#or maybe i should just accept whatever outcome | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starryhutcherson · 6 months ago

Text

━━ A NEW FAMILIAR

author's note: crawled out of my hole for this one guys. sorry for being so ghost mode im working on putting out more stuff, apologies if this isn't of the highest quality as i'm running on sugar free redbull and three hours of sleep ! love my life hahahahaAHHHH

'୧ ‧₊ pairing: best friend!mike schmidt x reader warnings: 18+ sexual content! oral sex (f!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, dirty talk, swearing word count: 4600+ ⋆ ✩‧₊

Mike’s expression always glooms when you bring up the next date you’ve arranged. He knows how this story plays out; he knows the truth behind the men you’ve matched with on whatever sketchy website you’ve wasted your time on. They’ve molded themselves into the embodiment of perfection, through falsified photos and fabrications buried in their bios. His patience crumbles like fireplace ash as you skip around his living room and drone on about whatever dickhead you’ve set your poor, precious heart on.

He knows, always, the the outcome is running makeup and salty cheeks, sobbing on the floor of his living room in a creasing satin dress and his welcoming arms, a bitter exclamation of “you were right Mike” leaving your lips in the knowing silence and him gritting his jaw and pretending that it doesn’t bother him the the only habits you ever find yourself falling back into are the bad ones.

It’s no different today.

Mark or Matt or Mitch – you really were killing him, because it should be Mike. It should be him. Him that you’re getting ready for, him that you’re daydreaming about. And it’s an odd feeling, like a movie where your favorite character dies and then movie finishes and you have to accept that they aren’t coming back, no matter how long you sit glued to the reclinable chair, popcorn crunched beneath your sneakers and the credit-scene reflected in your shrinking pupils.

Mike’s not the type to be happier with the hope – he’d let the truth swallow him up, sink into his creaking bones, he’d live with the loss. But he still has hope for you. He has hope that your eyes will open and you’ll seep into his brain and his breath and his bed. He hopes you’ll start seeing him instead of just looking. Maybe it's wishful thinking. Ignorant optimism.

It feels like it.

It feels like it, right now, when he’s leaning against the doorframe of his bathroom and watching you get ready, your animated chatter reverberating around the small space between coats of mascara. He offered to give you a ride before you’d even asked, and he’ll tolerate the sting of watching you get out of the car looking all pretty for someone who isn’t him, just to make sure you get there safely. It’s the type of sacrifice he’ll make for you.

��I can’t even feel my face, I’ve been smiling so hard all day!” You squeal, powdering your cheeks with more purposeless product – he thinks it’s all pointless. You’re radiant, even in the harsh lighting of his bathroom.

He offers a low grunt. What is he supposed to say? He’s not happy. And he’s not gonna pretend he is.

You either don’t notice or choose to ignore, continuing to doll yourself up to whatever standards you have for yourself. “I mean, he says he’s been skiing since he was 6. He’s practically an olympian.”

Mike scoffs.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he grumbles, shaking his head. “Can you hurry up?”

“Alright, grumpy. Calm down. I gotta do my lips and then I’m ready. Plus, nobody told you that you gotta stand here.”

A fleeting flush of fuchsia permeates his cheeks, but he looks down at his worn shoes to hide it. It’s true. He didn’t have to stand here. But if an angel was populating your bathroom you’d want to take a peek, would you not? That’s how he thinks you look. Angelic. Glowing from your soul, a content smile knitted on your lips. You might as well have a halo and wings – that heaven-sent aura is reinforced when you douse yourself in lingering washes of that sweet perfume that’s branded itself to you. He’d recognise that floral aroma anywhere, the way a shark detects a drop of blood amongst saline scattered seas.

“Okay, I’m ready. How do I look?”

Cruelest question of them all. “You look… fine. Good.”

A knot forms in your brow. “All this effort for that terrible answer?” Playful, but with a truthful undertone. Why do you value his opinion so much? He doesn’t want to assume anything.

“Well I’m not the person you’re dressing up for.” I wish I was. He doesn’t say the other words, but he thinks them so hard he’s half convinced if you were listening in the right spot, or looking into his eyes for long enough that you’d hear it anyway.

“Okay, okay, whatever. Let’s just get going, don’t wanna keep Mack waiting.”

Two letters. That’s all it would take. That’s all he’d have to swap to make it him.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

✩‧₊˚

Even if you aren’t aware, even if he did offer, he drives begrudgingly. He focuses as much as he can, on the road ahead and not your glistening figure beside him in the passenger seat, the very definition of temptation.

The mall parking lot is barren, a few gleaming cars scattered amongst the otherwise desolate area. He pulls into a space, sets the car in park, rakes in a greedy sigh of air.

“If anything happens, call me.”

You sneer teasingly. “Don’t be so pessimistic. It’s gonna be great, he could be my future husband, y’know.”

Yep. Mack, the 35 year old you've met online, who’s only notable talent seems to be skiing and his greatest life achievement to date is shooting a deer, whose head is mounted to the wall in his bedroom, typically visible in the background of his many instagram posts which involved his shirtless figure straining to flex his overly pronounced bulk. A match made in heaven. He wants to scream.

And how can you even tell him to not be pessimistic? How can you look him in the eyes and act like this moment hasn’t happened time after time, the point of no return before an evening spent crying in his arms as he reassures you that your failed dates are never your fault, even though by now it seems like you must be seeking out the same genre of shitty man if you’re this good at getting your heart broken. He’s sick of picking up the fragile little pieces of his bathroom floor, cutting himself on the shards of a heart that’ll never be his. You deserve more than these half-baked, single night romances. He could show you that.

“Yeah, sure,” he grits. “Future husband. Just call me, seriously.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll call you.”

And with that, you’re off, disappearing into the gaping mouth of the mall’s entrance, and he watches with an alkaline feeling growing in his stomach. Your hair is caught up in the wind like clothing on a washline and he thinks his hope is all drained out.

✩‧₊˚

Mike spends a good two hours back at his house. His movements feel vacuous, staring ahead at the screen, barely processing the raging garbage that masquerades as reality TV. The rain has picked up outside, licking at the window panes with a growing intensity.

He’s not happy about the jean skirt and tiny little tank top you’d clad yourself in prior to leaving, you’re probably frigid by now in the cold. You did however reassure him that Mack was gonna drive you home, or even worse, take you back to his place, so his stupid fucking elk head trophie could watch with it’s empty eyes while the pair of you fuck on the bed that his mom still has to make for him because he never can quite manage those fitted sheets, can he? Fucking manchild.

Shit. Mike’s feeling so so bitter. Maybe it’s because he’s finally realized that this is the dreaded pattern he’s going to have to endure with you until death. Or until he braves up and actually tells you that he’s been in love with you since the fifth day of second grade, when you mouthily confronted Jerry Murdoch and told him to give Mike his crayons back.

With a weak sigh, he turns the TV off with a click of the remote still encaptured in the loose hold of his fist, and decides to see if he can melt into any form of sleep – but the knock on his door prevents him from doing so.

He arises lethargically, not having much on his mind but the denial of his slumber as he shuffles over and turns the handle, but then, it’s you.

Fluttery lashes melted to black smudges beneath your eyes, a mixture of rainwater and tears, completely drenched and dripping all over his doormat, your body is trembling and you’re wracked with tiny little cries and he’s feeling so many emotions he believes he might implode.

He pulls you inside and into his arms, stroking your back in gentle, soothing motions, and it kills him that this has become routine. He’s angry. He’s sick of this.

“What happened this time?” He grunts softly.

“He didn’t even show up. He couldn’t even send a message as to why, Mike,” you sniffle into his warm chest, drunk off the even echo of his heartbeat.

A moment’s silence rots like aged fruit. He draws a breath in, then out, then in again.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

You crane your face upwards to meet him, instantly bathed in a nervous shiver when you see how serious he looks.

“My phone was dead.” Is all you can manage to mumble.

“What?” He’s pissed. “Why didn’t you charge it? You could have charged it there, they have outlets at the mall. Or you could’ve used someone else’s, so you didn’t have to walk home in the rain, because you’re drenched.”

“I don’t–”

“Y’know how dangerous it is to walk around alone in this shitty neighborhood? Half the street lights don’t even work, and I don’t even know any of my neighbors, or what kinda people walk around here at night.” He grumbles. “I shouldn’t have to tell you all this, I’m sick of explaining all this to you.”

You roll your eyes irritably, releasing yourself from his arms and crossing your own across your dripping wet torso. “How was I supposed to know he was gonna stand me up? You’re telling me I should just expect it?”

He blinks like a deer in headlights, silence settles into his flesh.

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

You scoff. “It’s what you implied.”

“It’s not what I—” He grumbles weakly under his breath, cutting himself off, deciding reasoning with you is somewhat of a useless attempt. “Why can’t you just listen to me?”

“What, charge my phone next time? Bring a raincoat? Yeah, great help, seriously, don’t know where I’d be without you,” your sarcasm hits like gunshot wounds to the teeth.

“Or maybe you should try to meet actual people, instead of fake ones from some stupid website.”

After a cold shiver bites up your spine, your expression deepens with defense. What is his fucking problem? “At least I try to get out of the house! At least I don’t spend every hour of every day moping around and feeling sorry for myself!”

The pair of you fight, sure, every good relationship, friend or romance or family or whatever should, but nothing like this. This is stone-set, it’s been coming for a while, the wild gesticulations and the pacing and the raised voices. It shakes the bones of the weakened house.

“Don’t,” Mike says with a furious edge, fists tightening and untightening like he’s about to take a swing at the wall, like this is going to end with bleeding knuckles nipped with shards of worn plaster. “Don’t throw that in my face, I do everything I can, for you and Abby. It’s not like I have a choice.”

“So what, you’re so fucking miserable in your own life that you have to try and control mine?”

“Control? You’re like my child! You don’t even know how to take care of yourself half the time, so yes, I try to help you not to make such shitty decisions!”

You scowl. “You’re not obligated to do anything for me, y’know Mike. Why do you keep me around if I’m that much of a chore for you!”

He snaps, the tension in his fists bleeding up into his throat, his mouth, the words clot behind his gums and suddenly they tumble out in a fury-fueled shout. “Because you’ve got no one else!”

You deflate, wilting like a flame without oxygen, and Mike deems the silence to be more cruel than anything else you’ve said to him tonight. He’s feeling everything and nothing all at once, the quiet crumbles around him like a burning building and he fears he’ll become rubble beneath the debris.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just… god, just–” His eyes flick to you, and then retreat back down to the faded living room carpet. He can’t swallow his guilt this time. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”

“It’s fine,” you say coldly, knuckling away an angry tear. The salt water is the trick of nostalgia, you’ve cried like this so many times. Your breakage of those promises to yourself. It’ll be different. And it never is.

“No. It’s not – I’m a dick, I just… I hate watching other people ruin your life. You deserve better.”

Better. What is better? Some twisted fantasy that some people are indulged with and others are left longing for. That you’re left longing for. You know he’s tired of the same bullshit that you force yourself through, convincing yourself of change, painting yourself up to be fit for presentation, and hoping that whoever you’ve leeched onto likes what they see, so you don’t have to feel so alone anymore. You’re oblivious, painfully so. Because Mike could plaster together the cracks in your splintering psyche, if you’d just let him in.

“Whatever, Mike. It’s true anyway.”

There’s a hole in his heart in the shape of your name. He begs you. Fill it. A part of him shatters at the defeat in your words — he’s crumbled you to the bone, to the marrow. He’ll build you back up. You deserve it.

“No it isn't. No it isn’t. You have me. You’ll always have me.”

A silence pervades; the look in his eyes is one of pleading, that you’ll stop and see what he’s offering you, that you’ll stop chasing your own tail, that you’ll stop the cycle.

“Mike…”

“And Abby.”

You indulge him.

“You have me. And you have Abby. And I know that’s… not much, but she loves you. So much. And I’m sorry, ‘cause I know I don’t say it enough, I don’t…. I don’t say how much you mean to me, but I just—”

“Mike.”

He wallows in the waters of your rain kissed eyes, the way your pupils pulse and the words are falling before he can swallow them back down.

“I love you.”

He gives you that stare. That stare that’s the color of black coffee, the look that you can feel, unearthing the graveyard of wilting feelings you’ve tried to bury, the heart that beats for him him him, lodged between the ivory bars of your ribcage. He maps you out with his eyes, he looks at you the way the sun hungers for daybreak.

He’s waiting. He’d wait forever.

“And… and seeing you with these… shitty people who don’t even care about you, it just…” He sighs exasperatedly, dragging a sweaty palm down his face.

His sentences can’t seem to finish themselves. This is harder than it looks in the movies. Harder than when he’s practiced in the mirror, when Abby’s walked in and giggled at him and told him to just fess up.

“You love me? Like…”

He looks up at you like a kicked puppy. “Yeah. I do.”

You’re beyond bewildered. He loves you. He loves you.

“What– but… you—”

“You don’t have to… say anything. I just, I can’t… I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t do it.”

You reach for his hand. It’s a little clammy, a little trembly, but it’s a perfect fit. Just like you.

“I love you too, Mike.”

What?

“You… do?”

He’s skeptical, but he’s also swooning. A stone man is slowly cracking.

“I just didn’t… didn’t think I could have you. I mean, you’re so… you’re everything, y’know? You’re a good brother, and you work so hard, and you’re… I’m just… I don’t think I deserve you,” you whisper, confessing. With a newfound stroke of confidence, he approaches, one hand snaking around to the small of your back, another on your cheek. He’s gentle. In his eyes, you’re porcelain. Precious. Fragile. At least, at this moment. But you love him too and that’s all he needs. It’s all he’s ever needed.

“You deserve everything.” He says it so quietly it’s barely audible. And then, nothing is audible because he’s carefully pulling your lips to his, linking you in every way, his hands tangle into your damp hair and he’s kissing you.

His lips chase yours in messy, uncalculated movements. He’s starting small. It’s been a while. And he’s gonna take his time with you. He’s gonna show you what you deserve. Soft sounds squeak past his lips as they flutter against yours, and you’re closer and closer and closer still, impossibly so.

Within moments he’s whisking you off to his bedroom, his hand tangled with yours, an interlace tight enough to cause ropeburn. His skin chafes with yours, and then he’s kissing you again atop his navy comforter.

He’s gentle, respectful, but you understand what he’s trying to tell you, what he’s been trying to tell you. He speaks through silken drags of his tongue, through the hand that holds your cheek steady— he feels as though he’s gripping the very cusp of a constellation. You taste like stardust. You glow like the waning moon.

He breathes heavily in the expanse of his throat, his pants have become tight and wet and filthy; he’s been subconsciously grinding down into your lap. You’re a little shaky and your pupils have darkened with lust and he is going to show you what you mean to him. What you’ve been missing.

His hand falls lower, into the slope of torso that dips into your hips. His eyes travel back and forth, searching, hunting for the desire that he feels mirrored back at him. Do you want this, the way he does? Do you? His hardened stare doesn’t speak loud enough. He elaborates.

“Can I… uh… do you wanna…?”

Do you want to? You need to.

“Shit, okay,” he croaks out, jaw tense and tight as he traces you beneath calloused fingers. You didn’t realize you said that out loud.

He’s endearingly awkward – you know from languid late-night conversations that he hasn’t done this a lot. Maybe even at all. But he’s sweet, so sweet, like lapping up sugar and feeling it dissolve on your tongue, feeling him dissolve on your tongue, giving you comfort and cavities.

“Can I take this off?” He asks nervously, fiddling with the hem of your camisole. A short nod, and he’s sliding it over your sweat-pricked figure, admiring your contours in the whisper of evening moonlight that bleeds through holes in his moth-eaten curtains. You’re perfect, and he knew you would be.

He caresses your skin gently, drunk on the mellow feeling of your bare stomach beneath his fingertips. Your bra is black, a little lace peering along the straps, your breasts spilling into the fabric. He reaches around your back, fumbling at the clasp. When the garment drops, his hands are replacing it before you can even blink.

“Beautiful,” he manages to get out, thumbing over your nipples.

“Mngh, Mike—”

“Sh. Just let me… just let me. Let me make you feel good. Please?” He grunts out under his breathless voice, and how could you deny such a request?

The moment you agree, he’s grabbing you by the thighs and tugging you towards him slightly, so your back is nearly flat against his mattress and he’s settling himself in the gap that you create for him.

Your skirt comes off first. Your panties are undeniably soused, his fingers trace the big wet spot that’s dripping all for him, teasing you through torturously thin cotton.

“Mike,” you mewl gently, fingers settling in his nest of chocolate curls that are damp with sweat. A firm tweak and he’s groaning, his voice melting away into nothing like hot tar.

“You’re so wet,” he mumbles to himself, like he’s never seen anything like it. Probably not in a while. His finger hooks beneath the waistband, pulls it out gently, and lets it go. It slaps against your hip bone and another fresh sound seeps from your lips.

“Mike, shit, please just do something—”

“Okay,” he whispers, more to himself than you, carefully sliding your panties from your waist, down past your ankles, and he’s tossing them to join the pile of clothes that has begun to collect on his bedroom floor.

You’re here, before him. The girl he waited for. Your soft flesh is glistening, clenching painfully around nothing, and he’s salivating at the sight of you. He pries your legs out further with his warm hands, leaving them to linger on your bare flesh for a few drawn out moments, before he claims what’s rightfully his.

He presses a trialing kiss to your clit, and your back curves delicately, fingers tightening their grasp in his hair. He moans into you at this action, and you, in turn, moan as well. Confidence creates itself in him with each little whimper that he gets you to release, and he’s answering back, hearing your cries, your calls of his name with his own unabashed exclamations of pleasure. This is just as good for him, as it is for you.

“Mike,” you whine gently, and he’s mumbling weak praise right into your cunt.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty. Wanted this for so long.”

It’s barely audible between his languid sucks; he’s lapping at your drooling entrance, fingers subtly creeping closer, up and along your thighs and settling right above your throbbing clit. He presses his thumb against it, tracing sinful circles against your bud— once, twice, and then you’re far too close to the edge.

“Oh, Mike I’m gonna come,” you choke out between gasps.

“Do it. Please.”

He’s begging you.

And you oblige. With a trembling sob, your thighs tense around his head, keeping him locked in place, capturing him and making sure he finishes the job, and oh does he plan to. When you soar, he’s still holding you in place, soothing the electric sparks pulsating throughout your body.

He savors your sounds, and when they stop coming, he presses a lingering peck on your inner thigh, stubble scraping at the sensitive dermis. He then raises his face to your level, the light coruscating off the filthy souvenir etched all over his face, your glittering arousal that he wears so proudly.

He steals a proper kiss from you, rubbing your side as a gentle comfort. He’s completely hard now, tenting his sweats, leaking against the fabric. You gingerly reach out, tracing what you assume to be the head of his cock, and he sags, boneless, against your touch.

“Fuck, baby I—”

“Baby?” You chuckle softly, still hazed from the candy-coated afterglow of your orgasm. The first of many, he hopes.

“Mngh— g… got a problem?” He grumbles softly, almost quivering as you begin to palm him with purpose.

“It’s out of character,” you tell him gently.

“Shit, can I be inside you?” He asks you, voice ripped raw.

And once again, Mike Schmidt leaves you breathless.

“Yeah. I need it. I need you.”

He groans, slipping off his pants and boxers without so much as another word from your swollen lips. He’s hard, angrily so, his cock pulses violently and a little whimper escapes through the crack in his bitten lips when it slaps against his stomach.

He’s stroking himself slowly, base to tip and then back again, collecting the pearls of precum that dribble from his slit. He’s never been so ready for something. For you. It’s all for you.

He’s holding you, thumbing your hip bones and gently nudging himself into your hole, cooing at every cry that crawls from the crevices of your throat. When he bottoms out, finally, it’s safe to say that he gets a little dumb. “Oh, shit, I’m not— not gonna last long, you’re so tight, shit…” He’s rambling a little. It’s cute.

A few wandering kisses land on you the way dandelion spores decorate a skyline – your cheek and your chin and your jaw, as he waits for you to let him move. You’re squeezing him for all he’s got and he’s three seconds away from spilling before he’s even so much as thrusted. You do this to him.

All those days, staring into your eyes and wondering if you’d ever see him the way you do, all those nights, stroking your hair and softening your saddened sobs after failed date after failed date. They’re all worth it.

You’re clamping down on him, warm and wet and wavering, and you’re exhaling softly through your nose and telling him to move, begging him to move, to make you feel good, and it’s what he does.

He pumps into you with passion, magnetized to your every movement. He’s satisfying a decade worth of insatiable craving, he’s chasing your hips with his. You end where he begins.

The headboard creaks and slams against thin plastered walls, one hand grips onto it with alabaster knuckles and the other one holds your hips for better leverage. He doesn’t need to say it, but each knocked kiss of his pelvis to yours is a silent I love you I love you I love you.

“Oh my god Mike,” you sob, and he slides himself deeper, hitting everywhere he wants to reach. Everywhere to make you quiver beneath him.

“You d—don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he moans lowly. “How many times I’ve imagined you like— like this.”

He’s blabbering, every stray thought that passes through his head is already blossoming on his tongue and out into the air before he can even think twice. Admittedly, you’re too blissed out in your own mind to really respond, but it’s arousing all the same.

“You’re so… so beautiful,” he’s flushed and he’s faltering, and you know he’s close before he even announces it.

“Shit, baby, I can’t— can’t last much longer,” he stammers, his bruising pace beginning to shake.

“Do it in me, Mike, please, please,” shit, are you trying to kill him? Your word is the only law he knows, and he’s wrapping his arms around your torso and diving his head in the elegant slope of your collarbone, biting down into the skin and spasming somewhere deep in your welcoming walls.

He tries to keep himself quiet, but it’s really a futile effort. His hips jut sporadically as he empties himself inside you, and the sudden flood of subtle heat is all it takes for you to topple over as well.

Bliss teeters back into reality after a seemingly ceaseless moment. He peels his head from its previous position to admire you, to stroke a stray lock of hair from your forehead and nervously greet it with a kiss.

He doesn’t let go of you. Not now, not ever, he thinks to himself. His arms snake around you tighter, and somehow it’s even more intimate after the fact. His bare chest collides with your back, his nose rests comfortably against the crown of your head. The pair of you follow each other into a dreamless sleep, safe in the sanctuary of a warm bed and an even warmer embrace.

He’s found his new familiar.

masterlist

✩‧₊

#mike schmidt smut #josh hutcherson x reader #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt imagine #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt #five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie #peeta mellark smut #hunger games #michael schmidt #mike schmidt angst #mike schmidt fluff #josh hutcherson angst #josh hutcherson fluff

646 notes · View notes

kaiser1ns · 10 months ago

Text

𝗺𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗲𝗹 𝗸𝗮𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗿 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

╹synopsis :: you hated him from the moment he showed up at the bastard munchen tryouts — you can't stand him, it's impossible, or so you thought.

╹contents :: 8.9 k words aka word vomit, fluff and two kind of suggestive scenes,mostly pre-timeskip kaiser, reader is football fanatic, kaiser loves to annoy her(he is just in love with her), just one teenager denying their feelings while the other is clearly in love, mentions of her parents - to clarify they are not dead !, mentions of real players from the actual club bayern munchen, i don't know if I can put this in the slow burn section? she hates him but she loves him.

╹notes :: 100 followers special i gave my blood, sweat and tears for this, please spare me. sorry for any grammar mistakes, hope you enjoy! for my one and only, and big thanks to @kooriou 🤍

You hated Michael Kaiser from the first moment he stepped into Bastard München Academy, an instant wave of annoyance washed over you. His arrogance and presence got on your nerves, making it impossible to even look at him. But you had to — that was your job as a future assistant coach for the best team in Germany, and who knows maybe you can snatch your uncle's position as manager.

As the tryouts unfolded, you observed him closely, jotting down notes on his skills and trying to give him some initial stats, which to your dismay were either tier A or S. Despite the irritation, there was no point in lying, he was outstanding and he knew what he was doing - or rather, he knew what he wanted. You saw as he teamed up with the boy who wore the jersey with number 20. They made up a pretty good duo, and with Ness's passes and Kaiser's fast attacks, no one could stop them.

Perhaps beneath the thorny exterior, Michael Kaiser was the player Bastard München looked for—someone who could elevate them to new heights. As the final whistle blew, you already knew the outcome that they would both be accepted into the team, and you'd have to get used to seeing his face almost every day. You got up and walked over to your uncle as all the recruits were lined up, looking at them, as your eyes landed on the striker with with long blonde hair, blue eyes, and a blue rose tattoo on his neck. You stared at him, furrowing your eyebrows and with squinted eyes, a silent expression of displeasure etching across your face.

In that subtle gesture, frustration found a physical form; it was a language spoken without words, a non-verbal protest to whatever disturbance had disrupted your peace — and the one who caused it starred back at you, smirking smugly at you, but he turned back to listen to the coach's speech.

"And with that, we welcome you in Bastard Munchen. We hope you will meet and exceed our expectations, and now I will give the word to my niece Y/N who will also work with all of you youngsters." You were still lost in the staring contest with the boy who paid you no mind, and now everyone looked at you, some were getting scared seeing you so oppressed by something; were they that bad that the coach had to ask his niece about another opinion?

Your uncle cleared his throat, making you come back to the real world, a little taken back from the sudden shift of focus. "Ah, yes, of course." as you stood there with all of your glory and pride like you were the president and everyone waited for your long waited speech "As the future of Bastard Munchen, you will be the ones to continue the legacy set by the club's legendary players. Work hard so you can achieve your goals, as you should always believe in yourself. Make every impossibility a reality."

Your words echoed through the training grounds, making the boys happy to hear something from a beautiful girl - in one way or another, something had to keep them going. As you finished your speech, you caught his eye again, but this time, there was a glimmer of amusement. Was there anything wrong with the things you said? You tried your best to sound like every coach who talks to their team with all the "work hard and give your best shot" stuff. You hope you won't become like that in the future.

Your uncle nodded approvingly, signaling the end of the meeting. The boys started leaving one by one, but the blue-eyed genius stayed, approaching you with confidence.

”Impressive speech, Little Miss, but actions speak louder than words, don't they?" he remarked with a smirk, leaving you with a mix of irritation. You haven't even known each other for a day and you already want to gouge out his eyes. "Talk about yourself, Mister. Show results, and then talk to me again."

Kaiser chuckled, his smile growing wider as he came closer to you, rising a hand as he delicately slid his fingers under your chin, lifting it ever so slightly, your breath hitched from the sudden move.

"We share some similar goals, I will give you that. Be sure to watch me making the impossible your new reality." he walked away, leaving you standing there like a statue - a blushing statue at that.

You definitely hate him.

WEEK 2 AFTER THE TRYOUTS:

In the following weeks, as training sessions progressed and the team started bonding, you couldn't deny that Michael's skills were exceptional. Despite his arrogant attitude, there was a reason why he wore that smug expression. The team was carried by his influence, and you found yourself unfortunately acknowledging his impact. Kaiser Impact, huh? That’s one way to call it.

He approached you, the smirk replaced by a genuine smile. "Not bad, right? I noticed the way you looked only at me," he said, as you rolled your eyes, trying to maintain your composure as you handed him a water bottle "Don't get too comfortable now. This doesn't mean you're off the hook. There's still a long way to go."

The blonde boy chuckled, seemingly unfazed, taking the bottle from your hand, making your fingers briefly touch as he kept eye contact. "I wouldn't want it any other way, Prinzessin. Now what are my stats? I’m sure they went higher." You shot him a skeptical glance, unimpressed by his playfulness. "Stats? Do you mean your nonexistence score? Like in a video game or something," you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest.

He laughed at your comment. "Maybe not a game, but God's challenge, and I'm here to be the best of the best and eventually surpass Noel Noa," he replied with a cocky grin.

Rolling your eyes once more, you couldn't deny the feeling you had when talking back at him. "Fine, let's humor your challenge sent from above for a moment. Strength: still lacking, form: needs improvement, and humility: nonexistent," you assessed, ticking off imaginary boxes in the air. "But hey, you did manage to catch my attention for being the most annoying person I have ever met, so I'll give you that."

Kaiser raised his eyebrows, took a sip from the water bottle, and said, "Well, Prinzessin, catching your attention is just another bonus for me." You scoffed, "Smooth talker, aren't you? But like you said actions speak louder than words, so do me a favor and leave me alone, you are not the only one who has to work hard."

His eyes gleamed with a mischievous glint as he took a step closer, narrowing the distance between you. "Oh, I plan on proving myself in more ways than one. Consider this just the beginning." With that, he went back to the others, leaving you to wonder whether he was genuinely committed to improving or just enjoying getting under your skin.

Deciding to continue your work – which for now was to arrange the water and the towels ready for the players – paying no mind to the world around you, until you felt a hand on your shoulder, thinking it was Kaiser again, but it was your uncle - the head coach. His touch was firm yet comforting, a familiar presence amidst the chaos made by the young athletes.

You turned around, a mixture of surprise and relief coloring your expression. Your uncle, Franz Bauer, wore a knowing smile that hinted comfort “How are you doing so far, Y/N? Is something or rather someone bothering you?” He spoke in a low, reassuring tone. You took a moment to collect your thoughts, grateful for your uncle's concern, but you found it strange how he always knows and notices when you have trouble.

"I'm managing, Uncle Franz," you replied, a faint smile on your lips. "Just the usual, dealing with boys my age. Nothing that I can't handle."

His gaze held a depth of understanding, and as he nodded at you. "I appreciate the help. You know, you remind me of my younger self because I too was an errand kid."

He wanted something from you, and you knew it by the way he started to talk about how much you were like him as a child. He always does it. "Just get to the point. Is there anything specific you want me to do?"

Franz laughed slightly ”You do catch up quickly,” his voice dropping to a confidential tone. "I've been observing you, and I can't help but notice the way you look at the team, wanting to comment on the formations, the positions, and the players themselves. I've been thinking about expanding your role in the team, perhaps as an assistant coach."

The proposition caught you off guard, and your eyes widened in surprise. "Assistant coach? Uncle, I appreciate the offer, but I'm not sure I have the experience for that."

He placed a hand on your shoulder again, a reassuring squeeze. "Well, you will be an assistant coach in training. Experience is gained through opportunities, Y/N. I see potential in you, a natural talent." your eyes widen suddenly “So, for the rest of the training session, you will be the boss.”

“But I-” he cut you off by standing behind you and pushing you forward “No objections, or I'll call your parents to pick you up. You don’t want that, right?” having no time to answer, you were next to the other coaching staff as your uncle gave a thumbs up from the benches with water and towels. That old bastard Well, you better be here training some naive and arrogant footballers, than being home studying economics.

Taking a deep breath, you accepted the challenge, even if you didn't want to. As you stepped onto the field, the weight of the whistle in your hand felt foreign, yet empowering. The players eyed you curiously, some exchanging glances, unsure of what to make of this sudden change. Gathering the team you began to give orders. "You will go against the first team and clash with amazing players like Noel Noa, Thomas Muller, Manuel Neuer and Joshua Kimich. But let go of the thoughts about the big bad wolves chasing you - you shall become the chaser." Your uncle watched from the sidelines as if he knew something you didn't. "So for starters, we are changing the formation to 4-2-3-1 as Kaiser will be the top of the attack, Ness you will be the attacking midfielder so you gotta keep an eye on blondie over here, but also beware of your rivals. "

The players exchanged glances again, as Kaiser and Ness shared a look - shocked at your words. Is this even going to work? Is she for real? You took a moment to gauge their reactions before continuing. "Remember, this is a training session, and mistakes are welcomed. Now, destroy them."

As the training progressed, the intensity of the practice match increased, with each player giving their best to impress you. As the team executed the adjusted formation, you observed them. Kaiser made strategic moves upfront, Ness showcased skillful ball control, and the defense held its ground against the opponents.

In a surprising turn of events, the U-20 team began to dominate the match. GOAL, As you blew the final whistle after Kaiser scored the 5th and final goal of the game, ending practice. He looked at you, and again with that smile - full of self-confidence. You wanted to throw the whistle at his stupid-looking face. The sidelines erupted in cheers from the staff as your uncle gave you an approving nod, acknowledging the success of your "coaching debut", approaching you with a proud smile. "See, Y/N? You have it in you. You made them believe in the impossible about beating the old dogs, and they did it."

After the game, the players gathered around for a brief post-match discussion. The atmosphere was a mix of exhaustion and triumph. Kaiser, still riding the high of his decisive goal, approached you with a smirk.

"Well, well, well, Y/N. I never thought I'd see the day when you'd make me the star of the show," he said putting his arm on your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes, trying not to let his teasing get to you. "This was just a practice match. Let's see if you can replicate this performance in a real game."

He chuckled, "Oh, I plan on it. Just watch, Y/N."

Ness, who had been listening to the conversation, chimed in, "I have to admit, I didn't think this would work, but it did. Maybe you're not as clueless as I thought."

You shot him a glare, "Yeah, thanks Ness." The purple-haired grinned, "No problem. Just keeping you on your toes."

As the midfielder went away, sensing that his partner wanted alone time with you, Kaiser lingered for a moment, a more genuine expression on his face. "You know, Y/N, for a moment there, I almost thought you enjoyed it. Admit it being in charge, making your own choices..."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Kaiser. This was just one game. We'll see how things go in an actual game."

Kaiser looked at you, his grip tightening. "Fair enough. But, if you ever need to test some tactics, you know where to find me~."

You scoffed, removing his hand from your shoulder, "I'm not going to Hell, thank you." he continued to look at you in a way unknown to you, making you feel kinda strange "Well, maybe just a quick visit. You might find it surprisingly pleasant." You rolled your eyes again, but there was something in your chest that you were very unfamiliar with. "I'll consider it, but this doesn't mean I like you or anything."

The boy chuckled, a teasing sound coming from his lips. "Oh, I'm not expecting you to confess your undying love for me just yet, Y/N. But I have to admit, that was flattering." You shot him a skeptical look, feeling a little hot for some unknown reason. Are you getting sick? No, that shouldn’t be it, maybe is the adrenaline, yeah that’s it.

"Is that your idea of a compliment?" He shrugged, noticing how your checks started to turn red "Take it however you want. Just remember, I'm always up for a challenge, especially if it involves the impossible of winning you over, Erdbeere(Strawberry)."

You raised an eyebrow at the unexpected nickname, playing on your face. "Erdbeere? Really?"

Kaiser grinned, undeterred by your reaction. "It suits you. Sweet, but with a bit of a bite. Plus, it's fun to see that tough exterior of yours crack a little."

You sighed, realizing that arguing with him would only fuel his teasing. "Whatever. Just focus on keeping up with the same performance as today"

He winked playfully, "Oh, I'll keep up, Erdbeere. Count on it."

as Kaiser turned to leave, his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary. The teasing smile on his face softened, revealing a hint of something more genuine. "See you tomorrow, Y/N," he said, his tone unexpectedly earnest.

You watched him go, and as the distance between you and him grew, you felt something. It was a feeling you couldn't quite describe, leaving you to question it.

Alone with your thoughts, you couldn't help but replay the conversation and the teasing remarks in your mind. Kaiser's parting words echoed, and the unexpected nickname he made up for you.

"Erdbeere," you whispered to yourself, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, you liked the sound of it - just maybe, you will let it slide this time.

WEEK 4 AFTER THE TRYOUTS:

After the whole fiasco with the practice match and the “Strawberry incident”, as you liked to call it, the work in the facility was getting harder - running left and right to do tasks, printing documents, ordering equipment, dealing with the teasing remarks of this annoyingly tall boy with long gold locks and light blue eyes deep as the ocean you will let him drown. If he was on fire and you had a bottle of water - you'd drink it in front of him. Yet, amid the chaos, Michael Kaiser always managed to appear, like a haunting ghost, ready to jumpscare you in the most unexpected time.

One day, rushing to deliver some documents to the medical unit, he appeared beside you. His smirk was infuriatingly present, and his voice dripped with playful arrogance.

"Running again, Y/N? You should consider joining the team as a midfielder with all that sprinting you're doing." You shot him a warning look "Maybe if you spent less time making comments and more time working, we'd get things done faster."

Kaiser chuckled, unbothered. "Ah, but where's the fun in that? I'm just trying to lighten the mood, you are always so stressed."

"Your idea of 'fun' is questionable." you said, trying to ignore the strange flutter in your stomach that his teasing somehow managed to evoke.

As you reached the department of the medical unit, you thought you finally got rid of him. However, fate had other plans. On your way back, he appeared again, blocking your way. His tall frame casted a shadow over you, and his mischievous smile widened.

"Michael, move." you demanded with the use of his first name, trying to sound stern, but he merely leaned against the wall, crossing his arms.

"What's the rush, Y/N? Can't I talk to my amazing assistant coach?" he retorted, his eyes never leaving yours.

Annoyed, you attempted to sidestep him, but he effortlessly mirrored your movements. It became a silent dance, a game of cat and mouse in the narrow corridor. Every step you took, he countered, maintaining his blockade.

"Are you always this stubborn, or is it just for me?" he teased, a playful smile playing on his lips.

"Seriously, Kaiser, this isn't funny," you protested, feeling the irritation building up.

But he remained still, his teasing facade never fading. "Come on, now, Don't lie to yourself, you secretly enjoy our little meetings. The way your eyes light up when you see me says it all."

You scoffed, sticking out your tongue, "In your dreams." Deciding you'd had enough, you abruptly turned on your heel and started walking in the opposite direction. To your dismay, he followed, like a persistent shadow. The facility's corridors echoed with the sound of your hurried footsteps and his leisurely ones behind you until the two of you found yourselves in an empty, dimly lit room.

"Honestly what's your deal? Are you stalking me now? You like stalking girls? That's disgusting." you accused, narrowing your eyes.

He chuckled, leaning his back to the wall once again, while you were in the center of the room. "Stalking is such a harsh word. Let's call it... coincidental alignment of paths."

You groaned, turning to leave. However, in your haste, you tripped over your own feet and stumbled forward. In a split second, Kaiser went off the wall as he reached out his hands attempting to catch you mid-fall. Despite his efforts, fate had its way again, and you both fell, as you landed on top of him. Your arms were at the sides of his head, and your legs wrapped around his torso.

Time seemed to freeze for a moment, your eyes widened in surprise, your face millimeters from his, your lips slightly parting as you felt your whole body burning as your heart raced to the rhythm of an unspoken melody. Seeing his features closer, he was beautiful, and now you are the one drowning in the deep blue ocean that his eyes painted. You didn't know what was going on — you didn't know what emotions you were going through, as Kaiser's arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, an unfamiliar but very welcomed warmth spread over your body.

"I-I didn't mean to—this wasn't what I—"

"I've heard of falling for someone, but this is taking it quite literally," He teased, breaking the silence with his flirting, snapping you out of your trance.

You struggled to maintain your composure as you shuttered, attempting to push yourself off him. "G-get off me," your heart continued its upbeat dance, and you couldn't shake off the vivid image of his blue eyes that seemed to have cast a spell on you.

"Technically, you are on top of me, Prinzessin" blushing furiously as Kaiser's teasing smirk only fueled your embarrassment, making you wish the ground would swallow you whole. The room felt like it had turned into a sauna, the tension thick enough to be cut off with a knife.

Just as the bickering reached its peak, the door swung open, and Ness, the ever-curious magician, stood in the doorway. His eyes widened at the scene before him, feeling a little confused at the sight.

"Oh sorry, am I interrupting something?" Ness quirked an eyebrow, his gaze shifting between Y/N and Kaiser. The two of you exchanged a quick, panicked glance, unsure of how to respond. "Yes/No!," Kaiser and you blurted out, your faces turning even redder. Kaiser, unfazed by the interruption, grinned, while you desperately tried to stay calm as possible.

Ness raised an eyebrow, a sly smile on his lips. "Really? Because it looks like I walked in on a very romantic moment of your little play. Do I need to put on some slowed music?" He walked into the room, closing the door behind him as he continued to stare at the two of you. "I had no idea I was walking into a romantic drama." You shot a glare at Kaiser, who only winked in response. Trying to divert the attention, you stammered, "N-no, Ness, it's not what you think. We were just..." Your voice trailed off as you struggled to come up with a plausible excuse.

He, on the other hand, couldn't resist. "Well, it depends on your definition of interrupting." Ness chuckled, sensing the tension in the air. "Alright, alright, I'll leave you two to your... whatever this is." The room fell into an uneasy silence, broken only by your attempts to get up from Kaiser. "We were just, uh, having a disagreement," you finally managed to say, avoiding eye contact with both Ness and Kaiser.

Kaiser, ever the charmer, grinned at Ness. "Disagreements can be quite physical, apparently." Ness shook his head, still grinning. "Well, carry on, then. I'll just pretend I didn't see anything." As he left the room, he couldn't resist adding, "But next time, maybe lock the door." As the door closed behind Ness, you let out a breath you didn't realize were holding. Kaiser, however, couldn't help but laugh. "Quite the entrance, huh? Maybe we should argue more often."

Rolling your eyes at Kaiser's comment, you finally managed to free yourself from his grasp as you stood up in the fastest way possible, and he also rose from the ground. "Arguing more often? I think once is more than enough," you retorted, shooting him a disapproving look. Kaiser, still grinning, stretched lazily and got up from the floor. Ness's interruption had shifted the atmosphere in the room, and you couldn't shake off the embarrassment that lingered. "Thanks a lot for that," you muttered, shooting Kaiser another glare.

Seemingly unbothered, he placed a hand on his chest in mock offense. "Me? I didn't do anything. Ness just has unpredictable timing." He winked again, causing you to shake your head in disbelief. "Unpredictable timing, my foot. When will you stop with all of this? I can’t even have one peaceful day without you talking to me and saying all these things that you probably don’t even mean. Does it feel nice to play with someone’s feelings?"

Kaiser's smile faltered for a moment, his lively expression fading away as he saw yours. "Maybe I overdo it sometimes, but that doesn't mean I don't care."

You studied him for a moment, unsure whether to believe his sincerity or dismiss it as another one of his tricks. "Actions speak louder than words, Kaiser. If you genuinely care, maybe try showing it in a way that doesn't involve constant teasing and sarcasm."

The tension between you and him lingered as you both stared into each other's eyes trying to find answers locked in the depth of your souls. Finally, you decided it was time to leave "I'm going to go find Ness and make sure he doesn't go spreading any rumors," you announced, turning to leave the room. As you walked away, your mind was a swirling mess of emotions—something you couldn’t tell. He was still vivid in your thoughts, causing a knot to tighten in your stomach. As you looked behind, he was still there dusting off his clothes.

You furrowed your brows, awaiting the unknown territory of your own feelings. The warmth creeping into your cheeks and the soft tears started to paint over your face like rain. It was an unfamiliar sense, leaving you questioning the source. Was it just fire or something deeper that can get you burned?

1 WEEK LATER:

As the days passed, you found yourself avoiding him, unsure of what to think or feel. Everything was so messed up, that you barely slept or ate - when you were not helping your uncle in the faculty, you were at school, where suddenly your grades dropped, and you made excuses for your teachers and friends that you were busy with work - which is partly not a lie but not the whole truth either. Everyone sensed that something was troubling you, even so, you'd rather not tell a single living soul about it all. You couldn't escape the memories of that day, replaying the moment in your mind like a broken record.

Lost in thought, you didn’t realize that someone was next to you as you continued to pour water into the already full bottle that was overflowing over the sink until the person in question shook you by the shoulders. Without much reaction you turned around, your gaze clearly showing the sadness and lifelessness all over your face, you were tired of thinking about him. Your focus returned, the person in front of you was your uncle who was visibly worried about you. "What's going on, my dear? You know you can share everything with your old man" he said, the pain in his eyes to see his niece so down for the past week “It’s nothing … I am just trying to manage school and work.” Another lie left your lips.

Uncle Franz placed a gentle smile on his face. "I've known you since you were a kid. I can see through that facade. Something's eating you inside, and it's more than just school and work. Talk to me." You sighed, the weight of the past week bearing down on you. "It's just complicated, Uncle. I don't know how to put it into words."

He guided you to sit down at the bench near the sink, "Try me. I might be old, but I've been around the block a few times. I am sure it’s a boy problem. Because your mother was the same when she met your dad.”

How does he know it’s about a boy? Honestly, that was shocking to hear. Does he know about the strange situationship between you and Kaiser? Well, you hope he doesn't. Taking a deep breath, you began, "There's this boy, that I met not long ago, and let's say some things happened, and now I'm stuck in this mess. I can't escape it, and it's tearing me apart."

Your uncle listened intently, his eyes reflecting genuine concern. "Love can be a tricky thing, my dear. But keeping it all bottled up inside won't help. Who is this guy, and what happened?" Is that what they call love? Feeling this way because it's terrible not knowing what you want from yourself—you hesitated to answer, unsure if you want to share the details. "It's just someone, not a big deal."

“It’s Michael, isn’t it?” Your eyes widened upon your uncle’s question, and your eyes started to water, as you tried your best not to cry again. Starting to have a thing for someone is a hell of a ride, so you are going to play dumb "I don't know a person by that name." Not that dumb.

Uncle Franz leaned back. "You can deny it all you want, my dear, but your eyes just told me everything I needed to know." Feeling a mix of embarrassment, you laughed nervously, “I think you should go and get your eyes checked, you are starting to see things.” he looked at you with raised eyebrows, apparently he didn't believe you - no one would in those circumstances.

"Okay, maybe it is Michael. But it's complicated. He's so confusing, and I don't even know what he wants."

Uncle Franz patted your head ruffling your hair, "You don't know because you haven't tried talking to him. You should not be scared; just do what your heart wants.” and maybe he was right, he was always right. You just smiled at him, whipping your tears, letting him know you would try - someday eventually. “But if he hurts you one more time, we will have serious problems.” You laughed nervously, should you be scared or just revealed - guess there's one way to find out.

He stood up from the bench looking at you once more "Now cheer up and come with me, there is something I need to tell everyone on the team” and you also went with him, going into the field where they practiced.

A whistle signaled it was time for a break. Everyone gathered around the benches as you stayed closely behind your uncle, who clapped his hands, turning everyone's attention onto him, except for the boy with the blond hair who was looking at you. He took a good look at you - first at your lips, which were stuck together like a solid line, then your eyes, they shimmered with traces of sadness, yet beneath the surface, something else lingered, revealing your soul. Each glance reflected the emotions within your heart. Have you been crying? Is it because of me? He couldn't shake the feeling that he was probably the reason for your sorrow. As the others chatted, he found himself unable to look away, his attention remained fixed on you, trying to ignore the questions swirling in his mind.

“Even if it’s a friendly game with Dortmund’s U-20, we should give our best, okay? Make sure to get enough sleep and don’t skip your meals, it’s important to have your body and mind in top shape.” your uncle's voice spoke once more as the rest of the team could be heard agreeing on the upcoming friendly game with the club's biggest rival “And Kaiser you better be excellent, no missing targets, no missing shots, no mistakes. I want you to be focused next week, on the maximum output, got it?” then the coach addressed him specifically, and for the first time, Kaiser was somewhat frightened by his look, which held something very personal against him. “Yes, sir. I will do my best” he replied, masking his uneasiness with confidence. “Good, now the training is over. You can go to your dorms and rest.”

And with that, everyone scattered, leaving just the two of you, feeling his gaze still lingering on. His blue eyes seemed to be looking into your soul, he knew what was wrong with you and that he was the reason behind it all. He wanted to apologize to you, he really did, but something was stopping him and he didn't know what exactly. Come on, say something. Alas nothing came out from his mouth, and you just turned and left without saying a word, even if you wanted to talk to him too — you didn't, leaving him with his feeling of guilt.

A FEW DAYS LATER:

The day for the team to leave for Dortmund came, as there were no problems with the flight, but now you were at the hotel, where a big misunderstanding occurred. Being part of the female staff, you had to share a room with one of them, but the hotel receptionist thought you were part of the boy’s team, being a teenager. While everyone was settled, you stayed in the lobby as your uncle talked with the hotel staff, and Ness and Kaiser stood across from you on the sofa. The two of them were talking, and you were lost in thoughts about whether a room would be found for you.

Your uncle returned from the reception "The problem is solved," he said as you were more than happy to go to your room and enjoy some alone time, "But you will have a room tomorrow, because some of the guests will be leaving then," and your smile faded away, faster than it appeared.

At that moment, Ness nudged Kaiser's shoulder signaling him to act, "I can share my room with you." the striker offered, the keys hanging from his hand with a slight smile on his face. Your eyes widened when you heard the offer. “Absolutely no-”

"Fine, but no funny business." your uncle cut you off, as you looked at him with the most shocked face, your gaze met Kaiser's who had been staring at you this whole time. They can't be serious, you thought, Uncle Franz can't be serious. You mentally facepalmed yourself, having enough headaches, this was just the icing on the cake.

Of all people of course it was him. What did you do in your past life to end up in such situations? Did you murder someone, poison a royalty, or haven’t paid your debt — well you sure are paying it now.

You got up and took the keys from his hand, eyeing him suspiciously, as you got your luggage and went to the elevator before telling him not to bother you. Well, that wasn't the conversation Kaiser hoped to have with you, but it's still something. He turned to look at your uncle, now that you were not here. “Coach, are you sure this is going to work?”

Franz chuckled, patting Kaiser on the shoulder. "Sometimes, putting people in unexpected situations helps them see things differently. Who knows, maybe sharing a room will sort the things between you two."

The boy sighed, unsure about how this would play out, as Ness patted him on the back "I just hope she doesn't make this more difficult than it already is."

“And I hope you won’t do anything more than talking. Like I said earlier, no funny business.” Kaiser just nodded “I promise."

Meanwhile, you were in the elevator, still processing the fact that you had to share a room with Kaiser, good thing you won’t sleep on the same bed. As the elevator arrived at your floor you took a deep breath and walked down the corridor, finding the room that matched the key. Opening the door, you were greeted with a very beautiful interior, a nice view of the lively night in Dortmund and ... one bed. Great, things can’t get any worse, can they?

Placing your suitcase by the bed, opening it and pulling out your pajamas. You started to undress when you heard the door open, seeing wisps of blonde hair. Panicking you raised your voice to him not to enter the room as you were still in your underwear. God, how many awkward situations are there to overcome.

Kaiser froze at the door, his hand still on the handle, as he realized the awkward situation he had just walked into. "Sorry" he quickly averted his gaze. "I didn't know you were... I'll just wait outside.” He said, closing the tiny gap he left open.

You put on your pajamas faster than Usain Bolt can run. Once you were ready you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down as you went to open the door to let him enter. It was his room after all, you can't keep him outside even if you wanted to.

As you opened the door, Kaiser stood there, his cheeks slightly flushed with embarrassment, so were yours "I'm sorry about that," he apologized again "I should have knocked, or... I don't know, you should have locked the door. You know, it could have been some stranger.”

Well he was right, you should have locked the door and kept him outside to sleep on the carpet in the hallway. You didn't say anything, you just went and sat on the bed picking up the phone to check the time [22:22] well better make a wish. You ignored him as he sat on the other side of the bed so you were back to back.

Kaiser cleared his throat, breaking the silence, “I brought you this” he said, handing you a bar of chocolate, still faced with his back. As you took the chocolate you couldn't help but notice the warmth that was forming in your heart, despite the awkwardness. "Thanks," you muttered, feeling a bit guilty for your initial reaction earlier "I'm sorry too," you finally spoke up, turning slightly to face him. "I didn't mean to be rude to you. Well, maybe I did because you deserved it.”

He turned to face you, a small smile on his lips. "It's alright,Y/N” he said softly, turning around as his eyes met yours. You agreed, offering him a smile too. "So, uh, I'll just go get changed in the bathroom, and then we can go to sleep." You nodded your head again watching as he got up from the bed and made his way to the bathroom. As the door closed behind him, you let out a big sigh, silence enveloping you again. You decided to start making the bed while he was getting changed. Putting the extra pillows between the mattress, marking the ‘territory’ as you lay down and curled up under the covers of your part.

You heard the door open and then his footsteps approaching, looking up from the barricade he wore a plain white shirt that was more loose, revealing more of his blue rose tattoo, it was a beautiful design you can't lie, and a pair of black shorts. He too looked at the pillowed wall, then at you with raised brows. “If you don't want to share a bed, I can sleep on the couch.”

“Not that I don't want to, but the couch is too small and neither you nor I can sleep comfortably on it. So that's why I put pillows in the middle, you have your part, and I have mine.” you explained, leaving him a little bit hurt because of this separation, but whatever you are comfortable with, of course. “Well, sure”

He got under his covers, trying to get cozy but the wall next to him was something he wanted to remove. How much longer are you going to hide from him? Did you hate him so much that you didn't want to see him, in the room where you both were? Guess he will talk to you tomorrow.

No, fuck that. He isn't a scaredy cat anymore, he is not the mentally weak person who constantly gave up on things he believed to be impossible. Because the chance to make it up with you is now — it's not tomorrow, it's not the next day, week, month or year. It's now.

He sat up and removed the one pillow that was separating you from seeing your faces. Catching you, closing your eyes, observing your expression how you tried to keep this innocent sleeping face, and how your chest raised with every breath. You were a good assistant and 'architect', but not a good actress.

“Y/N, I know you are not sleeping,” he whispered your name, his voice soft and full of emotion. You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, well he got you no point of pretending now. “Let's discuss everything that has happened so far. We are all alone here, no one to interrupt us.”

You sat up too,leaning back on the wooden frame, hugging your knees beneath the fluffy cover. He reached out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle and warm. He noticed your nervousness, and he reassured you, with a smile "It's okay, You can tell me anything." His voice was soothing, making you calm down.

You took a deep breath, struggling to form the words you had been holding back for so long. Your heart raced as you finally found the courage to speak, “I... I've been wanting to say... that I... I..." your voice trailed off, the words catching in your throat as you fought against your fear, this was meant to be an easy task, just to talk it out and end of story. But love is no easy task, it's a challenge that you either take and win or leave with the feeling of despair after the loss. You met his gaze, seeing nothing but love reflected back at you.

“I like you,” you finally confessed “And I didn't know what to do after all the bickering we had, you left me questioning my entire existence. Making me feel all giddy and nervous, making me confused about your own intentions.” you felt a weight lift off your chest, he listened absorbing every word you uttered.

The soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he reached out to cup your cheek, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "I like you too," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, yet carrying a weight of sincerity that warmed your heart. "More than you can imagine."

You leaned into his touch, savoring the warmth and comfort he offered. "I'm sorry for everything," he murmured, his gaze filled with remorse and affection. "I never meant to hurt you. I didn't know how to approach you properly, and I wanted you to notice me. I wanted you to have eyes only for me and no one else, to think only of me. The only impossible challenge was to make you fall in love with me, but I don’t think I have to worry anymore ."

You shook your head gently, reaching out to intertwine your fingers with his, feeling the warmth of his hand. You hesitated when your lips brushed against his own. You froze. What were you doing, kissing Michael Kaiser? You weren’t even sure if all the hatred you used to hold for him was now gone. He breathed in deeply. “Can I?" You took a moment of thought before you nodded, his hands now cupping your cheeks. His hands were so gentle, but the way he kissed you was not so much. It was like he was starving for you, the kiss sloppy, his tongue licking your lips, trying to taste all of you.

By the time he stopped, you forgot how to breathe, taking in a deep breath, and so did he. Despite how hot and hungry that kiss was—perhaps even able to fulfill a person's hunger for another—he was still starved for more. His lips brushed against yours once more, this time, there was no hesitation on your part. You leaned into the kiss, letting yourself get lost as you felt him smile.

His hands trailed down your arms as they settled on your waist, pulling you closer to him. The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped up in each other's embrace. As the kiss deepened, passion flared between you, igniting a fire that burned brighter with each passing moment. His tongue danced with yours, exploring every inch of your mouth as if trying to memorize the taste of you.

Time seemed not to exist anymore, as all that mattered was the feel of Kaiserl's lips against yours and the way his touch set your skin ablaze with desire. When the kiss finally ended, you were left breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to catch your breath. And as you stared into each other's eyes and as they say, eyes are windows to the soul, you knew one thing for sure — he will forever be yours, and you will be forever his.

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, making you arise from your deep slumber, slowly opening your eyes, trying to remember where you were. You had a very strange dream where you got to share a room with Kaiser and you two kissed. It was a nice dream indeed but things like this happened only in the romantic movies.

You wanted to go to the bathroom, but something stopped you from standing up. Confusion was encountered because why was there anything stopping you from getting up. As you took in your surroundings, the details of the dream flooded back to you—the shared room, the confession, and most importantly the unexpected kiss. It felt so vivid, so real, that it left you questioning whether was it really a dream. Looking down to see the force that kept you in a place came not from anyone - but from Kaiser himself. Wait a damn minute, Kaiser!?, you thought to yourself panicking in the process.

Reaching out and touching Kaiser's shoulder, half expecting him to vanish like a fragment of your imagination, but be was very much real , as his soft breathing and light snores reassured you that he was peacefully asleep. He turned around, pulling you down again, your back leaning against his chest, as the warmth of his embrace enveloped you like a comforting blanket. It wasn't a dream. You were indeed lying beside Michael Kaiser.

Wait, so the kiss is real? No, it can't be... right? A million questions ran through your head as you felt him rest his head on the crook of your neck. You suddenly went numb, but tried to see his face one more time, and to your suprise he blinked, trying to open his eyes, with a smile so angelic, for a person with such devilish persona.

"Good morning, Meine Liebe" he said, his voice husky and raspy. You couldn't help but blush at they way these words came out from him, "Good morning," you managed to reply, your own voice contracts to his was soft, barely above a whisper.

His arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer as he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek. "About last night..." he started, trailing off as if searching for the right words.

"Yeah?" you gulped, suddenly feeling scared about what he might say next. "I meant every word ," he confessed, his gaze locking with yours. "And I meant that kiss too." Your heart skipped a beat, realizing that everything didn't happened in dreamland. It was real, just like the feelings between the both of you.

"I... I don't know what to say," you admitted, feeling overwhelmed by his intense but loving gaze. "You don't have to," he assured you, moving the hand that rested behind your head to pinch the check he kissed you not a moment ago. "Just know that we are together from now on.”

As you absorbed his words, a mixture of disbelief and joy washed over you.

"Together, huh?" you echoed, seeking confirmation in his eyes. Kaiser nodded, his expression serious yet filled with a warmth that melted your worries away. "Yes, together. Me and you, like a couple."

A wide smile broke across your face, and you couldn't contain the happiness within you. "I like the sound of it.” you replied, as he smiled back at you. "Glad to hear that, Erdbeere." As you settled back into the warmth of his embrace, a comfortable silence wrapped around both of you.

"My uncle will kill you tho." Kaiser chuckled, as he played with your hair. "Don't worry about it, he won't."

Somewhere in the hotel restaurant, Uncle Franz was on the verge of killing the first thing he saw because Kaiser was late for breakfast, and so were you. “I am going to kill that boy.”

1 MONTH LATER:

Kaiser touched the strands of his overgrown and messy hair as he stared at his reflection in the mirror, "I need a change," he said to Ness, who was glad to do anything for his friend.

“Like a new hairstyle?” The magician asked, wondering what was wrong with his long hair. “Yeah, Y/N said that it was getting in the way, when we cuddled. And also tying it up while playing every second bothers me.”

“Well, I am willing to help, we should have scissors in the cupboards. Go sit while I find them.” the striker sat down in the chair in front of the mirror when his friend returned with the scissors.

With tentative snips and Ness transformed Kaiser's lion mane into a stylish cut, an improvised mullet you can say. As the blonde boy was looking at himself in the big bathroom mirror, and Ness admiring his final product a knock was heard from the door. You entered with a plastic bag full of snacks — it was their day off, so you thought you’d spoil them a little but.

Proudly, he turned to you, his girlfriend of one month, to hear your opinion. "Yes, definitely! And why not add something more? How about dying the mullet blue? It will match with your tattoo."

“Sounds nice, but we don't have blue dye right now.” Kaiser said, knowing that he will have to ask Ness to go to the store to buy one, “Don't worry, I do.”

“Liebe, why do you carry hair dye in your bag?” he asked, surprised by the fact you had the item in your backpack “Well, I thought you would need one, intuition I guess.” No, it wasn't an intuition, he just talked everyday about wanting to dye his hair blue and you decided to carry a blue dye, just in case.

Women's intuition is a scary thing, he will know from now on not to mess up anything, because either way, you'll find out. But that was a worry for another day, now Kaiser was very happy with the end results. And it's the Michael Kaiser you will see from now on.

7 YEARS LATER:

Inside a very beautiful and cozy home, you tried to catch your energetic daughter, Mikaela, who was bubbling with excitement as the day of her dad’s arrival from the football tournament marked on the calendar finally came. Her giggles filled the air as she darted around the house, her tiny feet pattering against the floor, as you yelled while holding your 9-month-old son Matteo in your arms, who was laughing and clapping his hands at the sight, as you attempted to catch the energetic 4-year-old girl. “Mika, please stop running around, or you will hurt yourself.”

“Mama, I can't hear you!” How can she take so much from him, but not me? Just as you attempt to hold onto her tiny hand, the doorbell chimes. "It's Daddy!" Mikaela rushes to the door tip-toeing to reach the handle of the metal and swings it open, revealing your husband standing there, a wide grin on his face at the sight of his daughter.

Kaiser's heart swells with joy at the sight of his daughter waiting for him at the door. He bends down to scoop her up in his arms, lifting her as she squeals with delight. "Hey there, my little princess!" he exclaims, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

As Mikaela showers him with hugs and kisses, Kaiser spots Matteo nestled in his wife's arms, a smile spreading across the baby's face as he reaches out his chubby arms towards his father. With a chuckle, Kaiser takes Matteo from you, exchanging a loving glance before enveloping you in a warm embrace, holding you close as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

But their tender moment is interrupted by Mikaela's voice piping up, "Daddy, what about me?" she pouts, her arms outstretched towards her father. Kaiser laughs heartily, balancing Matteo in one arm as he bends down to scoop Mikaela up into his arms once more. He showers her with kisses, making her giggle as he sets her down, as she eagerly reaches out for the brightly wrapped present he’s been hiding behind his back, giving you some time to see each other up close, and not from the small telephone screen.

But before Mikaela can even fully enjoy her new toy, Matteo starts wriggling in his arms. "My little boy missed me too, right?" he coos, as the baby starts laughing from happiness, kicking his little feet, "See Y/N, I told you he is a future football star. Look at that kick!"

As Kaiser holds Matteo, you wrap your arms around him again. "Welcome home, my love," you whisper, giving his lips a little peck. Kaiser returns the embrace, holding you close as he breathes in the familiar scent of home. Just when you think the moment couldn’t get any sweeter, Mikaela pipes up, tugging at Kaiser’s sleeve. "Daddy, what about me? I want more kisses too!" she exclaims, puckering her lips in exaggerated anticipation.

Kaiser chuckles warmly, bending down to scoop Mikaela up once again. "Of course, sweetheart," he says, planting a flurry of kisses on her cheeks as she laughs at her father's teasing and you watch with a smile on your face your small loving family, and how you can't ask for more because you have him and you love him more than anything.

#✧* 🤍 blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock #x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock fluff #michael kaiser #kaiser x reader #kaiser x you #kaiser x y/n #michael kaiser x reader #blue lock fanfiction #michael kaiser fluff #michael kaiser x you

846 notes · View notes

thegoldencontracts · 6 months ago

Text

What Do You Want?

Summary: You try to approach Azul with an offer. His response is- odd, to say the least.

Notes: My heart wants fluff to make up for the angst yesterday... im sorry T_T

The moment you'd first seen Azul, you thought he was pretty. Then, you started noticing other little cool things about him. And before you knew it, you had a crush.

"You're- so stupid!" Ace said with a laugh. "You actually think Azul Ashengrotto would ever like anyone? Best outcome is, he tries to scam you but you barely manage to win."

"I've got a point-card!" You said cheerily. "And I've made a rough outline of what I want my contract to look like."

The 'outline' was only one sentence, but Ace didn't need to know that.

At that moment, though, Ace's eyes widened.

"You're actually gonna do it?" He said, the grin fading from his face.

"Yeah," you said. You were going to try and make a contract with him, see what happened. Maybe it wouldn't work out. But hey, you'd never know if you didn't try!

Besides, you had a plan. And that plan was what brought you to the VIP room, a golden point card in hand.

"Ah, what a pleasant surprise it is to see you here!" Azul said with a salesman's grin that somehow still looked cute. "I was under the impression you couldn't afford point-cards."

You laughed.

"It's lovely what happens when you make people compensate you for your labor," you said. And it was true. Telling people you'd do something for a free meal at the Lounge got you point cards and food witthout any complaints. For some reason, people were more willing to do that than give you the money straight-up, even if the expensive meals usually meant they'd have to pay more. Whatever.

"Oh," Azul said, before quickly changing the topic. "So what exactly is your desire?"

You smirked.

"Azul," you said. "Considering the ranking of the Golden card, that means you have to accept any contract I propose, so long as it doesn't pose direct harm to your mental or physical wellbeing in some way, shape, or form, correct?"

Azul's brows furrowed in confusion.

"Correct, however, you're forgetting-"

"The impact limit, yes," you said. "If the wish in question requires maiming, killing, or mentally scarring any individual, whether or not you agree to grant it becomes a decision entirely at your discretion."

At this point, Azul was looking at you like you'd grown two heads.

"Your point is...?" He asked.

"I won't have to make any other payment for my wish then, correct?" You said. You knew how these exchanges worked, and you did not want to get scammed.

Azul bit his lip.

"Fine, fine, you 'win', I suppose. Just- tell me what exactly it is you desire," he said.

You smiled, handing him a piece of paper with the draft of your contract on it. Azul's eyes widened in shock at its contents.

'Be my friend!' it said.

"Sooooo, what do you think?" You asked.

Azul shot you a glare. Harsh.

"What do you want?"

"I already told you- well, wrote to you, I guess, but-"

"No," Azul said, voice dangerously level. "What do you truly want?"

"Be my friend!" You said, flashing him a thumbs up. But Azul was still angry. Did he just hate you or something?

"I don't appreciate such juvenile attempts at mockery," he said. "If you have no true wish to make, then I shall have you escorted out."

You sighed. Seriously, this was getting annoying. Did he want to avoid you that badly?

"Look," you said. "I already laid it all out - you should try being my friend! And if you don't like it, then you stop! Simple as that, right?"

Azul scoffed.

"That's preposterous," he said. "No one would ever want such a thing-"

"Well, I want it," you said, before sighing. "Look, is it really that big of a deal?"

At that, Azul seemed to malfunction, like he couldn't possibly comprehend what you were saying. That was weird. Why wasn't he happy? Wasn't he going to try and scam you or something?

At long last, Azul shook away the red dusting his cheeks, handing you a pamphlet.

"Take this for now," he said. It was a study guide for Alchemy. "And keep the point card. I'll continue my inquiry tomorrow during lunch, so prepare yourself. Now then, leave."

"Great! See you tomorrow lunch then, Azul."

You took the study guide and headed for the exit. The study guide was pretty good, actually. And there was that little chibi doodle with hearts around it - you didn't know where it came from, but it kind of reminded you of yourself!

So, hey, it seemed like things were going pretty well.

Meanwhile, Azul was in a panic.

"The Prefect's caught on, I'm certain of it!" He said to Floyd and Jade, furiously flipping through his book of contingency plans for any type of social situation gone wrong. "Why else would such an odd request be made of me?"

Floyd rolled his eyes.

"Cause Shrimpy wanted to be your friend?" He said.

"No one would ever desire such a thing!" Azul said. "The Prefect's found out about that foolish little crush of mine, and decided to make a fool out of me. There's no other explanation!"

It was a sensible explanation, wasn't it? Common, too. It had happened to Azul all the time back then. He simply had to make sure he didn't slip, that he established consequences for all those who attempted to mess with him now.

His thoughts were cut off by the sound of Jade's laughter.

"What seems to be the matter, Jade? Do enlighten me," Azul asked dryly.

"You made an error in your panicked frenzy with the Prefect, that's all," Jade said. "The study guide you gave was the one with the doodles."

Azul felt his mouth go dry.

"W-What?"

"The one filled with countless doodles of your little crush, surrounded by hearts."

O-Of all the study guides, why that one?

Seven, how he wished to crawl into an octopus pot right now. But for now, all he could settle for was burying his face in his hands, left alone with his thoughts as he tuned Jade and Floyd out entirely.

He hadn't believed it, but- what if you were being sincere? What if you truly did want to grow closer to him? Yes, it was true that such a thing had never occurred in the past, meaning an analysis of past trends would seem such a thing impossible, and this sort of trick had been played on him countless times before but-

You seemed oddly sincere about it. And, frankly, he wanted you to be.

Azul couldn't help but sigh. Though it would likely cause him problems later, for now, he couldn't help but let himself hope.

#azul ashengrotto #twisted wonderland #twst #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x you #twst x reader #twst azul

277 notes · View notes

intimidating-fettuccine · 20 days ago

Text

This post is coming from me in my space of panic and resignation that I have been in all day, but I just. I felt the need to say anything at all.

Please do what you can to survive. This week, for the next few years, maybe forever. Please do what you can to survive. We cannot give up, we have to remain unified and continue supporting each other. That is all we can do. I don’t know what the future will look like, but we should be prepared to handle anything.

If you are like me, a female, I wish you so much support. With the rights we are about to lose, please keep yourself safe. Look into birth control if you can, especially IUDs or implants, I’ve been doing that myself. Please only surround yourself with people that you know are trustworthy. I’ve seen lots of women saying they’re going to be joining the South Korean 4B movement (not dating, having sex with, marrying, or having children with men), and honestly I encourage it. Even if you’d like to be a mother, it’s not safe anymore. If something goes wrong with your wanted pregnancy, there’s an incredibly high likelihood that you will not be able to receive care. That is a horrific reality, but it’s something we need to be aware of. If you are in a safe, loving relationship I am incredibly happy for you and I wish you the best. If you are not, or if you are single, do whatever you can to get to a safe place, please.

To any of my LGBT+ followers, please remain safe. Please, please, please be careful, with what you say, with who you talk to, with how you present yourself. I can’t even imagine how terrifying things might become, but I don’t want any of you to be ashamed, to stop being who you are. Just please be safe in how you do so. I wish you all so much luck and love because you all deserve to be free to express yourselves, to live as who you are in freedom and not be so heavily judged and prosecuted and punished. Please have safe spaces, and safe people to surround yourself with if you can. This blog will ALWAYS be a safe and inclusive space for you. I see you, and I accept you, and I support you so much. Please take care.

My support goes out to everyone who is about to be effected, because it is about to be more than just women and LGBT+ members, but I wanted to touch on those two specifically because they are the ones closest to me. I love you all. I’m sorry that this is how things turned out, but we need to keep going. We need to stay strong. We need to keep fighting and surviving because they want us to give in and we can’t do that. It might get incredibly tough next year, in the next four years or even longer, but you cannot give them the satisfaction. You have to outlive them, to prove to them that you can survive and that you deserve to be here.

I don’t particularly care if anyone thinks I’m being dramatic about this and I’m not trying to fearmonger. I don’t want anyone to be scared, but I can’t hide the fact that I’m scared. That I don’t know how things are going to look moving forward. But I care about each and every one of you.

Continue living with airport rules right now (doing whatever it takes to get to your destination of the future). He’s not in there yet. We are still safe right now. Please do what you can to prepare and to steel yourself for any outcome. But, for the next couple weeks, please just take care of yourselves. Indulge in activities you love, eat food you love, sleep as much as you can, take care of yourself as much as you can. You are not alone in this. Everyone that voted for her, we are all in this together. We cannot forget that.

I love you all so much. Please be safe. Know that you are not alone. Be strong, and be proud of what you fought for and who you are. You deserve to be here, and you deserve to be who you are.

#I didn’t know if I should say anything #but I felt guilty about acting like nothing happened #I’ve been a wreck all day #if you are at a safety risk for any of those policies please form a plan and do whatever you can to be safe #we are in the trenches together and we will survive together

117 notes · View notes

eringobragh420 · 22 days ago

Text

💜 Pairing: Damian Priest x f!OC / Finn Balor x f!OC 💜 Summary: Annabel is caught cheating on Finn with Damian. Now she must deal with the aftermath. 🛑 Warnings: Angst. mention of infidelity 💜 Word Count: 3.9k 💜 Notes: This is the continuation (part two) of Getting Caught. It'll be a multi-chapter story featuring an OC. ❤️ Thank you so much to @femdisa for reading through a portion and offering her valuable feedback. ❤️ MASTERLIST ❤️ 💜 Taglist: In the comments. If you’d like to be added, please click here!

It wasn’t difficult convincing Finn to leave dinner early. He took one look at her face, the blood drained from her cheeks, her round, glassy eyes, the way she seemed to be unsteady on her own feet, and asked if she needed to go. She could only nod, clutching at her abdomen as her stomach rolled and sloshed, and Finn stood instantly. He apologized to their friends as he wrapped an arm around her and helped her toward the exit. Don’t look back, she told herself. Don’t do it. So of course she did, glancing subtly over her shoulder at the moment Damian returned to the table. He noticed who was missing and looked up, meeting her gaze. He couldn’t do much else without giving them away, so he simply nodded before collapsing into his chair and scrubbing his hands over his face. She felt that ice pick again, chipping away at what was left of her heart.

Finn helped her into the car, and she felt like the worst girlfriend in the world, maybe even the worst person in the world. It was a miserable sentiment, but she would never deny that it was exactly what she deserved. She could complain about Finn all day, everything he did or didn’t do, and none of it would justify sleeping with one of his closest friends, and however he chose to react when she told him what she’d done would be appropriate, and she would accept whatever the outcome might be.

“Annabel?” Finn asked, snapping her out of her reverie. She looked at him. “Do ya think it was somethin’ ya ate?”

She didn’t understand the question, so decided to ignore it. “Finn, we need to talk,” she all but vomited the words.

Her boyfriend glanced at her wearing a lopsided smile. His blue eyes flashed like lightning as the street lights passed. “Talk about what?” he asked, still smiling. So beautiful, so ignorant.

Annabel gulped. “Um … I don’t know—” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Better to just rip the bandaid off. “Finn—” Christ, it hurt just to say his name. How the hell was she going— “—I’ve been sleeping with Damian.”

Finn’s cobalt eyes were on the road when she confessed, and he looked back at her, so obviously ready—and clearly wanting—to laugh at her terrible joke. His attention went back to the road for a split second before he was focused on her again. He did this several times, handsome smile fading more and more until it disappeared completely. He shifted in his seat. “What did ya say?” he asked.

Her mouth became arid and her heart was pounding so hard it was like one long beat. “I’ve been sleeping with Damian,” she repeated, this time adding, “I’m so sorry.”

The vehicle came to a slow stop at a stop sign, a low squeak echoing off the neighborhood houses. Finn looked at her, and she swore she saw The Demon flash across his face. “You’ve been fuckin’ Damian?” he pressed.

Annabel didn’t care much for his choice of words, but she accepted that she deserved hearing them. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’m—”

“For how long?” His voice was steadily rising. “When did it start?” She should have known he might want answers to these questions, but here she sat, utterly speechless. “What, suddenly ya don’t hear me?”

“A year,” she replied. “It’s been a year. Finn, I’m so—”

“Sorry, right, yeah, I heard ya,” he interrupted, and she sealed her lips. They were still stopped at the intersection, not another car in sight. “So what do ya want me to do, Anna?” he questioned. “I’m just supposed to forgive ya? Because ya told me the truth?” She shook her head, tears blurring her vision. “And why did ya tell me? It’s been goin’ on for a year and I had no fuckin’ idea, so ya could’a just kept right on fuckin’ each other.”

Annabel looked at Finn, the tears that had been building now cascading down her contoured cheeks. She sniffed. “Rhea caught us,” she muttered.

Finn nodded, chuckling mirthlessly. “So not because ya felt bad or ya regret it,” he sneered, “but because ya got caught.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, wiping at the tears on her face and neck. Fuck, I’m even worse than I thought. “Yep,” she whispered, welcoming the numbness from earlier as it overwhelmed the self-loathing threatening to consume her.

A terrifying quiet gripped the inside of the SUV lasting only several moments, but feeling like years. Finn’s piercing eyes slowly slid to her, and she knew better than to meet his gaze, but it was instinct that made her look.

“When did she catch ya?” he growled.

More tears formed, quickly tumbling out of her eyes, and she didn’t bother trying to clear them away, knowing a flood was imminent. “At the restaurant,” she murmured.

Finn inhaled deeply through his nostrils. He sat still for a moment before his hand crept to the door handle where he pressed the unlock button. “Get out,” he ordered, surprisingly restrained.

She’d expected him to be furious and she’d expected their relationship would likely end, but she hadn’t considered that he’d just kick her out of the car. Of course you didn’t expect that—you’re a selfish bitch. She wanted to plead her case, beg for him to let her grab some things from their place, along with her own vehicle, but why did she deserve any of that after what she’d done? She looked at Finn, tears still falling, and he kept his eyes forward, both hands clutching the steering wheel white-knuckle tight. She nodded, grabbing her purse, and she climbed out of the SUV. As soon as she closed the door, Finn took off, tires squealing and smoking, and she watched him go, deep down wishing he would turn around, and even further down, knowing he wouldn’t.

Annabel stood on the sidewalk next to the stop sign, watching Finn’s car until it made a turn and was out of sight. Numb body now on autopilot, she retrieved her phone from her purse and opened her contacts. As she scrolled through names and nicknames and businesses and bosses, she came to the slow realization that anyone who might have picked her up in this situation was a friend of Finn’s. All of her friends had been friends with Finn first. After suffering a devastating knee injury in her first and only WrestleMania match several years before, she was told she would never wrestle again. Upon hearing this news, Hunter, one of WWE’s executive producers, offered her a job behind the scenes, but on the NXT brand at the time. Since all of her friends had been on the main roster, she eventually lost contact with them. It was about that time she’d been hurrying backstage, immersed in an email on her phone, when she’d literally run into one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen in her life.

Shaking her head in a failed attempt at physically jostling the memories from her brain, she focused again on her contacts. Family would have been there in a heartbeat no matter how despicable a person she was, but they were 3,000 miles away. She scrolled several times past the one name she knew would help her because she worried this would be the one time he didn’t answer her call. After a brief moment of consideration and the shedding of more tears, she tapped his name with her thumb and slowly raised the phone to her ear.

Damian answered after only one ring. “Hey.” She blinked, taking a deep breath, and she cupped her free hand over her mouth as a sudden urge to cry out overpowered her. The memory of Damian’s confession came crashing through her already delicate mind and she thought she might pass out. “Bel?” Oh, god, don’t call me that. Not that. Not the nickname I love the most that only you have ever called me.

She collapsed against the metal post of the stop sign. “Damian,” she wept, removing her hand just enough so her speech wasn’t muffled, replacing it immediately after.

“Where are you?” he asked, and a second later she heard car keys jingle. “Are you at home?”

“No,” she replied, lifting her hand again. “I’m at a … stop sign …” She looked up at the street names and read them off. There was silence on the other end of the line.

“He left you by some stop sign?” Damian growled.

“Damian, please,” she sobbed.

“Alright, alright. I’m on my way. I’ll be right there, okay?”

Annabel was only able to nod before tapping the button to end the call. The true gravity of the situation threatened to crush her as she waited. She and Finn had been a special circumstance, Hunter had told them, reminiscing about his early relationship with Stephanie, so he’d agreed to look the other way as long as she and Finn’s relationship didn’t interfere in any way with work. And it never had. Until now—because surely Finn would tell someone about what she’d done. And if things weren’t complicated enough, she’d involved Damian Priest. Depending on how everything played out, they all three could end up fired. Thanks to her.

“Well done, Annabel,” she sniffed, wiping away more tears. “Well done.”

Her feet were screaming by the time Damian arrived. The heels she’d begged Finn for had certainly been made with looks in mind and not comfort. She heard Damian’s sleek black sports car before she spotted the headlights, and her brain was briefly paralyzed by the memory of the time she’d ridden Damian’s dick while he sped down the highway at well past the legal limit, both of them giggling like children, moaning like pornstars. One of the most dangerous, exciting, and sexiest times of her life had happened in the very vehicle that was approaching her now. Why are you thinking about this right now? How does any of this matter right … now?

“Are you okay?” Damian asked, rounding the front of his vehicle. He was still in the black slacks and black button down he’d worn to dinner, and she wondered if he’d left the restaurant to come and get her. What had he told their friends, if anything? What had Rhea told them? Had Finn already called or texted them to let them know he’d just found out his girlfriend was a slut? “Bel?” He reached out for her, and her body stiffened. She couldn’t let him touch her. Not now. Probably not ever again. He held his hands up, nodded, and opened the passenger door for her. She hobbled over, dreading the height of the curb she was going to have to descend before she was able to climb into the car. As she was about to take the plunge, Damian extended his hand to her, and she took a long, painful moment to consider her options. She could try it on her own and risk a sprained ankle or she could just hold on to the tall Puerto Rican’s hand for the few seconds it would take her to get inside his car.

She decided on taking his hand and regretted it almost immediately. I’d marry you tomorrow, she heard him say in her fracturing mind. I can’t breathe when we’re not together. Why had he confessed in the first place? Why the hell had he done it right after they’d been caught? And why the hell had she seen so many beautiful things when she’d looked at him? Swallowing bile, she all but tumbled into the passenger seat, Damian’s hand squeezing hers as if he could provide any sort of assistance, but she wasn’t allowing him any closer than he already was. She swept her much smaller fingers easily out of his grasp, and she glued her eyes to the floorboard until Damian finally closed the door. While he passed in front of the headlights, her fingers fumbled as she unstrapped the heels from her feet and then laid them neatly across her lap. A shaking nail scraped along the sparkling crystals as her mind played a reel of the day she and Finn had been shopping and she’d spotted the shoes. She’d be the first to admit she’d acted like a child—stamping her little feet and begging her boyfriend to buy them for her—but he’d relented with a smile, that beautiful Finn Bálor smile, handing the cashier a credit card before kissing Annabel on the cheek.

“Bel?”

She jumped, clutching the heels. The car was moving, and she didn’t remember leaving the stop sign. Realizing someone had spoken her name, she found Damian in the driver’s seat, glancing between her and the road just as Finn had done after she’d told him her deepest, darkest secret, and sent their lives into an irreversible tailspin. “What?” she asked quietly.

“I asked where you wanted me to take you,” Damian replied, his voice like smoke on velvet, and had she just stubbed her toe, she’d have found comfort in it.

“Oh.” Her eyes fell. “Um … the nearest hotel, I guess.”

“I’m not taking you to a hotel,” Damian said.

“Damian—”

“Forget it, Annabel. I’m not leaving you alone.”

Alone. That’s all she had to look forward to. She’d have to look for a new place to live—alone. She’d be traveling alone. She’d be staying in hotel rooms alone. She’d grow old alone. She’d die alone. And the legacy she would leave behind would be that of a cheater.

“Well,” she sighed, “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Then I’m taking you back to my place.”

“Damian—”

“Please, Bel? You can have the bed, I’ll sleep in the living room.”

She couldn’t deny the appeal. No need to venture into public and try to act like her life wasn’t falling apart. But most of all, she wouldn’t be alone. This might be her last chance not to be alone, and she felt her eyes tingle like she was about to cry, but no tears came. Had she actually cried them all or was she desensitizing as a coping mechanism?

“Thank you,” she whispered.

The remainder of the ride to Damian’s place was silent. Annabel cradled the heels, all the while playing the night over in her mind. How did neither of them lock the door? They’d always been so careful. They took risks, of course, but there were always precautions including locking the fucking door.

Damian pulled into a space outside his apartment building. She took a deep breath and opened the passenger door, barely getting her feet out before Damian was there. He reached for the heels in her hands and she snatched them away, hugging them tightly to her body. For the moment, they were all she had of Finn. He’d bought many things for her, but they were all at the home they’d shared, and she wasn’t sure if she’d get any of it back. They’d been gifts, but did she really have any right to them now? Damian gazed at her for a moment, and she refused to meet his eyes, so he closed the car door, and she followed him inside on bare feet.

She’d been here before, and she remembered feeling comfortable and safe, despite the infidelity she’d been committing, but now, all she felt was dread and shame. She glanced at the life size Batman in the corner of the living room, feeling the natural urge to make fun of him for it like the first time she’d seen it, but she forced those urges into the very pit of her stomach with a hard swallow. She looked at the black sofa recliner near the wall where she would sleep—there was no way she was going to let Damian give up his bed for her—and she wondered if he even had spare blankets and pillows. It was a lovely apartment, expensive, decorated with superheroes because Damian Priest was nothing if not an overgrown child, but it was only one bedroom. She wasn’t even sure he had a different comforter set than the one she’d always seen on his bed.

The two of them stood awkwardly in the living space, Annabel clutching her heels, Damian with his hands on his hips. She kept her eyes on the floor—that’s where they were the safest—as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. They were still sore from having stood on an empty street corner with not but a stop sign to keep her company.

“So,” Damian started, clearing his throat, “you know where the bedroom and … everything is.”

“I’m just gonna sleep in the chair,” Annabel said, kneeling to place the heels on the gray hardwood floors beside the sofa as if they might shatter should she be careless with them. Like she’d been careless with her relationship with Finn, and it had so shattered as a result.

“Bel—”

“Damian,” she interrupted maybe a little more aggressively than she’d anticipated, but the man stopped speaking just the same. “It’s been a long fucking night. I don’t wanna sleep in your bed, I wanna sleep in the chair. Okay? Is that okay with you? And can you please stop calling me Bel?”

“Alright, okay,” Damian tossed over his shoulder as he headed down the hall. He returned a moment later with a blanket and pillow, setting them on the sofa. “And I got you these.” He held up one of his band t-shirts and a pair of basketball shorts. “I doubt the shorts will fit you, but—”

“Thanks.”

“If you need anything—”

“I know where your bedroom is,” she replied, and the implications alone almost made her retch.

Damian took an apprehensive step toward her, her body became rigid, and he backed up. He looked at her for a moment, which she could only tell out of her peripheral vision because she still forbade herself from linking her eyes with his, and then he turned and headed for his room, hands in his pockets, head down. Did he feel bad, she wondered? Was he filled with guilt? Regret, maybe? Or, considering his earlier revelation, was he happy they’d been caught? These thoughts led her to one final question, and she buried the inquiry deep within the wrinkles of her brain, hopefully never to be considered again.

After changing out of her dress and into the t-shirt Damian had provided—the shorts were too big and far too long for comfort—she hugged her knees to her chest and laid sideways on the recliner, head on the armrest. She had no expectations of falling asleep, but as soon as she permitted her eyes to close, she was not only sleeping, but dreaming. Nightmaring, rather. The Demon was chasing her through an empty neighborhood, the heels on her feet making it all but impossible to run efficiently. Damian was there, standing at the end of the street, and she sprinted in his direction, knowing that as soon as he saw The Demon, he’d take off running himself and stop him from ever reaching her. But he never moved. She screamed his name, but nothing came out. Damian extended his arms, and she was only feet from him, launching herself off the ground and into his arms. But The Demon had an arm around her waist and he wrenched her back, further from her destination, from where she was supposed to be.

Annabel woke up as she tried screaming Damian’s name again, thankfully making no sound in reality either. Her heart pounded, her throat was dry, and her entire body thrummed, forcing her out of the recliner. She paced for several moments, trying to control her breathing, but her lungs were completely offline from the WiFi in her brain. Alone. She’d thought wrong about being able to handle being alone. Her feet moved, seemingly of their own free will, and she wrung her hands as she padded down the hallway to the bedroom door left ajar. For her. She pushed the door open slowly, just enough so she could see inside and inspect the scene before she decided to enter. Damian was asleep, sitting up against his pillows, TV remote on his bare chest, one arm bent behind his head, brawny bicep on full display, and was there ever going to come a day when she didn’t automatically check him out? For fuck’s sake, you are a slut.

“Damian,” she whispered, nearly choking on his name. One hand clutched the door, the other the knob, as she wasn’t going to enter without his permission. “Damian,” she repeated a little louder.

The man jumped, eyes opening to the size of saucers. “I’m up,” he rasped, clearing his throat as he sat up, the remote rolling off his chest. He was disoriented for a moment, taking a few breaths, and then he noticed her cowering at the door. He swung his long legs over the side of the bed and stood. “Are you okay?” he asked. He started toward her, stopped, and backed up before she was able to react negatively.

“I …” she trailed off. “Can I sleep in here tonight?” she forced out in a whisper. “I just—I didn’t want—”

“Shh,” Damian softly hushed her. “Just get in bed.”

Annabel started around the bed to her side—you don’t have a side—when Damian grabbed his pillow.

“Wait,” she said. Damian turned to her, and her mouth clamped shut because suddenly she had no idea why she wanted him to wait.

“Do you want me to stay?”

Annabel nodded, grateful he didn’t force her to say it, and she carefully slid into a bed she’d spent more time in than she would ever admit to. Damian repositioned his pillow before climbing under the covers.

“We can—” Damian started.

She made her way across the mattress slowly, offering Damian every opportunity to stop her—only half of her actually wanting him to stop her—but he remained still as she ducked under his arm so she could lay her head on his chest. She pressed her body to his, refraining from wrapping a leg around his so as not to give the wrong idea. The last thing she was interested in was any kind of sexual encounter. She simply needed human contact, to feel his warmth, his refined muscles, and when his arm promptly came around her waist, avoiding any of her spots, she realized she needed more than just contact—she needed to be held, to feel safe, to feel … not hated. Maybe she didn’t deserve it, but she swore to continue her self-loathing tomorrow—she just wanted to have tonight.

“You good? Is this okay?” Damian asked. Annabel could hear the sleep coating his voice.

“Yeah,” she breathed, nodding. “Thank you.”

Damian nodded and took a deep breath, Annabel’s head rising with his warm, bare chest, and her eyes were suddenly heavy. “For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams of the beautiful Annabel Lee,” his scratchy voice broke the momentary silence. Annabel’s—whose middle was Lee—eyes widened, brows creasing. “And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes of the beautiful … Anna …” He trailed off, poetry recitation replaced by soft snoring.

She suddenly had so many questions, but Damian’s snoring was to her like white noise was to other people. Add to that her body’s sheer exhaustion, and her just widened eyes blinked slowly before closing, her own gentle snoring joining Damian’s.

#wwe fanfiction #wwe imagine #damian priest #damian priest fanfic #damian priest fanfiction #damian priest x oc #angst #finn balor x reader #finn balor

60 notes · View notes

god-i-hope-so · 4 months ago

Note

Hey, I didn't want to hijack your post from Sunday about the change in Tommy we saw onscreen in how Hen and Chim treat him in Bobby Begins Again but also season 7 by reposting with my own thoughts. But it's moved me a lot and spelled out a couple of things that have been on my mind.

So I'm adding my thoughts here. Maybe for just you to see or maybe for everyone to see if you feel like answering.

I always thought it's kind of infantalizing to ignore the change in the relationship between Hen, Chimney, and Tommy we see in Bobby Begins Again and when Chimney calls Tommy (both times for a really huge and not easily fullfilled tasks that also meant Chimney would need to trust Tommy a big deal). It feels like the people who ignore that deliberately say "I know better than Hen and Chimney how they should feel about this man" and "They are clearly confused, so I'm showing them what the right way is to feel about it".

Hi!

I have no problem with people adding their own thoughts after my posts. If I disagree, I just ignore it!

And I totally agree with you. Not only it's infantilizing but they also willingly dismiss and weaponize Hen and Chim. They treat them as people who don't know what's good for them, but then use them, especially Hen, for whatever hate message they want to spread.

And of course so many things could have been made differently on the show, but the main audience is not Tumblr people, it's not 20 somethings who spend their time on Twitter. So many things on 911 have an educative purpose and have to be simple but direct messages. It showed how non-white people have to fight for no reason other than not being white. Hen is a good and competent person, Chim is a good and competent person, the audience is supposed to root for them, not for Gerrard and his team. So Hen's and Chim's fight become our fight too. But we need to see the outcome of that. And the outcome is that some people will change (Tommy and Sal) while some cases are just lost (Gerrard). it doesn't mean you have to accept oppression in hope for change, it means that since we have to fight, let it not be for nothing.

It might have been easier for Chim, being a man among other men (he even admitted it himself). But for Hen, it was a fight on every level. So to me, seeing them, seeing her, willing to be friendly with Tommy means a lot for the story, for her character and for Tommy's character.

But at the end of the day, some people will always twist everything and use non-white characters for their hate campaign.

#bucktommy #tommy kinard #chimney han #hen wilson #i wish people just watched the show for what it is #and stop inserting and projecting themselves so much #all this hate for a ship is just insane to me #the deleted scene with hen and karen was so funny #so gay on gay crimes vibe #i wish people just enjoy that instead of turning hen and karen into the violent black women i see people fantasize about too often

45 notes · View notes

worldsover · 2 years ago

Text

Kaninchen und Ente

In your mind, there were three different ways your dinner date with your friend Yena would end. The first would be noticing that familiar sight of a telephoto lens hidden in a bush, and the two of you would have to come up with some fantastical excuse. Second, she would tell you she had a great time, drop you off at your place, and never speak to you again. Lastly (and this was a sliver chance, but you had to find comfort in that sliver), the date would spark the same feelings in Yena that you had for her, and maybe she’d be willing to go on a second date, or maybe she’d even accept a kiss at the end.

None of the above.

The liveliest smile on her face as usual, a boundless energy that you did your best to match, yet you couldn’t read if she was being her usual self or if she was genuinely having a good time.

When you were chatting in her car, it seemed the disappointment of the second outcome was becoming more and more likely. Though in that case, she didn’t have to come into the apartment. You weren’t expecting anyone to come over soon, especially not Yena, so you feel bad you didn’t clean it up much. You were meaning to get an armchair that actually matched your blue couch, but instead you have this brown plaid abomination. There’s blankets and pillows scattered about, clutter like keys and mail on your dining table.

Despite all that, she looks content to relax and sip away on beer next to you. Funny enough, there’s Yena on TV, though just for a brief moment in a commercial. She smiles seeing herself. Guess that feeling never goes away.

“Is my bed that nice?” you ask. You can’t make eye contact with her. The longer this goes on, whatever she’s up to, the more awkward you feel. You try your best to pretend like the date’s never happened. “Do you like making me sleep on my own couch? This is why I told you not to drink.”

“You really want me out of here that much? You hate me that much?” She’s saying it in this annoying cutesy way that makes it impossible for you to hate her.

You sigh. Set your can of beer on your coffee table next to another couple cans of soda.

“Look, I should be straightforward with you.” Yena sets her can down too, scoots closer to you on your sofa, and puts her hand on your shoulder. “I wasn’t really getting the couple vibes. But I know you were being super sincere and I wanna make it up to you.”

“Oh, so you’ll sleep on the couch this time then?” You scan her eyes to judge her reaction to the joke; again, you can’t figure them out. “It’s fine, I prepared myself for worse.”

She giggles. “See, I know you like me now.”

You blush. “Come on, you don’t have to rub it in.”

Yena’s hand moves about an inch: fingertips on the back of your neck, and those sensitive pads must understand the bumps they're giving it right now. Her eyes are half-open, sultry, dim yet clear in intent.

"Yena, what are you..." You didn’t have to ask.

She leans in. “Did I say I don’t like you?”

Your lips touch, and you close your eyes.

"What?" you ask? Why did you ask? You didn’t have to ask, you're staring, and now she's staring back.

Yena flashes a hungry smile before she pulls you in again, and this time, your lips are attached for much longer. And she's not just sitting next to you anymore, awkwardly twisted, but she shifts and scoots until eventually, she is sitting on your knee. Her hand goes from being lightly placed on your neck to tightly grasping your back, her arms in a complete hold. You run your hands through her hair, and then your digits find a bit of purchase, giving a light tug. The two of you engage in this back and forth of who can embrace who more, who can get their body closer. The warmth. It’s subtle but it isn't just the air. It's on your leg. It's unignorable. Between her legs, on your thigh, she's so warm as she adds a second back and forth of her hips.

When you pull her hair again, you swear she just moaned into your kiss. Her tongue follows the destination of the small sound she made: straight into your mouth, and now count a third back and forth of tongues. She stops grinding against your leg and is instead earnestly leaning into you know; you can feel her sizeable breasts pressed on your chest.

As the two of you let go for air, you both tug at each other shirts. In a blur, you have nothing but your boxers while Yena is only wearing her red bra and panties.

“Oh, they’re matching?”

Yena glances away. “That was an accident.”

You smile smugly, and Yena’s blush only grows when your hands start move from her back to her shoulders to her ample tits. You give them much focus, massaging and kneading over her bra. Take plenty, plenty of time to watch the mesmerizing physics; you could stare at the valley between her breasts for hours.

“You like them?” Yena pouts as she squeezes her arms in front of her to accentuate the cleavage.

“Yeah,” you answer breathily, and your fingers follow her bra straps.

“I can take it off if you want.”

You nod and Yena reaches behind to unclasp, then slowly lowers her arms, allowing her bra to fall down her arms and onto the floor—the moment it hits the ground, you take her nipple into your mouth and suck hard on it. She's breathing hard, but it catches when your hand comes around and cups her other breast. Her head drops and her fingers find their place in your hair, somehow pulling you deeper into your makeout session with her chest.

"Fuck, I should've rejected you sooner."

Your tongue is circling around her nipple when you laugh. You look up and raise your brow. "Why?" You bring her nipple to your lips again and this time, use your teeth for a little extra friction and suction.

Yena lets out a little yelp. "Because you'd be fucking me way sooner, that's why!"

"I'm not sure how I feel about that." But you do. You feel a surge of blood pulsing in your cock, and Yena does too. Even though you both have your underwear on, you swear you could burst the fabric right there and then. Especially when she grinds down into your rapidly growing erection harder. Your hands leave her breasts—they've been made glossy by your licking, and you relish in the sight for a moment—then you focus on her pert ass, squeezing both cheeks.

“Oh, ah, please,” Yena says between gasps for air.

You glance up and she's biting her lip, struggling not to moan loud enough for your neighbors to hear. "Please what, you ask?"

"Kiss me, fuck me, anything, please!"

You laugh, and kiss her neck; then you lean back a bit so you can see her face. You want to see it when your hands move from her asscheeks to underneath her panties. "I'll have to think about it. You might be a little wetter than normal," you say.

"Fuck, I'm so wet. I didn't expect this much, oh my god." Her hand darts under your waistband. The mere touch of her digits on your cock's tip sends your brain into a frenzy.

You reach down and grab Yena's wrist. Give each of her tits a kiss. "I can't stop thinking about these. You ever given a titfuck before?"

She bites her lip. "No, but I can imagine what you mean by that."

“Good. Down.” You don’t mean to come out so short, but she shudders when you say it like that.

“O-okay.” Yena gets on her knees. There, she finally fishes out your cock, pulls your boxers off your legs. She looks as dazed as you think you are, her fingers delicately on your shaft.

"Spit on it."

Yena nods hastily, opening her mouth and procuring as much saliva as she can before she sticks out her tongue and lets a generous strand fall. Some of the spit gets on her cleavage, some on your cockhead. With one hand, she guides your erection between her breasts while the other hands helps press them together. She looks down, a bit cross-eyed focusing on your dick, and spits forcefully a few more times, which leaves both her chest and your shaft covered.

"Perfect."

She bends her head down far and slides your cock up so that she can lick the tip of your cock with her tongue. "Muah, muah." The sensation of her plump lips kissing so sweetly, combined with the pressure of her tits around your shaft, makes you groan, and you instinctively push forward. You hit the back of her mouth, and she gags, releasing your dick with a bunch of drool on it. Her brows furrow.

You know Yena is going to get fixated on trying to get you deeper, so you reestablish what you wanted by pinching her nipples.

"Mmh! Okay, okay." She brings each of her hands on each of her breasts to squeeze your cock between them again before she starts sliding you up and down. You let your head fall back against your couch, and then you realize you must keep looking at her. While every touch alone can bring one step closer to your climax, you want to enjoy the visual experience even more. After all, look at Yena. She's gorgeous, adorable, and yet so incredibly naughty. Even though she's never done this before, she's putting her all into blowing your mind with this boobjob. Sometimes she's looking up at you with the most intense glare—no camera nor stage could pull that sultry expression out of her—while sometimes, she's staring down at your cock, fascinated by the size and shape of it, by the way it shines with all the spit, or by how your tip pops out from between her ample breasts. Every once in a while, she stops her movement to stroke your cock between her tits or to let her tongue droop out, tasting the precum dribbling from your slit. Then, whenever she feels like it, she resumes, and you just sit there, amazed by how great this feels, amazed that you're actually doing this with your friend or with an idol like her.

While Yena keeps up the same pace of bouncing up and down, keeping her boobs pressed together on your dick, your body tenses up; there, that familiar rush of excitement. After an expletive or two, you let her know.

She slows down. "Not yet."

You're gasping. "What do you mean?"

"Don't cum on me."

You swallow your own spit.

"In me."

There's a million thoughts a mile. All of them involve being inside of her, feeling her tightness wrap around your cock, filling her up, making her yours, consuming her, making her squirt and scream and lose herself in orgasmic bliss... and then you remember: you shouldn't. It's too risky, unsafe. What if you don't pull out time? What if she gets pregnant? How are you going to deal with all the repercussions—

The rabbit-duck illusion. An ambiguous image in which a rabbit or a duck can be seen. Understand this.

Yena gets up, then she's back on her knees but now on the couch, facing away from you. Her cute ass is in perfect view, and so are her damp panties, especially when she bends down, putting her head into the cushions. She looks back and pouts. "Please? I'll even..." She tugs her underwear, and it sticks to her pussy for a moment with some thin strands of juice before she pulls it down her thighs. Her cunt is glistening, pink and swollen with need, and her clit seems already hard, eager to be stimulated.

You stare, transfixed at Yena's beautiful folds, and after a long, silent moment where you try to convince yourself it's okay, you take her panties from her and throw them on the floor.

Yena sticks her ass up higher, wiggling it. There's a delectable curve to her back, and you can spend all day studying the perfect anatomy, her tits hanging, the back dimples above her ass, the dip of her spine. In fact, once you get your mind right (or wrong, depending on how you look at it), you spend at least a few moments massaging her shoulders, her back, feeling every inch of her skin. You can't resist pressing a kiss on her soft, pale skin. Your thumbs rub circles around her shoulder blades, and she whimpers. Whimpers even more when she feels your shaft between her asscheeks.

"Please?" She sounds resigned, exhausted that you haven't fucked her into the couch yet. Yena's giving the sweetest puppy eyes she can.

Taking a deep breath, you hold your erection and rub your cockhead against her folds.

"Fuuck," Yena whines.

You smirk, then push.

The second your cock slides into her cunt, Yena yelps into the sofa.

You've never felt anything so tight before. In one way, her inner walls are like steel, squeezing you with a vice grip that almost hurts, but she's also so warm, wet, and soft. And the more you start to move, the more her inner muscles tighten around your shaft, until they feel like they're already trying to milk your cock for your seed. You're not even done your first stroke.

"Fuuuuck," she moans again, and this time, she pushes her ass up, shoving your cock deeper into her pussy until it hits the deepest part of her. This is where you start to really go for it, thrusting your hips forward before pulling back against the whims of her apparently greedy hole. Every thrust that you give is met with a shove back from Yena, her thighs slapping against yours, your balls slapping against her cunt.

You grunt and bite your lower lip. This girl doesn't give any slack at all. You hiss, one hand gripping the couch, the other on an asscheek. "Fuck, your pussy feels so damn good."

Her only reply is more squealing.

"Yena," you call over the sound of her voice, but she's lost in another world of pleasure. You slap her rump, and it has no effect. Her moaning becomes louder, desperate, and you find it impossible not to speed up, pushing faster and harder. When her ass slaps against you, her juices drip down your balls and onto your couch, and you're suddenly so hot. You can practically feel the sweat dripping down your sides and between your legs.

Without thinking, she's tensing her legs and bringing her knees together, and your cock receives more of this unbelievable friction soothed by a never-ending stream of nectar from her hole.

You grab her long hair, making a ponytail that's more of a handle. It forces a gasp out of her, also forces her to get up onto all fours. Yena looks back at you for the first time in what feels like forever and it's cloudy. Her expression, her eyes, her smile, they're all foggy and lost to lust. You're probably looking at her the same way, unable to truly focus on anything other than the perfect feeling of her pussy.

So you don't expect when she says, "Are you close?"

You manage to puff out an airy "Yeah", surprised at her prescience.

"Remember." She moans when you hit some inner part of her she probably didn't know about. "Nnh, I said, fff, fucking, fuck, cum inside. I wanna feel your cum, dripping, hot, in me."

Your whole body trembles as you slam into her. You slow down for just a moment to put your knees between her legs and force them apart; you're getting too overwhelmed by her pussy. You grab each of her hands, pulling them behind her because you need all the extra leverage to drive through her depths. You pull her enough to lift her torso up; now she's kneeling while sitting on your cock at the same time. You fuck upwards into her, your balls tighten and pulse, and your load is nearly ready to shoot. You hear her breathing change, quickening as she gets closer, but you don't have the strength to last any longer.

Yena cries out loud when you begin to empty into her. "Yes! Yes!"

You're still thrusting even though you're going through a powerful orgasm, your whole body tensing in earthquakes of pulses, all your muscles tightening. She was already so warm, but now it's even warmer when you feel your seed blasting into her insides. By the looks of it, or rather, by the feel of her pussy clenching on your cock, she's going through a similarly strong climax, which causes her to add a mess of clear fluids to mix with your thick white semen.

"Feels so, so, so good," she says raspily.

You grunt in agreement, and your cum dribbles out of her pussy and down your balls.

"Fuuuck." She breathes, barely, and then leans back.

You collapse with her, catching your breath while you catch Yena on your body the whole time. You can hardly breathe; your heart is pounding so fast in your ears. Now you're lying on your back on the couch, and Yena is lying on you, your still-throbbing dick still inside of her creamed hole.

After you finally find your breathing's regular rhythm, you try to sit up, but find that Yena sleeping on top of you makes it a bit difficult.

Luckily, you can just reach over to your coffee table, grab some tissues. You try to clean up as much of the mess underneath you as you can.

Yena stirs awake at your movement and sits up.

"Hey. If you want, you can just head to my bedroom and sleep there. I'll clean this up."

There's a strong blush on her face. "No, no, let me help—"

"No, it's fine, just go ahead."

"Okay. As long as you come sleep with me. If you're not in the room in... five minutes, I'm going to be mad at you. Actually, if you don't, we're never doing this again."

"Oh, so you plan on doing this again?"

Yena crosses her arms. When she sits up, she brings a hand between her legs and slides a finger up her folds. You watch her suck that very finger with a moan, and you're almost hard again. But then she reaches down for her panties, puts them on quickly, and gets up to scurry over to your room.

She said five minutes so you're done cleaning in two.

You head to your bedroom and find Yena half asleep. She stretches when she sees you open the door.

"Cuddle me," she says adorably with her arms out.

You get under your blankets. She's lying on her side, so you lie behind her to spoon her and wrap your arms around her torso.

“Can I be honest with you?" Yena asks. "That was really good sex. I only cum like half the time."

"Really?" You can't hide the grin on your face.

"The feeling of cum inside me just... mmm, fuck. That's why I put on my panties. It makes me tingly and I don't know why."

You whisper, "Wow".

"But. Well. I just can’t imagine us in a million years being exclusive.”

There goes your smile. You loosen your hold of Yena. “So what, you want to sleep with other guys?”

“Yep.”

“Well, that feels unfair.”

“Oh, I think I can make it up to you even better.”

✦✧✦✧✦✧

To be continued.

Yes, this is just one scene of a longer story, but I know myself and figured I might as well post this now (because for one thing, I haven't posted in four months). You might see this again in the full thing edited.

#kpop smut #izone smut #yena smut #reader insert #male reader

804 notes · View notes

mashiraostail · 10 months ago

Note

I hope school is going well for you! I'm almost done with my first year of my master's program, so I feel the pain of Zoom U! (Not so) secretly seeking comfort in your wonderful fics and headcanons - especially with my husbands Gang Orca and Aizawa <3 Request perhaps when you have the time/desire: the husbands, adding based on your preference, spending time with their loved one once they've finished a hard project or got a break from school, etc. Lots of Love!

yesss ! i recently completed my m.ed and got into my phd program so i feel this and wanting to celebrate and enjoy time with loved ones is epic

Shota Aizawa

"I'm gonna put my head through a wall." You flip through your mail again, "seriously, still nothing." You'd be obsessively refreshing your browser as well, hoping for an acceptance letter, at this point a rejection would be fine too.

"What's wrong honey?" Aizawa looked up from his paperwork. "What are you looking for?"

"My letter? From the university?" You're almost annoyed at him for asking, maybe he was playing dumb. "I can't really start my break without hearing back...I'm too on edge."

"You just finished your graduate degree, take a load off." He laughs, "school isn't going anywhere."

"I can't until I know I'm all set, I need to plan for the future Shota." You rub your face, "I'm so frustrated. I just want to know."

"Oh, hey now that you mention it I think you got some mail from them, it came at a weird time. Big envelope...I think it's in the kitchen."

"WHAT?" You shriek and jolt up, "go get it!"

"Why me?"

"I'm scared! I haven't seen anything online, what if they rejected me?"

"I'm sure they didn't." He gets up anyway and brings the manilla folder in for you. "Want me to open it?" You nod meekly. He opens it painstakingly slow, you watch his every move, analyze his face for a hint of the outcome.

"What does it say." Your stomach lurches when he sighs.

"Jeeze..." He makes a nervous face and you can feel your eyes watering.

"What, Shota, please tell me..." You're pulling on your shirt hem nervously.

"I'm barely gonna see you anymore." he turns the paper around, but he's smiling. You practically launch yourself at him and he accepts it with just as much gusto.

"I knew you made it honey." You feel his nose by your scalp, his breath is warm and inviting, you wrap your arms tighter around him.

"I'm so relieved." You feel like crying, you're so thankful the pit in your stomach is gone, all you feel is excitement for what's to come.

Shota laughs a little, "you take it all in stride." He pulls away a little and brushes your hair back, "you've been doing so great lately. I'm proud, but I'm not surprised."

"Thank you for all your help." You look at him and the unmistakable fondness in his eyes made your chest warm, you swore you're the only person to ever see it.

He makes a small noise, like kissing his teeth but softer, "don't look at me like that, I didn't help that much." He tosses the folder onto the nearest table and you tumble down onto the couch, his paperwork long forgotten. "Let's have dinner, whatever you want."

You gasp excitedly, "whatever I want?"

"Yeah.." He laughs a little, it comes from his chest and wraps you up like a blanket, "whatever you want. I can cook, we can order out, we can go out, the world is your oyster." He's grinning, "and money's no object, you earned it."

"I wanna stay in with you, let's watch that movie that I've been looking at. We should order out. And can we eat in bed?"

"Yes, yes and yes." You feel his lips on your temple, "I can't say no to you right now."

You're practically vibrating with excitement, Shota was always playfully mean, he enjoyed your constant whining for his affection for him to be so unabashedly affectionate and kind is a rare treat.

"I'll order the food, we can have a shower together," he tries and fails to stifle his laughter at the way your eyes light up, "and we can get into pajamas and watch that movie." You're nodding, thrilled, beyond thrilled.

"Let me know if there's anything else you want."

There wasn't, it was honestly perfect. You order your favorite food and get to cuddle up comfortably in bed with a good movie and even better company

Kugo Sakamata

Lately it feels like Kugo only sees you crouched over your laptop, typing furiously at your keyboard. Occasionally you'll groan and rub your eyes, or mutter something to yourself. You mentioned that you were finishing your thesis, that you were swamped. He tried not to get in your way, to bring you snacks and drinks and to check up on you when you were writing and editing for long hours.

Currently he is doing his own work, at his desk. It's late, you'd been working all night since dinner. He thinks he should check on you, maybe you'd gone to bed. He hopes you had, he disliked the idea of you staying up so late to work, especially when you worked so much during the day. He helped you when he could, proof reading, giving you ideas, and offering you support when you needed, he wished he could do more.

As he considered this his door opened and there you were, laptop in hand.

"Kugo I think I finished!" You look thrilled, he feels thrilled for you.

"My love that's wonderful news, can I see it?" He's glad to watch you bound over to him, and he easily sets his own work aside for you. You show him, though he's sure it would take him a while to get through it all he looks through the beginnings of it.

"You can have a copy when I print it all out to send in." You're beaming, it sends a million arrows straight through his chest.

"I'm thrilled to see you so happy, you have no idea." He sets your laptop down on top of his paperwork, "come here to me."

Of course you go, his hands wrap around your arms as you slide onto his lap. "I'm glad to be done." You feel his hands on your lower back, yours rest on his chest.

"Selfishly, I'm glad you're done too." You feel his thumbs running long strokes over your skin where your shirt rode up under his palms, "when was the last time we went to bed together?"

"I know.." You lament, "i'm sorry I've worked so much."

"No," he tsks, "don't be sorry. I'm proud of all the work you did. I'm glad to have you to myself now."

"Kugo.." You laugh, a bit nervously.

"How do you want to celebrate?" He asks, "I know it's late, but we should do something."

"I just want to spend time with you."

"I can arrange that." He laughs, it's a bubbling sort of warm sound, like a rolling boil. "I'll stay home tomorrow."

"No!" You gasp, "Kugo your job is very important!"

"I know, but I've missed you. I want to talk about all the work you've done. I'd like to have you for the day, if it's alright? We can have breakfast and do whatever you like all day. I'll give you whatever you like."

"You'd really do that? I feel like I'm stealing you."

"You don't have to worry about that. You stole me a while ago." His hand comes up to your face, his palm is smooth over your cheek, his finger brushes the shell of your ear, "you'll stay with me tomorrow, wont you?"

"Of course.." You flush a little, the warmth had started in your stomach and radiated up to your cheeks, "what should we do to celebrate until then..."

"Well why don't you tell me."

#aizawa shouta x reader #kugo sakamata x reader #eraserhead #gang orca x reader #eraserhead x reader #bnha x reader

80 notes · View notes

submalevolentgrace · 2 years ago

Text

(yesterday i received an ask, which prompted me to write the following response. the asker has apologised for sending it and i took it down to prevent anyone from laying into them, but present is anonymously below because i like my response and want you to see it)

"Based on the fun new revelation that the world is ending before I graduate, is it even worth it to try prepping or should we all just get ready to jump into traffic come 2025?"

okay, there is, A LOT to unpack here. i'm gonna do my best to respond to this helpfully, the way i am facing it: confronting it, emotionally processing it, pragmatically preparing, and holding on to a sort of grim, dark hope.

we're talking about climate collapse and the latest IPCC report here right? first off, it's not a new revelation. maybe it is for you personally, but for humanity as a whole, we've known about the inevitable outcomes of emissions damaging the climate since like the 70's. i found out about it myself in primary school in the mid 90's, when it was still called the greenhouse effect, and i then spent 20 years on and off in various roles of support for climate activism, when i had the spoons. if you're young and just finding out about it now i know it's probably overwhelming, and especially sucks the later you've been born into this mess… but i'm pointing out that it's not new, to underline the point that it's also not sudden. yeah it's getting worse, but it's been getting worse for generations, and will keep getting worse for generations.

it's not a meteor, or a volcano. it's a creeping steady decline of habitability with sputters and bursts of natural disaster; there is no timeline or event or threshold at which the world ends here.

that 2025 "deadline" from this year's IPCC synthesis report, for instance; it's not a date that the world ends. honestly, in some ways, it's kinda meaningless. what it is, as i understand it, is that all the data says that if we want to limit global average temperature rises to 1.5C by end of century - which we do, because even 2C would be catastrophic - we need emissions to peak by 2025 and then rapidly decline. it's a vastly oversimplified agregate of incredibly complex data reduced down to the point of absurdity in a desperate attempt by scientists to get corporations to allow governments to take action to limit corporations. it's a deadline for government action to limit effects by 2100. the year will come, and pass, and the world will go on. probably with emissions still going up, probably with targets shifted again and 2C accepted as the next half hearted goal that will also be missed, but life will go on.

no end of the world. life will go on. into the 2030's, into the 2040's, into the 2100's, life will go on. it'll be hotter and colder, wetter and drier, more storms and bushfires, less food and fertile land, but life will go on. populations will starve, land will become uninhabitable, life will go on. when you hear about "the end of the world" from climate collapse, it's not a hard apocalypse that kills us all off or whatever. it's the slow creep of nature getting more harsh, and the way we do things much harder.

if you look at the serious reports from scientists and militaries, the language you see isn't "end of the world", it's "end of modern societies". that's what's really at risk: the fragile infrastructure that holds up the ruling classes of rich nations and has us all scurrying around to make it work. mass scale power grids, international supply chains and just in time logistics, silicon wafer production, year-round plastic wrapped preserved passionfruit chunks grown in thailand, packed in argentina, sold in france, profits to america, money stored on a computer in the cayman islands. i can't sugarcoat it and say that's all that's at stake; people are definitely going to starve and drown and die of exposure; but that already happens every day in most of the world, right now. there are a million rohingya at the border of bangladesh, locals fleeing khartoum as the west airlifts out is nationals, people whose civilisations were crushed under the boots of empires and land destroyed to create the farmland and factories that are killing the planet. life for them goes on.

i mean, i get it. seeing the impending collapse of your society, everything you've known for your whole life being willfully destroyed, it's fucking devastating. we want to keep sitting here on comfortable couches with our gold and cobalt plated supercomputers sharing cat gifs on the hellsite. we don't want to have our civilisation taken away from us and be forced into brutal struggle to survive. it's going to fucking suck, it will be awful, and it will be (and already is) most destructive to the people who are already the worst off, which just sucks even more… and maybe your life is already bad enough that you don't think you can handle it getting worse. i mean, i've been suicidal since i was 14 and i've been through trauma and medical torture you wouldn't believe since then. i get it. you're scared, terrified even. existentially threatened. you don't know what you can handle and maybe you donn't wanna find out.

but here's the thing: the ONLY sensible thing you can do, now and going forwards, is prepare for it.

you wanna kill yourself when it gets hard? let's say sure, i agree with that. what's the threshold then, what's the limit? when will you kill yourself? the power grid going down? sewerage backing up? supply chains failing and being unable to buy food? from the comfort of the developed world, those all feel like exit points i can imagine many people taking as their out… but how long does it have to last before you know it's carbon-monoxide-party time? a month of no power, no flush, no food? a week, a few months, or a year? because it won't start that way.

it's not a meteor or volcano, it's a slow slide. some powerlines sagged so there's rolling blackouts every now and then, a few hours or a day at a time. pipes backed up a bit so pressure is reduced for a week until repairs are done. fires and plague have closed roads so shelves are bare and stores are limiting purchases on essentials this month. there will be bumps along the road before there will be any sort of definitive cliff where you can say "this is it, now is the time to kill myself". these bumps are already happening.

i really hope you can agree, it'd be absurd to be such a fatalistic doomer that you kill yourself instantly at the first blackout, dry tap, or closed grocery store; when you can't know if it'll be back up in a few hours or tomorrow or next week. these small disruptions are already happening right now, directly as a result of climate collapse, but we're still here, still living. if we're going to talk about suicide as a pragmatic option, you need a threshold, and wherever you set it, you'll have to get through what comes before. "i'll kill myself after a month with no grid" still means you gotta be ready for a week without it. you gotta prepare, even if you plan to not survive.

and i know it's overwhelming, i know. to look around and think about what is essential to keep you going, what you can sacrifice, how you can make it through. but you're not going to be doing it alone, everyone around you is going to be doing it with you. we're all going to be struggling through it, and based on how communities have responded in the last few years to a string of once-in-a-lifetime disasters here in my home of climate-fucked australia, i am certain that when the climate collapses around a group of people, they will form a community and help each other, no matter how selfish and mean of a country bogan (translation: redneck) they are. people will help each other; people already are helping each other.

because yeah, climate collapse will probably destroy modern civilisation… but so what? it's a neoliberal capitalist hellscape quickly plunging us into technologically enforced eternal authoritarianism… and like, not to be an accelerationist or anything, but here's that dark hope i mentioned: i'm kinda relieved by the thought that the infrastructure that enables it won't last this century. that climate collapse will force us out of these horrors, and back into real, interdependent community.

so do what you can to prepare, how you can, to make the little disruptions more bearable and comfortable. there's plenty of resources still available for off grid life, camping, home agriculture, and general self sufficiency out there on the still-existant internet, and more people are getting into it all the time - not just what you imagine when you hear "prepper". any skill you can develop, anything you can do to prepare, even if it's as simple as keeping extra shelf stable food and a jug of clean water around, anything you can do will help you materially and more importantly, mentally.

having some jerry cans of water and a small solar setup has been amazing for my mental health and anxiety! and as much as i'm putting material and energy into preperations, i'm also putting them into comfort, maybe even hedonism. collecting some cool lego, got some fancy synths i didn't need, making fucked up noise music with them. enjoying the sound of the neighbours' chickens, looking forward to the day "the world ends" and i can free-range my own on the council's nature strip and share the eggs with the pottery lady down the street. once you're prepared to survive a week of grid down, maybe you'll realise a month, a year, isn't so unbearable. maybe it starts to feel nice?

because i've been there, the suicidal grief. 2018 was absolutely the worst year of my life and i was sure i'd die being tortured in hospital, and coming out of that, in 2019, both the IPCC and ADF released incredibly bleak reports on climate collapse outcomes, and it all sank in. all the spare spoons i'd sunk into helping when i could, all the decades of scientists desperately warning, it all failed. the final warnings have been coming for years, with no change in course, it's happening. and i faced the realisation that my decades were limited, my time of comfort short, and i started despairing and grieving. i turned to what support systems i had, and they failed me. when my psych asked what i was so anxious about and i started explaining the climate reports, he tensed up and started asking diagnostic questions for dilusional psychosis. i went home and cried, i was sleeping on the couch in the junk storage room of my sharehouse because i'd let my own room fill up with so much trash that there was a distinctly organic smell of growth choking the whole place out. i was fucking done, my heart and body broken, there didn't seem to be any point in anything, not without a future. it's the closest i've been to killing myself since leaving home…

so i said, fuck it. i've got a tiny pool of cash from welfare backpay, and i bought a synth i wanted. it fucking rocked, and brought me so much joy, so i bought another, and another. no future to save for, anyway. i made some cool music, i never saw that psych again, i gave up on my drive for revenge on doctors and finding answers about my fucked up nervous system, why bother when the world is ending? and i made music. i can kill myself later maybe. i started loving myself more, because what's the point starving to death hating myself? i made music and got confident and cleaned my fucking room, bought a new mattress. i met a girl and took a chance and we fucked real good and i fell in love again. i moved out somewhere new and quieter and left a home of over a decade behind me, left parts of my identity behind me, moving forward and growing for the better. i have a family now, the first family that has ever loved me without expecting anything in return, and i love them with all my heart. i listen to the chickens, and watch leaves float down the storm water drain, and make cool music. yesterday i listened to a 14 minute track i made 6 months ago and almost cried, because nobody can make music that is so perfect for my tastes except me, and i brought it into existence. on the weekend i'm gonna set up the solar panel to keep the backup battery topped up, i use it to charge my phone and laptop, which the kids would call solarpunk and i'd call cool as fuck to have a solar powered laptop.

in 2019 i stared into the void and realised there is no real future for me, for human civilisation as we know it, and i grieved and processed… i almost killed myself, but i didn't, and the years since have been the best of my life, no question.

so, no. don't kill yourself, now or in 2025 or at any point until you can't handle the torture anymore. "graduation" sounds young, real young, even if it's tertiary. i'm creeping towards 40, and the age that "graduation" conjures makes me think that you've got a hell of a lot of potential left in you, for fun and stupidity, and growing up, and finding love and heartbreak, and your version of wierd-arse synth music.

so go out there, prepare, and enjoy.

…

…..and for the love of all the false goddesses of the void, never, NEVER EVER again contact a random fucking blog on tumblr and ask if you should kill yourself. holy fuck buddy. the amount of pressure you put me under to deliver an emmaculately worded response that somehow talks you down from the ledge without lying, is way, way too much fucking pressure. i really hope you were being stupidly hyperbolic, but even then, Eris Fucking Kallisti Herself In Absurdist Pagan Blasphemy, so incredibly unacceptable to say to a stranger. i think you need a therapist, even if they do think you're catastrophising, because like. shit dude. this is abso-fucking-lutely not okay!

now go. prepare and enjoy.

300 notes · View notes

therainscene · 2 years ago

Text

Will Byers: Be gay do crime, amirite?

Growing up means putting away childish things, choosing between marrying a woman or remaining celibate, becoming a wage slave with no free time, and accepting that this is how life works.

Fuck that!

Will would rather spend his time doing things he actually enjoys with the people he loves, and if he has to break some of society’s rules to do so... well, clearly the rules were bullshit to begin with and deserve to be broken.

But the spark of defiance we see in the van is a smoldering ember compared to the fire of S3.

Will jokes about Vegas and D&D, but that’s all it is -- a joke. Getting to spend the rest of his life with Mike has begun to feel like a silly fantasy, akin to using superpowers to commit fraud as a minor.

It doesn’t occur to him that Mike’s cries for help could be because he wants to escape comphet, not be pushed further into it. He weeps quietly over his self-inflicted heartache, back turned and mouth smothered, like there’s something unreasonable about his feelings.

What happened to the brazenly authentic boy who openly admitted that he expected to spend his life with Mike? Where’s the offended boy who called Mike out on his performative heterosexuality? The furious boy who screamed and sobbed and swore as he felt society’s homophobic standards closing in on him with all the inevitability of growing older?

Will is authentic and headstrong, but even he is getting slowly crushed under the boot of forced conformity.

Some of the GA think this is an acceptable outcome; just an inevitable part of growing up gay in the 80s. It’s realistic and relatable. Great queer rep!

Others decide that Will should become a villain -- after all, hasn’t he earned the right? The narrative has done nothing but torture him, so doesn’t he deserve to go a little apeshit? As a treat?

Henry Creel: Be gay do crime, amirite?

Henry is scathingly critical of society’s rules. He refuses to compromise his true nature by playing along, and no amount of punishment can force him to change.

His backstory is presented in a way that makes it difficult to sympathize with him -- I mean, ok, maybe he didn’t deserve to be jailed and tortured when he was just a child, but surely the Soteria was necessary, right? He’s dangerous.

But the real threat that Henry poses isn’t his willingness to kill -- it’s the power he has to rewrite the rules. And both he and his oppressors know it.

By locking him up (forcing him into the closet), torturing him (subjecting him to homophobia), and implanting him with Soteria (castrating him), they stripped him of agency and reduced his options to a rock and a hard place:

Continue suffering in obedient silence.

Go apeshit and commit whatever atrocities are necessary to escape. Embrace his role as the villain in a story where people like him aren’t allowed to be the heroes anyway.

(Hmm, those are same options that Will is expected to choose from. What an interesting yet surely meaningless coincidence.)

The tragedy of Henry’s story is that he did end up conforming to the rules in the end.

He didn’t choose the option his oppressors would have preferred, but he did choose an acceptable one -- he became the monster they’d already branded him as. Once upon a time his fellow outcasts might have gladly allied with him, but now they’re forced to stop him.

I love the symbolism of this shot. El’s rainbow is larger and pushes Henry back, while his is upside down, foreshadowing how the battle is going to end -- but more than that, it symbolizes their approaches in battle.

The motivation that Henry is using comes from the same place as El’s -- a desire for self-preservation, to defy authority, to fight for the rights of fellow outcasts -- but his has been twisted. He advises her to use a memory of injustice that makes her feel angry and sad...

...and while it’s very effective, it’s not enough. It isn’t until she thinks of a memory that makes her feel loved that she’s able to gain the upper hand.

Interestingly, the lights surge around her as she does this, bathing her in an ethereal white glow:

It fits the symbolism of the rainbow room perfectly -- after all, what is white light if not a focused rainbow?

But more importantly: where have we seen this before?

Will Byers carries the light with him wherever he goes, because he has the benefit of something Henry was cruelly robbed of: the unconditional love and acceptance of his family and friends, which helped hinder society’s efforts to crush the authenticity out of him.

So why should Will suffer the same fate as Henry? What’s stopping him from being the hero and earning the happy ending he wants, instead of the tragic ending homophobes expect him to settle for?

Like Henry, Will has the power to rewrite the rules -- and this time, they’re actually going to be rewritten.

#stranger things #byler #will byers #henry creel #el hopper #my analysis

282 notes · View notes

ourloveisforthelovely · 10 months ago

Text

Bad Ideas (Part 12)

Regulus Black au

Summary: It started as nothing now it’s something. Voldemort has been defeated but that doesn’t mean the wizarding world is still a good place to be.

Link to Part 11

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader

Rating : M-light smut

____

The next morning, you lay silently beside Regulus. You weren’t looking forward to going out with Lily. The prospect of "girl talk" and possibly seeing Lily cry made you cringe. You had never been one that was great with emotion. Something about seeing Lily, of all people, cry was not the least bit appealing.

Part of you felt incredibly bad about not wanting to get closer to your parents. After all, they did not plan on getting murdered and leaving you alone.

“In what universe would someone want that?”

You thought. Lily was attempting to get to know you. You had to give her some brownie points for that. If she didn’t care or didn’t want to make some form of effort, she would have never asked you out to breakfast.

James, however, was still a mystery to you. It felt you made him as uncomfortable as you felt Maybe he just didn’t know what to say? Maybe he doesn’t know to properly relate to women? There were many questions that you couldn’t quite answer.

“Maybe I am being too hard on them?”

The other part of your brain, the negative side, still hadn’t exactly gotten over how James and Lily seemed to immediately accept Harry and whatever was happening in your life while you didn’t get the same grace. Instead of getting to properly know you, they jumped on the first bad thing that they could find…your relationship.

“Regulus isn’t bad. They haven’t bothered or cared to see how good he is to me."

Glancing toward Regulus, you couldn’t help but smile. He had been nothing but good to you. His comment of““With me, Y/n gets to come first. She had always come second to Harry and for once she gets to come first. That’s what makes me good for her” would always be the reminder that he was in your corner.

“You’re watching me again.”

Regulus’ sleepy voice pulled you from your thoughts. Reaching over, you gently pushed a stray strand of hair out of his eyes.

“Yeah, well, get over it. You’re nice to look at.”

Regulus chuckled before wiggling his way on top of you. He held your hands over your head before leaning down to kiss you. Regulus wasn’t a fool. He knew exactly what you were silently brooding about. He could see it any time a frown crossed your pretty face.

If it were up to Regulus the two of you would simply leave and make a life someplace else. The two of you didn’t need anyone now that the war was over. It could be just the two of you and nothing bad would happen. No longer did you have to look over your shoulder.

“It could be just the two of us…in some little village where no one knows us. We could have a quiet blissfully boring life.”

Regulus knew that it was a pipe dream though. You would never leave your brother or friends. If you were ever to cultivate some kind of relationship with your parents then you definitely wouldn’t leave. Regardless of the situation, Regulus could make whatever outcome work. All that he needed was you. That was enough.

You gently nibbling on his bottom lip, pulled Regulus from his thoughts.

“You and your smart mouth.”

He murmured against your lips. You quietly enjoyed the next few moments of quiet kissing. Reaching up, you gently tugged on Regulus’ hair earning a soft sigh from your lover.

“Yeah, and you love my smart mouth.”

Regulus chuckled. He did, in fact, love your smart mouth. He didn't have to worry about someone being mean to you or talking to you badly. You could handle yourself. That didn't mean that Regulus wasn't more than happy to shut some idiot up when he had to. If someone looking at you funny, Regulus was more than happy to take whoever it was out.

“Yeah, I do. I should put that smart mouth to work by screaming my name.”

Biting your lip, you fought the urge to moan when Regulus rocked his hips into yours. You were already dying to have him inside of you.

“Maybe you should? After all, you did want to make everyone downstairs feel uncomfortable?”

Regulus reached beneath your bodies to ease your legs apart. As much as Regulus wanted to spend the next hour or two between your legs taking his time licking until you were shaking; he also knew that he didn’t have the time. Knowing his luck, Lily would be knocking on the door wanting to go out for tea.

“We have forever to do that. We have enough time for a quickie to hold us over for later.”

(meanwhile)

James was sitting at the table with Lily had Harry. The three had breakfast and were enjoying catching up. James had wished that you had made an appearance to join them but didn’t.

“She worked a late shift last night. She’s probably still asleep.”

Harry suggested, hoping to make James feel better. While Harry understood everyone’s side of this awkwardly painful equation, his main goal was to keep the peace between everyone.

“Yeah, she’s probably asleep.”

James murmured. Lily raised an eyebrow as she took a sip of her tea.

“Maybe you should do something special with her? Like I’m going out for tea with her later. She didn’t say no when I asked her. Granted, she didn’t seem super excited either.”

James rolled his eyes.

“That’s probably Regulus rubbing off on her. He shows as much emotion as a piece of driftwood.”

Harry blinked a few times.

“I don’t think it's anything related to Regulus, Dad. She has to be serious with her job too.”

“Well. I don’t know…”

James commented as your cell phone that had been lying on the table began ringing.

“Is that her muggle telephone thing?”

James questioned. Harry nodded, not thinking much of it. He was used to that phone going off at random times. The best Harry could assume was someone at the hospital was looking for something.

“Do you think we should go wake her?”

Lily questioned. James stood up and tentatively walked over to the phone and picked it up.

“I’ll just tell them that she’s sleeping.”

Lily didn’t think much of it and went back to her tea while Harry pushed his own teacup away.

James meanwhile, answered the phone with a curious hello only to be met by a female voice on the other end.

“Hello, is this Dr. Black?”

A frown automatically appeared on James’ face.

Dr. Black?

“Um…who?”

He questioned. Lily and Harry turned to watch him out of curiosity as the woman on the other end began speaking again.

“Dr. Y/n Black. I need to speak with Dr. Y/n Black.”

James muttered hold on as the confusion began to build. Why were you using Regulus’ name? The realization hit James like a rock to the stomach. You had married him! You had married Regulus and didn’t tell anyone!

“She will have to call you back!”

James hung the phone up before turning to Harry looking livid.

“Go get your sister.”

Harry, confused, quietly got up and did as he was told. On his way out of the room, Sirius came in with Remus behind him. It didn’t take both men being pals with James as long as they had been to know that he was seething over something.

“Love, what’s wrong?”

Lily asked. James shook his head.

“You’ll see.”

James grumbled as Remus gave Sirius a shrug.

A few moments later, you came downstairs with Regulus and Harry following you. Regulus looked highly annoyed. You, meanwhile, gave your parents a raised eyebrow.

“You called? We were in the middle of something.”

James gritted his teeth fighting the urge to throw the nearest heaviest object at Regulus’ head.

“What’s new Dr. Black? Care to explain?”

The whole room went silent. Lily blinked a few times while Regulus muttered “Here we go” and sat down as if this was just some normal family spat.

You stood with your arms crossed over your chest. Your secret was out and it wasn’t the way that you planned on telling anyone about your secret. Instead of panicking, you decided to play it cool.

“Nothing. I was sleeping.”

You replied innocently. James took a few deep breaths.

“No, you were under him. We could all hear you. We didn’t want to hear you. Why are you using his name?”

You raised an eyebrow before glancing at Regulus. His grey eyes watched your face carefully. He gave you a small nod as if saying “time to spill the beans.”

“One typically takes their husband’s last name.”

With that one sentence, you silenced the room. Had the situation not been so chaotically awkward, you may have found this whole thing funny. Lily sat with her eyes wide while Harry just stared at you in disbelief. Both Remus and Sirius had gone pale while James was turning red.

“Silly of me but did you say, husband?”

“She said husband and didn’t stutter.”

Regulus commented coldly. James glared at the other man.

“You married her? Y/n, tell me that he is high off something and you didn’t just throw your life away for some…”

“Watch your tone.”

Regulus cut in, his eyes were dead set on James. If the Potter brat wanted to fight then Regulus had no problem in taking him out.

Sirius muttered what sounded like “fuck my life” under his breath before getting up and moving over to the window. He opened the window and took a breath of fresh air.

“Well, this isn’t where I parked my car.”

Sirius rather dramatically turned and jumped out of the first-floor window. James watched his best friend with an exasperated expression.

“So, is anyone going to talk about how he just tossed himself out of the window?”

Harry commented. Regulus sighed.

“There’s a bush out there. That is the way of getting out of awkward conversations. He’s done that since he was a kid. Now back to the subject at hand…yes James. She married me.”

James took a few deep breaths.

“Why would you do that, Y/n?”

“Maybe because I love him. Have you considered that? Why did you marry Lily? Why do people do anything that they do? It's for a reason. We didn’t tell anyone because it was during the war. We didn’t know if either one of us was going to survive. It isn’t anyone’s place to tell me what I can and can’t do. Our decision to get married wasn’t anyone’s business.”

Lily had quietly started to cry from her place at the table.

“You’re making your mother cry.”

James commented. You held a hand up.

“You’re acting like a lunatic but I’m not pointing that out. I’m sorry to upset either of you but it was my choice…a choice that I don’t regret. I am Regulus’ wife and that’s how it's going to be.”

___

@geeksareunique @jessyballet @knreidy1 @fific7 @siriuslyceleste @justfinishthis @mimisparkle12 @teletubiswszpilkach @spideyxalmighty @lucasfilms77 @rubyroscoe1 @readtomeregulus @i-love-scott-mccall @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @s-we-e-t-t-ea @iluvthe-marauders @woohoney @abaker74 @regulus-black-223048 @saramaple @missgorldafirst @gugggu6gvai @bennyberry @f4iryluvy @panpride @haroldpotterson @quinis @mentally-unstable-hoe @daddyslittlevillain @goldensunshineshit @padf00ts-l0ver @un-lovesherself @marichromatic @ravenhood2792 @melaninnbarbie @playmore-zeppelin @authoressskr @brokencasbutt67-writer @moldy-old-boot @emiwrites3reads @knight-of-gleefulness @tas898 @li0nh34rt @summer-novak @rogue-nyx88 @deanwherescas @shaylybaby2032

52 notes · View notes

destinygoldenstar · 2 months ago

Text

SIXTEEN Other Ways Ellie Could've Played Her Game

"It doesn't bother me that you kicked Tom out. It's a game after all. But maybe you should've done things in a way where they wouldn't get hurt."

"It was the only way, Miriam. I'm sorry."

You know, this whole thing gets WORSE AND WORSE the more I think about it.

I'm losing braincells over it as we speak, so I need to GET THIS OUT OF MY HEAD and make a post about it.

In Season 1 Episode 10 of Disventure Camp, it's the Final Six.

Ellie Parker (Yes that's her full name) finds herself in a bit of a predicament. She's an outcast. There's an alliance of 3 consisting of Tom Jake and Miriam, and there's an alliance of 2 consisting of Fiore and Alec. Ellie WAS associated with the Alliance of 3 just tagging along, but she realizes that if she stays with them to get Fiore and Alec out, SHE WILL BE NEXT.

After all, Tom and Jake are lovers and Miriam is their surrogate grandmother. Compared to THOSE relationships she's just 'the friend tagging along'.

And Ellie NEEDS this money more than ANY of these guys. So she decides to begin her villain arc.

"That money will fund my dreams of fashion school! No more sleepless nights, barely making rent, working from dawn to dusk... whatever I need to do to win, I'll do it!"

So, what's her plan? In the canon, her plan is to...

Gaslight Jake into betraying Tom and striking a deal with Fiore and Alec. A deal Fiore betrays anyway.

And that's the SIMPLE way to describe this plan.

I've said this multiple times now. THIS IS A STUPID PLAN.

Not only is Ellie putting her trust in people untrustworthy, AND SHE KNOWS THAT, but she also psychologically hurts Jake on a very personal level, WHICH SHE KNOWS IT IS, and both blow up in her face!

Fiore betrays her trust and outs her plan, and Jake is PISSED at her.

She starts the episode with three allies. She ends the episode with ZERO allies.

From there, because she's more preoccupied with reading Jake for filth, she has to rely on LUCK to get her to the finals.

5th place could've VERY EASILY been HER. She had to rely on Fiore and Alec making the choice. And Miriam could've easily been playing Ellie and betrayed her, leaving her in 4th place.

I DUNNO ABOUT YOU, BUT I DON'T THINK LUCK IS A GOOD STRATEGY.

It's also because of THIS that she LOSES the entire game in the end.

Because of her manipulating the resident boytoy the way she did, not only is HE gunning for her, but so is his ally/surrogate grandma. It didn't matter that he got eliminated next episode. YOU DON'T MESS WITH GRANDMA.

Had Ellie not taken the route that she did, Miriam wouldn't have plotted revenge and would've been more accepting of her loss, and probably wouldn't have done her fake heart attack scheme.

AND THEN ELLIE WOULD'VE WON THE WHOLE THING.

SHE DID THIS TO HERSELF.

So I want to help her out, because I believe in an alternate universe of the show, she COULD win and make a GREAT plan to help her win and get past the Final Six dilemma.

Now, the show doesn't really GIVE any other route Ellie could've taken. The writers were very confident out this, to the point where the characters constantly say to our faces: "THERE WAS NO OTHER WAY."

"There's no other way Ellie."

So... MAYBE I should just accept this.

Maybe there really was no other way. In order to get out of debt and fulfill your dreams and save your life, some people have to get caught in the crossfire. Maybe... maybe there was no saving any of these bonds that have been formed after all...

...

I could call BULLSHIT.

There WERE other ways she could've played this game and get the results she wanted!

Ways that would've led to a BETTER outcome for her going forward in the game than what ended up happening!

She did NOT have to trigger Jake's PTSD to make him relapse.

She did NOT have to break up the Jam.

She did NOT have to put her trust in Fiore and Alec.

She did NOT have to make her plan so bloody complicated.

👏THERE. 👏WERE. 👏WAYS.👏

HELL, I said SOMETHING in my Episode 10 Reaction:

"There's just a dozen impersonal ways to play this game."

Now you may be thinking: "A DOZEN? Can you really come up with A DOZEN alternative plans Ellie could've done?"

NO.

I came up with MORE than that.

I'm doing SIXTEEN.

I'm gonna list all of them and climb up a mountain and scream so it echoes:

"'THERE WAS NO OTHER WAY' MY ASS!!!"

Okay, starting off these plans, we need to understand the playing field for Ellie.

There's an Alliance of 3 consisting of Tom Jake and Miriam. Currently, Ellie is tagging along with these three as she is Jake's 'friend' quote on quote.

There's also an Alliance of 2 consisting of Fiore and Alec. They are the minority. They are the targets unless they gain immunity.

Because Ellie has the weakest bond with the three, and NOT on good terms with the two, after the two are eliminated, she is in the belief that she would be next to go.

BUT DOES THAT HAVE TO BE A CERTAINTY?

Plan A - Stick With Tom Jake And Miriam

Let's face it, these three are much better people than Fiore and Alec, who have proven time and time again to be filthy backstabbers. Ellie had been stabbed TWICE by Alec prior to this episode.

So these three are not only unlikely to pull a backstab on people they care about, but they're also kind and considerate.

"But Ellie has the worst bond" SO WHAT? SOCIALIZE.

Talk to them, swap some stories with them, get to know them and get them to trust you and see you as this wonderful ally and person who deserves the world. Especially if they understand your motives for needing the money.

They're more likely to save you that way, especially if they're such good friends. And then you have a shot!

But what if, no matter how much you put yourself in their faces, your bond is still the weakest with the alliance?

Plan B - Make A Deal With Fiore And Alec

"But hang on, didn't she do this in canon?"

Yes... BUT I'M NOT TALKING ABOUT THE CANON WAY SHE WENT ABOUT IT.

Making this deal, she says she will vote for whoever they tell her to if they give her immunity.

Ellie, YOU ARE NOT A TARGET AT THE MOMENT. You don't need immunity.

Fiore and Alec are untrustworthy. So why would you give them the power to decide who goes?

So instead, make a different deal. A deal in which YOU have full power.

They HAVE to oblige anyway because they're minority and will be screwed if they don't.

"I'll join your side and vote with you. But I decide who we're voting for."

BOOM. You have full power and you decide who of the three should go.

There's NO ROOM for Fiore and Alec to betray that as far as I'm concerned. If they don't vote for who you want, the other three get a majority vote and they'd be screwed. THEY HAVE TO DO WHAT YOU SAY.

They can get out the biggest threat of the alliance, Tom, as a result. Which is what they wanted in canon.

BUT, that's a TIE. What if Fiore or Alec lose that tie?

Good point. After all, a tie is risky. You don't know who's gonna win that tiebreaker.

SO CONSIDER THAT TIEBREAKER AND CONTROL YOUR ODDS.

Plan C - Manipulate Who The People In The Tie Are Gonna Be

This is Plan B but with MORE to it.

With that Plan B deal, you have Fiore and Alec wrapped around your finger. So you can tell them to vote for whichever of the three you want.

And considering the other three DON'T know about this deal. THEY TRUST YOU.

So I call this: PLAYING BOTH SIDES.

Tell the Three that you have this brilliant idea to vote off one of the two. If you want to stick with Fiore and Alec, tell them ALEC is the better choice to vote for.

THEN, go to Fiore and Alec and tell them to vote off either Jake or Miriam, two who are physically much weaker than Tom.

So Alec has a much bigger chance of surviving the tiebreaker than, say, Jake. And Jake is gone.

OR if you want to stick with the three, do the manipulation the opposite way. Tell Fiore and Alec to vote off Tom. Then tell the three to vote off Fiore. NO CONTEST THERE.

That would be some sweet, sweet revenge on Alec after what he did to you, Ellie. Just saying. Karma's a bitch.

But what if a tie is too risky, PERIOD?

Plan D - Stir Up Miscommunication

We all know Jake is a gullible idiot, at least according to the writers. So manipulate him, and prevent him from talking to Tom and Miriam.

OKAY BUT NOT IN THE CANON WAY SHE DID IT.

I'm talking about convincing him "Hey, voting off, say... ALEC is the better option." And then make sure that plan is NOT communicated with Tom and Miriam and they're left thinking that the vote is Fiore.

Just prevent Jake from talking to them about it all day.

BOOM, the majority alliance's votes are SPLIT.

Two votes Fiore. One vote Alec. Three votes Tom. Tom is out.

Bonus if you can somehow convince them that it was Jake that flipped. Then Jake is a surefire next target after Tom.

But what if they figure out your scheme and counter it?

THAT'S A GOOD POINT. After all, Tom has an immunity idol. And Ellie has the information that Tom has an immunity idol.

I'm not discarding that being into play in all of this.

Well, with the previous plans, the simple solution is to not bring it up. After all, the three trust Ellie and don't know her scheme. So they THINK they have the majority.

So if you keep your mouth shut, Tom will think he, and his allies, are in NO danger, and he WON'T use the idol at all.

That's ONE way to go about the idol being discarded.

...without it being so convoluted.

OR, I have other ways you can do that.

PLAN E - Persuade Tom To Misplay The Idol

This is KIND OF like what Fiore does, to be fair.

Because Ellie knows about Tom's idol because he told her about it, he trusts HER to help him make that call.

So simply, LIE.

Tell Tom right before elimination, "Hey, I heard... Miriam (or whoever) talking with Fiore and Alec and she's planning to flip and vote Jake off. You have to use your idol to save him or we're screwed."

And if Tom is as much of a dumbass as he is, he'll believe it and play the idol.

And then he can watch as Jake gets zero votes and Tom himself is the one to go instead. (If you use Plan D into this)

But what if Tom is smarter than that and he uses his idol power wisely?

PLAN F - Convince Tom To Give The Idol To You

Tom thinks you're an ally. Just explain your situation to him and come up with a good argument as to why YOU need the idol instead.

Explain to him that YOU are a much more valuable ally in the long run, like your motive, or Jake and Miriam being stronger players, or make a promise that if he gives you the idol, you'll have his back all the way to the finals.

You don't even have to keep that promise, so long as you get the idol.

But what if Tom refuses to cooperate with that?

Well, I have another solution, one that I have said MULTIPLE TIMES, and is by far my favorite one out of all of these.

PLAN G - 📢STEAL THE IDOL!!

YOU KNEW THIS ONE WAS COMING.

The game NEVER says that the person who finds the idol is the only one who can activate it. And if that IS a rule, it was never established.

Far as I'm understanding when it comes to Survivor and this show, an idol gets activated when it is handed to the host.

So all you have to do is be the one to hand the idol over.

And if you don't trust Tom with that idol power, then the best solution is to STEAL IT for yourself.

Just silently snatch it from Tom's pocket.

But okay, maybe it's not that easy. Here's what I propose this plan looks like.

Ellie can convince Tom and Jake to have some bonding time together and happily go swimming. A scenario that forces Tom to not take his stuff with him, and therefore the idol.

Then, when no one is in the cabin, give a thumbs up to Fiore so Fiore can sneak in and STEAL THE IDOL.

Then when Tom is questioning where his idol is, he's forced to watch in Tribal Council as Fiore turns in the idol and nullifies four votes against her, and the two votes against Tom send him packing.

Or if you don't want that, then Ellie can just steal it for herself and use it in the Final Four. Then a single vote against Tom is enough. And Tom is gone and you're in the finals!

BUT WAIT, WON'T TOM NOTICE?

That ain't gonna happen if you make a fake idol and swap the two!

Ellie knows what the idols look like. Gabby used one on her. So just gather a couple of twigs and glue and do an arts and crafts project to make a fake idol to swap the two with.

Then when Tom turns in the idol and gets the news it's fake, JUST IMAGINE THE DUMFOUNDED LOOK ON HIS FACE.

"Oh shit."

Either way, STEALING THE IDOL is one of the best solutions that gives you a ton of power over everyone. IT'S BRILLIANT.

IDK WHY YOU DIDN'T EVEN CONSIDER THAT. COME ON.

...

OKAY OKAY OKAY, BUT WHAT IF you never get the chance to steal it?

What if Tom is THAT bad at laundry that he never strips with even his belt? I mean, that's plausible, the dude really hates exposing himself to the sun.

SOOOOOOOOOO...

PLAN H - Rig The Votes

If there's anything you can learn from BEST BOY HAROLD, rigging the votes is a very effective strategy.

Just make sure you're the last one to write down the name, then unscrew the box, swap out everyone else's votes with five votes against Tom, and then screw the lid back on and act like nothing happened.

Then watch as everyone is VERY CONFUSED on how the hell Tom got five votes against him. While YOU smile in the campfire with your marshmallow late at night.

Buuuuuuuuuuttt what if you can't do that?

After all, that IS technically cheating, and MAYBE Ellie isn't comfortable with cheating? I would think she would be, "Whatever it takes" and all of that, but WHATEVER.

PLAN I - Find An Advantage

After all, Tom found an idol advantage in that challenge. Who's to say there weren't others?

If you can find an advantage, you can activate it whenever, wherever, and save your skin in the Final 4 once Fiore and Alec are gone.

But what if you've searched the whole planet and there's no other advantage in sight?

PLAN J - Persuade Jake To Quit

Going back to the manipulating Jake card.

Jake's motivation was his grandmother, who died. He don't need the money no more. He wants LOVE, NOT MONEY.

So just take advantage of that gullible trait of his and persuade him that quitting would make him A REALLY GOOD FRIEND. AND NOBODY WOULD EVER LEAVE HIM EVER AGAIN IF HE GAVE THEM THE MONEY INSTEAD.

"Your fancy new boyfriend finds quitting the game to help friends really hot, you know?"

Okay, TECHNICALLY it's ALSO 'personally playing Jake's trauma to regress him'. BUT, you know why it's better?

Tom and Jake don't break up from this case.

But what if Jake is smarter than that and doesn't quit?

PLAN K - Give Tom The Nichelle Treatment

In the Total Drama Reboot, Julia fakes a Hollywood Letter to convince Nichelle to leave the game.

TOM IS A GOOD TARGET FOR THIS TOO.

The dude is a SPY on a mission to expose the host's crimes of killing wildlife.

"But Ellie doesn't know Tom is a spy" HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT? IT WAS UPLOADED ON THE INTERNET.

Just fake a letter to Tom from is boss, saying, "Hey, there's a clue to solving this case and if you take this NOW, we'll give you your job back and give you a raise! XOXO, Your Spy Boss"

Tom will HAVE to leave the game and do this, otherwise he'd be penniless!

But what if Tom sees through this fake letter and doesn't fall for it?

Well, who said we had to EMOTIONALLY hurt people?

PLAN L - Hurt Jake

No I don't mean the way she did in canon. I mean PHYSICALLY AND LITERALLY HURT HIM.

Just lure him to a nearby cliff and SHOVE HIM OFF.

He'll fall, SEVERELY hurt himself, guaranteeing some broken bones. And he'll HAVE to be medically evacuated from the game.

You can do this ANY WAY you want to. Lure him to a bear cave and get him mauled. Lure him to the scorpion cave and get him mauled. Get him to climb a tree and have him fall off and hurt himself. Or poison him. Or directly whack his legs with a bat. Or ANYTHING that gets him to the hospital!

So long as Jake is out of the game and out of the picture, it works.

But what if Jake's bones are made of steel and he can't be hurt?

Well geez that's some gay token plot armor if I've ever heard of it.

PLAN M - Murder Miriam

The woman's seventy two and easily vulnerable as a result.

So she's the easiest target to... eliminate from the picture.

"Whatever it takes" right?

Just find a weapon, get you two alone with no cameras, and KILL HER.

OR, slip her something poisonous. It's the woods after all.

OR, overwork her and give her a REAL heart attack.

So long as she dies.

Then at some point in the episode they'll find her body.

One less out of the picture. You're in the Final Five.

"BUT WON'T JAKE AND TOM BE DEVASTATED?!"

THAT'S PERFECT, THEN. If they're emotionally devastated and mourning and vulnerable, they can't think straight and you have all the power and they can easily be taken out!

But what if the fairy tale route is used and Tom and Jake instead unite stronger from this?

That's not how depression works. But it's fiction, so whatever.

PLAN N - Murder EVERYONE

JUST KILL ALL FIVE OF THEM.

Find a gun from the VR challenge and SHOOT ALL OF THEM IN THE HEAD.

Or you could trap the five in the zombie apocalypse with the VR again and KEEP THEM THERE. NEVER TO WAKE UP AGAIN.

It's EVIL. But it's also payback for cutting your arm off.

With everyone out of the picture and there's no contestants left, THE MONEY IS YOURS.

BUT WHAT IF YOU DON'T WANT TO KILL ANYONE?

PLAN O - Strike A Deal With The Hosts

They're criminals, right?

Tell them you'll cover for them and their crimes IF they let you win the million dollars.

You can pay for their lawyers in case any suspicion is brought up and defend them in court.

They're the hosts. They can rig the game so that Ellie can win.

Nobody else has to know about it. You're rich. And technically THEY'RE the ones committing these crimes, not you.

So you can ditch them if you want.

BUT WHAT IF THAT'S TOO BIG OF A BURDEN TO PLACE?

PLAN P - Steal The Money

Who cares about the game? It's not about the game, it's about the MONEY.

SO WHY NOT JUST ROB THE DISVENTURE CAMP BANK?

Just sneak in late at night and plan a ROBBERY.

Steal the money for yourself and slip out of sight. Or take the bus and drive it off a cliff.

You're rich. You can pay for college, your bills, EVERYTHING YOU COULD EVER WANT.

BUT. WHAT. IF. After ALL these BRILLIANT plans, you are STILL the social outcast and the next to go once an alliance is wiped out?

What if there is NO scenario where Ellie can win the game?

Well... maybe destiny had always been against Ellie.

Maybe she can't win Disventure Camp. No matter how hard she tries, the universe has other plans for her.

After all, to ditch her morality, and the bonds she made, all for money... is it even worth it?

So... here's a final, bonus, plan.

PLAN BONUS - Give Up

Just cut your losses and accept your fate.

No matter what you do, once Fiore and Alec get eliminated, you are the next to go. Tom Jake and Miriam's bond is just too strong to break.

And maybe it's best if you don't break that. After all, you ARE their friend.

...

So who's to say they won't include you in their little family as well?

After all, they're good people and care about you.

A million dollars, is, well, A LOT. So why don't we split it?

Miriam won in canon. Let's say she wins this AU as well. So long as Ellie remains a good, noble ally and a wonderful friend that is great at counseling the boys, they'll help HER too.

They'll give Ellie the money she needs to finish up college and pay her bills and she will never be in debt again so long as her friends are there to help support her.

Those three don't even need the money that much, so who's to say they won't do this for her?

So the moral of the story: Money can't buy friends. And the POWER OF FRIENDSHIP will give you better results in life.

And in ALL these case scenarios, you get the threats out of the game, you increase your odds social-wise, Jake isn't gunning for you, Miriam isn't gunning for you, you don't open yourself for betrayal by Fiore and Alec, Tom and Jake don't break up, and you get money!

EVERYONE WINS!!

So yeah. There WERE other ways Ellie could've went about her plan.

*Rant Over*

#disventure camp #total drama #disventure camp ellie #disventure camp jake #disventure camp tom #disventure camp miriam #disventure camp fiore #disventure camp alec

18 notes · View notes