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punkrockmlchael · 2 days ago

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Bandmates

Masterlist

Gareth Emerson x Fem Bandmate!Reader

Modern AU; Enemies to Lovers (Both Gareth and Reader are in their early 20s)

Warnings: 18+ mdni, Verbally Fighting, Mature Language (Swearing), Sexual Tension, Cocky/Arrogant Gareth (He still asks for consent though which is key! But he's also lowkey a dick.. sigh), Use of Pet Names (princess, angel, baby girl), Smut: Oral (Fem + Male Receiving - Gareth is a head pusher!), Fingering, Cum Eating, Unprotected Sex, PinV, Creampie, afab reader

Synopsis: You're the bass player in the infamous music group, Corroded Coffin. You get along extremely well with Eddie and Jeff, the two guitarists. But, when it comes to the drummer, Gareth, you literally can't win. Everything you do is just wrong and nothing you do will ever be right in his eyes. He constantly mocks you and reminds you that you "suck" at what you do and you've finally had enough, making tonight the night you confront him about it.

This is something I originally wrote and didn’t like so I’m revamping it; sorry not sorry! I think it's better and smuttier than before hehe thank you @keeryhours for proof reading some of this because I felt like I just couldn't anymore.

Word Count: 5.5k

"Great show, guys!" Eddie exclaimed as the elevator door of the hotel shut, enclosing you and the three boys inside the small space.

"Yeah, pretty kick ass. Anyone down for drinks?" Jeff asked, pressing the button for the bar.

"Hell yeah," Eddie replied. He then turned his attention towards you, calling your name. "What about you?"

You shook your head slightly and leaned against the wall of the elevator. "No, I'm probably going to shower and head to bed, I think. But, thanks though; remember to be smart, stay safe and have fun guys." You giggled slightly.

"Lame. Gareth, you?" Eddie asked, directing his attention to the drummer of the band. Gareth shook his head as well.

"Nah, not right now. I'll probably catch up with you guys later, though." Gareth replied. Jeff and Eddie smiled and nodded at you and Gareth as the elevator doors opened. The pair stepped out of the elevator and ran straight for the bar to likely drink for the remainder of the night.

After Eddie and Jeff were out of sight, you took a half step forward and hit the number 4 button on the wall, watching the doors slowly shut in front of you. You crossed your arms over your chest and put all your weight on your right foot, standing as far away from Gareth as humanly possible in the tiny elevator. "Why am I always stuck with you?" You huffed, avoiding eye contact with him.

"Believe me, I was wondering the same thing." He responded. He mocked your stance, leaning on his left foot away from you. "But hey, at least you were in tune tonight. That's a plus." You shot him a glare in reply.

"Oh yeah, too bad you were off beat, though," you retorted back, smirking slightly.

"You fucking wish, princess. You know I'm always on beat, perfectly might I add."

"Someone's fucking cocky. And wrong. You're never on beat." He shook his head at your response, clenching his fists at his sides from anger.

"At least I can actually play an instrument. You can't play the bass to save your fucking life, you know that? I don't know why Eddie ever suggested letting you join the band, all you've done is hold us back this whole time." He spit out.

"You're right," you said softly, looking at him. "All I do is hold you guys back. Too bad I can't hold back your mistakes. And, at least my solo was on time tonight, unlike yours." You added, watching the elevator door open. You stepped out and walked to your room, Gareth hot on your tracks.

"My solo tonight was perfect!" He yelled, following after you.

You stopped in front of your hotel room and turned to him. "Shut the actual fuck up, Gareth; it’s late. People on this floor are trying to sleep, they don't want to listen to you trying to prove yourself to a woman you don't even like." You scoffed, fishing your room key out of your pants pocket. You placed the card to the door, opening it slightly.

"You started it." He responded, watching you step into the room. You tried to shut the door behind you but he stopped you, shoving his foot in the door. You groaned in annoyance and looked up at him.

"I didn't start shit." You growled. "You always fucking start shit like this and continue to blame me, and frankly, I'm done with it. You're literally a fucking asshole; you don't care about anyone but yourself and it shows. Now, I swear to god, move your foot or I will break it so you can't play the fucking drums anymore." You added, trying to shut the door on him again.

"I don't always start shit." He said, pushing the door open before he squeezed his way inside of your hotel room. "And, I don't only care about myself." The door shut behind him as he stood there in your room.

"Yes you fucking do! You're literally an ass to me, and I'm so sick of it. What did I ever fucking do to you?" You shouted, not caring about how loud you were now that the door was closed. "I've been nothing, nothing, but nice to you since I joined the band. Which, by the way, was only like a month after it started, remember? It's not my fault Grant didn't want to play with you guys anymore but if this is how you treat your bass players, then I'm not fucking surprised. Gareth, get off of your fucking high horse. You are not the lead of this band, hell, neither am I. But, at least I respect everyone's role in this band, including yours." You stepped towards him and huffed, poking his chest on the last word. "You're just so," you groaned and looked at him, trying to hold in your anger. You let out a deep breath and clenched your fists before they fell to your sides. "Just get out of my fucking room, now." You raised one arm and pointed towards the door behind him. "Now."

"I do respect your role. In fact, I respect everyone's role." He said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, well, you don't fucking show it. It's always 'you're off', 'your solo was too late', 'your bass isn't tuned right'; why is nothing I do good enough for you?" You questioned, standing close to him, your arms crossing over your own chest.

"Why do you feel like you need to prove yourself to me?" He responded, moving his face closer to yours.

"I don't feel like I need to prove myself to you, but sometimes some encouragement and praise is nice and needed, from all of your bandmates." You said, your face now inches from his. "If we're all in this together then you should fucking show that you care."

He narrowed his eyes and looked at you. "So, then, what do you want?" He asked, smirking slightly. "Oh, your solo was so amazing tonight, oh your bass sounded so in tune tonight, oh you sounded so perfect tonight and it was so hot when you jumped around in a circle with your bass during the last song." You looked at him, a soft blush creeping over your cheeks as you heard the words come out of his mouth. You tried to keep the pink tint of your cheeks out of his view, but it was clear he saw.

"Oh, Gareth, your drum solo was so on point tonight, you actually sounded really good tonight, and that little head nod you do while drumming, oh my god, I'm totally swooning for you." You replied. He smirked, moving his face closer to yours, his lips almost touching yours.

"Yeah, that’s better, princess; that’s exactly how it should be.” Gareth paused slightly before staring into your eyes, “also, who the fuck said that I didn't like you?" A confused look fell over your face after hearing his question. "Earlier you said people on this floor don't want to listen to me trying to prove myself to a woman I don't even like—who said I didn't like you?"

"You. You have told me that you don’t like me multiple times."

"No, I've never actually said that to you, or to anyone for that matter. Because technically, the problem isn't that I don't like you, the problem is that I like you a lot." He said those words and your heart jumped in your chest, a shocked look growing on your face. "Look, do you know how hard it is to be behind you on stage every night, watching your every move? You're so fucking hot. Jumping around in your little mini skirts and all those tight pants. If my solo is ever off or if I'm ever messing up the beats it's your fault. You're to blame because all I'm doing is fucking watching you during the show, instead of focusing on my drum set."

"I don't believe you." You said truthfully, looking up at him. His face was still inches from yours, both of you staring into each other's eyes. "I feel like this is all a game to get inside my head and make me mess up every single show." He smirked softly, towering over you.

"Is it really that easy to get inside that pretty little head of yours?" Gareth asked slowly, moving his hand up to your face. He held your face softly and looked at you, the redness now growing more prominent on your face. He tilted your head up gently, forcing you to look up at him. "You're literally so fucking hot, the fact that you're still single blows my mind. And, honestly, the fact that Eddie and Jeff don't get distracted like I do while on stage with you is also mind boggling to me. I mean, yeah, I'm behind all of you so I see everything, but you walk over to Jeff all the time and distract him while Eddie is singing and he smiles along and goes with it, never missing a chord. If you ever came over to my drum set I think I would actually forget how to fucking play; the sticks would just sit in my hands motionless." He moved his hand down to the side of your neck, holding it carefully before he leaned in slowly, his warm breath hitting your lips. "Ever since you joined the band, ever since that first band practice with you... all I've wanted to do is kiss you so fucking hard and find out what's actually under all these mini skirts and crop tops you always wear." He mumbled, his face so close to you that his lips were almost touching yours. "I've just wanted to pick you apart piece by piece for my own personal pleasure."

"Then do it." You replied, watching him smirk. "What's stopping you?"

He didn't hesitate after hearing your answer. He crashed his lips into yours, kissing you roughly. His hands found their way to your hips, gripping them tightly as he pulled your body towards his roughly.

You groaned when your body hit his, your arms moving to his neck. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, deepening the intense kiss between you both. You pulled away slightly and looked at him, smirking to yourself. "You know," you started, "I've always wanted to do that to you too; find out what's under these lame band tees you wear all the time." You admitted to him, looking down at his Metallica shirt.

"Maybe we should just find out then, huh?" He asked, kissing you again. You pulled him over to your bed and stumbled slightly on your way, never breaking the kiss. You stopped when your legs hit the mattress and Gareth pulled away from the kiss to push you down gently onto the soft hotel bed. He slid off his flannel and pulled his t-shirt over his head, throwing both to the side of the room. He crawled on top of you and looked down at you, smiling a little. "Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked, his eyes scanning your face carefully.

"I've never been more sure," you replied as you returned the smile. He kissed you again, his hands tugging at your crop top. He pulled it up, breaking the kiss to get your shirt up and over your head. He looked down, seeing your bright red lace bra. His left hand made its way to your left breast, squeezing it gently through the lace fabric.

"Mm, you're wearing my favorite color. And it looks so fucking good on you." He kissed your neck slowly before he kissed down your collarbone and chest. He bit the skin above your bra softly, sucking at the spot. You moaned softly, watching him. He kissed down your stomach, stopping right above your black skinny jeans. He undid them and slid them off slowly, revealing your matching red lace thong. "Matching today, are we?" Gareth asked, sitting up slightly to get a better look at your body in your matching set.

You giggled slightly, looking up at him with a wink. "Yeah, my tradition has always been to wear matching sets on performance days. I think it helps me perform better," you admitted, his eyes scanning back up your body to meet yours.

"Well, I think that's really fucking hot." He undid his own jeans, sliding them down. He crawled on top of you in his boxers and smiled, before he kissed you again.

You pushed him over and pinned him to the bed, now taking the spot on top. You crawled on top of him and straddled his waist, leaning down to kiss him again. He groaned into the kiss, his hands grabbing your hips as he moved against you slowly, creating friction. You moaned softly and pulled away slowly, kissing down his neck to right above his collarbone. You bit the skin softly and sucked on it, creating a pink mark that would soon turn into a bruise.

You smirked at the mark and looked back up at him. His bright blue eyes now dark as they watched you on top of him, craving more from you. You reached behind your back and undid your bra, sliding it off of your shoulders before you threw it to the side of the bed. His eyes met your breasts, staring at them before he moved his hands up to them; he held them in his hands carefully, squeezing them softly, which caused you to groan. You groaned loudly and moved your hips down again, rubbing against him.

"Fuck, baby,” he groaned, squeezing your breasts harder. "You're so fucking gorgeous," he breathed, looking back up at you. You blushed at his words, moaning softly as he continued to squeeze and massage your breasts.

"Fuck," you breathed, looking at him. "You know, you're not too bad yourself," you smirked. You leaned in and kissed him again, receiving a groan back from him. He moved one hand down your chest and stomach, stopping right on the front of your panties. He rubbed you softly and slowly through the thin, lace fabric, receiving a whine back from you. "You…You can't tease me..." you said softly, pulling away from the kiss slightly.

"And why not?" He asked, continuing to rub up and down your folds softly and slowly. “I think it’s fun,” he muttered as he looked up at you, leaning in to kiss you again. His lips pressed against yours roughly, kissing you intensely. You sighed into the kiss, moving against his hand to try and create some more friction for yourself.

"Eager, are we?" Gareth grinned into the kiss, pulling back to look up at you again.

You rolled your eyes slightly, a bit embarrassed that your body and moves were giving you away but you really couldn't control it much anymore. "Don't let this go to your head," you sighed, kissing him again. He chuckled softly, moving his hands to rest on your hips gently.

"Too late," he mumbled, rubbing circles on your hips gently. "You're boosting my ego more than I'd like to admit," he adds, looking at you. "But, then again, I guess having a beautiful woman in your lap, almost naked, begging for your cock does that to you."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes at him. "Hey, I am not begging!" You argued, crossing your arms over your chest while you grind against him, creating friction. He groaned softly and threw his head back against the pillows, tightening his grip on your hips.

"Not directly," he replied, "but this," he said, looking at you. "Totally means you want me." He smirked, moving his hips up gently, his rock hard bulge hitting your clothed core.

"Okay, okay, fine," you whined, kissing him again. "You win," you mumbled against his lips.

He smirked into the kiss and repositioned you back on the bed, laying you down on the blanket. Pulling away from the kiss, Gareth kissed down your body, stopping on your lower stomach above the hem of your thong. He kissed over your clothed core gently, glancing up at you as you moaned softly. He pulled your thong down slowly, leaving kisses over your inner thighs as he did.

“Fuck, Gareth,” you groaned, your fingers moving to his curls gently as he left more and more kisses on your inner thighs.

“Yes, angel?” He asked, looking up at you as he placed a soft kiss over your clit gently. You tugged on his curls gently, whining as you looked down at him.

“What’re you doing?” You asked, watching him as he licked a stripe up your folds.

“Mm, tasting you; I’ve always wondered what you taste like. Is that alright?” Gareth asked, sucking on your clit gently.

“Fuck, more than okay,” you sighed, pulling on his curls harder. “You’ve wondered what I taste like?”

Gareth hummed against your clit, looking up at you. “Yeah, but don’t let it go to your head,” he said softly as he sucked on your clit harder, his fingers teasing your entrance.

You moaned softly, looking down at him, “too late.” He smirked against your clit softly, pushing his pointer and middle fingers into you slowly. You moaned louder, tugging on his curls as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out of you. He placed soft kisses on your clit, pumping his fingers faster as he began to curl them slightly.

His tongue flicked over your clit a couple of times before he pulled his fingers out of you. He moved his hands underneath your thighs, lifting them up gently as he licked up and down your folds again, his tongue now teasing your entrance.

Whiney, needy moans left your mouth, your back arching off of the bed gently as you tangled your fingers deeper into his curls, pushing his head down gently so that it was closer to your core. Your hips moved up slightly as well, grinding against Gareth’s tongue and he continued to lick up and down your entrance.

“One second she hates me, the next she’s pushing my head down to eat her out,” Gareth commented as he looked up at you, kissing and sucking your clit again.

“God, you’re so arrogant,” you mumbled back, pushing his head back down again to get him to shut up. “God, you’re just, fuck,” you added, closing your eyes as your thighs squeezed together against Gareth’s head.

He moaned against you, his tongue moving back to your entrance. He darted his tongue in and out a couple of times as his nose pressed against your clit, adding pressure there while he ate you out. His hands squeezed your thighs gently, pulling you closer to him until there was no room left.

He could barely breathe, but he continued to eat you out sloppily as you moaned louder and louder beneath him. Your back arched more, and you tugged on his curls harder as you felt yourself getting closer and closer.

“Gareth,” you moaned, looking down at him. He looked up at you, making eye contact with you as he stayed stuck between your thighs. “Shit, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you warned, squeezing your thighs around his head tighter.

He groaned against you, darting his tongue in and out of you faster. He moved his head slightly, adding a different feeling of pressure onto your clit with his nose causing you to moan his name again as you released onto his tongue and face. You whined, pulling his locks tightly as you moved your hips against him, riding out your high.

Gareth moaned as he licked you clean, licking it all up greedily. You sighed, laying back on the bed as your body relaxed fully. Gareth placed more kisses on your inner thighs before he pulled away, his mouth and chin glistening with your juices.

“Still hate me?” He asked with a cocky grin as he wiped his chin off with his arm gently. You looked at him, rolling your eyes as you sat up gently.

“Somehow, I hate you more,” you teased, standing up slowly.

Gareth placed a hand over his chest, feigning hurtfulness with a soft gasp. “You wound me, princess,” he mumbled, placing his hands on your hips as you stood in front of him. “But, your moans and whines for me say otherwise.”

“God, you’re so cocky,” you mumbled, sinking down to your knees in front of him. “Let’s see if I can make you moan and whine for me now,” you added, playing with the waistband of his boxers. You looked up at him as you tugged his boxers down gently, a gasp escaping his lips as the cool air hit his rock hard cock. He groaned and took a step back, stepping out of his boxers before sitting on the edge of the bed.

You crawled towards him on your knees before you wrapped your right hand around the base of his cock, placing soft kisses on the tip of his cock. “Well, shit, never thought I’d see the day that you were on your knees for me, but, here we are,” Gareth smirked, running his fingers through your hair as you looked up at him. You wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock, taking some of him in your mouth slowly. “Well, fuck, that’s even better,” he added, “you look so pretty with my cock in your mouth, and look at that! It makes you shut up.” He smirked, pushing your head down, forcing more of his cock into your mouth.

You groaned loudly, gagging slightly as Gareth continued to push your head down more and more. You looked up at him, groaning around him as his fingers tightened around your locks of hair. He pulled your head back gently before he pushed it back down, groaning himself as he bucked his hip up into your mouth.

“God, angel, you’re so good with your mouth,” he said, watching you as you continued to gag around his cock. “Taking me so well, letting me fuck your face, made so perfectly for me.” He sighed, pushing your head down more until you were a gagging mess, taking all of him in your mouth. “It’s okay baby girl, breathe through your nose,” he said softly, letting you adjust to the feeling of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

You did as he said, breathing through your nose as you looked up at him, tears brimming your eyes from the feeling. He pulled you back by your hair slightly before pushing your face back down onto his cock. You groaned more and more as Gareth basically used your mouth and face fucked you.

Tears were spilling out of your eyes as you looked up at him, watching him smirk back down at you. “That’s it, princess, just like that, fuck, you’re being so good; letting me use you for my own personal pleasure.” He groaned out, moving his hand to push your hair out of your face. “Aw, what’s wrong?” He asked, moving his other hand to dry the tears from your cheeks gently as you continued to bob your head up and down. “Can’t take it?”

You tried to pull back but he stopped you, pushing your head back down. “You’re doing so good, angel,” he sighed, bucking his hips up again as you gagged yet again. “Mm, so good, so perfect, so pretty, so fuck,” Gareth moaned your name loudly as he bucked his hips up again, pushing your head down as he came inside your mouth. He moaned your name again and again as he shot ropes of his release into your mouth and down your throat. “Fuck, take it, swallow it all, I know you want to.”

You moaned around him, swallowing every last drop that the cocky drummer left in your mouth. You bobbed your head a few more times before he released his grip on your hair, groaning as you pulled away from him. You sat back on your knees and coughed slightly, trying to catch your breath. After a few seconds you looked up at him, sticking your tongue out at him like a child.

“Still hate me?” You asked breathlessly, winking at him.

“You’re a grade A bitch, but, fuck you’re good with your mouth,” he said, pushing your hair our of your face yet again. “Too bad you can’t sing like you suck dick,” he added, smirking at you.

“Yeah, too bad you can’t sing like you eat pussy,” you replied, standing up. “Good with your mouth but you don’t shut the fuck up, and you always need to have the last word, always.”

“Hey! I do not always need to have the last word,” he argued, standing up with you.

“Yes, you do,” you replied, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Do not,” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist. You rolled your eyes and leaned in, kissing him roughly to try and get him to shut up. He smirked into the kiss, kissing you back eagerly. He ran his tongue along your lower lip, sticking it into your mouth after you gasped. He groaned into your mouth as he tasted himself on your tongue, leaving you to moan and groan as you tasted yourself on his tongue as well.

He pulled you closer to his body, his cock springing to life again as it poked at your thigh. You moaned, moving your right hand from around his neck as you trailed it down his body. You ran your hand over his bicep muscles, his chest and stomach muscles before stopping at his cock. You wrapped your hand around his gently, squeezing it before you started pumping it slowly.

“Fuck,” he breathed, pulling away from the kiss. “Look, I’m sure your hand is great, but, I think I’d much rather fuck your pretty little pussy,” he looked at you, trailing kisses down your neck and chest as you squeezed his cock again. “That is,” he sighed, “if you think you can handle my cock.” You looked at him and rolled your eyes.

“Mhm, sure I can. What makes you think you can handle my… pretty little pussy?” You asked, kissing his neck softly.

“If I can handle being in a band with you, I think I can handle anything,” Gareth groaned as you left more and more kisses on his neck. He wrapped his hands under your thighs and lifted you up carefully, before he pinned you to the wall of the tiny hotel room. “Especially your pretty little pussy,” he said, kissing your lips again.

You groaned, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kissed him back. You played with the curls at the base of his neck as your lips moved against his. He repositioned himself slightly, rubbing the tip of his cock against your folds. You gasped at the feeling, resting your head back against the wall.

“Gareth, please,” you sighed, looking up at him.

“Please what, baby girl?” He replied, looking at you with that same cocky grin he always wore.

“Please fuck me,” you answered, trying to move your hips closer to his. “Please, just, fuck me against this wall. I need you inside of me,” you whined. He smirked, pushing the tip of his cock inside of you slowly.

“Is that really how you feel, baby? You want me to fuck you against this wall? I thought you hated me?” You groaned, closing your eyes as he sunk more and more inside of you. Gareth moaned your name, now fully inside of you. “Shit, you are so tight,” he mumbled, kissing and nipping at your neck. “Seems pretty accurate, though. Of course you would be tight, you’re stuck up and rude as hell; it just fits.”

“Yeah,” you moaned, adjusting to his size as he began to thrust in and out of you slowly and deeply. “And you’re so big, which makes sense considering you have a cocky ego the size of,” you were cut off by a moan as he bit on your neck harder and thrusted into you faster.

“My cocky ego is the size of what, angel?” He asked, leaving marks on your neck.

“Hm?” You asked, completely losing your train of thought as he was thrusting.

“Aw, baby girl, are you drunk for my cock?” He smirked, moving to leave kisses on the other side of your neck.

“Maybe in your dreams,” you moaned, your fingers scratching down his back as he thrusted harder and deeper. “Hm, wow, ironic, you do know how to be in rhythm?” You groaned out, digging your nails into the flesh on his back. You wrapped your legs around his waist, trapping him against you.

“Pipe down, princess,” he groaned out, kissing up your jawline. “Actually, you could probaby just fuck off.” He kissed your lips again, thrusting deeper and deeper with each thrust. You moaned into the kiss, whining against his lips as you felt your second orgasm build for the night.

“Fuck, Gareth,” you said softly, “I’m gonna cum,” you added, looking up at him.

“Cum for me, baby. Cum on my cock. Show me how much you love getting fucked by me and my cock,” Gareth replied, leaving soft kisses over your chest. He thrusted up into you again, hitting your sweet spot before you moaned, your legs tightening around him. You clenched around him, moaning his name as you came for the second time that night, something that Gareth was probably never going to let you forget about. You bucked your hips up and continued to release around him, completely forgetting where you were.

Gareth helped you ride out your high, thrusting slow and steady as he kissed your lips softly. He moaned against your lips, cock twitching inside of you as he moaned your name. He thrusted deeply one last time before he came deep inside of you, ropes of his cum coating your walls. You groaned at the feeling, sighing as he rode out his high as well.

He sighed, trying to catch his breath as you kept him pinned against you. He rested his forehead on your shoulder slightly, his fingertips grazing up and down your thighs gently. After a few minutes he pulled out of you, wincing at the feeling while you whined at the loss of him. Gareth walked to the bed and set you down gently, your body relaxing as it hit the soft mattress.

Walking to the bathroom quickly, Gareth came back with a towel. He looked at you and smiled a little, an actual smile, as he cleaned you up gently. He threw the towel on the ground before he crawled on the bed next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist gently. His head nuzzled into your neck as he left soft and sweet kisses over the marks he had left earlier.

“Hm, are you okay?” He asked softly, looking up at you, his baby blue eyes back to normal as they shined in the light. You nodded, smiling a little as you pushed his hair out of his face.

“Mhm, perfect. You?” He nodded back, smiling at you.

“I’m wonderful, thanks to you.” You closed your eyes, cuddling into Gareth more as you relaxed. You jumped slightly when you heard a knock on your hotel room door, Jeff and Eddie calling your name from the other side with drunken giggles thrown in.

You groaned and jumped up from the bed, scrambling to find clothes. You found Gareth’s Metallica shirt and his boxers, sliding them both on as you fixed your hair gently. You looked at Gareth and threw the blanket over him to hide him.

“Hey!” He mumbled into the blanket, poking his head out to look at you. You moved your finger to your mouth and moved towards the door quickly, opening it to reveal a very drunk Eddie and Jeff.

Eddie and Jeff smiled at you, giggling your name. “Have you seen Gareth?” Eddie asked, looking at you.

“Yeah, he said he’d catch up with us but he’s not in his room and he’s not answering his phone.” Jeff added, looking you up and down with a small raised eyebrow.

“Nope,” you lied, “haven’t seen him.”

“Interesting,” Jeff replied, looking at you. “Well, if you see him, can you let him know we were looking for him?” You nodded quickly and began to close the door slowly.

“Yeah, will do, bye guys!” You said as you closed the door in their faces, locking it.

“Dude, she just got laid,” you heard Jeff mumble from the other side of the door. Eddie gasped and looked back at your door.

“No fair! Lucky,” Eddie muttered.

You groaned and walked back to the bed, flopping down next to Gareth.

“You haven’t seen me, huh?” He smirked, moving towards you again. You hit his arm gently and smirked back.

“Eddie and Jeff are looking for you,” you giggled, looking at him.

“Yeah, they can wait,” he smiled, leaving another soft kiss on your lips.

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prettymeredith · 3 hours ago

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Fantasy of the Day: The Ticklish Dancer

"Nobody's gonna come looking for you? You told everyone you'd be staying late tonight after dance rehearsal? Mhm, such a good girl."

My dance instructor has been bugging me for weeks for slme extra 1 on 1 lessons after class. Now alone, strapped up in an empty dance studio, it wasn't hard to figure out why.

"Sensitive honey? Aww, always thought you had a cute laugh, now I get you all to myself. None of those pesky peers of yours getting in the way, asking about their pirouette."

I guess all those times streching my calf muscles on her shoulders made me too trusting. Now I was stuck here, tickled by a sassy older woman, teasing me, and having her way with my feet.

"Ever wonder what your feet smile like after a couple of hours at class? Haha~ Yeah, that's what you smell like. Yummy huh? I think so."

She wasn't lying about her affinity for my sweaty dance feet. Quickly inserting my toes in her mouth, and tickling my arches before I even knew how to react.

"Qwff!? Hwahafhwahafhaf!! Hnm mhy Gwdd!!"

My giggles echoed around the empty dance studio. I could feel my cheeks flushing as my instructor ticklishky ran her mouth and fingers all over the soles of my sweaty feet.

"Nwhhh! Hnnhff!! Sthawwppfft, hnhmhnhff!!"

"Oh hush, that any way to talk to your instructor? We got at least a couple more hours of your private lesson to get through. But if thats how it's gonna be, I have my ways of shuttin' you up."

I couldn't even apologize before having her damp dance socks stripped and stuff into my mouth; moist with all of the shuffle steps, axel turns, high kicks she'd done since that morning.

"Hmm, now where was I? Mhmm... See, isn't that much better?" She teased picking right back up with tickling me to shattered pieces.

"Hmmhnmhnm!! Gmmnnhh!!? Hnhmhnhnhh!"

My instructor's own pleasured laughter and giggles echoed louder than my own from under the gag. I was trapped, watching her enjoy herself with a spark of enjoyment and arousal I'd never seen from her before.

Her obsession with my feet was unparalleled. From toe sucking to arch nibbling, to frenzied tickle torture that felt unbearable. The agony of my ticklish peril fueling her to go on.

"Don't hide it sweetheart, I can see it wrritren all over that adorable face of yours. You're enjoying this as much as I am, if not more."

"You had your suspicions, but you stayed late anyway. You let me stock you up. You didn’t fight when I stuffed my socks in your mouth."

Neither her tickles or her teases as she imposed her affection for me and my feet over the course of the evening. Humiliating me to my core, tickling me silly, and calling me out on my own arousal.

The inner confliction between regret and continued interest as she touched and prodded exposed skin. Her smile and judgmental gazes making me blush everytime I glanced at her face.

"Alright dollface, that was fun. I'll come back in a few hours to get you. Don't miss me too much."

#tickle community #tickling #tickle #tickle blog #ticklish #tword community #tickles #feet #feetish

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lifecanbe-bea-utiful · 3 days ago

Text

☆ The Aftermath ☆

(prev. next.)

Pairing: Veronica Sawyer x Heather Chandler (Heathers)

Summary: Veronica and Heather end up in the same diner after the dreadful party

Word count: 2836

Notes: This is my first time publishing any Heathers fanfiction so be nice please 😭 also this is supposed to be Heathers the musical but might take inspo from both so just a warning

“I can't believe this is happening,” Veronica mumbled under her breath. She kicked a rock aggressively before nearly stumbling over. God, how much had she drunk?

In short, the party had been a disaster. Veronica had screwed up. Big time. There was no way she could bounce back after all of that. In fact, just thinking back made her nauseous all over again.

Sighing, she took a deep breath of the crisp, night air, trying to calm down. Despite it being only late September, the night was cold and Veronica wrapped herself in her coat tighter while she mulled over the night in her head. Having to protect Martha from something that was technically Veronica's own fault, Heather turning on her in a bitchy rage, and the stupid, stupid fight she picked. Veronica didn’t know what had happened. Of course Heather could be bitchy, but not usually so harsh - well, not to Veronica. It stung, and hurt Veronica more than she cared to admit. She blocked out the feeling and focused on her anger. After all, anger could be useful, right? Anger is practical. Whatever the mystery feeling (which she refused to believe was disappointment) was, it wasn’t going to be helpful. She kicked another pebble with unneeded force and watched it skitter over the sidewalk, rattling against the near-silent night. It must have been at least 1 am, and she was far away from anywhere in town. Ram lived in one of those fancy, distant houses on the outskirts. It was dark too, much darker than when she’d arrived after getting a lift with…

Heather.

Shit.

Veronica stopped walking and leaned against a tree. She couldn’t exactly walk home - a random, vaguely drunk teenager wandering the streets in the middle of the night was never going to be a good idea - her car was at home, and the idea of going back to beg Heather for a lift made her want to throw up. Again.

Besides, she couldn’t go home like this. If her parents heard her sneak into the house, she was a dead girl walking. The original plan was to go to Heather’s house before, well, shit hit the fan and Veronica managed to toss herself to the bottom of the social hierarchy in seconds.

So what could she do? There was no one she knew in this part of sherwood. Well, there was hardly anyone to know around here. It was practically empty except for a couple of ugly ass houses built in the 50s, the Ram's house, an overnight diner…

An overnight diner. That could actually work. She could spend the whole night - or what was left of it anyways - munching on chilli fries till her mouth tasted better and drinking enough pots of coffee to hopefully drown out her thoughts. No grovelling, no getting yelled at, no getting abducted. Just chilli fries. Yeah, the diner was an option.

Veronica pushed herself upright and walked down the street in a fairly straight line. It was only a short, unsteady walk down a few blocks before she arrived at the diner; then only 9 more minutes before she sat, sipping a black coffee and chewing on what was probably more deep-fryer fat than potato.

The diner was pretty bleak. Excluding her, there was only a few people loitering around: a middle-aged woman in a huge overcoat aggressively biting into a burger, a young-ish guy who looked drunk out of his mind giggling and staring at his cup, a waitress who looked like she wanted to pack it in and head home - not that Veronica blamed her. Pale grey and faded red striped the wall in a feeble attempt to add cheer, but it was still a thousand times better than the party Veronica had left behind.

Sighing, Veronica pulled her purse open and yanked out her diary.

Dear diary,

My life is officially over. I hope they play _ at my funeral. The party was a mess. I left “keggers with kids” only to end up in a nightmare. It was chaos, fucking chaos, and somehow the it only got worse.

Diary, I have ruined my life. At least for high school. Probably longer. All because of the stupid argument with Heather-

Veronica’s pen hovered above the page, her mind drifting elsewhere.

Heather. Ugh.

Everytime Veronica tried to think about Heather Chandler, she couldn’t bring herself to focus on the other girl for too long. Veronica was used to being scared of her. After all, she had known her as only a mythic bitch until the near-end of sophomore year. And she was terrifying now, with the fate of Veronica’s entire social life in her hands, just waiting to be crushed between her manicured fingers. Veronica knew what Heather Chandler was: dangerous, merciless and not someone to screw around with. She didn’t care if she was liked; all she cared about was her position at the top of the food chain.

And she’d fucked Veronica over. Big time.

The funny thing was, Ronnie had been so sure. She’d been convinced there was more to Heather than some rich bitch who was obsessed with red. Heather Chandler was a person, and there’s good in everyone. There had been moments, Veronica was sure; when she’d smiled after winning a match of croquet instead of smirking and simpering like she did at school. Or the small look of disappointment on Heather’s face when she saw her results on a vocab quiz, before it frosted over into a sneer. Even the way her finger tapped subconsciously against the steering wheel of her Porsche whenever ABBA played over the stereo. A few scattered slivers of humanity that you couldn’t capture - there and gone so fast it was hard to be sure if they even happened. Nobody else noticed. But ever since Heather dragged Ronnie to highschool stardom, she had been almost certain that she wasn’t just some cruel Barbie Doll. But, as it turned out, Veronica was wrong. Heather was willing to snap anyone's neck under her stilettos.

Even Veronica’s.

She took another long sip of her coffee, breathing in the earthy smell. The facts were: A) she was dead meat come Monday. B) Heather Chandler almost definitely despised her. C) She had no friends, no options, no chance. D) These fries were delicious.

So Veronica had nothing to do now. Nothing to lose and nowhere to go. How very.

With a quiet grunt of irritation, she placed her pen down and laced her fingers around the mug, drumming her fingers in an inconsistent pattern. If her thoughts didn’t shut up soon, it was going to be a really long night.

– – – –

The loud car horn jerked Veronica awake. The girl startled up, dropping her hand from where it had been pressed into her face. By the time she had recognised the horn, the car’s occupant was already inside the diner.

Veronica heard her voice before she saw her.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” To Veronica’s surprise, Heather’s voice was more dumbfounded than angry - although the queen bee’s tone couldn’t have been mistaken for anything other than cold.

With a barely suppressed groan, she turned to face Chandler. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I always come here after going to parties - not that it’s any of your business.” Heather huffed, glancing around. “What’s that?”

Heather’s eyes narrowed when she caught sight of Veronica’s diary.

Shit.

Veronica quickly snatched the notepad and stuffed it away. For god’s sake, why hadn’t she just done that earlier? She couldn’t have predicted Chandler’s arrival but still, how stupid did she have to be to leave it lying-

“Well?” Heather’s voice was a knife through her thoughts.

“It’s nothing. A notepad to… practise in.” Veronica lied quickly. She had always done her best to hide her diary from Heather, for fear of being mocked. Clearly, writing down all your thoughts and feelings wasn’t exactly something to be considered cool by most people - and it definitely wasn’t seen that way by Heather. The other girl arched her eyebrow, but Veronica ploughed on. “Y’know, to perfect my forgeries and stuff-”

“Don’t screw with me, ‘Ronica.” Heather cut her off. “That’s your handwriting. Which is pretty shit, considering you're good at copying other people’s writing.” Heather unfolded her arms to lean against Veronica’s table, her hard expression slowly morphing into a smirk. “Why? Is it a diary or something? Because I don’t think there’s much point keeping embarrassing secrets from me when you're already dead meat.”

Veronica glowered at her, trying to ignore how terrifying the idea of Chandler flipping through her journal was. “I… It’s none of your damn business Heather.” She was pretty proud of how steady she kept her voice.

Heather scoffed, her tone one of mock hurt. “And here I thought we were friends.”

“You literally told me I was history.”

“On Monday. I’d said you’d be history on Monday.”

Veronica sat back on her seat, avoiding Heather’s gaze. With an eye roll so intense Veronica could practically hear it, Chandler sat down across from Veronica and stole a fry from her bowl. Veronica glared at her. Heather scoffed.

“Don’t give me that wounded look. You can spare a fry. Especially when you owe me an entire pair of shoes.”

“I thought I'd paid for those with my dignity.” Veronica muttered.

“Excuse me, Sawyer?”

“Nothing.”

“I thought as much.” There was a moment's pause. Veronica stared down into her mug, regretting every decision she'd ever made that could have led up to this moment. Heather seemed to notice her less-than-joyful expression and sneered.

“God, ‘Ronica. Why can't you just lighten up?”

“It would be easier to lighten up if you hadn't ruined my social life.” Veronica said through gritted teeth, her eye’s remaining angled down.

Heather paused for a moment - hesitated, almost - before replying to her in her usual, snobbish tone. “That's your own fault. Nobody forced you to side with Martha Dumptr-”

“Dunnstock.”

“Someone’s touchy,”

“Someone doesn’t like your stupid, lousy nickname for her friend,” Veronica countered.

Heather sneered. “Still defending little miss Shamu are we?”

Veronica was done. She looked up to face her scoffed back - I mean, she had nothing left to lose, why should she care what Heather thought of her now? “Yeah, actually. I care about Martha, because most people care about others! Most people aren’t mythic bitches who care more about their scrunchies than actual people. Not everyone’s a mythic bitch, Heather!”

A borderline hurt expression cut across Heather’s expression, but it vanished just as soon as it had appeared, replaced by a glare. “You are dead, Sawyer. Monday morning will arrive and you won’t even exist anymore.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the same position I’ve been in for the past few hours; nothing new here.” Veronica let out a mirthless laugh. “Might as well take the cheap shots now while I still can, right?”

The confidence in her voice felt alien. Maybe she knew for sure there was nothing left for her to lose. Or maybe it was just alcohol. Eh, brave, drunk, stupid, what was the difference?

Heather ran a hand through her long, thick blonde hair, her mouth twisted into an arch of distaste. “Hell, sometimes, you make it easy to hate you,”

“Well, I hate you more. That I can promise.”

The corner of Heather’s lips curled upwards in response to Veronica’s words, looking vaguely impressed by the girl’s nerve.

“You chose to fly with eagles,” false sympathy wrapped around Heather’s words. “Now it’s time to face the consequences, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, well, sue me for giving a damn.” Veronica mumbled. The girl across from her sighed incredulously.

“Why’d you do it, Vee? You said you wanted to be one of us, you wanted to be like me-”

“With you, not like you,”

“-So why’d you throw it all away?” Heather’s expression looked the most genuine Veronica had seen it; there was real confusion

“Because I care about Martha!” Veronica said, incredulous as to how she couldn’t get it. “I should have never written that stupid note in the first place. She’s like my sister-”

“I get that she’s your friend and all, but that was excessive.” Heather’s nose wrinkled.

Veronica thought for a moment. “Well, if you were a kid and you ran into a road, your mom would stop you, right?”

There was a pause. “Uh, yeah, okay. I guess.”

Veronica watched her closely. Weird reaction you got there, Heather. “The point is, it’s like that. She’s important to me, and so be it if I lose my spot in some clique for her.”

The red-clad girl paused. She hardly seemed angry now, more… pensive. Heather didn’t speak for a few beats, then: “You didn’t answer my original question.”

“Huh?”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Heather clarified, this time her voice was less cold and more… something else. Something softer.

“Oh. Well, you were going to give me a lift back, but we had the fight seeing as you hate me now-” Heather shot her an odd look, “- I thought it would be best to walk back. Turns out I underestimated just how alienated Ram's house is from the rest of town.”

Heather muttered something that sounded like “what kind of high schooler uses the word alienated?” Veronica ignored her and ploughed on.

“There's no way I'm walking back now. It's too late, and my parents do not need to see me like this. So, I found this place and I'm staying over here.”

Heather stared at her. “Staying over here?”

“Yeah.”

“Overnight?”

“Yep.”

“No bed, just sleeping on the diner table?”

“Uh huh.”

“You-” A myriad of feelings flickered over Heather's face too quickly for Veronica to decipher - it took her long enough to process Heather showing that much emotion anyways - before settling into a hardened, haughty look. “No.”

Veronica blinked. “I uh, well- what?”

Not Veronica’s brightest literary moment, she would admit, but she also had alcohol in her system and Heather's firm response was sort of… baffling.

“No.”

After a sec, the Power of Speech returned to Veronica. “So. you want me to just wander around till morning?”

Heather rolled her eyes. “No, you pillowcase. Sleeping in some shitty diner is pathetic and embarrassing and-”

“What does it matter? None will mean anything in a year's time. Hell, it won't mean anything come Monday! “Nobody at Westerberg is going to let you play their reindeer games.” Sound familiar?” Sucking air in through her teeth softly, Veronica chanced a look up at Chandler. Her voice was bitter and she knew it, but there wasn't any point in holding back. “I'm over, Heather. Whether I sleep in a diner or not, I'll still be strung up on a wall on Monday. All. Thanks. To. You.”

Heather huffed, looking sideways. For the first time Veronica had spoken to her - ever - Heather refused to meet her eyes. “Look, I… I’m…”

“You're what?” Veronica cut her off, with no attempt to mask the irritation in her voice. It wouldn't have done anything anyways. Heather must have been really pissed if she was stuttering. She never stuttered; her eloquence cut through the air, sharpened into blades to match her cutting words. If Veronica had riled her up that much, well then-

“If you really don't have anywhere else to go,” Heather spoke through gritted teeth, “you could come… stay over at. My place.”

What!?

“What!?”

“You heard me.” The girl in red replied. Her eyes flicked to Veronica’s and something glazed over them. Something like…

Oh. Oh.

“Holy shit, you're guilty, aren't you? You feel bad!” Veronica nearly laughed.

A sneer rose to Heather’s lips, and she rolled her eyes. “Oh shut up, Vee.”

“No, I won't shut up.” Veronica replied immediately, before lowering her tone slightly. “Is this your way of saying sorry?”

The lack of denial said it all for Veronica. She let out something between a scoff and a breath. “Oh my god-”

“Do you want the offer or not?” Heather cut her off harshly. “If you'd rather be left here alone without any idea of how to get home, then enjoy your little loser fest.”

Veronica thought about it. Could she really consider going over to stay at The Mythic Bitch’s house. That was an awful idea waiting to happen, she would only dog her grave deeper… But still. A warm, clean, safe house sounded incredibly very right now. It was just one night; there was no way she could worsen her current situation in that time. And Heather’s fancy, upper class mansion of a house was the perfect place to crash out.

Veronica was knocked out of her contemplation by the drumming of Heather's fingernails on the aluminium table tops. Heather spoke, “Well?”

Was going along with this the smart thing to do? Probably not. Staying in the same house as the teenage girl who you vomited on earlier the same night didn't really come under smart ideas. And Veronica Sawyer was the sort of person who did the smart thing.

But not tonight.

“Fuck it. I'm in.”

- - - -

Hiiii thank you so much for reading, love you <333 /p I hope you enjoyed reading this and if you could reblog it'd be greatly appreciated (no pressure though! :D) have a great day!

#heathers the musical #heathers #heather chandler #veronica sawyer #fanfic #chansaw #orin types <3 #heather duke #heather mcnamara #jason dean

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theheirofthesharingan · 12 hours ago

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Don't worry, I am not upset.

Shisui was spying on Itachi was stated by one of the Uchiha police when they accused him of Shisui's murder in Ch. #222.

"Itachi is as bad as Danzo" is a popular take in the Uchiha fandom. So, it wasn't meant to you specifically, but a general statement which I come across in nearly pro Uchiha post, along with "Itachi is so stupid".

Fugaku is not to blamed to the same extent as Danzo and Hiruzen, but he was also responsible for it. By sending Itachi to the Anbu, by not being there for him in his most crucial moments, and then giving up on him. That's the least he could have done as a father. Fugaku neither wanted war nor Itachi to go through it, but he was also ignorant of Itachi's reluctance and unwillingness to participate in the act. He chose to ignore it until the very last moment, when it was too late for everyone.

Obito not only participated in the massacre, but was most likely involved with Danzo as well.

This is from chapter 474. Nothing more is elaborated, so it's hard to say. But the man didn't need any reason. He attacked with kyuubi without any reason and motivation. There has to be some truth when he tells Sasuke he was planning a war too.

I guess there are some fans who demonize Fugaku so Sasuke can be saved. Though I agree that under better circumstances he would have done a better job as a father too. I'm not sure why in the AUs people write him as a bad person.

When Itachi distances himself from his family, he is not even 12 years old. He has been burdened with the things that aren't his business. Fugaku, as a father, has not only not given him any emotional support, but has actively burdened him with more. He's clearly a better parent to Sasuke than he is to Itachi. It holds true for Mikoto as well. If Fugaku can't reach out to his son, it's on him. Itachi was busy too but he still made enough time to not let Sasuke feel lonely, until he couldn't.

And, yes. That's what I'm saying. While most fans will agree their favorites are flawed and their flaws make them interesting, a section of the fandom will always be blind and uncritical to their favorites. Itachi alone isn't the character to have such fans. I've been in the fandom long enough to observe how different fanbases work.

I've never said it was okay for Itachi to torture Sasuke, or that he did the right thing. But that he thought he had to do it, because, to him, leaving Sasuke in Konoha meant Sasuke being vulnerable to any conspiracy against him could get his brother killed. He thinks of it as a necessary evil, and he also understands the damage he's caused. He was threatened by Danzo before the massacre, so he believed taking all the measures to stop Danzo from getting his hands on Sasuke or giving him a reason to kill Sasuke would be beneficial for him. But that was not true, because he ended up causing even more damage.

My understanding to Uchiha not taking the extreme consequences of their coup into account is that they were desperate to get equality and were certain they would succeed. They were also used to violence. They also didn't know Obito was working behind the scenes as well. A civil war within the village may have been prevented, but Obito, who everyone believed was Madara for years. They couldn't fight him. They didn't know about his conspiracy as well.

Hm, been contemplating these panels lately and thinking about which character is constantly demonized within the fandom/fan works involving them and which is frequently viewed as the ultimate loving and moral person...

And:

One is a man bearing the supposed 'Curse of Hatred' who loves his children so much that he is continuing to parent and offer unconditional love to his son even after said son has already participated in the brutal state-sanctioned genocide of their people/culture and is about to end his (and his wife's - who, btw, is on the same page as him) life.

The other is a man from the supposed 'Clan of Love' who boldly holds the conviction that he would cease his compassion towards even his own child if they stood against him and his dream (the village), regardless of the fact his dream (the village) is a corruptible entity that does not maintain personhood.

Interestingly, I think there is something to be said for the fact both Fugaku and Hashirama are also shown struggling to understand Itachi and Madara (respectively).

Fugaku is actually quite honest regarding his issues in relating to Itachi and while we're not always privy to all the conversations they've had about the state of the clan/sentiment of the Leaf village towards their people, it's clear that those discussions have been had. While the panels where we do see more explicit conversations taking place show Fugaku reiterating to Itachi that his role in ANBU is to serve as a pipeline between the clan/village (which could be argued as an unfair burden foisted onto a child, in my opinion) there are also moments that indicate Fugaku is willing to defer to Itachi (at least on some topics) when his son offers a contradictory viewpoint (like attendance at Sasuke's entrance ceremony, for example).

Side note... this also reminds me of the very short (unfortunately) interactions we see between Madara and his father, Tajima. Tajima clearly respects his son as well and defers to him when Madara insists that they not fight Hashirama and his family on the river - Tajima accepts this from his son without pause.

Alternatively, we also see Madara trying to explain his perspective to a skeptical Hashirama before he commits to taking more drastic actions. Madara is trying to articulate his frustrations with what is happening in the village/how it is progressing with regards to his clan and (even though we never really get Madara's own unfiltered perspective on this time period) we are shown instances of Madara's grievances holding water (ie. Tobirama advocating for Madara not to be made Hokage, but instead pushing randomly for a democratic system that never seems to actually be cemented or made precedent within the village afterwards but absolutely benefits Hashirama/the Senju in the short-run, Madara 'overhearing' Tobirama's continued bias against the Uchiha in private conversations between the brothers, Hashirama continuing to scold his brother -someone who had ample power within the system of governance since its inception- for his bias against the clan even when they're brought back via the edo tensei, etc). Hashirama tries to (weakly, in my opinion) defend the village status quo/way it is progressing and seems to want to better understand Madara, but isn't willing or is unable to go that extra mile for his friend - and, perhaps in some ways, Madara too was unwilling/unable to articulate himself in a more digestible way once their divergence of opinion on their shared village came to this new crux.

Ultimately, I just find it interesting that Fugaku, this character who is often portrayed by fans as a demon of hatred and cruelty, would (in reality) stand by his son even in his darkest hour, even as he is unjustly slaughtering their family, and continue to reaffirm that he is proud of Itachi/loves him - and this is directly counter to Hashirama who asserts he would absolutely kill anyone (including a child) that stood between him protecting that which he loves the most (the village).

And, of course, we also have this to chew on lol...

Sasuke explaining to edo Hashirama that Itachi inherited his 'Will of Fire' jingoism.

Mandatory disclaimer that Fugaku is not infallible and all the characters here (but Fugaku and Hashirama in particular) are their own people/the circumstances do vary (especially as one relationship is framed in the context of father-son and the other as two friends/peers)... I should also note that I still enjoy Hashirama as a character, I just think his flaws are often under-examined and that the hypocrisy inherent to the 'Will of Fire' philosophy/the Leaf Village (and by extension the shinobi world) is equally neglected especially when it comes to this fandom's love of tearing down the Uchiha to their worst traits/moments. But, man, something about these two panels and character portrayals in particular have just been eating at me the past few days, so I figured I'd try to work out some thoughts on them.

#don't know how to tag this #panics

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