#movie or tv show. if done right then I think either could work for him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

discokicks · 6 months ago

Text

EYE TO EYE (FOR AN EYE) - ROY KENT.

(series masterlist!) (AO3!) (series playlist!)

PART FIVE OF ACES AT THE WATER'S EDGE.

pairing: roy kent x fem!reader (no use of y/n!)

summary: well, you've been parent trapped. forced to talk about things you swore you'd never speak of again, you and roy sit down for a chat to appease your fellow coaching staff. meanwhile, in 2012, the english men's team have lost, and you and roy have a chat that leaves you on an... unforeseen note.

word count & rating: 10.2k, R (we're heating up but we ain't there yet)

chapter warnings: swearing, allusions to sa and harassment, some sexual innuedoes, majorly charged eye contact and tension-filled pauses (these fucks are damaged and yearning), WHOLE LOT of dialogue i apologize there's a lot to talk about

author's note: well hello. for those of you familiar with the show victorious, i've been affectionately calling this chapter the 'take a hint' chapter since i outlined this series. there's also a fuck ton of dialogue in this one and can read like a shitty script sometimes, so apologies on that front. sorry this one took a minute, got stuck with it then got busy. hope you enjoy, love you tons! -mags

PRESENT DAY. (MID-AUGUST, 2023)

There are approximately four straight minutes of uninterrupted silence between you and Roy before either of you say a word.

The first minute, you believe, is just the two of you actually processing that this is happening. You’d heard the jokes about Richmond being a family, about work-life lines being crossed, about true professionalism being thrown out the window at the sake of having better, stronger connections with your team. However, you never imagined that something like this was on the horizon.

The next minute is spent unpacking the reality of it all. You were here with someone you’d previously sworn to never speak to again, expected to talk about something you swore you’d never speak about again. And it was to be done against your will, at a random pub in Richmond, with your two coaches watching you through binoculars through a window like it was a Three Stooges movie.

The next, you realize exactly what it is you two are expected to talk about. Your Stooge coaches want you to have the conversation-- the conversation you swore to yourself you’d never, ever have with Roy. They want you to just talk about it, like it’s simple. As if it’s some silly little dispute you had eight years ago, not one that could take days to fully get through (and frankly, should probably have some sort of third party involved. You’re not suggesting a version of couples therapy but you’re not not suggesting it). Nothing about this is simple. Nothing about this can be solved in just one conversation. But, you figure, if Roy’s suddenly game to start to get into it, you suppose you should be too.

That leads you to the final minute, which is spent attempting to find the right way to start this conversation, because, truly, how the fuck do you even start a conversation like this? While you and Roy were never inclined to beat around the bush, this is different. It's so, unbelievably different and you don't know how you're supposed to do this. Especially not now.

Throughout this time, you’ve glanced over at Roy periodically, who you think may physically hurt himself with how hard he’s trying to avoid eye contact with you. He’s focused on the TV at the bar broadcasting the highlights from the Richmond-Chelsea game. He’s staring at the bar top. He’s looking up at the ceiling. Anywhere but you and at anyone but you.

After those four minutes, you feel the tension in the air shift. It may just be your frustration at both him and this situation, it might be his own, but you suddenly can’t take it anymore. And to your surprise (and Roy’s, for that matter), you manage to get out the first word.

“So,” you say lamely, trying your best not to cringe as it lands. “Uh…”

Roy glances over at you, expecting something else to follow. When nothing does, and he sees your mouth open and close, he huffs a laugh. “I bet you’re happy you signed with Richmond now, huh?”

You place your elbows on the bartop, face falling into your hands. “This is actually insane,” you say, words muffled by your palms. “I hated West Ham, but at least Shelley wasn’t Parent Trap-ing his assistant coaches.” You raise your head to look at Mae as she places two pints in front of you and Roy. “Thank you.”

Mae nods at the both of you, eyes narrowing at Roy as she notices his silence. “The offer for double the pay is still on the table,” he tells her.

“Richmond can’t win this year if their coaching staff is fighting like cats and dogs,” Mae replies. “Your money is as useless as your arguing here.”

The bluntness of her statement has you chuckling despite yourself. As Mae walks away from a now scowling Roy, you take a sip of your drink. Then another. Then another.

When you feel Roy’s gaze on you, you turn to look at him. “What? If we’re gonna talk about this, I can’t be sober.”

“We’re not talking about it,” is his immediate response, and he makes sure to keep his voice low, eyes shifting to where Mae is at the other end of the bar.

Relief rushes through you at the idea that he seems to be on the same avoidance wave. You want to have this conversation even less than he probably does. However…

“They’re watching us,” you say, throwing your thumb in the direction of the window. “If we’re just sitting here in silence, they’re never gonna let this go.” You glance over your shoulder at your fellow coaches watching you. “And something about Beard gives me the vibe that he’s like, really good at reading lips.”

A familiar growl of annoyance escapes him. “Then we’re going to keep our backs turned and pretend that we’re talking to get those fucking muppets off our backs and get on with our fucking lives.”

Your lips purse. "What are the odds I get you to chug this with me?”

Roy huffs into his glass. “About the same as the odds of it coming right back up because of my new fucking acid reflux.”

Your nose scrunches up in a weary sort of agreement. “Ugh. Fair. Where’d that shit come from anyway? It sucks.”

“We’re fucking old, Fourteen,” he mutters. “That’s where it came from. We’re far from what we used to be.”

“Yeah, but you were ancient when I met you,” you reply, earning a deep scowl in return. “I used to be so young and full of life.”

“If by ‘full of life’ you mean doing boat races in a shitty pub in London with a bunch of degenerate athletes—”

“Oh, my God. Grandad. The kids got off your lawn in 2012, stop bitching,” you say as you bite back a laugh. When Roy rolls his eyes, you point at him. “And by the way, I vaguely remember you joining us in one of those boat races, so I don’t want to hear it from you.”

Roy scoffs. “I did it to shut Rivera up,” he replies, shaking his head. “Terrible fucking influence.”

A fond smile grows on your lips at the mention of your friend, remembering the state she’d been in that night. It was the night you’d won the Gold at the Olympics, and Mel had taken it upon herself to peer pressure your entire team not just to go out, but to start at a pub and start the celebration with that godforsaken game. To this day, you’re still not sure if she remembered leaving the pub.

“She’s the worst,” you agree, though your tone says differently.

A beat passes between you, a question hanging in the air as if Roy’s unsure if he should ask it. If he’s allowed or entitled to know the answer. He asks it anyway. “Where did she end up?”

You answer after you swallow the sip of beer you’d taken. “She and Paige are somewhere in Surrey. And I’m still trying to figure out the geography of this place, but I know that it’s kind of close to here, which is nice. They’re supposed to come for our first home game with their son.”

“Fucking crazy that they’ve got a kid,” Roy says. “I remember when she was making a fucking fool of herself in front of that girl.”

“You’re telling me,” you grin. “Luckily it worked. It helped that Paige was in love with her the entire time.”

That comment is met with silence as Roy seems to only be able to offer a nod in response. The following quiet is less awkward, but everything still hangs in the air. It weighs down the space that stands between you two and makes your chest ache. You don’t know how to continue. You don’t know what to say.

You feared this exact situation with him. Just the two of you, sitting in a room with each other, running out of talking points. No team to comment on, no coaches to add input, nothing left to expand on. Only the memories of your past and a million unspoken paths to go down— ones you had no interest in uncovering.

The TV in front of you transitions to Zava’s press conference, and suddenly, thankfully, you’ve got another thing to talk about. “You’ve never said your opinion on Zava.”

Roy’s brow pinches. “What’s there to say? He’s fucking good. He’ll help us be better. I didn’t think he’d go for us but I’m happy he did.”

“Yeah, I figured that,” you say with the roll of your eyes. “I’m asking for your opinion. Not Coach Kent’s PR response.”

He takes a brief pause, then scowls and looks down at the bar top. “I think he’s a self-involved, strange little prick. I think the shit he does and wears fucking odd, and I think the hero-worship our team’s got for him is going to be a problem.” Roy shrugs. “But he’ll help us win games.”

You find yourself nodding along. “Do you think we actually need him?”

Roy’s gaze slides to yours in interest. “I take it you don’t?”

A sigh escapes your lips as you turn your body slightly to face him. “I think he’ll help us win,” you agree, putting your chin in your hand as you look up at Zava (who’s holding a Richmond jersey with a smile) on TV. “But I’m afraid he’ll mess up the team dynamic.”

“How so?” he asks.

“Well, I’m assuming all future plays are going to be made around him,” you say. “Pass to Zava, get it to Zava, put Zava in a position to score. You guys have never done that before. You’ve never just focused on making everything work around one person.”

Roy’s eyes narrow. “We’ve done it with Tartt.”

“You’ve made plays for Jamie. But you’ve never relied on Jamie to be your focal point in every play of every game,” you explain. The intrigue on Roy’s face is something you haven’t seen in a minute. You continue, “Jamie’s your best player. Every team needs to have their best player. But that’s why, I think, Richmond works. Because you’re a team. You’ve got Sam, you’ve got Isaac, you’ve got Dani— everyone’s good at what they do and they know how to fill their role to work together.” You shrug and reach for your pint. “That’s how you’ve won in the past. I just think it’s dangerous to have the team play around someone else instead of playing as a team. I don’t think it’s sustainable.”

These points of yours are met with a quiet that tells you he’s considering your words. Not so much evaluating as he’s just… taking them in. It feels good to be heard. Not to be dismissed or waved off, told that your input would be considered as it had been for the last three months.

You’re not sure if Roy’s going to respond to any of your points until he says, “Stop saying ‘you have.’”

You blink at him, not expecting that at all. “What?”

“You keep saying ‘you’ve.’ ‘You guys.’ ‘You’re.’ You’re distancing yourself from the team.” He shakes his head. “You’re a part of this now too. Richmond’s yours as much as it’s mine.”

“Oh,” you say. A strange mix of embarrassment and pride wash over you. “I didn’t realize I was doing that.”

Roy sighs. “You should have said something if that’s how you felt.”

“And what? Ruin the fun of the Zava train? Potentially be the reason we don’t pick up one of the best players in the league?” You scoff. “Pass. I don’t have the seniority to make a move like that.”

“You still should have said something,” Roy presses. “Ted would have listened. We would have listened.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s done now.” You wave him off, shrugging. “He’s with us and I’m sure he’s going to be great and help us win. I’m just being weird about it.” Roy looks as though he has about a million things to say to that, but he chooses to bite his tongue instead. At his silence, you add, “Be nice to Jamie if he asks for extra training.”

The scoff that leaves his lips is loud. “I’m as nice to Tartt as he deserves.”

“I’m serious,” you say through a chuckle. “Don’t shut him down if he asks. He needs someone in his corner.”

“And it can’t be you?” he asks.

It’s an innocent enough question, asked with a bit of levity and a teasing glance. But it makes your stomach churn. The memories of West Ham, the sessions you did, Tom’s new comments, everything— and it all hurts. You’re not sure if it’ll ever stop hurting.

Any trace of humor drained from your face and in an instant, Roy knows he said something wrong. Stupid, he thinks. Fucking stupid. You’d gone quiet when he last asked you about this. He should have known better. Watched his words more carefully.

“No,” you reply softly. You take a long sip. “I’d prefer that it wouldn’t be me.”

Well, now Roy feels like an asshole. Once again, he wants to ask. He wants to understand exactly what happened, understand who or what has affected you like this. He has his assumptions (ones that go into dark places he never even wants to consider for you— seriously, he’d fucking kill someone and wouldn’t blink), but if you can’t or won’t talk about it, he’s not entitled to know. He’s not entitled to know anything. Your relationship’s never worked like that, even when you were on good terms. There was no pressure, it all always seemed to come out when you were comfortable. It had never been like that before. That’s originally what drew him to you. That’s why he stuck around.

Roy knows if you do decide to talk about it, it’ll be on your terms. And while he doesn’t like it, he respects it. He respects you.

It’s why he chooses to move on to some other topic instead of pressing you. “Whatever they say about your press conference,” he begins, shaking his head, “fucking ignore it.”

It’s a clunky transition and it catches you slightly off-guard. The leap has you suspicious that Roy might know more than he lets on about your situation, but you don’t dare say anything about it. “They?” you ask.

“The media,” he expands. “The football fans. The pricks online. They.” He shakes his head again. “They don’t fucking matter. If they knew any better than you did, they’d be where you are.”

They’re kind words filled with a rough reassurance that he’s mastered. To hopefully get rid of (or procrastinate) the heavy feeling in your chest, you wave him off. “I’m used to it,” you say. Roy frowns at you and you shrug, “I commentated a little bit for ESPN after I got hurt. I did one Men’s game and made a joke about how much you guys overreact when you get fouled to get a call. Twitter ate me alive. I still get threats about it.”

Roy inhales ruefully, humor written across his expression. “What’d you say?”

“Nothing I haven’t said to you a hundred times,” you reply casually, hearing him huff once more. “I think it was something about how you guys have to be getting paid extra by the Club if you promise to make a scene when you’re hit.”

“You weren’t far off," he chuckles.

“And I still stand by it,” you tell him, leaning in as his lips pull into a small grin. “Though I’m not sure I should be talking to you about playing up a penalty.”

Roy’s brows rocket up. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that i’m sitting next to the only person in AFC history to ever get two red cards in a game,” you reply, and the instantaneous scowl that forms on his face makes you chuckle. “I don’t think there’s been a question about if you’ve ever actually hit someone.”

“Those calls were bullshit,” he mutters.

“Roy, you tackled Man City’s best midfielder and took out both of his legs. And then you kicked a different guy in the chest.”

“He ran into my foot.”

“There is literal video footage of you looking him in the eye and saying, ‘that wasn’t an accident, I kicked you in the fucking chest.’”

He stares at you for a moment, then shrugs. “At least I broke a record.”

You nod at him. “And we’re all incredibly proud of you.”

That smile of his returns and you can tell he has to refrain from rolling his eyes. “You weren’t so fucking innocent out there either.”

A faux affronted sound leaves you. “I was an angel.”

“Right,” he draws out. “You never got into it with anyone, Mean Fourteen.”

Your nose crinkles. “I liked it better when you hated that name as much as I did.”

“It’s grown on me. Mainly because it’s right.” When your frown gets deeper, he continues. “Even before the Cup at those Olympics. You were fucking tough out there. They could never get you to stay down.”

You rub your finger against the rim of your glass as you glance at the the highlights of the recent Arsenal game on screen. “Damn right. Got tackled into oblivion by Caroline Singer at the 2012 Semi-Finals. Launched me ten yards and dislocated my shoulder. Got up the second after and had my shoulder set in time for overtime.”

Roy chuckles lowly. “I remember that game. You hit a full fucking Locust in the air when she sent you flying,” he says. “You deserved that one. You were a fucking menace to her all game.”

You gape at him. “I deserved that?”

“You did. If I’m Singer and I’m being marked by someone like you during that game? I’m breaking your fucking jaw.”

While you scowl at the idea that you ‘deserved’ that, you find yourself having caught something much more interesting. “Also, rewind. Full Locust?” you ask with a leading sort of intrigue. “Like… the yoga pose?”

Roy’s hiding in his pint again, trying his best at indifference. “Is that what that is?”

But you know him better. A wide, disbelieving grin pulls at your lips. “Roy Kent, do you do yoga?”

“No,” he immediately replies, but you’re already laughing.

“Oh, my God. You so do yoga.”

The scowl on his face is deep. “Fuck off,” he says. “What the fuck is wrong with yoga?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it,” you respond, laughter dying down despite the smile that remains on your face. “I love yoga. I just never imagined you’d agree.”

“Well, I fucking do.” There’s a beat, and for a moment, you think he’s going to end it there. But then, “I do it once a week with some local mums in their sixties.”

Your mouth begins to part as you stare at him, grin widening. Your laughter starts back up in an instant. “This is the best day of my life.”

(Roy can’t exactly understand what compelled him to admit that, or why he’s indulging in this conversation with you, but there’s a small, suppressed piece of his brain that knows he did it to hear you laugh some more.)

“I have—” you pause to breathe. “—so many questions.”

Roy’s hand shoots up as Mae passes by to ask for another round. “No, you don’t.”

“How did this… come to be?”

He’s scowling, but chooses to answer with, “I was newly retired and borderline suicidal. I found their flier and called Maureen instead of the hotline.”

Your elbow’s now perched on the bartop, chin resting in your hand to stare at him in awe. “Is this, like, at a gym? Is it at one of their houses?” You gasp. “Do you host yoga?”

Roy looks as though he’s regretted every decision that’s led him to this moment. “We alternate weekly,” he mutters.

“Shut up. Tell me you guys hang out after. Like you grab drinks or do a book club or something.”

His hand goes up once more in Mae’s direction. “Yeah, gonna make that two, Mae.”

“Shut up,” you repeat. You don’t think you could be smiling any harder. “Do you drink rosé and read Colleen Hoover?”

“No,” he says, pointing at you like you should know better. When your brows go up, he shrugs. “We drink rosé and watch Lust Conquers All like respectable fucking adults.”

You do the math in your head and gasp again. “Does that mean you watched Jamie’s season?”

Roy’s lips twitch upward. “Yeah. Watched him be a proper fucking twat,” he says, then glances over at you in curiosity. “Didn’t realize you got that over in the States.”

“Jamie’s season was when it started getting popular there,” you reply with a shrug. “All my friends were in love with him.”

Roy’s brows shoot up. “Not you?”

A snort escapes you, and you shake your head. “Uh, no. ‘The island’s top scorer, sexually’ wasn’t exactly my speed.” Roy’s smile grows at your poor impression of Jamie. “But they were into it. They freaked out when they realized I’d be working with him.”

“Not your speed,” Roy repeats, taking a long sip of his pint. His interest appears to be piqued. “And what speed is that?”

You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and you try to play it off with a roll of your eyes. “You know what my type is.”

That smile of his stretches into something more resemblant of a smirk. “It’s been eight fucking years,” he replies, feigning innocence. “Types change.”

“I guess you’re right,” you say, fully ready to play along and be just as much of an annoying jerk as he’s being to you.“Right now, I’m regressing to my French swimmer phase. Going pretty well, actually.”

“Oh, is that right?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you answer, biting back a grin. “Actually been talking with Luca for the last couple of weeks. It’s like we never left London.”

It’s Roy’s turn to roll his eyes, but it’s only half directed at you. “He was a fucking prick,” he says.

“He was not a prick,” you reply. “You just didn’t like him.” Your eyes narrow, turning to face him with that same sort of feigned innocence he had. “Remind me why you didn’t like him again.”

“Because he was a fucking prick,” he repeats. “Fucking twat wouldn’t even watch your games. Couldn’t handle you winning something when he wasn’t.”

The scoff that escapes you is loud. “I forgot about that,” you mutter. “He was a prick, wasn’t he?”

“Fuck yeah, he was.”

You shake your head, raising your glass to take a small sip. “Whatever. Wasn’t like I ended up spending much time with him anyway.”

Roy’s lips quirk up into that same smirk, but there’s more behind it. “No, you didn’t.”

Warmth rises to your cheeks at that, and you continue to hide in your glass. Asshole.

Luckily, Roy seems to have more to say on the topic of Luca. “He was never your speed,” he tells you. It’s a matter-of-fact musing. “He wasn’t in your fucking race.”

You spare a glance in his direction. “No?”

“Absolutely fucking not,” he says as if he can’t believe you even had to ask. “You were riding light years ahead of him. He couldn’t keep up.” With a soft scoff, he adds, “Not many people can.”

That warm feeling returns and it spreads down your neck. You suddenly feel yourself getting shy. “Maybe I should slow down,” you attempt to joke.

Roy’s shaking his head before you can even finish your sentence. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

You don’t mean to do it. It’s completely unconscious, almost like an instinct. But you ignore the way that that makes your entire body go ablaze and look at him. You hold his gaze for a long while, longer than you have since you started at Richmond. And he stares right back at you.

It’s hauntingly familiar and paradoxically comfortable. You don’t know if he meant to say that or if it just slipped out in the moment, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at you. Even if he didn’t mean to let something like that out with that sort of sentiment, he’s owning it. It warms your heart and makes your stomach flip upside down.

It’s so fucking confusing. But then again, this entire thing has been confusing. You had been sitting here for just about a half an hour, and half of those minutes were spent going back and forth in the way that you used to. You didn’t think it’d be so easy to fall back into that with him. To talk to him like that again. To banter with him. Even to fucking laugh with him.

That realization makes you feel as though you’ve been dunked in a pool of cold water and allows a weird, foreign feeling to settle in your chest. You’re angry at yourself and at him for slipping back into it so effortlessly. You hate how easy it is and always has been with him. But you also miss it. You’ve missed this. You missed him.

It’s an absolutely horrendous, life-altering realization and it slants your world sideways. You despise yourself for it. It’s something you force deep down into yourself, hoping it dies a quick and painless death, but you know that it won’t be the case. Not if he’s still around. And not if you two continue like this.

Luckily, for both of you, the television at the pub chirps out a loud noise as a penalty is called for the game on-screen. You two snap out of it, promptly tuning in to distract yourselves from whatever the fuck that was. Old habits were easy to fall into. They were dangerous. You couldn’t wait to pretend like that never happened.

However, something still lingers. Something sits upon your tongue as you watch the scene unfold on-screen, as the medical and physio team run out to help the injured Arsenal player who’s clutching at his knee. You can’t explain your motive and you don’t completely understand why you feel the need to keep this conversation going, but you want to extend that same kindness to him, with something you’ve been holding back for years. So you do.

“I almost called you,” you tell him. He glances over at you, brows raised in question. “The game you got hurt. I was watching. And I sat on my couch for two hours trying to figure out if I should call you.”

Roy blinks, absorbing this, then turns away. He swallows thickly before bringing his glass to his lips. “Glad you didn’t.”

It stings. Like, really stings. You nod, trying not to show just how much, but your voice still comes out dejected. “Oh,” you say. “Right.”

Roy sighs at your tone. “No, it—” He wipes a hand down his face and the pint in his other lands on the bartop with a thud. “If you’d called that night, it just… It would have… complicated a lot of fucking things for me. And I might have—” There’s a brief moment where he meets your gaze, but he quickly drops it. “I don’t know what I would have done.”

“Oh,” you repeat, but it’s quieter. Your focus is drawn to your glass. “Right.”

That dreaded silence returns and it’s unlike anything you’ve experienced with him. What did he mean? What would he have done? What would you have complicated for him? The way he speaks gives you a pretty decent idea of how drastic his actions would have been, but you can’t figure out what he means.

Would he have lashed out at you? Would he have wanted to see you? Would he have even picked up the phone if you had called? What did he mean?

You have millions of questions you’re too scared to ask, and you bite your tongue for fear of actually speaking them aloud. Roy doesn’t seem to like this and really doesn’t seem to like your answer, or lack there of (but truly, what exactly were you supposed to say to something like that?). You’re not sure if he thinks he upset you or made you uncomfortable, but when he speaks again, he’s taken on a bit of a softer tone.

“Just so we’re clear,” he begins. “I’m… happy you’re here.” He says it slowly, as if he’s testing out each word. “I’m happy you joined Richmond despite… well, fucking everything.”

You swallow hard, awkwardly shrugging. “I didn’t have a lot of other options.”

He gives you a look that tells you to stop being a smartass. You know it well.

“I’m happy you’re here,” he repeats, more sure this time. “I’m happy to see you again. But it…” Roy trails off, eyes locked on the bar top. “It’s fucking… strange. It’s strange to be here with you after I swore you off for the rest of my life.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “It is.”

“And I— I’m trying to be better at this,” he continues, still refusing to look at you. “Talk like this with someone. Be fucking open, or whatever. So, this is me being open.”

It takes him a minute to collect his thoughts, and you give it to him.

He scratches at the inside of his wrist. “All of my past… relationships were…” He trails off like he can’t find the right word.

“Fleeting?” you try, earning a glare in response. “Transactional?”

That look in his eye doesn’t falter. “I’m trying to be open here, for fuck’s sake,” he grits, though the slight whine in his voice makes you chuckle. However, before you can apologize, he sighs. “But, for lack of a better fucking word, yeah. That. Nobody stuck around and there was no… love lost or-- fucking whatever. And if it did end poorly, I didn’t have to worry about seeing them. I could ignore them or get a fucking drink thrown in my face and it’d be… done. It’d be over.” Roy shakes his head and takes a long sip of his beer. “I didn’t have to be around them, I didn’t have to see them, and I certainly didn’t have to fucking work with them.”

There’s a beat between you. It’s brief, but it gives you time to absorb this, and for him to take a breath. He shuts his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them again, he’s looking at you. It’s a gaze that’s warmer than before, but there’s still that distress there. The confusion. Sadness.

He continues, “I really thought I was never going to see you again. And I had, I don’t know, fucking resigned myself to that idea? I’d come to terms with it. So, being here?” That’s when he decides to meet your eyes. “I don’t know what the fuck to do. I don’t know how to act around you. Not when I’m still so… fucking angry with you. Not when you’re so angry with me. I’ve never done anything like this—” He motions between you two. “—and I don’t know how the fuck to do it.”

It’s a lot to take in, but you do so while nodding slowly. He doesn’t know how to do this? He doesn’t know how to act around you? This is confusing for him?

It wasn’t a contest, but you’d argue that, given everything, you were in the worse position. You were joining his team, a team he’d clearly nested into and made a life for himself in. You had been forced to ignore everything he’d done to you for the sake of your career because you truly had nowhere else to go. How the hell did he think that you were or would be doing any better than he was? Did he really think you were dealing with this in a healthier, more stable way?

After you’ve collected your thoughts, you ask, “You think that this is easy for me? I’m fucking drowning here, Roy.” Your voice is gentle, and almost immediately, you can see the tension in his body resolve into something more open. “I think we’re the first people ever on earth to be put in this fucked situation. It’s like some sick psychology experiment.”

“Sad fucking excuses for lab rats we are,” he mutters. There’s a hint of a smile on his lips. “What does it say about us that we agreed to it?”

“It says we’re masochists, Kent,” you say, and that smile grows as he shakes his head. You motion to the window where Beard and Ted still stand, taking turns with the binoculars every so often to check in on the two of you. “Who else would just go along with shit like this?”

Roy turns to the window. “Fuck. I forgot they were out there,” he mutters in disbelief.

You salute to Beard and his binoculars and he pulls them down to nod at you in response. “We’re sick, sick people who’d rather be uncomfortable than give this sport up.”

Roy huffs a laugh. “Cheers to that.”

He tilts his pint to yours and it feels like a peace offering. It’s like you’re finally on the same page about something for once. When you clink your glass against his and sip with him, it ratifies that agreement. You bite back a smile.

“But there’s some truth in that, I guess,” you continue. Roy’s brow pinches. “I couldn’t give this up. I would rather be uncomfortable with this than let go of this opportunity. Because, I…” You take in a deep breath, scoffing softly as you release it. “I really thought I blew it. I thought my career was over after West Ham fired me. I didn’t think anyone was going to want the girl who couldn’t even last three months at an AFC club.” You can feel yourself getting choked up and you blink away the telltale burning in your eyes. “And then out of the blue, like a fucking miracle, Rebecca’s at my door asking me to join Richmond. So… yeah, Roy. This is so fucking weird. And you’re right, I’m still mad at you. I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for what you did. And I don’t expect you to ever forgive me.

“But this… this job, West Ham… I couldn’t allow my career to end like that,” you say, and your chest starts to tighten again. Fuck, was it always going to be this hard to talk about this? “You were right when you told me I couldn’t let them take what I love away from me.” Your voice is quieter when you say, “I can’t allow someone to dictate my career for me. Not again.”

You see Roy’s eyes close out of the corner of your own. His head bows ever so slightly and as he mutters, “Yeah. That shouldn’t happen again.”

Now you feel like the asshole. You know it’s deserved, but the somber, regretful note in his voice makes your perpetual guilt complex rear its head. You’re getting emotional whiplash from the highs and lows of this conversation and you wonder how much time has really passed by. You can’t tell if it’s been twenty minutes or an hour.

But, however long it’s been, you think it’s a miracle that you’ve been able to get to this point with such little time.

“I’m not…” The words get caught in your throat and then escape like a sigh. “...ready to talk about what happened yet. I don’t know when I’ll be able to, but it’s certainly not now. I… It’s too hard to, I don’t know, look at you and talk about that.” You look wearily over in his direction. “And I don’t think— I can’t be your friend,” you tell him softly, watching as he bows his head. “Or be whatever our coworkers want us to be. I’m not… I don’t think I can do that yet. And I think you feel the same.”

There’s a long, pregnant silence, one that drags out and makes everything between you two feel heightened. Then, Roy nods. “Yeah,” he says. “Not yet.”

You figured as such. It’s almost reassuring to know that you’re at the same point. However, after this conversation, after sitting here with him, forgetting about everything for just a moment to laugh and joke around with him for the first time in years, you’re comfortable enough to say your next words.

With a deep breath, you tell him, ”But, whatever comes before friends. Whatever that is, I’m willing to give it a shot.”

Roy’s eyes meet yours. He lets that statement sit with him, absorbing it, then stares at you with an intensity that makes your stomach flip. It’s as if he wasn’t expecting you to say that and can’t believe that you did.

You’re not sure if it’s a good or a bad thing until he clears his throat and says, “You are?”

It’s something soft and sincere, asked with an uncharacteristic hesitance. “Yes,” you say. “Are you?”

You’re sure you’re imagining it, but you swore you could have seen the beginnings of a smile twisting at his lips. “Yeah,” he replies. “I’d really fucking like that.”

Unconsciously, you feel yourself copying the smile you’re positive was an illusion. “Good,” you say gently, turning back to face the TV above the bar. “Would have been really awkward if you’d said no.”

Roy’s laugh is one of surprise. “God-fucking-forbid things were awkward between us.”

“I’m just saying,” you insist with a shrug. “I wouldn’t have known what to say if you’d said no. Finish my beer in silence and just get up and go. Hand in my two weeks and head back to America.”

“Leaving two teams in under a month would have been a league record,” he notes, lips quirking as you narrow your eyes at him. “And don’t act like you wouldn’t have stayed just to spite me.”

“You’re right,” you agree almost immediately. “I’m much more vindictive than that.”

It’s then that Roy grins at you, and the look in his eye sends you right back to 2012. “Damn fucking right you are.”

You toe the line between hatred and acceptance as a familiar warmth spreads across your chest and makes a home there.

This, you know, will be impossible to shake.

LONDON OLYMPICS. (EARLY AUGUST, 2012)

so sorry to see you boys lose, says the text you send to Roy after their penalty-kicks loss against South Korea. devastating way to go out. not sure if this is a bad time, but i do believe there was a standing deal that whoever lasted longer in the tournament got whatever they wanted from the other?

It’s a rather brutal text, especially after a loss like that, but you don’t care. He was so sure that your team was going to be knocked out before he was. It felt good to be better than him at something for once.

You’re sitting in your Olympic dorm room, perfectly happy to be alone for the night. After your win against New Zealand last night, you’d spent the night celebrating (or what constituted for celebrating in the Village, which was just staying up with your girls and watching bad British made-for-TV movies) and had not had a minute to yourself since. You were unfortunately a person who needed their alone time and having a career as time-consuming as soccer made it virtually impossible to not have people around you at all times.

Mel was out for the night, having gone upstairs to find Paige (the UK women’s team had lost in a gnarly game against Canada last night), taking advantage of the circumstances to ‘comfort’ her. Or, whatever Mel constituted as comfort.

(“She just so sad,” Mel had said, lacing up her shoes. “I told her I’d come up and cheer her up.”

“And how exactly are you doing that?” you asked skeptically from your bed. “You have horrendous bedside manner.”

“I’m going to figure out a way. I hate seeing her sad,” Mel said innocently. “Do you think restaurants deliver here? Maybe I can get her something to eat.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, she’s gonna be eating something, alright—”

You’re cut off by a memory foam slide slipper being chucked straight at your head.)

There was no way Paige didn’t see through her or what she was doing. However, it helped that everyone could see that she was totally into Mel, and you were thankful that your best friend’s mega crush wasn’t unrequited. Extremely thankful. Mel did not take rejection well.

Speaking of rejection, you think, as you feel your phone vibrate on your chest. The text from Roy stares at you from your phone screen and you can practically hear his words as you read them.

That was the deal if one of us won the tournament, he tells you. You’ve still got two games to go, Yank.

It’s the type of response you expected, but you’re unsure of the validity of his claim. i recall that deal differently.

His reply is lightning quick. Of course, you do. Your memory’s as shit as your jokes.

someone’s sounding bitter, you answer. i can hear you pouting all the way from your apartment.

You don’t get a response for a moment, and for a minute, there’s a small part of you that thinks you actually may have pissed him off. There’s no way that he’d get upset about something like that, would he? You know how much he cares about football, but the Games are mostly just… fun. For the men’s side, at least. It means leagues more to the women.

However, before you can get too in your head about it, your phone starts ringing in your hand, Roy’s name popping up on your screen. You press your lips together to keep yourself from smiling too hard.

“Hello?” you say, the humor in your voice evident.

“I don’t fucking pout,” is his greeting, which earns him a soft chuckle.

“The fact that you’re calling me to whine isn’t making for a compelling argument,” you reply.

“You know,” he begins, and the sudden accusatory inflection in his voice has you pushing your lips together again, “you’re being really fucking mean to someone who’s got the power to run you until you pass out tomorrow.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, I’m terrified. Tell me, are you going to be breathing down my neck now that you’ve got nothing to do?”

“Thin fucking ice, Fourteen,” he warns, but you swear you can hear his smile. “One more fucking word and I’ll replay footwork day.”

That has your mouth shutting almost immediately. “Okay, now you’re actually scaring me.”

It’s then that Roy laughs, and the sound sends a rush through you. It’s such a rare occurrence that every time you hear it, it feels like an accomplishment.

“I’m sorry you lost,” you finally say. “That was a tough game to watch.”

“Tough fucking game to play,” he replies through a sigh. “We shouldn’t have let it get to that point.”

You tilt your head back against the pillows stacked up behind you, attempting to get comfortable on your horribly uncomfortable, tiny bed. “If it makes you feel any better, I thought you played well.”

There’s an uneven beat of quiet and the line crackles. “Yeah?” he asks. His voice is calmer and slightly warmer. You’re not expecting it.

“Yeah,” you say. “You had a couple of good shifts in the second half. That last pass you sent up the field would have been an insane assist if Lowell didn’t miss.”

You hear him sigh. “That wasn’t Lowell’s fault. That sweeper was a problem for all of us.”

“Didn’t say it was his fault. We all miss,” you state. “I’m just saying if it had worked out. That would have been crazy.”

“It would have been,” he finally agrees, which you know is the closest you’re going to get to him complimenting himself. “You play Monday, right?”

“Yup. Canada. I’m supposed to be in charge of taking care of Caroline Singer which should be, y’know, a joy.”

Roy snorts. “She’ll start swinging at you before the half.”

“That’s the goal. I’ve been told to piss her off as much as I can.” Before he has the chance to make the layup joke you’ve just handed him, you beat him to it. “Which shouldn’t be too hard.”

“I’ve seen her play,” he says. “She doesn’t do well when she’s flustered. You’ve got a talent for getting in people’s heads. We can work more on that tomorrow.”

You grin. “So, no footwork?”

His voice is a low growl with a lilt of a chuckle. “Don’t push it.”

There’s a moment that passes between you two where you know you’re both smiling, sitting on the phone in your respective make-shift Olympic homes (one, much nicer than the other, you’re sure), knowing that this conversation is probably over for the night, but finding that you don’t want to hang up. It’s an odd, giddy sort of feeling, one you haven’t felt in years. You never expected to feel it again here, of all places, with fucking Roy Kent, of all people.

You don’t know exactly what possesses you to ask, but the question floats out of your mouth before you can stop it. “Are you really going to stay in London to train me until we’re out of the tournament?”

It was something he’d implied during your practices and once joked about, but he’d said it enough to make you think he was serious. When you’d once questioned him about it, he’d said something along the lines of making sure he saw through his investment or wanted to see your deal through. He’d called himself a man of his word, which you also had questioned, but again, it felt like he was incredibly serious about this.

His answer catches you off-guard, but you suppose you shouldn’t have expected anything less.. “I thought you were winning the fucking thing.”

An abrupt laugh leaves your lips. “Roy.”

He sighs again and then replies with something more in-line with what he’d said previously. “I made a deal with you. We’re seeing this fucking thing through.” There’s a noise on his line that sounds as though he’s shifting. “And besides, you’ve got what? Two games left if you make it to the Gold round?”

“When we make it,” you correct.

You’re nearly positive that he rolls his eyes. But, he says, “I’m sticking around.”

The sentiment of it all fills you with a warmth that travels down your body. You’re still not sure what this is. You’re not sure why he’s doing this. You don’t completely understand why he seems to like you, why he’s sticking around to train you, or why he chose to train you in the first place. Everything about this is so out of left field and nothing about it makes sense. You couldn’t have predicted this if you’d tried.

There’s nothing about this situation that you completely understand, but you know one thing: you’re starting to become grateful it did.

You don’t question him. You don’t ask the things that are swirling around in your head, and you don’t verbalize anything you’ve started to feel the last couple of days. Instead, you just say, “Well. I suppose if you insist.”

He makes a low sound, something that you may think is a laugh of disbelief. He’s quiet for a second as if he’s going to say more, but he clears his throat instead. “I’ll let you get to bed.”

There’s a brief moment where disappointment swells in your chest, but you quickly shake it off with a silent scolding. “Yeah,” you agree. “Probably a good idea to be asleep when Mel gets back.”

“Back?” Roy questions. “Where’s Rivera?”

“Consoling Paige,” you say, air quotes implied. Roy huffs. “She’s consistent if nothing else.”

“She’s fucking relentless is what she is. I’ve never seen someone pine so hard for someone who clearly fucking likes them.”

You shrug, but then realize he can’t see that. “Mel’s not the make-a-move type. She’s more of a let-me-stare-at-you-and-telepathically-tell-you-I’m-in-love-with-you type. Which I get. But it’s still frustrating.”

There’s a beat between you, one that has you raising a brow. “You're not the first-move type, huh?”

Blood rushes to your ears and it spreads down your neck. His tone is leading, and it sets off every siren in your brain. “No,” you get out, and thankfully it’s more casual than you thought it’d be. “Never been my thing.”

“Huh,” Roy muses. “Good to know.”

Your stomach churns in anxious anticipation, once again not completely sure what he means by that. You’ve got an idea, but Jesus, he loves to be vague. You would have never pegged him to be coy.

Before you can respond, he’s speaking again, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “Goodnight, Fourteen. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He then hangs up on you, leaving you stunned with your phone in your hand, mouth slightly ajar, and the best kind of nerves coursing through your body.

You can’t help but laugh at it all.

PRESENT DAY. (MID-AUGUST, 2023)

You awake to your phone ringing on your bedside table next to you. It’s a call that’s earlier than your alarm, one that has you throwing your arm to the table, slapping your hand around blindly to find it.

Once it’s in your possession, you crack your eyes open to see Mel’s name on the screen. Your interest is piqued enough to answer. “Hello?”

Your greeting comes out as more of a groan, but you think Mel gets the message. Either that, or she doesn’t care. Because she leads with, “You want to tell me why I’m getting Twitter updates about you and The Dark Lord hanging out at a bar like it’s 2012?”

You open your eyes, squinting at the sun that’s peaking through your window. “Roy and I are relevant enough to be getting Twitter updates?”

“After that press conference you gave? Uh, yeah. You’re a bit of a celebrity to the football side of Twitter,” Mel says, sounding only slightly incredulous that that’s what you choose to respond with. “You’re relevant enough to have people spamming this picture someone took of you two last night.”

You hum. “How do I look?”

Mel scoffs. “You look incredible. The Dark One looks scary.”

“Scary how?”

“Well, he’s smiling for one, which is always a jumpscare,” she says. “And you’re smiling back at him which is even more horrifying. So, you know, just a scary photo all around.”

A huff of a laugh escapes you, and you put your arm over your eyes. “You wouldn’t believe why we were there if I told you.”

“It better be some fucking Twilight Zone, cosmic occurrence, because that’s the only explanation I’ll accept as to why you’re laughing with each other.”

“Will you take Coaches Ted Lasso and Beard Parent-Trapping and holding Roy and I hostage until we talked out our issues?” you offer.

You’re met with approximately thirty seconds of silence before Mel responds. You can picture the perplexed look on her face as she asks, “Do they understand the depth of your issues? And that trapping you at a bar without a neutral third party and law enforcement present is an outlandish and potentially fatal situation?”

“We were actually very civil,” you reply casually. “Found out he does yoga now. Watches Love Conquers All.”

“Hmm,” Mel hums. “Does he do that before or after his day job of kicking puppies and burning down orphanages?”

The laugh that escapes you is involuntary. “Mel,” you whine.

“I’m glad you’re laughing. Because I’m certainly not,” she says, and the tone of her voice tells you you’re about to receive the scolding she clearly called to give you. “Because it sounds like you’re back on the Kent Train and I’m going to have to pick you up when he inevitably fucks you over again.”

“I’m not ‘back on the Kent Train’ or whatever the hell you just said,” you mutter, turning to lay on your pillow. “You knew that working at Richmond meant us working together. I knew that. Our coaching staff is insane, but they have a point. We can’t work well together if we’re fighting and not getting along.”

Mel scoffs. “You can work with people you don’t like. It’s called being professional. The only thing you have to be on the same page about is the team.”

“Richmond isn’t like that,” you tell her. “It’s unlike anywhere I’ve ever played or worked. These people are a family. And not in like, a corporate ‘we’re a family here’ way. They all really care about each other and spend Christmas together and do karaoke together. It’s actually really sweet.”

“And what? You’re scared they’re not going to accept you if you don’t join the cult and sing kumbaya?”

You shut your eyes in frustration at her words. “No, Melanie,” you say, and the edge to your voice has her scoffing again. “It’s not about joining the cult. It’s about the fact that I refuse to lose another job. Especially not this job. I can’t imagine any other club being as warm and accommodating as they’ve been. And frankly, no other club wanted me after the shit show that was West Ham.” Mel’s gone quiet and you exhale in resignation. “So, yeah. If that means I have to be friendly with Roy and sing their song, then fucking… hand me the guitar, I guess.”

Once again, Mel’s quiet. You think she’s hung up on you until you remove your phone from your ear and see the call time’s still running. It takes a moment, but she finally, finally releases a long and heavy sigh that lets you know she’s back on your side. “I just don’t want to see him hurt you again.”

“He won’t,” you say without hesitation. “I won’t allow him to. I’m never…” You shake your head. “I’m never going back to that. We’re colleagues. Nothing more, nothing less.”

You can hear her shake her head against her phone. “I really wish I believed that.”

“I mean it,” you insist. “You have full permission to kick my ass if anything else happens.”

Finally, you get something like a laugh from the other line. “Gleefully holding you to that.”

“I know you are.”

“Haven’t kicked your ass since 2015,” Mel says, sounding almost rueful. “I miss it. You’ve ignited a fire in me and it’s burning.”

“Does Paige know about your thirst for violence?” you ask. “I can’t imagine she wants Oliver exposed to that.”

Mel scoffs. “Not only does she know but he knows. I passed it on to the little fucker,” she mutters. You note the hint of pride in her voice. “Speaking of Roy, Oliver’s finally old enough for the baby leagues and he pulled a very Kent versus Man City move in his first game. Scuffed up the poor kid’s leg and everything.”

You snicker and roll on your back, eyes cast up to the ceiling. “I cannot possibly imagine my sweet baby boy doing anything of the sort. It must have been someone else,” you tell her. Then, you chuckle again. “Roy and I actually just talked about that game. He still refuses to admit that he did anything wrong.”

“Glad to see nothing’s changed on that end.”

You suppress a smile, but your voice comes out as a warning. “Mel…”

“Hey, you can be nice to him all you want,” she replies. “Never said anything about me having to.”

Fair enough. You know that this is the best your going to get from her, so you let it slide. “You’re still coming to the game this week, right?”

“Recent events have given me second thoughts—” Her response is cut short by your groaning, and you hear her sigh on the other end. “Of course, I’ll be there. Wouldn’t miss your first home game for the world. Or any home game for that matter,” she says. “I do draw the line at away games, though. Don’t love you enough to drive that much.”

“Understandable. And we’re still on for dinner after?”

“If you’re paying. That AFC coaching salary better join us at the table.”

You roll your eyes. “Good to know where your priorities lie.”

“I’m joking,” she says, but the way that the volume of her voice increases tells you that she’s not saying that for you, but for her wife, who must be in the room. When she speaks again, it’s much lower. “I’m not joking.”

“Oh, I know,” you respond. “Tell Paige I say hi.”

“I’ll do it when it’s less suspicious.”

You grin, shaking your head. “I’ll see you on Saturday, asshole.”

“See you then,” she says. However, before you can hang up, you hear her voice calling your name once more. When you put your phone back up to your ear, she says, “Please. Please be careful. I mean it.”

Her soft worry holds a certain weight that makes your eyes screw shut. “I will. I promise.”

“Okay,” Mel replies, a little more certain. “I love you, kid.”

“Love you too,” you say. “See you Saturday.”

And with that, you hang up on your best friend, letting your phone fall onto your chest with a strikingly heavy thump, letting each and every one of her words sit with you as you pretend that the new pain in your chest doesn’t exist.

The next morning, Ted Lasso gets to the Richmond Coaching Offices early.

He’s even earlier than you, something of which has proven to be a difficult feat, as you’re typically stationed at your desk reviewing film before anyone else has even considered coffee or put on a shin guard.

But today, he’s done it. He has no idea when you’re going to be in, but to be on the safe side, he figures he should be quick. The wrapped book is carefully grasped in his hand, making sure not to fold or crease the bow he tied around it as he opens the door to your and Roy’s office.

It’s only when the book is placed on your desk that he realizes he forgot to write the message he’d planned on the outside of the wrapping paper. His face scrunches up as he scans your desk for a pen or some other writing utensil, but comes up empty.

He then turns to Roy’s desk, hoping to find something there. Sliding over, he gives the tabletop a once over, frowning as he realizes Roy’s got nothing too. It’s then that Ted remembers something.

Roy kept pens and dry-erase markers in his top drawer. Ted only knows this because three days ago, he saw Roy pull one out to chuck at Jamie as he barged into your shared office unannounced. He figures he can let that one slide if Roy forgives him for going into his desk.

Ted pulls the drawer out to find Roy’s neatly organized stash of utensils, grinning as he picks up a pen. However, before he can shut the drawer, something catches his eye.

There’s a frame shoved into the back, showcasing a photo Ted had seen from afar on Roy’s desk a million times but had never looked at close up. It’s of Roy, who’s wearing the closest thing to a smile that Ted’s seen on him, his sister, and… you.

You’re positioned in the middle, grinning from ear to ear with your arms tight around both Roy's and his sister’s shoulders. It’s an older picture, one taken at the high-top table of a bar. Both you and Roy are younger, and while Ted can’t figure out the exact time period of which this was taken, something else catches his eye.

It’s something small, probably something that would seem insignificant if he didn’t know you two. It’s your hands. While your arms are draped around Roy and his sister, his hand is covering yours.

It’s something that could be considered friendly, but Ted gets the feeling it’s not. It’s only then that Ted feels as though he’s looking at something he shouldn’t and closes the drawer.

With the pen he was looking for in hand, he returns to the book he’s left for you and scribbles down the message he wanted.

No— I must keep my own style and go on in my own way. —Jane Austen.

He only hopes Persuasion isn’t too on the nose for your situation as he slips out your office door and into his own.

TAGLIST: @dark-academia-slut @tegan8314 , @csigeoblue , @confessionsofatotaldramaslut , @thatonedogwithablog , @hawkeyeharrington , @jamieolivia27 , @seatbacksandtraytables , @luvr-bunnyy

#aces #roy kent x reader #roy kent #roy kent x you #roy kent fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso #aatwe #the one who can't walk up stairs

171 notes · View notes

glitterinmyveinss · 1 year ago

Note

Hey er ive never done requests before and I don’t really know how to work tumblr at all so I hope I’m doing this right but anyways I saw your post about wanting someone to request Reese Wilkerson stuff and I just wanted to ask if you could make a post just for headcannons about him? I haven’t seen too many on here and I need them so bad 😭

ofc i can! tysm for requesting and ik a lot of other people sent requests for reese too n i'll get to them soon it's just i have an irl crush rn so the delusions aren't really delusioning apologies <3

Reese Wilkerson Hc's

ok i noticed that in the halloween episode in season 7 i believe he's wearing a misfits shirt !! so i think he would like punk, grunge, pop punk, and nu metal. like misfits, descendants, nirvana, limp bizkit, blink 182, sum 41, sublime, beastie boys, really anything punk related

definitely watches wwe and if you're over you're watching it too

he loves watching his favorite scary movies w you and he loves how you like them too!

if you don't like scary movies he dosent mind either bc that just means you'll be hiding in his arms the whole time so he wins either way

i feel like when he first met you he definitely played a prank on you to get your attention or just annoyed you but once you sorted that all out, you join him on his pranks and he swears he's never liked a girl more

if you're smarter than him and you offer to tutor him he'll only do it under one condition: he gets a kiss everytime he gets something right

might be self projecting but he's def a boob guy.

everyone has this image of him as some psycho tough guy but play with his hair and he'll just melt. especially if you have acrylic nails! his head will be in your lap while you guys are watching tv n you'll be playing with his hair and he'll be as quiet as a mouse and malcolm will just be like "how did you do that."

loves it when you borrow his clothes. especially his hoodies. it just does something to him

tbh i feel like he could go for someone with either a more edgier look ( think avril lavigne or bill kaulitz) or someone with the girly 2000s look ( think britney spears or any of the playboy bunny girls )

once you guys have an established relationship he'll spend all his time with you! at first he wasn't sure if it was ok but now that he knows you really like him he's so happy!

i don't think he's big on pda i think hand holding is as far as hell go but i don't think he minds if you kiss him on the cheek

but once you guys are alone omg

cant keep his hands off you!

he's either super horny or super cuddly no in between

you and him always get stuck babysitting jamie and he'll be doing the most normal thing like putting jamie's shoe on or feeding him and youre just stuck staring at him bc he looks so cute!

dates usually consist of movie marathons, him cooking something for you guys, concerts, theater trips, or something really spontaneous like taking a trip to another city just bc you guys were bored.

walks you to all of your classes <3

malcom n dewey really like you and think you keep reese sane

ties your shoes

if you guys have a class together he's always doodling in your notebook whether it's something cute or raunchy

i think he struggles with self image so he needs a lot of reassurance

if you have pets he somehow has an immediate bond with them. they just love him!

he try's really hard to remember things you like for future gifts/dates

i feel like he gives oddly specific compliments, but he has good intentions

"you smell like a slutty fairy"

"is that supposed to be a good thing?"

"duh."

the same way he secretly loves watching soap operas with his mom, is the same way he loves watching all of your shows. like the oc, dawsons creek, whatever you're into!

he would give the best and most thoughtful homemade gifts. tb to when he gave lois little jars of jam! he'd probally do something similar but according to your taste <3

gets jealous easily

it's hot/ cute tho

memorized all your favorite pastries/baked goods n makes them for you when he's feeling nice/ as an apology if he messes up

#reese wilkerson x reader #reese wilkerson #malcolm wilkerson x reader #malcolm wilkerson #mitm x reader #mitm #francis wilkerson x reader #francis wilkerson #2000s aesthetic #2000s blog #fanfic #2000s #headcanon #lois wilkerson #hal wilkerson #dewey wilkerson #mitm headcanon #malcolm in the middle

427 notes · View notes

homoeroticfisticuffs · 2 months ago

Text

WIP Wednesday - Sambucky Sickfic

Been working on this one on and off for a few weeks now whenever I've had the free time and I keep forgetting to post a WIP!! So here it is finally lol... working title is "There's No Need to Be Brave," from I Will by Mitski :] Once this is finished I'd like it to be maybe closer to/over 10k like the rest of my more recent fics, and I will only be posting the finished version to my AO3 because I just prefer to only post WIPs on here ;w; anyway Sambucky

Word count: 4.1k

He hadn’t even spent two weeks back in Brooklyn before he got the text; not from Sam, no, from Sarah, which made this whole situation all the more hilarious.

“Hey Bucky, I really hate to ask you for yet another favor after all you’ve done for my family, but my stubborn jackass of a brother got himself real sick with a bad cold somehow and I just don’t have the time to take care of both him and the boys. Would you mind maybe coming back down here to stay and watch over him for a bit? I think you’re the only other person he’d let see him like this.”

(The fact that he was actually checking and responding to his texts now was a new development for him, one he was glad Dr. Raynor wasn’t around to see. He really didn’t need to see her sarcastic grin or hear her smug ass voice giving him an “I told you so” or “see how easy it is” or whatever the hell she’d have to say.)

He smirked to himself as he saw Sarah’s text; it was timestamped at 6:47 AM, probably sent out of exasperation while trying to get the boys ready for school and also having to deal with taking care of Sam. The thought of Sam Wilson, the famous Falcon and now the brand new Captain America, lying helpless and miserable in bed was admittedly a little funny. He was probably wrapped up in a bunch of blankets right now with a bulky ice bag sitting atop his head and a thermometer sticking out of his mouth. It really was comical when he thought about it.

“No worries, Sarah. I can come help out.”

He genuinely didn’t mind going back down there to offer his help, and he would have done it either way to help the people he cares about, but he also loved being a little sweet on Sarah because of how mad it made Sam.

He also needed to get out of Brooklyn, as much as he hated it. After offering closure to Yori, things just hadn’t felt the same. It didn’t really feel like home anymore. Part of him wished he could just stay in Louisiana; and maybe he could. The thought wasn’t so bad.

He sighed for a moment, looking down at his duffle bag that he never really got around to fully unpacking in the first place from his last trip. He could use the travel, really; it’s not like he had any other plans anyway, and it was always a nice treat to visit the Wilsons. Plus, this would give him a lot of ammunition and blackmail to hold over Sam’s head for a good long while. He smiled at the thought of bantering and bickering with him as he packed, looking forward to getting to see him again, though he’d never in a million years admit it out loud.

The sun was starting to set over the water in Delacroix, the last few rays of sunlight beaming in through the windows and casting a warm glow over the living room. Sam laid exhausted on the couch, hopelessly flipping through different TV channels in hopes of finding something other than the countless shitty movies and reality shows that litter the guide on the screen. He sighed in defeat before giving up and leaving it on a channel showing a cheesy eighties action flick, tossing the remote aside and curling further into his blanket.

“You feeling any better today?” Sarah asked from the kitchen, starting to cut up some vegetables to prepare dinner for the night: a nice and hearty vegetable stew.

“No,” Sam groaned softly, his voice weak from illness. “If anything, today’s been worse.”

She sighed, and he felt a stab of guilt at the sound. He hated putting all this on her. “Well, we’ve just gotta make sure you’re taking meds at the right times then and try and stay on top of that fever. Plenty of rest and fluids, it’ll be gone in no time. Can’t keep Captain America down for too long.”

He chuckled, knowing she was giving him shit for his new title. It was still taking some time for everyone to get used to, especially himself. No one had exactly seen it coming.

He hated this, all of it. He hated feeling this sick and miserable, and he hated being so useless and unable to help Sarah out around the house and with the boys. He knew she managed just fine on her own in the years that he was gone, but part of him will always feel a need to help and protect her whenever he can. She had gotten used to having him around lately, and had shared some of her responsibilities with him so that she wouldn’t be so overwhelmed with the workload. Now that he was unable to help take some of that weight off her shoulders, she’s been a lot more noticeably stressed out since he got sick.

His phone rang then, and he lifted it to see that it was Joaquin video calling him. He reluctantly hit the accept button; not because he didn’t enjoy talking to Joaquin, just that it was a little difficult to talk at all in his current state.

“Hey man!” Joaquin greeted him through the phone. “Oh, shit, you don’t look so good. You alright?”

“Yeah, just got a cold,” Sam responded quietly. It hurt his throat a little to speak, but he was fairly sure he could handle a brief phone call for now. “What’s up?”

“I was just checking in to say hey. You mentioned not feeling so hot so I just wanted to see how you were doing. Anything I can do to help? I could DoorDash you some soup or medicine or something.”

It earned a good laugh from Sam, possibly being the only real smile he had cracked yet today. “Nah, man, I’m alright. I doubt any sane Dasher would come this far out, anyways.”

“Well, offer’s still on the table if you end up changing your mind,” Joaquin said earnestly. “I’ll let you go for now, though. Rest up buddy, and take care! I’ll be thinking of you. Hope you heal up fast!”

“Yeah, me too,” Sam replied, exhaustion clear in his voice. He was on day three of the cold now, with no sign of it improving. He was starting to get really tired of it. “I’ll keep in touch. Thanks for checking in.”

“No problem, man. And seriously, rest up, you sound like shit,” Joaquin laughed. “Okay bye, talk soon.”

“Seeya.”

Once the call had ended, Sam finally let out a couple of coughs that he had been holding in and took a big long sip of his water; engaging that much in a conversation, even if it was short, had rendered him a little worse off than he was before he took the call. Saying a couple short sentences a day was one thing, but his throat was seriously sore, and he sounded absolutely miserable with how nasally his voice was from being so congested. He let out a deep sigh before unwrapping yet another cough drop and tossing it in his mouth, closing his eyes and leaning his head back on the couch.

Suddenly Sam heard the sound of a motorcycle approaching the house. He was a little too fatigued and feverish to connect the dots immediately, but he lifted his head and squinted his eyes at Sarah in confusion, wondering who or what the hell it could be before it finally clicked in his head after a few too many moments.

“You didn’t,” he said around the cough drop, unable to believe what he thought might have happened without him knowing.

“I had to!” she responded, her hands going up to defend herself from Sam’s criticism that she could already tell was coming. She moved quickly around the kitchen, trying her best to get dinner done in a timely manner and avoid getting any more grief from her brother. Sam noticed now that she was preparing five bowls instead of four, and he heard the motorcycle outside turn off.

“You really didn’t,” he said, exhausted. He tried to stand up slowly, grumbling to himself in the process. “Now I’ve gotta deal with his ass. Can’t just have my damn stew in peace.”

“Would you calm down? This is a good thing,” Sarah chastised him, getting irritated with his attitude. “Having an extra set of hands around here will be a big help. Not that you’d know what accepting help feels like,” she added, the last sentence being said under her breath, but still loud enough for Sam to hear.

Dumbfounded, Sam opened his mouth to hit her with another smartass reply, but he was interrupted by a knock at the door.

Sarah quickly dumped a chopped up onion into the pot of broth on the stove before going over to the door, unlocking it and opening it for none other than the one and only James Buchanan Barnes to enter the house with a bag slung over his shoulder. He moved his sunglasses to rest on top of his head before he smiled at Sarah, and she went in for a hug. Sam could feel his fever rising as his blood boiled at the sight of it.

“Welcome back!” she said excitedly, looking him over. “I’m glad you could make it! Do you need help with your bag or anything?”

“I am too,” Bucky replied through a smile, his voice dropping lower than it needed to. “And no, I should be alright, thanks. Whatever’s cookin’ smells real good, what’s for dinner?” He freely carried himself throughout the space as he responded, and his familiarity and comfortability with the house made Sam feel a little funny.

“Just some stew, nothing fancy,” she said as she went back to stirring the pot and starting to chop up more ingredients. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Bucky drawled casually, walking over to where Sam was standing by the couch. He set his bag down and got a good look at him, head to toe. “Not looking so hot, Cap. Feeling a little under the weather?”

“Something like that,” Sam rasped before a cough broke through involuntarily. He sat back down on the cushions, grabbing for his water bottle, but Bucky was faster; he handed it to him gently, and Sam eyed him, annoyed, before reluctantly taking it from his hand. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Bucky responded a little quietly, pursing his lips. Sam knew his annoyance with the gesture didn’t go unnoticed. “You’re welcome.”

A door opened down the hall, and Bucky heard them before he saw them. “Is that uncle Bucky?!” Cass yelled excitedly, and both boys ran towards him as fast as they could.

“It sure is!” Bucky beamed back, reaching down a little to meet them halfway, picking them both up in each arm and swinging them around the living room with a big smile. Bucky had always been a natural when it came to the boys, and Sam found himself feeling a tinge of fondness seeing them all get along so well. Bucky used his vibranium arm to lift AJ up onto his shoulders, still swinging Cass around in a circle. “I’m playing doctor for uncle Sammy this week, if you can believe it.”

“No way!! A whole week? That’ll be so awesome!!” Cass exclaimed, as Bucky started to set them both back down on their feet.

“Yeah,” Sam groaned, barely audible. His voice dripped with sarcasm and with dread. “So awesome.”

“Could you pick me up from school one day this week so that everyone will see that I’m friends with the Winter Soldier and think I’m super cool?” AJ asked quickly, looking up at him expectantly.

Bucky laughed nervously, looking over towards Sam for help. Seeing him look so lost and unsure what to say was endearing and funny enough to make Sam crack a bit of a smile.

“Actually yeah,” he said. “I’m usually the one who picks them up. They’ve had to carpool the past couple days.”

“Well, uh,” Bucky started, “my bike can only really fit two, and I don’t wanna try and stick ‘em both on there. Could I borrow your car?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Just get ‘em on time.”

“Alright boys,” Sarah interrupted from the kitchen, stirring the stew and turning the stove down. “Dinner’s ready, come get it.”

Sam went to stand, but Bucky gently put his hand up to stop him.

“Stay put,” he said, “I’ll get you some.”

Sam found the charity somewhat irritating at first; but he couldn’t deny that he really did not want to get up to get his own bowl. So to have Bucky bring one over to him was… nice.

The boys both ran over to the kitchen, grabbing their bowls and waiting patiently for Sarah to be done serving herself before they stepped in to get their own stew. As they did, Bucky moved to the other side of the kitchen and got out four glasses from the cabinet, opening up the fridge to get out the pitcher of sweet tea, filling them all up with ice before pouring the tea in. Sam furrowed his brow in confusion; he remembered Bucky being obsessed with Sarah’s sweet tea the first time he tried it. Why wasn’t he having a glass?

He set three of the teas at the table, then brought the last one over to the couch. He then, though, set the tea down on the coffee table, not in front of Sam but a good ways beside his water bottle, right in front of the other seat on the couch.

“You don’t need the sugar,” Bucky deadpanned preemptively, already seeing Sam’s glare and knowing he was about to complain. He picked up Sam’s water bottle, making his way back to the kitchen.

“I don’t remember you being a doctor,” he shot back anyway, challenging him with an angry stare.

“Sam,” Sarah firmly chastised from her seat at the table. “Quit it.”

Bucky chuckled, and looked back over to him with a mischievous grin. “Yeah Sam,” he said with raised eyebrows, continuing his trek to the kitchen to get their dinner and fill up Sam’s water.

Sam grumbled to himself, wanting to argue yet again but choosing instead to just grind his jaw and crunch up the remains of his cough drop so that he could eat. With the way things were already going, he swore to himself that he’d kill Bucky before the week was over.

Like every night before, Sam’s symptoms got worse once night fell. Blowing his nose every ten minutes and barely able to speak, he was popping cough drops constantly, putting in a new one almost as soon as the last one faded away. He didn’t feel up to doing anything other than laying his sorry ass on the couch with his blankets and flipping through the channels on TV, and he really, really just wanted to be alone; but that wasn’t an option right now, seeing as Bucky had to be here, sitting on the opposite end of the couch. He was at the very least thankful that he was being silent (it was easier that way to pretend he wasn’t even there), just reading one of his books while Sam lounged comfortably though unable to engage in conversation. He doubted he would want to even if he could.

He was tired, exhausted even, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep through the night. He never could when he was sick; each night he’d fall asleep, rest for an hour or two, wake up coughing or choking on his own spit, stay awake for an hour, fall asleep for another two hours or so, and repeat until he gave up on sleeping once the sun finally rose. It was miserable, and after several days, he was starting to feel the effects of sleep deprivation as well as the cold.

An alarm went off on Bucky’s phone then, startling Sam out of his thoughts.

“What’s that for?” he croaked, instantly regretting it when he felt the dull swollen ache in his throat and heard how pitiful his voice sounded.

Bucky looked at him with pursed lips. “Your medicine,” he said. “It helps to keep you on a schedule.”

Sam huffed in annoyance, but he was too tired to argue.

Bucky put a bookmark in his book and stood from his spot at the couch, taking Sam’s lack of protest as acceptance. Wordlessly he made his way into the kitchen, sorting through the medicine cabinet because he knew just where everything was, and Sam decided to ignore yet again the way that made him feel. He was tired, that was all. That’s why he was overthinking the way Bucky occupied the space like he belonged there, surely. That was all it was.

Sam turned his attention back to the TV, choosing to focus instead on the rerun of Bar Rescue that was currently playing, even though he had been watching this same damn show for hours now and he had kind of lost interest in how much alcohol this particular bar was wasting every month.

Bucky returned after a few minutes, longer than Sam expected it to take to pour out a little dose of cough syrup, but when he did he saw it was because he was also holding a steaming hot mug in his other hand.

“Made you some tea,” he said, setting the mug down on the coffee table in front of Sam. “Should help you sleep.”

Sam just stared up at him, feeling frustration bubbling up in him at the feeling of being constantly coddled like this, but he was too exhausted to put up too much of a fight. He could manage a little bit though.

“I don’t like tea.”

Bucky sighed, irritated but not surprised by Sam’s resistance. “Just drink it.”

Still glaring, he wordlessly reached for the medicine in Bucky’s hand and downed it like a shot, not wanting the taste to linger. His nose scrunched up at the flavor anyway and he reluctantly reached for the tea, blowing on it for a moment before giving it a sip. It actually wasn’t too bad; he could taste the lemon, honey, ginger, and…

“Is that whiskey?”

“Yeah, it is,” Bucky replied, beginning to walk back over to the kitchen to put the medicine back up. “It’s a hot toddy. You’ve never had one?”

“No. Sounds old.”

Bucky chuckled a bit in response. “I guess it is. I used to make ‘em a lot back in the day, they work real well, trust me.” He then came back over to stand by the couch, looking down at where Sam was laying. He thought for a moment, and his eyes squinted just a bit. “Do you wanna sleep out here or in the bedroom?”

“I’m fine here,” Sam replied, his voice barely registering above a whisper. The drink was helping, though, as much as he hated to admit it. “You can take the bed.”

Bucky nodded, sitting back down in his spot at the end of the couch and picking his book back up. “‘Kay.”

Sam kept sipping on his mug, drinking on it slowly until the last of it was barely warm. He felt his eyes slowly getting heavier as well, also due to the nighttime medicine making him drowsy and sleepy. It wasn’t long before he couldn’t fight to stay awake any longer, finally letting his eyelids fall shut and stay that way, curled up into his blankets.

He woke up with a sharp and fearful intake of breath, sitting up straight as quick as a bullet and immediately starting to cough up the phlegm that had tried to choke him in his sleep. As soon as he did, Bucky was at his side in a moment’s notice, kneeling beside the bed and gently rubbing his back while he held Sam’s water bottle in his other hand. It took Sam a few tries, but once he properly cleared his airways, he took several heavy and labored breaths to try and recover from the anxiety of it all and to return his breathing to normal as much as he could. Having Bucky there was definitely a help; whenever this would happen while he was alone, it took him a lot longer to calm himself down, nerves running rampant with the fact that he could have almost died from asphyxiation (or so he convinced himself).

With one last deep breath, he looked over at Bucky, who was closer to him than he expected him to be. He squinted in confusion as he huffed, and looked over to see a pile of blankets and pillows on the floor opposite the coffee table.

“You slept on the floor?” he whispered.

Bucky pursed his lips and nodded. “Yeah. I sleep better that way.”

Sam understood the sentiment; he remembered having a talk with Steve about it when they first met. Sam also understood but didn’t comment on the fact that it was probably also so that Bucky could keep a better eye on him this way. He decided yet another time that he didn’t want to explore how he felt about it.

Bucky handed him his water bottle, and he drank greedily. He needed to clear some of the thicker saliva out of his mouth so that he wouldn’t choke on it again, at least not for a while. The coolness of the ice-cold water made him sigh with relief as it eased some of the pain in his throat on the way down.

“Lean up a bit,” Bucky spoke softly, his hand leaving Sam’s back as he stood to grab another pillow from the other end of the couch. He slotted it behind Sam, stacking it with the pillows that were already there. “You gotta stay upright.”

Sam leaned back into the new pillow arrangement, and it felt all wrong. He didn’t know if he could sleep sitting up, and when he tried to rest his head, his neck bent at an awkward angle. He scowled and scooted down the cough enough to get comfortable, trying his best to stay as vertical as he could.

“There,” Bucky said, standing up and stepping back. Sam noticed he was only wearing a pair of lounge shorts, his dog tags dangling over his bare chest. “That should help.”

“Why are you doing all this?” he heard himself say, not entirely intending to speak his thoughts aloud. His voice was soft and slow with sleep as the question fell out. “Going through all this trouble just for me?”

Bucky took in a breath before responding. “Because you’re my friend, and I care about you.”

Sam would be lying if he said his heart didn’t skip a beat at that; getting Bucky to admit literally anything about his feelings (in any form other than a complaint) was no small feat. He smiled a little at the thought of being the reason for it. “Thank you, Buck. It’s mutual.”

“Good,” Bucky huffed, his discomfort palpable. He clearly was not used to this kind of talk. “If you tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it.”

Sam huffed out a small laugh. “Of course. Can’t have people knowing the Winter Soldier’s gone all soft.”

“Exactly. I’ve got a reputation to keep.”

Sam laughed again and pulled his blankets tighter to him, getting as comfortable as he could in his new sleeping position. He turned his head to the side and let his eyes drift shut for a moment. “Aren’t you nervous about getting sick, though?”

“Perk of the serum. Haven’t been sick since the thirties.”

“What makes you so good at all this then?” Sam asked, his voice becoming less and less audible as he felt himself start to get sleepy again. “The caring stuff.”

Bucky paused and looked down at the floor for a moment before gathering himself. “I used to care for Steve a lot when he’d get sick. Which was pretty much all the time, so I learned a few tricks along the way. Glad they’re coming in handy.”

“Me too,” Sam mumbled, the words barely coming out. “He was… real lucky.”

Sam didn’t stay awake long enough to hear the way Bucky’s breath hitched at the comment, or see the way his eyes watered ever-so-slightly; but when he fell back asleep, he slept through the night for the first time all week, knowing that Bucky was right there next to him.

Would love initial opinions/critique on this if you have any !! And again this is only a WIP, I'll probably keep posting more WIPs as I work on it and I'll make a little announcement post whenever I finish it and post it on my AO3. Just wanted to get a little bit of it out there after talking about it for so long. Anyway thank you for reading I hope you have a nice day :]

29 notes · View notes

kokinu09 · 24 days ago

Text

Let Go of the Reins || CHAPTER 14

~*~

pairing seungmin x fem!reader

genre strangers to lovers, romance, fluff, slight angst later, happy ending, social media, not meant to be, someday

summary Australia is considered home for two of the eight members. When two tour dates are scheduled for the land down under, the boys can’t help but want to spend a bit more time there to visit family and do a little sightseeing. So how do they convince the company that they need to stay a couple weeks? Filming some SKZ Code episodes.

A local riding school just outside the city with amazing reviews for their skilled instructors and beautiful horses is hosting a very popular kpop group to film their experiences. Y/N knows the group well and she just so happens to be their star working student.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

previous | masterlist | next

~*~

It’s so easy to fall into the flow; a lighthearted k-drama playing on the tv that neither of you are fully paying attention to, arms wrapped around you with one of your biggest fluffy blankets thrown over both your laps, and a bowl of popcorn resting in the middle while an assortment of candies litter your coffee table. He makes a cheesy joke, you toss a kernel of popcorn at his face. Both of you laugh hysterically at how unserious you guys have made this.

When you settle back into watching the show, you enjoy the feeling of his warmth at your side. A smile plays on your lips as you rest your head on his shoulder. “This is really nice,” you comment, getting a hum of agreement as he turns his head to kiss your scalp.

“I wouldn’t be mad if I could stay like this forever,” he adds.

That sends your thoughts running away with imagined ideas of having him all to yourself; having weekly movie nights like this, sitting on a porch swing watching the horses graze on a hot February afternoon with your head on his shoulder, or even listening to him hum and sing while you cook dinner together. It’s all so domestic and dreamy, that you know it would be too good to be true. But you allow yourself this moment of delusion.

“So what did my hyungs say on your ride? I’m sure they were either spreading gossip or looking for it,” he chuckles.

“I wouldn’t say it was gossip really,” you try to defend but he tips his face forward to look at you with a raised brow and you crack. “Ok maybe just a little bit,” you laugh.

“Felix talked about Jeongin’s shopping habits and how he thinks he has a problem, but I suspect neither of them probably have any room to talk. Then, Hyunjin complained that Chan wasn’t using this vacation time like he should be, which reminds me, you should really try to pry him away from that computer every now and then.”

“Trust me, we try but it’s easier said than done,” he says with a shake of his head.

“Hyunjin was also complaining about Minho being in a sour mood because the hotel breakfast was out of puddings, then Felix told me that Jisung had ordered some to be delivered so it wouldn’t ruin his whole day.”

“Oh yeah, I heard about that. And it was only enough for the two of them so Channie-hyung whined that he wanted some too,” Seungmin said, adding to your lore of their morning meal debacle. “They all make me sick.”

“You wouldn’t trade them for the world,” you tease with an eye roll.

“The world? No. For you? In a heartbeat.”

Your breath hitches but she try not to let it show, blush darkening your cheeks as you shy away from looking at him. “Don’t say that. I’d be devastated if I was the cause of the group breaking up,” you scold him, a genuine frown tugging the corners of your lips.

“I’m just saying. But I don’t plan on having to pick,” he assures, giving you a squeeze. “What else did they say? Talk any smack about me?” He asks, purposefully changing the subject.

“They were curious about us,” you start, catching his attention. “Wondering if you’re treating me right.”

“Yeah? And how did you tell them I’m doing?” He asks with a knowing smile.

“I said you needed some work,” you joke, earning a howl from him as he throws his head back. And you can’t help the giggle that bubbles up in your chest. “No, but you’re lucky. It sounded like they would’ve taught you a lesson if I had said anything less than excellence.”

“They talk a big game but they couldn’t lay a finger on me,” he says between breathy laughs.

“Hyunjin did claim he taught you everything you know. Then Felix claimed it was all Chan,” you muse.

“Yeah right!” He scoffs. “If anything, Channie-hyung knows how to flirt but I don’t think any of them would know romance if it smacked them in the face.”

“Now who’s being dramatic!” You laugh, which he joins you. Wrapping both arms around you for a tight hug.

The credits were rolling, you’re not sure how long they have been going at this point but it was also late enough that a yawn escapes you. “Why don’t we get ready for bed if you’re tired,” he suggests and you agree.

The two of you untangle to quickly go through your nighttime routines while also occasionally intertwining them. Like how he playfully bumps your elbow as you’re brushing your teeth together. It’s so domestic and sickeningly sweet that you wonder if your delusional thoughts earlier are really that far out of reach.

You manage to check your phone when you plop onto the bed while he finishes his skincare. No wonder these men are so beautiful. They take an eternity taking care of their faces. Chuckling at your own internal joke, you pull up your missed texts from Liv.

You frown at that last message. ‘Too busy’? Aren’t the boys basically on vacation the rest of their time in Australia? But then again, 3RACHA isn’t exactly known for taking breaks.

Seungmin finally comes out of the bathroom with a fresh face and damp hair around the edges. A smile spreads across your face and you toss your phone on the nightstand. He walks over and drops his phone next to yours before plopping down beside you on the edge of the bed.

His hand finds purchase on your knee, giving it an assuring squeeze when he asks, “Are you sure you’re ok with me staying the night?”

It almost makes you giggle, as if you’d send him packing just when you’re about to get what you’ve looked forward to all day. “Very sure,” you say with certainty. Your grin widens as you scoot back to slip under the covers, patting the bed for him to come join.

He climbs over and slides in next to you, immediately pulling you back into his arms even before you found a comfy position. You burst into a fit of giggles but also don’t put up much of a fight, snuggling into his warmth when the two of you settle down.

“Ah, this is the life,” he blissfully sighs in a dramatic manner. Since you can’t really disagree with that, you opt for a hum in agreement.

The minutes tick by, the two of you tangled in each other’s arms, and you can’t find it in yourself to fall asleep. Though you think Seungmin has started to. His breathing by your ear is soft and steady, a sure sign that sleep is approaching. But there’s a curiosity swirling in your brain that won’t allow you to settle until you ask.

“Minnie? Are you asleep?” You whisper. He grunts in sleepy acknowledgment that he hears you.

“Not yet,” he says with a big yawn. “What is it baby?” He cuddles up closer (which you didn’t even think was possible) and buries his nose in your hair.

“I was just thinking about, the future…” your words trail off as that little fear in the back of your mind rears its ugly head.

“Oh yeah?” He sounds a little more awake and a lot more curious as he frees you for a moment to rub the sleep from his eyes. “About what, exactly, were you thinking about for the future?”

“Just,” you pause again, afraid to say your hopes and dreams out loud in case they might be too big for how new your relationship is. In case they don’t align with his. But you’ve gone too far to turn back now. “Just think about us. Our future.”

With the words finally leaving your lips, it’s like a weight is lifted off your chest. Your mind finally quieting down to hear what he thinks. He is quiet for a moment behind you, you can’t even hear him breathing.

“Are they good thoughts? …Or…?” He asks hesitantly.

“They’re hopeful thoughts.”

Suddenly, you feel his hand on your hip, tugging you to roll over and face him. You stubbornly refuse at his first attempt but quickly lose that battle. A little reluctantly, you roll over onto your other side, face to face with the one man that throws your brain into inner turmoil.

His eyes look at you with a fondness in them but there is also a cute little furrow to his brow, mild concern etched onto his features. “Tell me what’s on your mind, Baby,” he almost pleads with his tone.

“I feel a connection with you, and I want to believe that we can withstand the test of time,” you start. “But I also understand that long distance relationships are hard on couples.”

“And you’re worried that we won’t be able to handle it,” he nods along.

“No! …Well, yes…” You quickly deny but just as quickly realize that’s exactly what you’ve been worried about. His features soften from concern to utter fondness.

“Do you want to know what I think?” He asks, a bit of teasing seeping into his tone.

“That is the whole reason we are having this conversation,” you can’t completely keep the sarcasm out of your voice either. It makes him chuckle as he slides his knuckles along your jawline.

“I think you worry too much,” he says, even going as far as to tap the tip of your nose affectionately. You gape at him in exasperation but he goes on before you can rebuttal. “We have something special, Y/N. No matter how far we may be, it won’t change the way I feel about you.”

“The thing is, I don’t doubt our feelings for one another. I question how hard it’s going to be to be away from you. And…how we’ll manage it…” you admit carefully, unsure of how he might take your uncertainty.

“It will be excruciating not to be able to drive across town just to hold you in my arms like this,” he says, pulling you into an embrace again for added effect. “But knowing that you’ll be waiting for me, will be enough to get me by.” Then his face morphs slightly with another thought. “That is, as long as you’re…willing to wait for me.”

“Of course I will! And, lucky for you, I’m a very patient woman,” you joke proudly.

It has both of you laughing softly in the small space between you. It fills your heart with affection knowing that the two of you can find a way to laugh and joke no matter the situation. It’s one of the things you love most about him.

“Then we have nothing to worry about,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours. “It’s easy to overthink it but we’ll be fine.”

It’s not easy to just ignore but you want to believe in him, believe in your relationship. So you do. “Ok,” you simply agree.

He smiles, leaning in to connect your lips for the first time since you laid down. It’s sweet and soft. Like a promise to keep his word.

Your muscles relax into the mattress and your fingers find their way into his hair. It wouldn’t hurt to enjoy this a little bit longer, right?

The two of you are content to stay like this, tender kisses and gentle touches. That is until one of your giggles turns into a yawn. He chuckles and kisses your cheek.

“We should get some sleep,” he suggests.

“But I’m not tired yet,” you argue weakly, eyes betraying you as they flutter closed.

“Of course you’re not, Pretty Girl.” He gently coaxes you to roll back over onto your side again, easily slotting in behind you and pulling you into his chest.

Then you hear a blissful sigh as he gets comfortable; arms squeezing you, nose brushing your shoulder. If you weren’t so tired, you might have teased him about it. But on the other hand, this really is nice. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been able to fall asleep this easily.

He presses a kiss into the skin of your neck then whispers, “Sweet dreams, Y/N. I love you.”

“Love you, Seungminnie,” you mumble in return. You think he chuckles again but the fogs of sleep are starting to cloud your thoughts. It’s easier just to sink into it, let yourself drift off as you’re held safe and sound.

~*~

An incessant buzzing pulls you out of your slumber, a pleasant heat radiates against your back with an arm draped over your waist. You sigh happily and close your eyes to try getting just a few more minutes of peaceful rest, only for your phone to buzz on the nightstand four times in a row.

A quiet groan stays trapped between your tightly closed lips in an attempt not to wake the sleeping boy next to you. Reluctantly, you reach an arm out from under the covers to grab your phone.

Without thinking, you let out a deep (almost frustrated) sigh. The sound seems to stir Seungmin partially awake. His arm, still laying across your waist, tightens as he stretches and yawns. Your soft giggle in response has his eyes blinking up at you, a lazy, tired smile gracing his features.

“Good morning Beautiful,” he greets you with a gruff voice you’ve never heard from him before.

“Good morning, did you sleep well?” You ask, reaching a hand up to comb through his messy hair. He leans into your touch, basking in your attention.

“Best sleep of my life,” he tells you.

“You’re being dramatic again,” you accuse fondly, turning in his hold to face him fully and propping your chin up with your elbow.

“I am being overly honest, actually,” he chuckles.

“Unfortunately, it’s time to get up,” you reply, petting his head affectionately.

Then he drops his head into the crook of your neck, snuggling close and hiding his eyes from the light of morning leaking in through the cracks in the curtains. “It’s too early to be getting up,” he groans.

“You know, I agree with you. But to keep our jobs, we have to follow their rules.” This earns a louder groan and a stronger squeeze. You don’t fight against his hold, in fact you wrap your arm around him to hold him, too.

“What if I said screw our jobs,” he asks rhetorically.

“I would have lots of things to say,” you reply playfully. He leans back to look at you, his smile turned amused.

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“First off, I told you before that I would never let you make me the cause of Stray Kids breaking up,” he hums as he remembers and you go on. “And I would say screw my job, I don’t care, but then I’d have to find a new home for Storm and I don’t have that kind of money, honey.”

Your little rhyme makes him laugh. When he settles, his brows knit with curiosity. “What would happen to the other horses? If you left, I mean.”

“They aren’t mine, technically all the horses that are used for group riding don’t have individual owners. If someone decided they wanted one, they could make an offer to the ranch and they’d probably get it.” You explain. “The ranch would just look for a replacement at some point.”

The look on Seungmin’s face tells you he’s deep in thought, a little wrinkle to his brow. You lift your fingers to gently smooth his forehead. “Don’t worry about it. It’s been a while since any of the horses were sold anyways,” you assure him.

His features soften under your touch, he looks at you with trust in his eyes. “Wouldn’t it be cool if all our horses could just stay together forever? Just like us?”

It’s your turn to soften at his posed question. “That’s a long time.”

“I plan to make it a long time. With Stray Kids and with you.” His words send butterflies fluttering in your belly.

“I hope you’re right,” you whisper. Dreams of forever planting like a seed in your heart that you’re ready to nurture over time until it comes true.

“But for now, I think it’d be in our best interests if we get up,” he says with a sigh. You giggle when he flops onto his back dramatically.

“You’re right. I need to keep a roof over Storm’s head.”

With a big flourish, you throw the blankets off of both of you, earning a yelp of surprise before he jumps out of bed to chase you around the house. It’s the most fun you’ve ever had getting ready in the morning, playing a game of cat and mouse, or fetch per say, in random spurts like the two of you are still in grade school.

It’s not so fun when you finally have to separate. He gives you a long hug and a briefer kiss when he gets the text that his ride has arrived. You watch him leave, offering a wave to his tinted window, even if you can’t see him through it.

A deep sigh escaping now that you’re officially alone. Back to a normal day, the only saving grace being your best friend working right alongside you.

~*~

taglist

@kangaracha @rainfallingfromthesky @puppysmileseungmin @defnotfertilizedtoesw @teenyfinds

@bbokari711 @lakoya @chlodavids @rylea08 @chanshugsaretherapy

@palindrome969 @here-to-read-and-read-fics @imagine-all-the-imagines @txnwvc @keepswingin

24 notes · View notes

datesinredink · 11 months ago

Text

Heyyy so maybe I'm insane but. Do NOT Take This Cat Home (which I'll shorten to Dnttch) yandere rottmnt au. Hmmm. I havent slept in 24 hours so I don't know how you would meet them but I do know that it would be very fun to think about how the weird eldritch horror/"OH NO THEY EAT PEOPLE" part would come into play.

Oh wait actually IDEA you could start off meeting one of the turtles (probably Mikey, he'd be most likely to stick around instead of eating you and convince you to take him home because he's so lost and hungry in this new place, couldn't you pleeaaase take pity on this poor turtle?) and then over time, since we know in the Dnttch universe, the cat multiplies in at least two ways (I, in fact have not seen all the endings yet), so the first turtle could gather the other three over time. One could be from a plushie in the pet shop or won at the carnival (prob Raph), the second could be from the movie theater (Leo, I think the hypnosis is weirdly fitting for him), and the final one... Wait. I'm not sure. THERES A LITTLE LIVE PETS TURTLE???? YEAH OK THATS FUNNY I'LL PUT IT IN.

Buuuuuuttttt after the four are all gathered and living in your house (despite your insistence that you couldn't possibly afford to support them. luckily, despite occasionally waking up and seeing one of them in the corner of your room drooling, they've never shown any need to eat) they've gotten a bit attached. They saw you as a possible meal, at first, then a convenient hiding place, but they seem to have found themselves getting attached. They decide that since you've helped them soo much, that they should at least return the favor before they decide to eat you(something you're frighteningly aware they've almost done- the still healing scar from the last time the red one visited your room) or leave.

Now, you feel constant eyes staring holes into your back, and your rude coworkers now either show up on the news with their bones picked almost clean or don't turn up at all. Now, sometimes they'll bring back one of their kills to share with you (after all, aren't you hungry? They've seen you eat, but surely it isn't filling enough to really sustain you- to them, that's why you seem so tired all the time). Since you always turn them down, maybe instead they'll just have you help them store the leftovers!

Raph, as they've taken to calling the biggest of them, eats more frequently than the others to sustain his growth, so there can sometimes be extras that the other three don't particularly want at the time. He even goes out of his way to help you with tearing and cutting apart the meat! It's almost sweet, if only for the weight of what exactly you're putting in Tupperware right now.

Leo gets more aggressive about your attention now, always begging you to play games or watch TV with him. Sometimes he's even fine with just reading comics in the same place, as long as he gets to hold onto you in some way. It's annoying at best in the morning when you have to go to work, but downright terrifying when his marks flare up late at night after you've just insisted for the 10th time that you're tired and don't want to deal with him. Usually, the threat of flickering blue light vaguely forming some kind of sword is enough to convince you otherwise.

Mikey tries his best to help you adjust to your new roommates! He knows how stressed out you are about work, you should tell him about it! He'll even take notes about how they can all brighten your day, so feel free to speak your mind about that horrible lady who yelled at you today. Was she your boss? A coworker? Maybe a customer who asked for the manager? He'll give you a warm hug and reassure you that everything will be ok, and that maybe you should teach him a new recipe from granny's cookbook tonight to take your mind off things! The scene you wake up to the next morning is Mikey humming to himself while the girl's flesh sizzles in the pan you let him borrow last night, Raph drooling over said slab of meat, as well as Donnie and Leo playing the most intense game of rock paper scissors (a game they're glad you taught them- how else would they make decisions) to decide who gets the first plate of food.

Donnie's always useful to have around, his fascination with human technology quickly being honed into electronic mastery. Despite his more reclusive nature, he's still gotten you out of many a pinch with malfunctioning devices, like when you sorrowfully cradled your old toaster in your arms on your way to trash it, only for him to take it from you and return it a couple days later fixed up like new. You appreciate his contributions, and though you're the beta tester for a multitude of his dangerous inventions, with the amount he does for you, it's hard to not feel like you owe him, especially when he himself openly agrees with that point. You just wish he'd give you a break from the explosions...

#yandere tmnt #yandere rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #tmnt x reader #i feel like im gonna pass out and wake up later wnd then see this post and go “damn what was i ON?”#“this is genius. i should do it again.”#and thus my sleep schedule will continue to spiral #Strawberry's basket

87 notes · View notes

freshxsturniolo · 10 months ago

Note

This might be a mouth full but can you do one where Matt o(or Chris)and y/n are in a relationship but they had some time apart and in that time Matt (or Chris) saw someone else and they go to mutuals party she’s there but y/n has no idea they hooked up and when she pieces it together she gets upset that he never told her and etc.

HEY BABY this was so fun to write. i hope this is okay <3 (i did matt hehe)

your relationship with matt in the first year had been far from perfect. you were the absolute definition of right person, wrong time. his YouTube career was at its peak, subscribers climbing higher and higher each week, and it was difficult for you both to juggle such a change to his life, plus your own life with your own commits, and your relationship.

when you both came to the decision to take a break for a while, your heart had broke. you had both cried and spent the day in his room, cuddled together on his bed watching your favourite tv shows, promising to always love each other no matter what happened.

you spent 6 months watching him rise and rise, whilst your own career took off better than ever. you were heartbroken but you had hope. you had faith that together one day you would be together again. you had said it was nothing more than a break, knowing your love for each other would bond together again one day. but over the course of those months you both become so busy, it had almost seemed unlikely. you had somehow learned to live a life without matt sturniolo, watching from the shadows of his life.

texts become the odd instagram dm, before becoming nothing more than the odd instagram like. but you were happy. you could tell he was living his life, he looked happier and healthier than had ever done before and that was enough for you.

"we love each other no matter what happens, okay?" his words to you that final night 6 months prior. and you did.

but when you woke up one january morning to a missed call, your heart had been in your throat. it had come early, around 6am, but in your deep slumber you hadn't heard it. there was no follow up. there was no text afterwards. you even checked on instagram and there had been no DM. you had almost convinced yourself it was accidental, but there was something in your heart pulling you to him.

so you called, and he answered on the first ring. you grabbed coffee together an hour later, and that night, you were back at his house, watching movies with him and his two brothers like nothing had ever happened.

"i never stopped loving you, you know" he had said, and you had smiled as you finally leant in to kiss his soft lips.

"me either, matt. we said we never would."

he smiled. "i know"

and suddenly, everything worked out. the time apart had been perfect, you couldn't deny it. as heartbroken as you had been at the time. you had learned to live without him but the minute you was in his presence again, you knew you never actually wanted to live without him.

and matt felt the same. he knew that the lack of contact was his own fault. he had been the one to stop replying to your texts, the one to stop replying to your instagram stories, but he had never stopped thinking about you. his brothers had told him he was stupid, but he knew he wasn't. the 6 months break was needed. and when he woke up that one january morning, and he woke up and did his daily scan of your social media outlets, he knew it was time. he knew he needed you back in his life.

to now, 5 months later, watching you apply the last touch of your make up in the mirror of his bathroom whilst he came out of his bedroom, looking at you with a smile.

"you ready?" he asked, and you looked at him through the mirror.

"beyond ready, i need a drink" you said, walking over to him and wrapping your arms around his neck. his arms snaked around your lower back and he leant in to give you a soft kiss.

"you two are too lovey dovey for me" you heard chris remark from the kitchen, and you had rolled your eyes with a laugh, pulling away.

"try talking to a girl for more than one second" matt had said, and you turned around to slap his arm. these boys could be so cruel to each other, but you knew it was all in love.

"come on, we're already late" nick had said from somewhere you couldn't see until you heard his feet down the stairs, chris following not far behind.

and an hour later, you where leant against the kitchen in your friends new house, chatting to a few of your girlfriends. you were celebrating her new career move and her new house and you were beaming with pride at how all of your lives were working out. your friends were happy, you were happy, your boyfriend was happy. life couldn't have worked out better.

"so," your friend said, coming to the side of you. "you and matt are okay, right?"

you smiled at her, swallowing down your drink.

"better than ever. the break really did us good" you said, and she smiled.

"im so glad."

and as if right on queue, he appeared.

"hey, babe" he said, walking over and planting a kiss on your lips.

"hey, baby" you smiled in return.

he moved to the side of you, reaching around to grab a fresh drink.

"you having fun?" he asked, but you didn't get chance to reply before his name was squealed from somewhere across the room. both of your heads snapped around, and it didn't take more than a second to see the beaming smile of some girl you'd never seen. you knew your friend had a whole group of friends you didn't know, you'd been passing polite hellos across the last hour, but this girl you had never seen before.

"oh, fuck." you heard matt utter under his breath, and your head snapped away from the gorgeous girl walking towards you and towards your boyfriend. you noticed the way his face had turned weary.

"who's that?" you whispered, and he looked at you for a millisecond before the girl was in front of you.

she was taller than you, her hair placed in a blonde bun on top of her head, and she was gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous. you didn't even notice you'd straightened your position and pouted your lips slightly.

her arms immediately went around matts neck, and you stood at the side of him as you watched him wrap his arms loosely around her back.

"hey" he muttered as they pulled away.

"i haven't seen you in so long" she beamed up at him, before her eyes finally diverted in your direction. "oh, hey!" she said, and you smiled.

"this is y/n" he said, and you saw from the corner of your eye that he was looking at you as he said it. but you kept your eyes on this stunning blonde, watching as her eyes widen slightly. and then she lunges forward to hug you, her perfume strong against your nose.

"i've heard so much about you!" she exclaims. you can't help but hug her back.

"you have?" you say with a laugh, your eyes finally meeting matts against the hug. when she pulls away, you notice the way his eyes go straight to her.

"so much! so," she says, taking a step back. "you guys are back together?"

"yeah" matt answers immediately, his hand finding yours.

"ah, im happy for you both!" she beams. "that explains the quietness, matt" she laughs, and your heart stops.

you look down at matts hand in yours, the sudden need to be close to you, and her words, and suddenly you feel sick.

the blonde reaches behind matt to the row of drinks behind you, and when her eyes are diverted else where you give matt a look, he smiles. but it doesn't reach his eyes like it normally does. when she finally pulls back, drink in hand, she looks between you both awkwardly. matt still hasn’t responded to her previous remark.

you put on a smile before pulling your hand away from matt.

“well, i’ll leave you both to catch up” you say, diverting your eyes to the girl who you hadn’t even asked her name, before you turn on your heel.

“babe” he starts, but you turn around quickly.

“matt,” you say. and he knows. he knows not to follow you.

you look back to the girl. “lovely to meet you”

“you too” she says, but you’ve walked away before you even see her face.

you can’t be upset. you can’t. but god it was so fucking obvious. her excited squeal, the look on her face when he said your name, it was so fucking obvious and you can’t help the tears that have brimmed in your eyes.

but you’re startled by a familiar face walking around the corner, slamming yourself against his chest.

“woooo easy tiger” chris says, and you look up at him as the first tear falls. “oh, fuck. what’s happened?”

but his eyes divert behind you and you see the way his eyes widen. it’s all the confirmation you need.

“did he sleep with her?” you ask, taking a deep breath. you could not cry on your boyfriends brothers shoulder.

“it’s not my place-“

you laugh. “so yes”

“it was only a handful of times”

“a HANDFUL?” you shout, and chris’ eyes widen as he pulls you backwards, out of the view of the kitchen and into the hallway he’d just emerged from. “a fucking handful, chris?”

“i’m not sure, alright? you should speak to matt about it”

you knew he was right. you were putting him on the spot and that wasn’t fair.

“can i chill with you, for a minute?” you ask, the anger surging through you almost unbearable.

“yes, come on” he says, and he takes your wrists and drags you in the direction of some of his friends.

they shout your name when they see you, and you put on a brave face, but the atmosphere is ruined. it’s not that you could even be mad. jesus, you weren’t together. but it was the not knowing. it was the fact he hadn’t told you. you had spent months learning to live a life without him and he’d spent it buried up in some other girl.

“he loves you, you know” chris said randomly an hour later. you’d been glued it his side the entire time, and listening to him yap to his friends had kept you from spiralling. the blonde and matt had not entered your line of sight once.

you look up at him with a smile. “i know” you whisper, and he gives you a one arm hug, pulling you into his side. “go and talk to him, please.”

and you knew you had to. because you weren’t having fun, and you needed to hear it from him.

so you stand up, leaving chris to his friends and make your way into the kitchen. your eyes scan but matts no where to be seen, and you let out a sigh as you head towards to garden. it’s louder out here, people are so clearly drunk and there’s more and more people you don’t recognise now, but you hear a familiar laugh from the right side of you and you turn to see nick, and just to his side is matt, picking off the label of his drink. but it only takes him a few seconds before his eyes are on yours, his back straightening immediately before his drink is placed on the table and he stands, heading straight towards you. you can feel the tears forming immediately.

“where have you been?” he asks when he reaches you, his voice mellow.

“with chris” you admit, but you can’t stop the crack in your voice.

“baby-“

“why didn’t you tell me, matt?”

“i’m so - i’m sorry. it didn’t seem relevant”

you scoff. “of course it’s relevant, matt. of course it is”

“it was nothing. i promise it was nothing. i missed you every single day, alright? every single fucking second. but you were thriving, babe. i saw it all over your instagram, you were thriving and it would have been selfish of me to ask you back so soon”

you sigh, looking up at the sky. the sun was still bright but it was nearing evening time.

“how long after we ended it?” you ask. you needed to know.

“3 months” he admits.

“and how long for?” you ask. you shouldn’t care. it doesn’t matter. “actually, don’t answer that. i don’t need to know”

matt smiles slightly. “i should have told you. i’m sorry. i just didn’t want to lose you before i’d even got you back” he says, and your heart swells.

“we promised to love each other always, matt.”

“i know, baby. and i do. so much.” he grabs your face in between his hands now, and you can’t help but let out a smile.

“i’m sorry” you whisper, and his face screws in confusion.

“for getting mad. what you did in those 6 months shouldn’t matter. but-“

“it’s okay” he cuts you off. “it’s totally okay. i should have told you.”

and then he kisses you, softly, like he doesn’t know what your reaction will be, but you lean in to kiss him back.

“can we go home?” you ask, suddenly feeling drained and out of social battery.

“i was about to ask you the same thing.”

and so he drove you both home, his hand on your thigh the entire time as he drove, a comfortable silence washing over you. but when you pull up, you need to ask him one more thing before you get let the situation drop.

“matt” you start, and he turns to you. “you said it would have been selfish to ask me back so soon.”

his eyes look over you, but you continue. “is that why you stopped contact? so that you wouldn’t?”

he sighs, twisting his position to look out the front of his car. and he thinks for a while. i can see him trying to figure out what to say. and then he turns to look at you again.

“yes. it was so hard for me. chris and nick kept telling me i was stupid, that you loved me and that you would have supported me no matter what we went through. but i knew that the break would have made us stronger. and then i saw you thriving y/n, you were telling me all these amazing things and i just couldn’t. we needed time apart, to focus on other things. and i don’t know why i started hooking up with her, maybe to fill a void? life was hard without you.”

you nod, you understand. “i would have come straight back.” you say, and he smiles.

“i know. and that’s why i couldn’t.”

you sit in silence for a while, thinking about him. the life you had before. but also the life you had now. and it had worked. he was yours. no one else’s.

“i understand. i really do. im so proud of you”

“for what?”

“everything, matt. you say you saw me thriving but every single day, i saw you. and chris and nick. and maybe im selfish that i would have come back so quickly, but im proud of you, okay? so fucking proud.”

and his lips are on yours immediately, pushing you against the car window, and you can’t help but giggle into him.

“i should be grateful, i suppose” you mutter against his lips, and he pulls away to look at you with a questioning glare. you shrug. “cause now i know no other chick can fill your void.”

“oh shut up” he mumbles, but you’re both laughing as he kisses you again.

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fluff

113 notes · View notes

nyoxy-ghostie · 5 months ago

Text

Day twenty-four of writemas

It's Christmas eve I have wrapped all my gifts wrapped I'm so glad I got to participate, i think out of all the 24 stories I only disliked one anyway one finally thank you and appreciation to @agirlandherquill for allowing me to join and show off my work :)

P.s I changed 'it' to 'life'

Fandom: House md

My prompts: dialogue; "One day, everything we know will be gone. Until that time, you owe it to history to enjoy life."

Gregory house x Gender-neutral reader

Warnings: inaccurate medical stuff, nothing else

Feedback is always welcome <3

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

"Why do you think house acts that way?" You asked Chase, Chase scoffed and stared at you with a boyish smirk "house is an ass, you can't expect somethin' from him, he won'tgive you what you want" you hummed in acknowledgement but still wondered about him it was not exactly the awnser you wanted from chase but before you could ask another house walked into the room.

"Well what are you two school girls gossiping about?" House walked right past us to the coffee machine "nothing important, why did you tell us to meet you here if you were going to be late?" House took a sip of the coffee from his red mug, you needed to get him a new one he has had that same red mug for three years now. "I figured I'd make you wait, you know to up suspense?" House gave you a sassy look before he took another sip of his coffee, you wanted to sleep in longer you have been have rough nights sleeping and it didn't help that everytime you fell asleep it was either a nightmare or a dream about your boss.

House tossed us each a file "where's foreman?" House asked as he started writing liver failure and low circulation. "We don't know, he is probably sleeping in like every other person on the planet right now." You bit back sarcastically, lack of sleep has really messed with your head. He turned around and stared at you with an eyebrow raised, before squinting at you and turning back around to look at the white board. "Run a test for an infection" "her white count was normal." "I know. Run for infection"

It had been a full day of nothing but working, you were exhausted beyond belief. Curling up in a warm bed while some movie played on the TV sounded so nice right now, but house had you playing around with the women's blood looking for an infection that she probably didn't have as foreman would have so lovely put it. Chase looked more exhausted then you did, even if you doubt he stayed up as long as you have but you sent him home anyway.

Now it was only you in the lab, foreman left saying he had something to do and you sent chase home over an hour ago. You laid your head down as you were waiting for the spining thing to stop, that was your mistake. Your eyes shut quicker then you could fight the sleepiness in your brain, you should have known house would be the one to find and wake you up, almost as if he knew you were asleep.

House threw his cane down aggressively next to your head, it made a loud noise that made you jump awake. It took a second to realize who was infront of you, Gregory house. "Why must you make everyone around you miserable?" You mumble as you bang your head on the iron table, "well aren't you just a sunshine" he said shoving a cracker in his mouth, before he read over the computer infront of you that had all the infections on it, you had done a little over half of the 15 or 20 test needed to be done.

"One day, everything we know will be gone." You said, he rolled his eyes "you steal that one from wilson?" He asked retorically, continuing to shove another cracker in his mouth. "Until that time house, you owe it to history to enjoy life." You finished, you left the lab and started walking away to who knows where. House didn't follow you he was surprised and shocked at what you had said.

Maybe you weren't just eye candy after all, maybe your an actual doctor.

#writing #fiction writing #my writing #writemas #writemas 2024 #fanfiction #house md #gregory house x reader #gregory house #nys book of treasury

29 notes · View notes

mskenway97 · 1 year ago

Note

Could I request some mouthplay/vore stuff with Animated Bumblebee maybe? If it’s okay 👉👈

Well anon, you made me think about this one but something came to me that might help. I'll increase Bumblebee's size a bit this fic. I choose a human reader

Tfa Bumblebee x gn!human!reader

Side Effects

Summary: One of the meltdown tests affected one of the autobots, and he faced the side effect.

Words: 1,131

Warning: soft vore, safe vore, mouthplay, predatory/prey, unwilling prey.

It seemed to be an easy mission, catching Detroit's bad guys was something routine that the Prime team was used to.

Meltdown was waiting as if he had something on his mind. They had him at the ready until Bumblebee once again heeded his instinct instead of Prime's orders, he launched himself straight at the enemy only to be pinned down and feel a jab in his neck from Meltdown himself.

Bumblebee felt funny, until the enemy threw him away.

- What have you done to me? Bumblebee asked in annoyance but only Meltdown's laughter was heard.

-You'll find out soon enough.... - Meltdown said as the rest of the team approached making Meltdown leave.

Bumblebee still felt strange about the jab, he wasn't listening to Optimus' scolding, Bulkhead's words. Ratchet and Prowl noticed right away that the little autobot wasn't acting weird.

They went back to the base and examined Bumblebee, Ratchet had to examine him some more, he discovered there was something different....

Another emergency alarm went off, Bumblebee wanted to go but Optimus told him to stay at the base until further notice, leaving little Bumblebee a little upset. He was an action bot, a little prick wasn't going to bother him.

He watched the others leave and he sat playing the video game console getting dizzier and dizzier, it felt weird as if his limbs were enlarging a little. He fainted soon after, he felt something different... something deep.

Y/N had been able to leave work earlier. He hoped the autobots were.Y/N hadn't seen them in a while, plus had brought a new set for Bumblebee. I knew them from Sari as she was their babysitter, the chics were eager to show Bumblebee. Lively, childish but cute. He was surprised by their knowledge of video games, they were like rivals with joysticks. Y/N always ends up beating him making the situation more fun.

Y/N arrived at the base, which was quiet and there were no lights either. It was strange, Y/N prepared a flashlight... Despite being the base of the autobots, it was in an area quite far from the city as if it were a scary movie.

When he got to the main room, he saw that the TV was on with a video game, that gave him relief. Seeing that Bumblebee was lying on the floor causing Y/N to approach in concern.

- Bee! Bee! What happened? Bee," she said shaking him a little.

Bumblebee reacted to the touch and stood up in front of Y/N with a different expression. Y/N thought to himself, "How big are you? I remembered him shorter."

-Bee, are you okay? I saw you were on the floor and I feared the worst.... Look, I brought a new game. Bee? - asked Y/N. He was starting to feel the chills, something was wrong he was sure. She saw him approach her, as he licked his lips.

- I'm hungry

'Oh was that' thought Y/N

- I'm sure there's something in store....

- No, something different...

Y/N felt something weird going on. Something wrong... It felt like he was looking at her, following her with his eyes.

- Bee?

-I'm sure there's a more appetizing morsel...

All of Y/N's instincts kicked in and he started to run away from it, he tried to catch call someone but saw that Bumblebee was following him. So he ran faster that he dropped his cell phone on the way breaking it. Y/N felt his heart in his chest and hid behind the machinery, having a bit of an advantage being so small.

-Come on Y/N, I'll see you.... I'm sure we both like this game...

Y/N on the other hand was terrified, she hoped the autobots would arrive soon, she was trembling. She hoped it was a nightmare, she heard Bumblebee's footsteps approaching the hiding place. She tried to hold her breath, she could only hear her heart beating. He saw that he was walking away until seconds later silence returned, he thought Y/N would be safe. She relied to feel Bumblebee's servo capture her, Y/N tried to resist as best she could but she could barely move but had fallen into his servos.

-Bee, please... Listen to me," Y/N said nervously.

Bumblebee on the other hand licked her cheek and then her neck.

- I love the taste of you... I prefer to enjoy it more inside my mouth.

Y/N was horrified begging and crying but Bumblebee didn't care, despite the resistance he managed to put it in his mouth.

A big glossa starts to lick every part of your body... Giving you some warmth in spite of the fear you were feeling.

- You taste better when you twist it's very sweet of you...

Y/N was feeling small bites on her shoulder from Bumblebee's teeth, she felt her glossa turn this one over, licking more, you could hear it purring as it crushed you a little against the teeth, leaving you a little smothered.

You didn't know if you were living a nightmare or if you were being pleasured.

- You're delicious, sweetie - says Bumblebee moving from one side of his faceplate to the other crushing you a little giving you a gasp at the feel of it.

-Bee, please get me out of here... please," Y/N tried to move but her glossa had her completely immobilized.

-Relax, I'm sure it's a ride you're going to love.

Y/N felt a shiver as she shivered a little making part of the glossa lick the little one more.

-Nervous, candy... relax, we don't consume humans.... So you'll be comfortable in my tanks

Y/N tried to struggle to get out of there but was simply trapped as the glossa pushed it into her esophagus, Bumblebee gulped as Y/N was screaming Bumblebee's name was slowly going down trapped, surrounded and choking a little.

Bumblebee was feeling happy, he was rubbing his chassis as he felt Y/N in his tanks.

Then he passed out again seeing what had happened.

The autobots came back later, to see where Bumblebee was and what had happened to him they also noticed he was more.

Bumblebee had no recollection of what had happened. Then Prowl found Y/N's broken cell phone and everyone was worried about what had happened until Bumblebee remembered certain flashes of what had happened.

Y/N were scared, feeling every part of you in his glossa and finally felt something in his tanks.

Y/N were still there.

Bumblebee was terrified, that was Meltdown's surprise... And/N had paid the price.

He felt a little movement as remorse, it was all over him.

Bumblebee would have to give a long explanation of that night.

A strange one and one that Y/N was not going to forget in his nightmares.

#sam writes #bumblebee #tfa bumblebee #bumblebee x reader #transformers x reader #robot x human #transformers animated #maccadams #maccadam #tfa bumblebee x reader #transformers #g/t #giant/tiny #transformers g/t #g/t vore #safe vore #soft vore #transformers vore #predator/prey

111 notes · View notes

edith-is-a-cat · 2 years ago

Text

Malleus Draconia x GN!Reader (No pronouns used or mentioned, can been seen as romantic and/or platonic, and written in second person)

Word count: 651 TLDR: Showing Malleus Howl's Moving Castle with a side of some sad thoughts. Comments: I honestly think Malleus would love Howl's Moving Castle. I may be bias because it is my favorite movie..

You are sitting in Ramshackle after the events of Idia's overblot, still having so many memories of previous ones on your mind. You're laying on the couch trying to think of what to do to take you away from the intruding thoughts of what could go wrong next. Grim is already asleep even though it just barely hit sundown. You decide to take a walk.

You throw on an old hoodie from when you first arrived, it gets surprisingly cold in Wonderland at night. Just when your hand meets the cool metal of the doorknob three solid knocks are heard from the other side. You twist the knob slowly creaking it open just enough to see who is there. Surprisingly, the figure was familiar, looming and almost eerie in the low lighting, Malleus Draconia. "Greetings, child of man." the still shrouded figure softly spoke, as if he could spook you, "May I come in?" You nodded as you opened the door for him. Why not, company could be better than a walk to shut your nagging and anxiety filled thoughts up. Your eyes follow Malleus as he walked around like he knew this places as well as the back of his hand. You invite him to sit down in the lounge while you go back to rummage in your room for anything to entertain the prince with. You carefully sift through your belongs that have been mostly in your room's closet ever since you arrived. As luck would have it you were going to a sleep over when you were almost ran over by that damned carriage. You wonder if your friends worried where you went... you stop your thoughts right there. No time to worriedly wonder about your presence back on Earth, you had a guest over. You continue to rifle through your closet when you reach into the bottom of your old backpack for your hand to hit something hard. You pull it out to see it was a DVD copy of Howl's Moving Castle. Score! you found at least something to show him, hopefully he will take an interest in it. You shake off any dust that might have gathered on it, you were going to watch it at that sleep over. If Malleus was to stay the night then you guess its quest would be fulfilled. Either way it would be fun showing him something from your world. You go back to the lounge with your prize from the hunt in hand. Holding it up like a certain lion cub. You look to Malleus, who sits perched on the couch, for any comment. He cocks his head as he softly asks, "If I may ask, what may you be holding?" "Movie, from my world." You proudly say as you beeline over to the TV and all the tech stuff you got as an apology for what happened with the last overblot. You have to take a minute to look around the TV and figure out which gadget would work with what gizmo. After a taking an almost saddening amount of time turning on everything, you grab the remote from it's spot on the TV cabinet. You then turn and take your spot by Malleus. You finick with the remote until you can finally get the correct setting to work the TV. Malleus looks at you with pity but decides it's better for you to learn by yourself. You eventually figure out how to work most of the remote and have satisfied yourself with the setting enough to finally play the movie. "I really think you are going to like this" you chirp as you lean back into the couch. The prince silently nods as he intently watches the the TV. Oh, only if you knew what you had done. He did not stop talking about it for weeks, even suggested commissioning a gargoyle of Howl's bird form.

Ending comment: Uhm! Hi!! thank you for reading.. I wrote this in Auburn's inbox and though "eh I'll post it too"

#twst #twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #twst malleus #malleus x reader #I still don't know how to tag this #silly little bear tries to write :]

149 notes · View notes

spacedadkronos · 1 year ago

Text

Ooo, lol, looks like someone got their knickers twisted so hard they wrote a whole essay about how they're categorically correct about an ultimately subjective matter. That's always a winning approach.

Please do not try to "educate" me the difference between writers and executive producers in animation. I have an animation degree. I'm not a child.

I follow both Brent and Alan on Twitter and have been for like 3 years now. I have been watching their updates since the announcement of the show 2 years ago. I have pics of them celebrating finishing up the writing. Here's proof that they wrote it, including screenshots of the IMDb Brent had linked on his Twitter.

I said this is not what they consider THE sequel. Obviously it is *a* sequel. I'm saying people should not be treating it like Megamind 2 when it is a pilot for the TV show. They want a real theatrical sequel.

This is a random screenshot I felt was important

I think this person better put what I meant about not as many people would care this much if it wasn't on streaming:

Megamind was an arrogant little egomaniac for the entirety of the first movie. Not sure how you missed that. Roxanne appears dissatisfied with her place in life from her recording at the Metro Man Museum with Hal onward, and does her level best to become the hero her city needs because no one else is going to stand up and do it - not sure how you missed that, either, but her whole character arc is about stepping up to the plate to do good. Well done reducing her to a single career point and then discarding her. I wasn't surprised to see her frustrations with going right back to reporting. That was a headspace that made a ton of sense for her. It was set up incredibly well.

And Megamind himself says, "some days, it felt like it was just me and Minion against the world," so you might think I agree with you there - but in fact I'm going to point out the SOME days, it FELT LIKE. There is no reason to believe that he never had any other professional associates between the time he left the schoolhouse and the time we see him as an established supervillain. In fact, I can and will argue that there's room to interpret *he himself* saying he wasn't always flying solo. It's up to interpretation - but it's there.

And no, Roxanne and Megamind are not and should not be "quasi-dating" unless you want to look past the enormous Bernard lie. Which I can't say I'm surprised you did, since Roxanne doesn't matter as anything other than Reporter Romantic Interest, apparently. The end of the original implies they have *potential.*

But I'm not trying to convince you. At the end of the day, you didn't enjoy something you hoped to enjoy. You missed a few key points about the original, so the pilot of the show didn't line up with some of your expectations and it pissed you off. That's a shame. But instead of offering some grace and recognizing it for what it is - a movie designed for a younger demographic than the original, the first ounce of love Dreamworks has shown this IP since its initial release more than a decade ago, and as much story as could be crammed into 83 minutes because the people making it only had so much time within which to work, which is *honestly a fun ride* if somewhat tonally dissonant compared to what YOU were hoping for - you've decided instead to focus on what it wasn't: What You Personally Wanted. And you've decided to make your disappointment everyone else's problem instead of processing it like an adult and moving on.

I think you're boring, I think you're unkind, I think you're a whiny little bully who came onto MY POST to bitch and complain about how you're the god of what I'M allowed to enjoy. Block me, if I make you so miserable. I'm busy having fun.

#megamind #megamind vs the doom syndicate #megamind rules

41 notes · View notes

waxingrunes · 1 year ago

Note

Do you have any fun headcanons on what's on wolfstar's nightstand? like are they creams? what books? we know there's tea on Sirus's nightstand but is it REALLY ever finished? what type of tea is it?

And finally... what tv shows/movies are wolfstars favs do you think?

sorry for the lovebomb questions i just want to live rent free in ur headcanons. U truly have a fantastic mind

You’ve put me to work with this sweet anon.

Sirius will have about three drinks on the go at any one time and even if the glass or bottle is empty, there’s a strong possibility it’s going to stay there for a day or two until he needs more room. He used to hate tea, but has learnt to tolerate and maybe even prefer it at times through Remus’ persistent feeding. He hates anything with berries as it lays bitter on his tongue, but will happily sip chamomile or lemon at any hour. He has an alarm clock that always malfunctions which Remus reaches over to slam off every time but Sirius insists he’s too attached to get rid. One of Remus’ watches will be right next to it so he can peep his eyes open and check the time. A hair bobble which always falls behind the nightstand and because he’s too lazy to retrieve them he replenishes them instead. Sometimes there will be a stray ribbon and crescent moon-hair clip if he’s worn it that day, otherwise those accessories are usually shoved in the top drawer. There will be one book on there that will go unread for weeks but never moves, or, if he’s on a reading train there will be a new book every week because he can absorb information fast and tends to get hyper fixated. The books never have bookmarks and are always dogeared which sends Remus into a spiral. A jewellery stand in the shape of an ornate middle finger where he can stack his rings. His wand will be under his pillow for easy access.

Remus’ wand is in the top drawer. He tends to sleep walk/talk and turns out it’s not ideal having a wand so readily available to his subconscious, which they learned through unfortunate events. The drawer also contains a Polaroid picture of him and Sirius that Sirius took haphazardly. His is more orderly, despite being the less coordinated of the two. There are always two books, one that he’s currently reading/annotating, another that he’s lined up to begin. If there’s a mug, it’s on a coaster. The tea is nearly always either green tea or earl grey, he rarely dabbles in other flavours, just likes collecting the fancy ones ‘just incase’. A moonstone, gifted in jest by James as a house warming present to “make him feel more at home”. Reading glasses, always stacked on top of the books with a little lens cleaning cloth folded on top.

I can’t think of anything specific when it comes to what the boys would enjoy watching but I’d say Remus loves a classic romantic comedy, the old school rom-com, and wildlife documentaries. Sirius is more a horror enthusiast, making Remus sit through the goriest shit and explaining why it’s not realistic at all or how it could be ‘done better’.

#ask #wolfstar #remus #sirius

54 notes · View notes

duhragonball · 1 year ago

Text

End of Evangelion: 26'

No, it doesn't.

All right, this is the second half of End of Evangelion, a movie that serves as the "alternative ending" to the Neon Genesis Evangelion TV series. The series was 26 episodes long and episodes 25 and 26 attempted to depict a finale where all of humanity was combined into a single merged being. This was the culmination of "Human Instrumentality", a goal of Gendo Ikari throughout the series.

Episodes 25 and 26 were not well-received, probably because they tried to show Shinji Ikari coming to grips with Human Instrumentality without actually filling in the audience on what it was or how it happened or why it was so important. Also, there were other non-Shinji characters that fans might have been interested in seeing. So in 1997 the studio produced End of Evangelion to show an ending set in the "outside world". This ending also sucks, but at least it connects the dots from Episode 24 to Human Instrumentality.

EoE's two halves are called 25' and 26', as a reference to their purpose as an alternate version of Episodes 25 and 26 of the TV series. 25' is better, because it actually sort of shows what was going on. SEELE attacks the NERV base, forcing Gendo to attempt to launch Human Instrumentality before it's too late. Asuka regains control of her Eva Unit 02, Ritsuko springs a trap to get revenge on Gendo, and Misato escorts Shinji to Eva Unit 01 and convinces him to meet his destiny. Then they all get brutally murdered. 25' also opens with Shinji jerking off over Asuka's comatose body, so... you know, it's a mixed bag.

26', on the other hand, is the drizzling shits, and that's what we're going to talk about now.

Gendo's plan is to do the exact same thing SEELE wants to do, only he wants to do it in some slightly different way. I went over most of this when I covered 25', so I don't really want to get into it again. Suffice to say, a merging of Adam and Lillith, the two cosmic beings who begat the Angels and humans, respectively, will somehow trigger Third Impact, which will then bring about Human Instrumentality. Gendo has Adam inside his own body, while Rei is some sort of receptacle of Lillith's soul? I don't know how that works.

Anyway, Rei's body begins to fall apart even as he talks to her, so they need to get started. I don't understand why he waited this long if this is all they needed to do.

Step One: Cop a feel. Seriously, he could have done this in Episode 1. To be clear, there is a little more going on here than Gendo fondling a minor. You see...

At some point after Episode... 8 I think, he had Adam grafted onto his own right hand. They don't show this in EoE, and I'm pretty sure you never see it in the TV series either. I could be wrong, but I only noticed this image during the clip-show segment of the first Evangelion film, Death and Rebirth.

The point I'm making here is that when Gendo puts his hand on Rei, he's pushing Adam inside her body. His hand actually phases inside her somehow. Of course, he could have put it somewhere other than her boob, but this franchise loooooves sexualizing teenagers.

Meanwhile, Shinji has arrived in Eva Unit 01 to repel SEELE's squadrong of bad guy Evas. He doesn't actually fight them, he just screams like a maniac when he sees Unit 02's dismembered corpse. Then the Lance of Longinus, which Rei had tossed into space weeks ago, suddenly flies right back to Earth. Why? Who the fuck knows?

This isn't even the first time it happens in this movie! In 25', Asuka was fighting these same evil Evas, when another Lance of Longinus suddenly flew in from out of nowhere and turned the tide against her. She saw it coming and even confirmed that it was "The" Lance of Longinus. Well this other one came from the moon, so it's definitely not the same lance, so I guess there's two of them now. I'm so sick of trying to make sense of any of this.

At SEELE's command, their Evas drag Shinji's up into the sky. I think he's pinned to this cross, except I'm pretty sure the cross is made from energy wings from Unit 01, so I don't know how that's supposed to work. The bad Evas then do some other mukity-muk, and this changes the cross into...

Whatever this is! I ain't got time to read all that.

This produces a field of destruction that tears up the ground and exposes the "Egg of Lilith", or the "Black Moon". The Wiki says that this is the vessel which brought Lilith to Earth, and Adam had a similar vessel called "The White Moon" which landed in Antarctica. But this movie doesn't bother filling us in on any of that. They're just like "Here's a purple ball, that's dramatic for some reason, trust us."

As all of this is going on, Rei suddenly separates from Gendo and rejects his procedure. He doesn't understand, but she informs him that she is not his puppet, and Shinji needs her. So instead of doing it the way Gendo had in mind, Rei floats up to merge with Lilith by herself. Also, I think the took Gendo's right hand with her, because he keeps clutching at his arm for the rest of the movie, and we never see his right hand again.

Now, you might have noticed I haven't had much to say about what Shinji is doing during all of this. That's because he can't do anything. The poor dope is stuck in Unit 01, completely helpless as the bad Evas do their ritual. All he's been doing this whole part of the movie is screaming in helpless terror. I had hoped Rei coming to save him would offer him some comfort, but she looks like this now...

So yeah, he's not exactly reassured. Rei/Lilith also assumes control over SEELE's Evas, and their heads change so they all have her face, which is pretty disturbing.

BE NOT AFRAID.

Finally, Rey/Lilith reshapes into a new form, that of Kaworu, the 17th Angel that Shinji had to kill in Episode 24. This seems to calm Shinji down. I think it's just Rey/Lilith in disguise, but maybe Shinji sees this as evidence that Kaworu isn't really dead, which would mean Shinji didn't murder him.

So a bunch of visual things happen and Clownshoes declares that Eva Unit 01 has now become God, because it possesses an S2 engine, the Fruit of Life, and a human mind, the Fruit of Knowledge. Didn't Eva Unit 01 already have those things before, though?

I suppose this could explain why there's more than one way to do this ritual. Gendo wanted to combine Adam and Lilith with himself, I think, which would have made him God, maybe. SEELE, on the other hand, wanted to do it all with just their Evas, Unit 01, and the Lance(s?) of Longinus. In the end, Rei sort of combined both of their approaches, though I don't know what difference it makes.

Well, no, I guess I do know. Rei/Lilith asks Shinji what his desire is, and he impulsively thinks of boobs. I assume Gendo would have thought of his dead wife, or the SEELE guys would have thought of worldly power.

From here, the movie goes off the rails with a bunch of fantasy visions. In other words, we're right back in the same bullshit that made the original Episodes 25 and 26 so esoteric and dumb. We start with Shinji as a small boy, farting around in a sandbox for like five minutes.

Then we see him watching Misato having casual sex with Kaji, just like in Episode 25 of the TV series. This is presented like it's some horrible thing Misato did, which is disillusioning to Shinji. I still don't understand this. Adults have sex. Why is this supposed to be a problem?

Then he's suddenly trying to figure out how to connect romantically with Asuka, except he doesn't really know her, or Rei, or Misato, or anyone else. He gets bitter and frustrated, accusing them of being unclear about their feelings towards him, but they say he hasn't tried to get to know them.

Then he's with Asuka at their apartment, and he begs for her to help him (with what?). Asuka is upset because she knows he just wants someone to be nice to him. He's only begging Asuka because he's too frightened of Misato, Rei, or his own parents, so he's come crawling to her. Well, she's not playing along.

So he strangles her. I doubt he could do this to the real Asuka, but this is some bullshit dream so it works.

He asks Lilith what went wrong, and she replies that he just assumed everyone had the same feelings as himself, so this isn't the harmonious world he wished for after all. I guess? This seems like a repudiation of the scenario from the TV finale, where Shinji could interact with other humans through the Human Instrumentality, but it took him a while to get comfortable with doing so. Here, he tries to live that way, but it isn't working.

So at this point, Shinji decides that if people don't like him, then to hell with it. This leads to Third Impact, with Lilith essentially dissolving the entire human population into LCL fluid. Each human is visited by an image of Rei, which sometimes takes the form of someone they love. For example, this girl at the command center is visited by an image of Ritsuko, who embraces her tenderly before she turns into orange Kool-Aid. Of course, the real Ritsuko is already dead, but a Rei shows up anyway to turn her body into orange goop.

The leader of SEELE is also gooped. Interestingly, you can't really tell how they feel about the way this has turned out. That's because everyone is visited by some pleasant fantasy before they dissolve, so I think it's reasonable to assume this is not what SEELE had in mind, and yet they probably think it's exactly what they wanted to happen.

Gendo Ikari's fate seems a bit different, though. He does get a visit from the image of his dead wife, and he admits that he'll probably receive retribution from Shinji over the way he treated him in life. He admits that he pushed Shinji away because he was convinced it would be less painful that way, so it looks like father and son are more alike than they ever wanted to admit. Anyway, an Eva picks Gendo up and bits off his upper body, though I doubt any of this was real.

As Lilit-- I got a phone call from my mom while I was typing this part. She's fine, but she's fed up with the weekly dominoes game she was attending. We talked for probably 45 minutes and after that I felt genuinely refreshed. I don't normally mention when I take breaks while writing long posts like these, but I needed that one more than I realized. So I want the record to reflect my gratitude.

Right, so as Lilith gathers up all the goop-ified humans, she has the bad guy Evas self-destruct. I don't think they explode, since we see some of their remains at the end of the movie, but they do stab their little core-dealies with their weapons.

Then she opens up a third eye in her forehead and sends the cross containing Eva Unit 01 to penetrate it. Okey dokey.

Then we get this rapid succession of images with voices saying typical breakup/brushoff lines. "I don't like you in 'that way'," "I don't want to know you", "I'm just not into you", all the classics. I think this is the sort of thing Lilith is removing from the human condition. Now everyone's just disembodied minds suspended in goop, so there are no boundaries.

This is where I got completely fed up. This is a photograph of an empty theater. That's cute how they worked the cross into the image, but it serves no purpose at all. Nothing's made much sense ever since Rei merged with Lilith, but now it's extra stupid. We're not even watching a cartoon anymore.

To be fair, there were photographs in Episode 26 of the TV series as well, but not to this extent. After this we get: a cat, a TV broadcast transmitter, a bunch of people walking through a busy street. More people milling about, people sitting in a theater, and then the empty theater again. Okay, I'll show you the cat.

Best part of the movie. RIP to this cool and good friend.

So when all is said and done, Shinji finds himself in this reality, where everyone is just floating in a big sea of LCL fluid. I like how his and Lilith's bodies are merged together to represent this condition. Mostly I'm just glad we're using animation to represent things instead of just random film of bystanders.

But Shinji decides that this doesn't feel right either, and he asks to be restored to his former state. Lilith grants this request, though she does make it clear to him that things will be like they were before, with everyone knowing feat and pain, and misunderstandings and such, but Shinji seems to have (re?) learned the same lesson he figured out in Episode 26 of the TV series: that this pain and the boundaries between people are necessary in order to grow.

So Lilith collapses into the sea of LCL fluid, and her entire head falls off. I guess this is the same AT field failure that led to the disintegration of Rei's body at the start of this episode. Anyway, when all is said and done, Shinji is back in a corporeal body, and Eva Unit 01 pops out of Lilith's eyeball. It's no longer God this way, so all the heavy stuff is over with.

Yui then appears before Shinji and they talk it over. He's fine living this way on Earth, and Yui is happy continuing to exist as part of Eva Unit 01. She plans to fly out into space and contemplate her existence, and she figures that, billions of years into the future, when the Earth no longer exists, she will still be there as evidence that humans lived in the universe. Okay... You know, I thought she was the normal one in the Ikari family but... no. Just, no way.

And that leads us to the epilogue, where we find the Earth after the Third Impact. Lilith's remains still lie in pieces over the surface of the planet, and all the LCL has pooled into the oceans or something.

I read the wiki about this scene, and it pointed out that there's evidence that some time has passed since the battle that started all of this. The moon is full in this scene, but it was a new moon earlier. So at least two weeks have passed. More importantly, these wooden stakes are set up in the area, and these are apparently markers Shinji set up to commemorate his dead friends from Tokyo-3. Before she died, Misato gave Shinji the cross necklace she wore, and he held onto it throughout Third Impact, but now he's hung it on a rusty nail in a piece of wood, and some rust has gotten onto the necklace, indicating that some time has passed.

The reason this matters is to add some context to this scene, where Shinji wakes up to find Asuka lying beside him. The movie gives the impression that he just got back to the real world, but the details suggest he's been living out here on his own for a while. It's unclear what happened to everyone else, but Lilith's words seemed to suggest that anyone who wanted to return to a corporeal body like Shinji could do so if they wished. So it's possible that lots of people have already done so, and Shinji just isn't around any of them. Or maybe Asuka's the first one to join him out here.

Maybe she's the only one, and they're the only two humans here. The point is that when he sees her, the first thing he does is strangle her, which seems completely ridiculous, unless you consider that he's been here a while, and he probably doesn't believe she's real. When he strangled the fantasy-Asuka earlier, she didn't put up a struggle, so he's trying to use that as a test this time.

But instead, Asuka raises her hand and caresses his cheek, and this surprises him so much that he stops what he's doing and starts to cry all over her face. Well, it could be worse, Asuka. She mutters how disgusted she is with him, and that's the last line of the movie.

Objectively speaking, this probably is better than the original TV series ending. It's more ambitious in scope, the visuals are more impressive, and the conclusion seems more ambiguous and grim. Everything seems to have turned out... okayish for humanity. The world looks unrecognizable, but nobody's suffering, and if I understand correctly, those markers Shinji put up may be premature. Asuka's return suggests that others might follow, and if they don't it'll be their choice.

I guess Gendo definitely will not be reunited with Yui, since she's buggered off into outer space, but at least he acknowledged his failures as a father, and I take that to mean he at least cared about his son, even if he couldn't express that to him.

The thing about TV Episode 26 is that it ended with the whole cast applauding for Shinji, which is either a fantasy he made up for himself, which is cheap, or the ending really is saying that they all lived happily ever after in a heaven of their own making. And that seems kind of chipper for a show like this. It made it hard to accept that this was really how they were ending things, even if it was the best possible scenario for the characters.

But like I said before, the big problem with both endings is that they're so damn confusing, relying on me to recall little details about the lore that might not have even been available to viewers in 1997. Huge chunks of the movie are just lavish images depicting vague events. Shinji barely does anything in the whole movie. First Misato has to drag him to the Eva, then the Eva puts him inside of it, then Rei/Lilith has to rescue him by turning him into God.

I think the biggest problem I have with the NGE mythos as a whole is that the lore is really fascinating stuff, but the show is never really about the lore. Everything always comes back to Shinji and his mental health issues. I keep wanting, for example, Ritsuko and Misato to have some in-depth discussion about Adam and Lilith and how the Second Impact went down and so on. But the show never wants to just sit down and go into all of that. It's always one character sort of getting the partial gist of it and trying to explain it all to another character. Like, Misato was telling Shinji a bunch of stuff while she was driving him to his Eva, but I seriously doubt he was paying any attention, and he probably wouldn't have been in any condition to understand what she was telling him.

Like... I don't hate Shinji as a character, but this whole premise just feels kind of wasted on him. Does that make any sense?

I still feel unsettled about this, like I'm on the brink of apologizing that I didn't enjoy this more than I did. I went in just assuming this would be a blast, and it was for a little while, but most of it just... isn't for me.

I don't know. I think I'm just gonna sign off here. I'll probably have more to say about it in the coming days, but I'll save it for replies to any asks you all want to send me. But otherwise, I think it's time I moved on...

#neon genesis evangelion #2024ngeliveblog #shinji ikari #rei ayanami #asuka langley soryu #gendo ikari #second angel lilith #end of evangelion

25 notes · View notes