fool me, though I’d be lying if I said you didn’t look good.” You squeezed his shoulder and walked away.  

He stayed facing the bar, too stunned to move, to speak, hell, he wasn’t even sure if he was breathing any more.  

“That her?”  

A low whine wrenched from his throat.  

Roy took a long sip from his drink. “Everything makes sense now. Your lifestyle has nothing to do with why you’re against dating. You suck at flirting.”  

“That’s not true.”  

“Did you hear yourself before?”  

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Okay, fine, but that’s only part of it. I know all this stuff about her, but I can’t tell her that without looking like a weirdo. I want to do this right, but I don’t know how to begin. What do I do?”  

Insane that he was turning to Roy of all people for dating advice. He loved the guy, but his track record with women was not the best.  

“You could ask her to dance?”  

If Jason had pearls, he would have clutched them. “Have you lost your mind?”  

“Dude.” He flicked him between the eyes. “I know you haven’t had a whole lot of experience with flirting, but that —” He pointed to where you disappeared in the crowd. “That was a clear invitation to follow her. And if you play your cards right, you could end the night like them.”  

Roy then pointed to where Tim balanced precariously on another table. He dragged Bernard up with him this time, his mouth sealed over his in a sloppy kiss. Bernard held a beer in one hand as he grabbed his ass with the other.  

Jason averted his gaze. “Yeah, okay, let me try making it through a conversation without looking like a dumbass first.”  

“Whatever floats your boat, man, but this your shot. Take it.”  

He wiped his sticky palms on his jeans. “I thought you wanted to hang out with me.”  

“I can survive,” he insisted, “Who knows? Maybe I’ll call Dick so we can watch the shit show together.”  

“Dickie is too busy being Bludhaven’s golden boy to care about my non-existent love life.” Jason hadn’t heard from his brother in months, which was probably for the best. Things were easier when they didn’t talk. Reminded him of the days before he bit the dust.  

“I think he’d make an exception for this,” Roy countered with a sharp smile, “This is the best entertainment I've had in years. Now, I need to know how you bagged a baddie like Artemis. I thought you had hidden charm, but that’s clearly not the case.”  

Jason clamped down on his irritation. “Are you done?”  

“Almost.” Roy considered him thoughtfully. “Is it the curly hair? It must be, right? I can’t think of anything else that would—”  

“Roy.”  

He waved him off. “Alright, fine. I’m done now. Are you going to ask her to dance or what?”  

Continuing his relationship with you as Jacob wasn’t the worst decision he’s made where you were concerned. It was closest he’d ever get to being himself around you. No more skirting around under the guise of protocol or chance meetings on fire escapes. He could finally meet you halfway, on equal footing.   

He stood with hardened resolve.  

Roy clapped him on the back. “Atta boy. Go get her.”  

Anxiety prickled his skin as he headed into the crowd to find you. All the while, he tried to convince himself that this was an invitation and that you wouldn’t laugh in his face when he asked you to dance. He didn’t dance, but he would do it for you.   

Jason could picture it now. His hands dipping under that jacket to grip your hips, pulling you flush against his body as you moved to the music. Your breath mingling with his as he pressed his forehead to yours. Words had betrayed him tonight, but he could make his actions count.  

He caught a blur of red hair, then blonde hair, then the outline of a man who was undoubtedly half-Kryptonian. He found Tim’s entourage, so that meant you had to be—  

Someone laughed.   

It grated on his ears, warping until it bordered on hysterical.  

Something snapped inside him.  

It couldn’t be his laugh, he tried to rationalize.  

He was rotting in Arkham.  

He closed his eyes, starbursts painting the back of his eyelids. They looked an awful lot like explosions. His breath shallowed as he pressed his palms over his eyes in a vain attempt to shove the image from his mind.  

No.  

No.  

No .  

Not here.  

Not now.  

He staggered back as a familiar panic twined through his chest.  

It was suddenly too loud, too bright, too warm—like fire. Flames. He smelled smoke. He tugged desperately at his collar, but it failed to alleviate the tension in his throat.  

Suddenly, he was moving.  

A chill it into his skin as he exited the club. Where he went, he had no idea, but he needed to get away. Somewhere quieter, somewhere darker, somewhere that didn’t remind him of that night.  

Eventually, he sank to his knees, slush and snow soaking through his jeans as he willed his head to stop spinning. He focused on the ground, the feel of the rough asphalt under his palms. He counted his breaths. One, two, three —all the way to ten . His fists tightened as he held his breath, then released the tension on the exhale.  

His vision felt too sharp, too real, but his mind finally slowed as he slowly regained control of his body. He released another shaky breath, tears in his eyes.  

Jason hadn’t had an episode this bad in a while.  

Small things could trigger him—like forcing himself into a packed club with all that stimulation. God, he was an idiot to push himself like that. He should have left when Roy suggested it.   

Roy.  

He abandoned him.  

Fuck .  

On top of everything, he was a shit friend too.  

Anger twined with his shame and fear. He punched the ground. And again. Over and over until his knuckles bled. His next breath broke on a sob as he folded in half, his forehead pressed to the concrete.  

To think, he almost fooled himself into believing he had a chance at something normal—something good. Things would never pan out between you two. You deserved someone better. Someone less fucked in the head. He distanced himself for a reason. This was why.  

---------------

A/N: Haha. That was fun until it wasn't. Until next time!

[wonderstrucku]

How the Boxers Act with a Self-Conscious S/O!!

basically just the boxers loving you, complimenting you and reminding you that you're perfect just the way you are <3 (because you are, trust me!!)

reader is gender neutral/not specified

cws/tws: contains themes of body issues, low self esteem and self hatred, mentions of unwanted flirting on both Aran Ryan's and Soda Popinski's sections

Glass Joe:

Being at the bottom of the Minor Circuit, Joe knows self-degradation better than anyone

He relates to your feelings of inadequacy, he’s felt the exact same way about his own body before

It breaks his heart when he sees you pulling at your clothes in the mirror or making self-deprecating jokes concerning your body and face

To Joe, you are genuinely one of the most beautiful people in the entire world and the fact you can’t see that breaks him

When he sees you’re feeling down, he tries his best to compliment you or distract you from the mirror with a quick kiss on the cheek

Randomly reminds you of how beautiful you are

Also starts to compliment your personality and skills more, so you can see that he loves every part of you, not just your looks

Von Kaiser:

Von Kaiser is also quite self-conscious, although his gripes are more about strength than looks

But, he knows what’s going on with you and wants it to stop more than anything

As with most things, Von Kaiser is extremely blunt and honest, telling you that you look perfect and there is nothing that he would change

Opens up about his own insecurities, hoping that it will make you feel even a little bit better

He also starts complimenting you more and makes sure you truly feel comfortable in what you’re wearing

Makes it clear that he would love you no matter what you looked like

Disco Kid:

At first, Disco Kid doesn’t realise that you’re self-conscious

He thinks you’re pretty, so why wouldn’t you think the same!??

That all changes when he sees how you look at yourself in the mirror

He sees how your eyes glisten with tears when you focus on the features you hate the most

It’s incredulous to him, because most the features you hate are his absolute favourite things about you

Quickly comes up behind you and gives you a hug, apologising for not noticing earlier while telling you how beautiful he thinks you are

Starts doing daily affirmations with you to boost your confidence

Dresses you in outfits that make you feel confident

Constantly hypes you up and compliments you, especially when you’re having a bad day

King Hippo:

Genuinely confused by your self-hatred

Your body was made especially for you, how could you ever hate it?

Tries to comfort you but genuinely can’t wrap his head around what’s upset you so much

That’s until he turns on the television and sees the kinds of things it’s showing

He realises you hate your looks because you don’t think you conform to the standards set by, what he describes as, ‘people who don’t know how bodies work’

Tries to make you see that beauty standards do not matter at all and that they change all of the time

Also tries to compliment you more

Piston Hondo:

Doesn’t really know what to do or say at first, he never really focused on your appearance

Yes, he thinks you look nice but looks honestly aren’t all that important to him

Feels terrible because he didn’t know how you felt about yourself until you told him

Tries to help you take your mind off your insecurities by doing various activities or going places with you

Sees when you’re having a particularly bad day and makes the effort to compliment you

Teaches you to look for and nurture the beauty within, rather than just focusing on what’s on the outside (what’s inside you is what he fell for anyways)

Bear Hugger:

Do NOT call yourself ugly around Bear Hugger unless you want to be cuddled and complimented for hours on end

Even the tiniest, most insignificant mention of you not liking yourself is enough to trigger a barrage of worried questions and warm hugs

Whatever you’re self conscious about, whether it be your weight, your height or your body shape, Bear Hugger will find a way to make all of your worries disappear, even if just for a moment

While you’re locked in his embrace, he tells you all the things he loves about you and that even if you hate something, he’ll love it twice as much as he did before

Great Tiger:

Like Bear Hugger, Great Tiger also showers you in compliments and affection if he even gets a hint that you’re self-conscious

He, of course, uses his clones to help him get his message across, having them hug you and point out all of the things he loves about you

Goes up to you and hugs you from behind when you look in the mirror while just gazing at you wistfully

May also get you some new clothes that make you feel confident as well

Also takes you out of the house often to get your mind off of your insecurities

If the compliments don’t work, Great Tiger definitely writes and records a song about you, performing it for you after

Don Flamenco:

It’s rare that anyone with Don Flamenco would become self conscious, ESPECIALLY about their looks

Don is the type of man that makes sure his partner knows how beautiful and perfect they are and constantly reminds them of that fact

But even with all of the compliments, sometimes insecurities manage to overwhelm your mind

The second he notices this, Don swoops into action and dials the affection up to eleven

Every single second, he’s telling you that he loves you and that you’re utterly perfect in every way in he can imagine

This goes on for as long as it needs to (which is until you feel happy with yourself again)

Don also starts paying more attention to you in public, whether that be through physical affection or just lovingly gazing into your eyes

Aran Ryan:

Being a competitor in the World Circuit, Aran is no stranger to fangirls and fanboys coming up to him, whether it be for autographs or.. other reasons..

Aran has no trouble brushing these people off, to him they’re just random people who mean nothing whatsoever

But for you, seeing all of these people come up to him, flirt with him and even touch him at times makes you even more insecure than you normally would be

Despite Aran instantly shutting flirting down when it comes up, you can’t help but compare yourself to his fans, they all seem so much better than you in so many ways

When you tell Aran about how you feel, he’s completely shocked. In his mind he’s the ugly one, not you!

Tries to comfort you the best he can, telling you that his eyes have only been on you since the day you met

He’s not the best at words so he tries to be more physically affectionate in public, putting his arm around your waist or shoulder, holding your hand and just being closer to you in general

Also starts making jokes about his own appearance (until you ask him to stop)

He’s more into making you feel beautiful than just telling you if that makes sense

Soda Popinski:

Soda’s story is similar to Aran’s, tons of fans come up to him while he’s in public to.. ‘try their luck’.. so to speak

Unfortunately, Soda is almost always oblivious to flirting in any form so he just thinks people are being nice to him

This adds a new, more painful layer to the insecurities flying around your head as Soda responds positively to yet another better or more beautiful person

When you confide in him about your insecurities, he feels so stupid for not noticing before and apologises

Afterwards, Soda always tries to keep close to you and constantly reminds you that you’re the most special person in the world to him

If you try to make a passing comment or joke about how you look, Soda is just like ‘Huh? That isn’t true..’ (and he means every word of it)

Bald Bull:

Completely understands how you feel, the paparazzi and tabloid articles havmade him feel extremely self-conscious about his body

Tries to comfort you but he can’t contain his rage caused by this new revelation

He’s not angry at you, of course.. He’s angry at the things that made you hate yourself so much

Protects you from the press as much as he can, knowing that they would only make things worse for you

If an article or two manages to slip through, Bull goes absolutely ballistic. Like he charges over to the news company and forces them to take down the articles (can you really blame him though?)

When he’s calmer, Bull reminds you that he finds you beautiful whenever he can

Super Macho Man:

Being the famous So-Cal hunk he is, Super Macho Man is constantly surrounded by extremely beautiful people; Models, actors and according to him.. you

Genuinely perplexed when he finds out you’re self-conscious, like it’s dumbfounding to him that you find yourself unattractive

Tries to comfort you by saying things like ‘Don’t worry, babe! Super Macho Man would NEVER date someone with an ugly mug!’

To nobody’s surprise, this does not work.. AT ALL.. so Macho takes a new, you-centered approach..

… by buying you multiple wardrobes worth of clothes that he thinks look nice on you

Organises a little fashion show where you show him the outfits he bought for you while he screams compliments at you

Starts showing you off and parading you around in public by propping you up on his shoulder and telling the people around him how beautiful you are

Mr. Sandman:

More often than not, Mr. Sandman is busy with world champion business

But when he sees that you're struggling with your self-image, he stops at nothing to help you feel better

Even if it means (forcing) politely asking his managers to give him a day off

When he does get some time off, he spends the entire day at home with you, complimenting you and making you feel as loved as possible

Also gushes about you in interviews, even looking directly into the camera and telling you he loves you no matter what

Even if he's tired, he tries to be more physical with you, cuddling with you and whispering how beautiful you are into your ear

-----------------------------------

hope you enjoyed reading this! :)

let me know if there's anything else you'd like to see from me!!

[strawberryblondebutch]

Curious, bc i have adhd and take meds, how do professional sports view stimulant medication? I’ve had people in my regular ass life imply they gave me a leg up over them (bc my goal is to be Better At Minimum Wage Labour than others i suppose???) so I’m curious about how those types of medications intersect with pro sports/sports culture.

Broadly speaking: Adderall and other prescription stimulants are considered performance-enhancing drugs. In baseball, football, and basketball, you can go through an approval process to get a therapeutic use exemption (i.e. "I actually need this to function in my daily life and I'm not taking it to get ahead"). As of 2012, the NHL had a blanket ban on Adderall, although it looks like that changed with the new CBA (at the very least, Article 47.10 at least gives recourse for obtaining a therapeutic use exemption/TUE).

As for what the player consensus is, I think Lars Anderson probably sums up the thoughts of most pro players: "We all agree that athletes with poor eyesight should be allowed to wear glasses or contacts; we also generally agree that competitors should not be allowed to inject anabolic steroids that turn them into the Hulk."

I mentioned Shane Victorino last night as a player who basically couldn't function until he got back on his meds. He had a pretty easy time getting a TUE, as he had a diagnostic history going back to age 5. Scott Eyre, who also played for the Phillies during their World Series run, didn't get a diagnosis until he was an adult - before that, he was constantly fidgeting and getting distracted while trying to pitch, and his catcher was the one who asked if he considered ADHD. There are cases like that where, like the glasses analogy, you notice your buddy has a problem and then the problem is managed.

There's still a stigma around taking stimulants, however. In 2016, Simone Biles was attacked when hackers leaked medical records that showed she had been taking Ritalin (with a TUE) at the Rio Olympics. Then in 2020, she and other ADHD athletes had to apply not just to use stimulants in their competitions, but just to bring those drugs into Tokyo.

For hockey specifically, Cammi Granato said that she did well despite her ADHD when she was in the game, because you're operating on instinct, which gels both with my experience as an ADHD hockey player and with research that activities requiring short spurts of intense focus are the easiest.

[stereax]

hi hello hey !!!

Are you already tired of Four Nations Faceoff? Don't want to watch Canada and America have a little politicized catfight? Don't have a way to watch it?

Or: Do YOU want some relatively low-stakes hockey that's highly French, starting at 7 PM Eastern time?

After the success of Wednesday Night in the Dub, the QMJHL took a look at the WHL and said "we're gonna do the same thing, but in Quebecois" and enter: Duel du jeudi soir!

This week's matchup is the Chicoutimi Saguenéens vs... wait for it... the Drummondville Voltigeurs!!! MY BOYS!!! This match, unlike last week's, is between two top teams - the Sags are in 4th place in the Q while the Volts are in 3rd.

Also, if you're a Dawson Mercer fan (and we all are): this is the fight of his QMJHL teams! He was a Volt for 2.5 seasons, then got traded to the Sags in his draft year and played for them for 1.5 seasons before making the NHL.

Here's some players I'm keeping my eye on:

Chicoutimi

do i have to mom? okay

Emmanuel Vermette (#28) - 23 goals, 27 assists. Leads the team in goals and points.

Thomas Desruisseaux (#17) - 14 goals, 30 assists. Leads the team in assists.

Loïc Usereau (#72) - 30 assists as a defenseman and 8 goals on top of it. Not bad. 15 goals last year too.

Jonathan Prud'homme (#27) - 5'10" defenseman, 168 pounds, and... 93 penalty minutes in 51 games?!? And only one 5-minute major (+ ejection for high-sticking). Wow. Lowkey impressive. Got three separate roughing penalties one game and got an unsportsmanlike for it... this entire team might be full of thugs, actually...

Drummondville

Ethan Gauthier (#79) - Tampa Bay draft pick (Volt to Bolt?). First overall QMJHL selection in 2021. Born in Phoenix, Arizona. Current linemates with the other two skaters profiled below, but they seem to be line shuffling a lot recently. Stapled to the side of the captain (see below).

Sam Oliver (#47) - The leading goalscorer of the team. As in, 45 goals and 21 assists in 53 games, which is double the goals of the next leading goalscorer on the team (22) and leads the league. 17 powerplay goals. Got a hatty two games ago. (They still lost 5-7.) The epitome of pucks on net.

Riley Mercer (#67) - The Volts' starting goalie. He's been decent for the past few years, but realized he's goated in last year's Q playoffs (0.934 sv%) and is currently rocking a 0.930 sv%. That being said, apparently his numbers are slipping month on month. I'm not too concerned. Okay, maybe I'm a little concerned...

"Wait, Mercer like - " YEP HE'S DAWSON'S BABY BROTHER!!!

Luke Woodworth (#19) - BOY OF ALL TIME. I can and WILL ramble about him for hours. But I'll try to keep it short.

He is tiny (5'9", 164 lbs) and a center.

His birthday is wrong on EliteProspects (March 1, not April 1).

He scored like, 19 assists this year before he finally got his first goal of the season, including two 4-A nights.

He's had three separate 8-game point streaks this season.

He's leading the team in assists (56) and points (72), and is leading the league in assists.

He can score though, check it. (And an Oliver assist!)

He got penalized this season for "throwing a stick or equipment" and I wish I had the clip of it.

He's from Bridgewater, Nova Scotia, and he's a big hometown boy.

He's going to play for Nebraska-Omaha in the NCHC next year! CHL->NCAA pipeline...

He's the captain of the Volts!

He wears glasses sometimes.

And has a GOD awful playoff mustache.

Okay here are pictures:

oh also these two might be in love a little bit forgot to mention whoops

The Volts are my favorite boys. Can you tell? Reigning Q champs. Gearing up for one big final Memorial Cup push for their overagers (Riley and Luke among them); it's unclear whether they'll be contending next year, especially with the departure of several key pieces. Also, every time I look at them, they decide to be my failchildren and flail around on the ice; every time I ignore them, they go on hot streaks.

So, are you in? Great! You can watch DDJS FREE on YouTube here! (They archive past DDJSes too!) The game tonight starts at 7 PM Eastern :D

And if that doesn't convince you... well...

Hope to see you in the #ddjs lb tag tonight!!

Programming note - I'll likely miss the first period, as I have mock trial stuff to do, but I'll try to watch on mute and LB a little bit :) have some volts trophy rings as an apology!

[nabi-unveiled]

The Smelly Storm Glass

When I first watched Episode 6, I was momentarily stunned when Hagiwara reeled back from the smell of the broken storm glass.

There's smell? We had definitely experienced sound, lighting, color, clothing and prop symbolism. We had all kinds of interesting framing and dialogue parallels. But smell? Had we had that previously?

Smell is not frequently used as a symbol outside of the ABO, werewolf & vampire genres. It's not nearly as common as lighting or color for example. It's sometimes mentioned for low-effort dialogue or scene advancement purposes (I need a shower because I smell. The food smells good., fart jokes etc.) However, it's really low on the list of symbolism in live-action TV. Why? Because it's harder to convey in visual form. Actually depicting smell (and not just talking about it) can be quite disruptive and off-putting if not done correctly.

Even when we do get smell symbolism, it tends to be reduced to a few different forms. When it happens, pay attention.

The first form of smell symbolism is "smelly hair". This happened recently in Your Sky with Muenfah talking about Teerak's hair smelling. In some ways, this is a throwback to a lot of older het Asian dramas. It was almost always the woman who had smelly hair, and it was typically a sign that they had not been caring for themselves properly. Teerak needed to learn boundaries and how to take care of himself. It also tied into his whole "kissing on the head" parallel.

We have a version of this in When It Rains. Less than one minute into ep 1, Hagiwara smells Kaori's hair before initiating physical intimacy.

However, there's no dialogue and it's not a bad smell. It's not the typical use. It's hard to say if it served a symbolic function or was an acting choice. I'm leaning towards the latter. Hagiwara often looks like he is almost smelling before he goes for the neck in intimate interactions. This one was just more blatant and had more time between the "smell" and going for the neck. That actually fits the narrative point and pacing of this scene.

The most we can really say is that it relates to Hagiwara's physical interest in Kaori; however, it's not strong as a symbol. I don't typically consider smelling as part of physical intimacy to be a symbol. That swerves into kinks & dynamics territory rather than pure symbolism.

The second type of smell symbolism we see in TV series is related to a particular scent being commonly associated with a person. This can be used to show a personal identity OR marking of territory. This is the type most often used in ABO/werewolf/vampire shows. It was recently seen in ep 17 of Perfect 10 Liners. Yotha hugs Gun to "share" his cologne. Sharing a smell is a lot like blending or swapping of colors in terms of symbolism. It shows a sense of togetherness. It's typically love, but it can also be clan/family.

However, when the smell isn't shared, it's often related to personal identity. It's not a BL, but My ID is Gangnam Beauty did this version of smell symbolism. The male lead associated a particular scent with his mother which caused issues when our female lead wears it. They also make couple scents. If you want a show with a lot of smell symbolism, this is it. I can't think of a BL equivalent in terms of sheer amount of smell symbolism off the top of my head.

We have a version of this type of smell symbolism in When It Rains. After eating together, Sei asks Hagiwara to spray cologne on him.

But it subverts the typical use of the symbolism. Sei is trying to cover up the smell. He's hiding his personal identity - removing himself to match Fujisawa's tastes.

It's interesting that Hagiwara is helping cover up his scent, but I think it serves more as a tool for dialogue development than symbolism.

The most I would be willing to say is that Hagiwara can't mark his territory. Sei isn't his (yet). That's a stretch. It feels like I'm making crap up for my own purposes. Which to be fair - I sometimes do.

BY FAR, those two forms are the most common in terms of smell symbolism in Asian dramas. A third form would be a smell triggering a memory; however, it's more common for that to be actually eating some type of smelly food instead of just the smell. The food is actually the symbol. Same with flowers - in most cases the flower is the symbol there, not the smell.

This brings us to the last form of smell symbolism we're going to discuss - the dead body. This type of smell symbolism is most often used in crime dramas. It's typically used to show when a crime is horrifically bad. The reaction to the smell is often shown before you see the crime scene. It serves as a warning for what's to come. As in "brace yourself, this next scene won't be pretty". I don't typically pay a lot of attention to this symbol. It probably exists in at least a couple BLs, but I'd have to rewatch the most probable candidates to find it.

There are some other interpretations; however, this is what the smelly storm glass seems to be (to me) in terms of smell symbolism. It's the dead body. It's the crime scene. Hagiwara's pose is very reminiscent of crime scene shots. The destruction already happened (in terms of the affair), but it's also a warning of what's to come. The SA scene comes directly afterwards. Horrific crime.

It is interesting to me that Hagiwara gets cut by the broken storm glass. We don't see it until his conversation with Sei. We find out directly after he tells Sei to blame him for what happened.

We know Hagiwara's character. He cares immensely about Sei. He's going to feel some kind of way about what happened to Sei. That his calling Sei triggered this event hurts him too. The nail is damaged (or at least covered in bandage residue), but it's the slice on the knuckle that is the worst. I am confident that if this injury was just related to Kaori, it would just impact his nail. It wouldn't be his finger too. Sei is the one that talks about his fingers. There's probably something there about it being a "slice" injury, but I'm not sure.

Again, there ARE alternative interpretations for the smelly storm glass. This is just the one that makes the most sense to me.

I've now written WAY too much about this show. For those that want to read it, here's a master list. I'll keep updating it as I add new posts.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for RaineyDay behind the cut; “the one where Kon’s soulmark isn’t fake”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

He is so, so bored. And hungry again. Also if this takes much longer he’s probably gonna need to figure out where the nearest bathroom is, because he has already been up here way too long and he definitely did drink a whole-ass Big Gulp this morning, so like– 

Superboy spots something in the filtering-in crowd of reporters and cameramen and photographers and his whole spine prickles all at once. And by “something”, he means “someone”. 

Specifically, he means Clark Kent and Lois Lane. They’re both wearing press badges; Lane’s in a pencil skirt and blazer and Kent’s wearing a suit that is cut so bad Superboy is genuinely astonished that Lane is willing to be seen with him in it. Actually, scratch that, he is genuinely astonished that any salesperson let him buy it, no matter what their commission rate is. 

Ugh, god, he probably got it off the rack, actually, didn’t he. 

Ew. 

Doesn’t this dude have an actual, like, job and career? Like, a pretty good one? Do locally-famous investigative journalists in Metropolis not make enough money to buy work clothes that didn’t come from, like, Burlington or an outlet mall or whatever? 

Major ew. 

Superboy has no idea how Superman got a soulmate who’s so bad at dressing himself that he looks like he dressed himself bad on purpose. Like, what even is that? Kent is a way bigger dude than that suit is making him look–which his shitty posture is not helping with, for the record–and like, not actually as hopeless-looking as those big clumsy glasses and terrible hairstyle would imply either. Again, Superboy has no idea how or why Lane is willing to be seen with him, much less, like, be marrying him. 

Yeah, they’re definitely soulmates. There is literally no other explanation. For one thing, Superman is right there, so Superboy doesn’t know how she even noticed Clark Kent to begin with, much less noticed him long enough for them to realize they had matching marks. Which–he has no idea if Superman and Lane had a situationship thing going before that or if they just acted like they did because it distracted people from figuring out Superman’s actual soulmate. Because, like, Superman occasionally being seen with the hot reporter chick he’s saved about a thousand times makes way more sense than Superman being seen with the dweeby reporter dude, and Superboy cannot imagine how anybody wouldn’t have figured out they had to be soulmates if they were hanging out. 

. . . actually, Superboy’s not sure, but are they, like . . . romantic soulmates? ‘Cuz he kinda just assumed they’d be platonic and Lane and Kent were romantic, but like . . . he doesn’t actually know or anything. Shit, maybe Lane and Kent are platonic and they’re just getting married as, like, another smokescreen thing or for, he doesn’t know, fuckin’ tax purposes or something. Superman doesn’t even pay taxes, he’s pretty sure, so . . . yeah, fuck if he knows. 

It is so, so weird that Superman’s soulmate is Clark Kent, though. Though like, maybe it’s because of the thing where Clark Kent is the literal last person that Superboy is pretty sure anybody would assume would be Superman’s soulmate. Like, that might be a thing there. 

It’s still weird as shit, though. 

[spinfins]

Okay I need to hear about the Ghostbusters Minrathous fic lol

As you wish, my Darlings! @sunny374940, @pursuitofeverything, @draco-illius-noctis

-/- Tethras Studios Presents -/-

(We hear the click and shutter of an old home movie camera. Grainy footage ensues.)

Rook (voice): Ready?

Bellara (voice): Okay. We’re all set.

(Interior, a dark dingy room, the camera wavers and then focuses on Rook. She is dressed head to toe in a faded purple jumpsuit, complete with boots, gloves, and a myriad of straps and buckles.)

Rook: Is it recording?

Bellara (voice behind camera): Recording in progress.

Rook (nervously breathes out, friendly smile): Okay! Hi there viewer! Are you having trouble with spirits?

(Disconcerting screech, like a scream or a skipped record player. Cut to black.)

(Crisp camera footage. Exterior, Minrathous, night. We hear the distant sounds of the city and traffic, police sirens. The city is dark and enveloped in fog. The dim lights of the buildings stretch out on the horizon.)

Neve VOICEOVER: In a world of magic, things are rarely what they seem.

(Interior, a dingy room full of junk. Bellara is seated at a desk taking apart some elvhen artifacts with a screwdriver. Tighten focus to her face. Her eyes widen as blue light begins to grow and a strange warble is heard.)

Neve VOICEOVER: Some of these things are otherworldly…

(Interior, large villa, dark. All the lights are off. Emmrich, and Rook creep forward, wearing jumpsuits and carrying gear. Above them on a staircase we catch a glimpse of a glowing blue figure dart past.)

Neve VOICEOVER: …unwanted…

(Interior, bedroom, dark. Lucanis lies in bed sleeping peacefully. Tighten focus on face. His eyes pop open to reveal violet light. Camera pans away to wall where we can see his shadow sitting up, and violet light outlines the shadow of bony wings sprouting from his back.)

Neve VOICEOVER: …even dangerous.

(Exterior, night, a dark, wet alley with trash and neon signs. Davrin is walking Assan on a dog harness. He stops, looks behind him at the camera. Fear washes over his face, he starts running with Assan.)

Rook (voice): Hold up!

(Skipped record player sound again. Cut back to interior, first dingy room with Rook. The footage is grainy again.)

Bellara (voice behind camera): What? That was really good.

Rook: Can they see the logo?

(Rook tugs at her jumpsuit, clearly displaying a cartoonish depiction of a bright, green ghost, with the initials S.W.I.M. underneath it.

Neve (behind camera, a little impatient): It look’s fine, Rook.

Bellara (behind camera, enthusiastic): It looks great!

(Rook smiles a big, shit-eating grin.)

Rook VOICEOVER: We’ve got a really top-notch team together.

(Crisp camera footage. Interior, library. Emmrich in casual wear, working diligently at a table strewn with hand-written notes and ancient books. He has glasses pushed up into his hair and a pencil in his mouth because sexy.)

Rook VOICEOVER: Really the best of the best!

(Cut to exterior, day, Neve looking fabulous in a Noir riff outfit strides with confidence through a busy market in pursuit of a shifty looking Dorian, also fabulous in Noir riff outfit.)

Rook VOICEOVER: So give us a call at 1-800-swim. And trust Spirit Whisperers Inc. Minrathous with the problems that haunt you!

(Cut to interior, old public building. A very fearful looking Emmrich has his hand on Rook’s arm, both in casual wear.)

Emmrich: I don’t know, Rook.

(Rapid montage of scenes including spirits of various colors popping out of doors, chasing a car through the woods, passing in front of windows, descending on a baby’s crib, creeping into a bedroom where Bellara is peacefully sleeping, swinging from a lamppost cackling maniacally.)

Emmrich (voice): I think we may have bitten off rather a mouthful this time.

(Montage grows more rapid and violent; Neve and Bellara in an attic, Dorian frantically driving behind the wheel of a car, Assan crouching in a corner, Rook’s head forced underwater. Camera slows to show entire team of Rook, Neve, Bellara, and Emmrich in uniform, in what appears to be some sort of basement, backing away from a violently shaking wardrobe.)

(Cut to Harding in a police office, her legs stretched casually on the desk, Taash in uniform beside her, their arms crossed over their chest.)

Harding (longsuffering, cigarette in hand): Tell me about it.

(Cut to black. More maniacal laughter.)

-/- Coming Soon -/-

[bitterbutblue]

she has a what? (timeskip!kiyoko shimizu x reader)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

five years after the third years graduated, the entire volleyball team decides to meet up again over drinks. old feelings resurface, but alongside that comes an unexpected twist..

a/n: haikyuu brainrot got to me but i also thought this would be fun to write

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

Even the densest dunce on earth would be able to see how enamoured the boys volleyball team with their manager. Kiyoko had always been so caring, so kind. Her simple smile would have Hinata fumbling his spikes to sneak a glance (often resulting in Kageyama absolutely fuming and roaring at him as if Hinata had just killed his dog), and her words of encouragement had Tanaka and Yu more fired up than ever. Hell, even the other schools knew about the manager in Karasuno high school. Yachi would later learn from Kiyoko, taking on the role as the mentor for another future manager when she graduates. The impact Kiyoko has had is immeasurable, firing them up without them realising, keeping her together.

"Ah, I wonder how she's doing now." Tanaka sighs, resting his head against his hand. Yu laughs, slapping Tanaka on the back so hard that the sound of impact could be heard across the bar. Tsukki lets out a tired sigh, wondering why he even chose to come out as Hinata hurriedly asks about Kiyoko, none of them noticing as Sugawara, Daichi and Asahi walked in. It had been two years since they last met up, and seeing their dynamic stay the same even after years of not being together has Sugawara's heart warming in a way he has never felt before.

"She's probably off finishing her masters now." Daichi smiles, and the table lets out a loud roar of excitement when they finally notice their three seniors. Yu immediately running to tackle the three of them in a hug and the rowdiness should have honestly gotten them banned from the bar but seeing such a reunion could warm anyone's heart.

"DAICHI YOU DICK!" Tanaka yells, pulling the larger man into his arms. "How have you been?"

The group settles into a comfortable conversation again, but everyone notices how once in a while, someone would glance at the door or at their phone. They're all waiting for that one person to finally show up. Every time the bell near the door rings, they collectively look up with a glint in their eyes, only to look down in disappointment when they realise it's a stranger.

"Shimizu.. she's coming, right?" Tanaka asks in an uncharacteristically quiet voice, unable to hide the slight anxiousness in his voice. Yachi nods affirmatively

"I ran into her on the streets the other day. She seemed very excited to see you all again-"

Ding!

And in all her glory, Kiyoko steps in through the door with the same soft smile. She has grown slightly taller, her hair cut much shorter and her glasses that she used to wear all the time now were gone. But that smile, that smile was the same smile that had the entire club flustered when they were teenage boys.

And it seems as though nothing has changed.

"SHIMIZU!"

Hinata leaps up to greet her, and she's soon bombarded by questions about her life, how she's been doing, what she's been up to. It should be overwhelming, but Kiyoko feels a sense of calmness despite all the noise. She's finally returned to where she feels at home, the sanctity of youth still preserved well whenever they're together. She stll sees the same glint in their eyes even after all this time, a burning passion even if it's for different things in life now. She can't help the large smile that forms on her face, and Suga notices the way Tanaka falters under that smile.

He still feels the same, huh?

As the evening goes on, they begin noticing how each person has changed slightly after all these years. Hinata is much more quieter, but can still revert to his loud self if excited. Kageyama is actually less tense, smiling a bit more but he still hides it whenever he can. Tsukki appears to have not changed much, but you can see through his eyes how happy he is.

"But what have you been up to, Shimizu?"

"Call me Kiyoko now, Ryu." Kiyoko says with a soft giggle "I'm not your manager anymore."

Tanaka looks away, an awkward laugh bubbling out and Yu raises an eyebrow, a sly smirk forming on his face.

"Yeah, Kiyoko, what have you been up to? Seeing anyone?"

The romantic aspect of her life has been brought up. She feels her heart drop a little, this was what she dreaded for all night. The entire table quiets down a bit, all turning to look at Kiyoko. She looks up at the group, tilting her head to the side.

"Why are you all so interested?" She says with a raised eyebrow, and they all look away with an embarrassed and awkward look on their face. Yu doesn't give up though.

"That's not a no!" He leans in, a mischievous look in his eyes "Who's the lucky guy?"

"Girl."

...

Yu blinks.

"Huh?"

Tanaka's jaw drops slightly.

"Girl."

Kiyoko holds up her phone screen, turning it on to reveal her lockscreen. A photo of a woman sitting on the ground, wearing the Karasuno high volleyball jacket, laughing with a puppy in her arms.

"That's my girlfriend."

...

"WHAT?"

"GIRLFRIEND??" ("She got one before you~" Suga cackles at Asahi)

"SINCE WHEN?"

"ISN'T THAT Y/N L/N FROM THE JAPANESE INTERNATIONAL VOLLEYBALL TEAM?"

"YOU'RE GAY???"

The questions came all at once, rapid firing like a machine gun and she just laughs awkwardly, answering them slowly. Tanaka pouts, and Yu just slaps him on the back again.

"Come on man, lighten up." He says quietly as the rest of the table bombards Kiyoko with questions "Look at how happy she is, we should be happy for her."

Truly, Tanaka has never seen that glint in Kiyoko's eyes. A similar glint that he saw in other's eyes when they looked at her. But this look in her eyes is softer, yet brighter at the same time. He lets out a sigh, unable to stop the small smile on his face.

"CAN WE MEET HER?" Hinata asks excitedly, leaping up from his seat. Kiyoko's eyes widened, a soft blush forming on her face "Come on, I wanna meet a member of the international volleyball team! Don't you?" He whines, tugging at Kageyama's sleeve. Kageyama scoffs, looking away.

"... Yeah."

"And she's one person away!" Hinata points at Kiyoko, and Suga quickly pulls Hinata's arm down while scolding him because 'pointing is rude!'. Kiyoko just laughs.

"She's coming over later to pick me up, you guys could-"

"WE'RE GONNA MEET A MEMBER OF THE JAPANESE INTERNATIONAL VOLLEYBALL TEAM!" Hinata cries, jumping up and down like a child who has had too much sugar.

"This cannot be the man training for the Japanese D1 Volleyball team." Tsukki mumbles, and Tadashi just laughs, leaning against his boyfriend.

"Lighten up, don't you wanna meet her too?"

~

Humming to yourself as you walk down the streets, you pick up a little crow ornament that one of the stalls. You snap a photo of it, sending it to your girlfriend.

cocky bastard (22:54)

[1 attached image]

look at this little crow! (๑>◡<๑)

princess <3 (23:02)

Aw!

How cute.

Also, my high school friends want to meet you.

cocky bastard (23:03)

the volleyball players!?

∑(゜Д゜;)

princess <3 (23:04)

I never should have introduced you to kaomojis.

But yes.

cocky bastard (22:04)

when?????

princess (22:06)

You're on your way here ,right?

So caught up in their conversations, the group didn't even notice another person walking in through the door until Kiyoko suddenly got up. Suga looks up as well.

"Kiyoko, what-"

"Hi baby!!"

They watch in shock as you bend down slightly to press a chaste kiss to Kiyoko's lips, before looking back at the group with a wide grin.

"Hi guys!"

A ginger boy around your height leaps up at you, eyes shining bright with a flame you only see in a few of the most dedicated volleyball players you know, and he begins bombarding you with questions. You look to Kiyoko, slightly shocked and she apologises for his eager demeanour. As Kageyama pulls Hinata back, you settle in with the group, easing into their conversations.

~

"I hope they weren't too overwhelming." Kiyoko sighs as she shrugs off her coat. You shake your head, taking her coat for her as you move to hang them up on the coat rack.

"Not at all. They were all super sweet." You say with a grin, Kiyoko hums softly, looking at you as you continued talking. "I see so much potential in some of them, and I'd love to play a few friendly matches with them too. Hinata is a passionate boy, but Tsukishima-"

You yelp when she cuts you off- suddenly takes your wrist, pulling you in close and kissing you softly. Smiling, you melt into it.

"So sudden?" You raised an eyebrow, and she shakes her head. There is a sparkle you've not seen before, an unconfined joy. It's bright, spilling out of her body and contaminating you as well.

"I love you."

You just grin down at her, pulling her in for another kiss.

"I love you most."

BZZT!

BZZT!

BZZT!

Shoyo Hinata (00:27)

im free all of next week before i go back to brazil

ill force tobio to come too

and tsukishima

and his boyfriend

we can all play friendly matches!

you're also so cool btw

im so glad ur dating kiyoko

NOT JUST BC I GOT TO MEET U

but bc u make her happy!!

also bc i got to meet u

ok tobio says im bothering u

hes so annoying

The notifications did not stop after that text.

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

LUCKITTY-CAT!

❤︎ a multistep guide for adisorn to help you a new cat adjust to their new lifestyle. ❤︎ adisorn moore x gn reader ❤︎ wc: 2k ❤︎ content warning(s): yandere, kidnapping, one (1) mention of blood, petplay (not in the sexual sense)/adisorn treats you like a cat, written before full game release/based on adisorn as portrayed in the free demo ❤︎ adisorn moore is from the game online obsession being developed by sourmiiiilk

Prepare space for the cat beforehand.

This was arguably the easiest step for Adisorn Moore. Thanks to the excuse that he was moving in, no one batted an eye about him buying all sorts of locks, security measures, and a truckload of otherwise pretty suspicious material. He did have to do a couple laps around his new place to decide which of the rooms was best to keep you in.

His bedroom was tempting, but he doubted that he could get much done if he had to potentially fight you each time he wanted to sleep or get a change of clothes. However, he did like the idea of being able to eventually get you into his bedroom, to spend time closer to you and with you. Maybe if you settled in nicely enough, he could use the idea of his warm bed as a potential reward for your good behavior.

The bathroom would be a good choice to ensure that exits and entryways were tightly secured, but he also didn’t want to have to give up the comfort of his bathroom just yet. Besides, the bathroom offered just too many outlets for you to make drastic choices, and he didn’t want you thinking you could take the easy way out after all the hard work he’s put in.

The kitchen was easy to eliminate, so that left Adisorn with his guest bedroom. He didn’t have to do much to prepare the room. A few contractors and a bit of money was all it took to eliminate the single glass window, and a few YouTube tutorials gave him good insight into how to replace the locks on the door. All he had left was to set up some cameras and keep the room’s furnishings to a minimum, and he had the perfect set up for a new cat to pick up.

He doesn’t like that the room looks so barren. It’s the perfect antithesis to just how vibrant and rich you were as a person, but at the same time, Adisorn understands that sometimes he has to take the extremes in order to get what he wants.

He’s sure with time that you’ll come around to understand him.

You always have.

2. Provide enrichment for your cat. 

The first few weeks were the worst. If only you knew how much it broke Adisorn’s heart to have to wear you down like this. He never expected this whole ordeal to be easy, but knowing it and actually carrying the deed out were two completely different things.

You tried every trick in your book to win back your freedom. 

He stood on the other side of the door as you bargained with him. You begged, pleaded, cried, screamed, groveled until your voice went hoarse. Of course, your freedom wasn’t something he was willing to negotiate with you in the first place, but you were desperate. You needed to try everything you knew. Nothing was too sacred or too profane to yell out. Day in and day out, you’d hurl curses and praise at him, trying to find any weak point in his mind to wedge yourself into so that you could somehow do something. Anything. 

You offered up money. You swore that you would never tell the authorities if he just let you go. You threatened him, saying that it was just a matter of time before your family and friends would figure out you had gone missing and then everyone would be hot on his trail.

When that didn’t work, you turned to more physical methods. He could hear you grasping at the walls, slamming your fists against the concrete in hopes of finding a weak point that might let out just enough to let you escape. You’d scratch like a real cat at the door until you’d bleed, evident by the dried crimson droplets Adisorn would discover underneath the crack of your door. You’d fight him whenever he’d come around to let you wash up or to drop off food, biting and screaming and clawing and crying like a wounded animal at death’s doorstep not quite yet ready to have its life snuffed out entirely. 

It wasn’t worth trying to rationalize anything to you at this stage. He just had to wait it out. You were smart, and soon enough, you’d realize that there really was nothing you could do to help yourself. No one was coming to save you, you were too weak to find a way to break out or overpower Adisorn, and all you had left to depend on for your own well-being was him.

Sure, Adisorn was to be feared and hated, but the one thing worse than Adisorn right now was to not even have him at all. The dread would settle in with time, as long hours would net you nothing but a sense of hopelessness that you couldn’t quell on your own. 

And at that point, Adisorn was more than happy to welcome you with open arms and a faux apologetic smile.

After all, even seeing him for a little bit was a big upgrade than being left all alone in a starkly empty room with nothing but your panicked thoughts. 

3. Perform regular grooming and care.

It took him a while to trust you to be left to your own devices. Even with him breaking down your immediate walls, you still had enough fight left in you that he couldn’t fully let his guard down. You would turn anything—from an old toothbrush to a ragged comb—into an opportunity. 

Adisorn detested having to treat you like this. He fell for you because you were so capable and kind, so empathetic of everything he did, so the last thing he wanted to do was strip you down to nothing but a shell of yourself and have to take care of you like you were a doll. It wasn’t an easy line to balance by any means, but with enough trial and error, reward and punishment, he was able to drill some semblance of a routine into you.

You no longer tried to scratch his eyes out whenever he let you out to brush your teeth and wash your face. You no longer tried to twist the towels in the bathroom into something to strangle Adisorn with. You no longer tried to steal the parts of the toilet in hopes of using it as a weapon.

It was almost domestic after a while. You’d stand next to him, eyes bloodshot, and brush your teeth at the same time he did. He always made sure to pick out toothbrushes with your favorite colors, and Adisorn would even ask you every now and then if you wanted him to change the color. 

He did his best to let you out for hygiene at the same time every day, and as the weeks and months bled by, your expressions of rage, disbelief, and disdain quickly turned into that of anticipation and almost a kind of longing. 

Like you had missed his presence.

4. Allow for exploration and play.

How much time had passed since the fateful day that he had snatched you up all for himself? The numbers, the pain, the tears and struggle were nothing now that he had you where he wanted. He could vividly recall the excitement he had felt when he first moved in, scanning his entire apartment to decide where he wanted to keep you and just how good it would feel to slowly open you up to the other sectors of his abode.

And finally, that day came. 

He didn’t miss the way your eyes would widen when you first stepped into his spacious bedroom. Your gaze fell over all of his belongings: his closet filled with all kinds of clothes, a big bed with soft pillows and matching sheets, walls that weren’t a drab shade of soulsucking grey, and the occasional bit of StarBlitz merchandise. 

You must have missed having your own bedroom. Having your own things. Having your own normal life. 

“I figured you were getting lonely in the guest room. And, well, you really aren’t a guest in this house anymore,” Adisorn cracks a bad joke, in hopes of getting a reaction out of you. It’s really a 50-50 as to whether or not you’ll reply to him or treat him to a dose of cold silence, but it’s a gamble he’s willing to take each and every time. 

Your lips tremble as you take a shaky step forward. It reminds of a shy kitten wobbling on its unstable legs as it ventures out into the wide world. 

“It’s so big,” your voice is quiet and weak. Nothing like the strong, lively voice he had gotten used to before he had kidnapped you. “And… it smells like you. There’s so much here.”

“Consider it yours as much as it is mine, snowflake.” A strong hand comes down on your shoulder, pulling you in close to his side. “I’m letting you have this much because you’ve been so obedient lately.”

You look up at him. It’s true that over the long, long course of your imprisonment, Adisorn has taken painstaking measures to ensure that the fight in you has left. You don’t know whether to laugh or be grateful. Having him open his bedroom up to you feels like a mockery, like he’s showing off everything he’s stolen from you and expecting you to fall to his feet and treat him like some merciful god. But at the same time, you, of all people, aren’t in the place to argue. 

Not when you don’t even have any of this in your current room.

“...Thank you, Adi,” your lips move numbly, and the words tumble from your mouth like stones. They weigh against your conscience, as if the admittance of your gratitude was somehow a stain against your soul. “It’s wonderful.”

“You’ll be sharing with me, of course. But y’know, still better than nothing.” He gestures vaguely around the room with his hand. “Sharing a bed is better than sleeping on the cold floor. Getting to pick out your own clothes from my selection is better than you having to wear whatever I get you.”

He pauses, before he peers at you with fond eyes. It takes everything in you not to visibly shudder underneath his touch. It makes your skin crawl to think that at some point in your life you had been foolish enough to trust him, to hold affection for him, to consider him a friend. 

“And above all, you’ll have me to keep you company regularly. You won’t be so alone.”

When did this nightmare start? When had you turned into something so weak and pathetic? At what point had you grown too confident in yourself, to lose sight of the predator lurking at the edges, the lone hungry wolf licking its maw in anticipation for its next meal? 

And at what point did you learn to accept it? His fangs against your body, bleeding you dry of any will to retaliate, are just as sharp as ever, disguised under a screen of generosity in hopes that it could lure you into a sense of security. Maybe Adisorn was never the tough wolf you made him out to be. He never considered this sadistic farce to take place on equal grounds.

In his mind, you needed him. You couldn’t make it out there all on your own. You couldn’t take care of yourself, couldn’t understand the workings of the cruel world evolving around you. You needed someone to guide you in the right direction, to become the guardian angel you didn’t realize you needed, to love you in the way you had once loved him.

You needed him to take care of you. To scoop you up in his arms. To lavish his affection onto. You were never a capable, human counterpart in his eyes. Even from when you first laid eyes on him in your small town, he saw you for who you truly were. No better than a helpless, mewling kitten, calling out to him to be taken, to be loved. 

To be housebroken.

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