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ceesimz · 1 month ago

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Evergreen

Glimpses of your relationship. (Autistic Reader)

Reverie series can be found here. This is structured differently than the rest, it's multiple blurbs in one that I've written over time, which has definitely made it unnecessarily long but it's super light-hearted and fluffy so hopefully it's worth it

Being in a committed, serious relationship was new to you. You had dated, and… that was about it. That’s as far as things had gone in the past.

Yet, here you were, making your way through the airport after spending Christmas back home in ice cold, snowy Norway, a small smile on your face at the thought of the person waiting to pick you up and take you home.

It was a strange adjustment, that was for sure, but a very welcome one. Having someone at your side felt… comforting. Knowing you could go to her for anything at any time was comforting. However, sometimes it worried you that you had to commit your every day to her. Not in the sense that you couldn’t settle down with her and her only, no way. Instead, you were anxious about the fact that there were times you needed your alone time, where you needed the world to quieten down a little to give you the space you needed to regulate yourself. Would Alexia understand that? Or would it irritate her that sometimes the only thing she’d get from you was radio silence?

In the end, you didn’t need to worry for even just a second. As a matter of fact, you found that peace in Alexia’s company. Not all the time of course, that wasn’t entirely realistic and time alone was still something you needed, just… less often. You wanted to spend everyday with her, even when you were mentally exhausted or burnt-out and so stressed you feared your hair would turn grey.

You hadn’t planned to fall in love within mere months of living in Barcelona, nor had you expected to fall for a teammate. However, sometimes the most surprising things end up being the best. You adored Alexia and all that she was, especially when she demanded that she drop you off and pick you up from the airport and left no room for arguing.

The sight of her waiting for you as you walked out of the arrivals door was worth the ten days of torture being away from her. There was no way in hell you could have controlled the shy, excited grin on your face as you wandered over to her.

She didn’t hesitate in holding her arms out when you got closer, an equally sheepish smile greeting you before you stepped into her space. The blonde let out an audible sigh of relief when her chin landed on your shoulder, holding you tightly against her whilst your hands slipped underneath the puffer jacket she wore and landed on the small of her back atop her sweater. For a few moments, the pair of you indulged in the comfort of the other after going so long without it. Hundreds of people passed by you as you did, each of them nothing more than a fleeting stranger with a life as complex as your own, yet your interest in their stories and the lives they led paled in comparison to the all-consuming feeling of Alexia’s embrace.

Despite how you had technically just gone home, back to Norway where you grew up with all your family around you, that reuniting hug was… something more. Something deeper. You couldn’t quite put your finger on what it was about it.

“How are you? How was the flight?” She murmured quietly, pressing her lips to your coat-covered shoulder before leaning back and gazing down at you.

“Tired. My mind is frazzled.” Alexia scrunched her nose at the unfamiliar phrase, and though she had never heard it before, she seemed to understand what you meant by it. You smiled at her as she did it, finding it much more adorable than you'd ever care to admit.

“Let's get you home, eh? With… with me? I stay?” She asked, wanting nothing more than to fall onto the sofa with you and lay there for the rest of her days.

“Yes, god yes. I missed you.” You told her. The blonde chuckled softly and pulled you back in, this time with her cheek resting against your forehead as you nuzzled your nose against her jaw.

“Sí, I will stay with you. Por supuesto.” Alexia said in a whisper, her lips pressing a kiss to your temple. “I missed you too. It was so strange without you.”

“How so?” You wondered, content to stay there in her arms with the warmth of her drowning out the cool chill of the terminal.

“I was sad. Whenever I had some free time, I went to ask if you wanted to come over or I go to you or we have food together or something. But you weren't here and then I was sad. I'm never sad.” You giggled at the last statement, because despite staying in touch whilst you were gone with both calls and texts frequently throughout the day, it was nowhere near the same as being there in person. You understood exactly what she meant.

“Don't be silly, you're the most popular person in Barcelona. You know everyone there somehow, nevermind the thousands of fans too.”

“Maybe, but none of them are you.”

Your first instinct was to roll your eyes at her statement, which made her grin, but it did something to you. To you and your heart, to the butterflies in your stomach.

“Calla, Ale.” You shook your head, though spoke with a sheepish gratitude to your voice and a weakness to your knees that had her laughing quietly.

“I am being serious. I wanted you to have an amazing time at home but I wanted the days to go fast so I could see you again.”

Her hand that landed on your cheek stopped you from turning away from her out of embarrassment at her sweet words, and you barely had a moment to scold her before she leaned down and finally kissed you. Each of you were overcome with a sense of relief, of yearning, of adoration, yet there was one stand-out thought which you both had– there was no way you could go that long without it again. And for Alexia, well, she also knew there was never another person in the world that could make her feel the way you did with just one kiss. It broke off sooner than you wanted, simply because not one of you could stop smiling.

“Take me home now?” You said, gazing at her as she blinked at you a couple times before snapping back into the reality. You giggled, spotting the exact moment she came out of her thoughts, which were overflowing with you, and nodded.

In moments like this, it was hard to believe that you were hardly three weeks into the relationship. Yet, if this was what three weeks had in store for you, you couldn’t wait to see what a lifetime held.

There was a bit of that playful back and forth that you adored when she took your suitcase from you, arguing something to do with being a gentlewoman, and you let her. Who were you to resist her? Dumb, that’s for sure. So she wheeled your bag to her parked car, your hand grasping onto her upper arm, in a comfortable silence. With it, came quiet excitement that formed between you, only now processing the fact you were back in each other’s company and had the next few days to spend time together before training started up again.

Nothing could have prepared you for the complete and utter domesticity that took over your apartment when you stepped foot inside again.

Firstly, it started with Alexia heading to the kitchen whilst you went to your bedroom to drop off your bags and unpack the main things from your backpack. Unbeknownst to you, while you were out of the country, Alexia had borrowed Ingrid's key to your flat so that she could organise a few small surprises she hoped you would appreciate. And appreciate them you did.

Just as you were beginning to feel a little overwhelmed at the thought of all the chores that coming back from a vacation had to offer, the door to your room creaked open and in walked your girlfriend with a mug of your favourite hot chocolate in her hand. With a disbelieving smile on your face, you happily accepted it, placing a grateful kiss to her check as your silent way of thanking her.

And as if it couldn't get any better, with a quiet, loving murmur, the blonde persuaded you to leave your bags until tomorrow, not afraid to admit that she would much rather spend the evening in your arms than to see you add to your own stress by trying to get everything organised straight after a flight. You were glad to take her up on her advice because you walked into your lounge to a coffee table filled with surprises. A fresh bouquet of flowers, a new candle, the softest looking blanket you might have ever seen, one of Alexia's folded-up hoodies, and a small gift-wrapped box. You felt overwhelmed, but this time in the best way possible – because you felt wholly and completely loved, even if the pair of you hadn't said that specific word yet.

The only thing you could do to repay such kindness was by granting her wish of doing nothing but cuddling with you on the couch. So you did exactly that. With Alexia's hoodie on, which you realised was her favourite, you both lay down on the sofa and got comfy. Your head was on her chest, tucked perfectly under her chin, with the new blanket that exceeded your softness expectations covering you both, and the most adorable Christmas tree decoration hanging off a pine branch in the corner of the room. According to her, Alexia had chosen it whilst at the Christmas markets, seeing the beautifully crafted glass decoration and thinking of you. Though, she also went on to admit that she thought of you all of the time, hence why she had bought multiple small gifts for you whilst you were gone.

Neither of you planned to fall asleep, but it seemed that had been the case when Alexia woke up some time later, you still on top of her and sleeping. She glanced at her phone and her heart dropped when she saw the time. You hadn't spent the night together at this point of your relationship, yet here the midfielder was, still on your couch at 1am.

Maybe it was slightly unfair of her, but she would have truthfully done anything to stay in that moment, with you completely at peace lay on top of her. So she lingered for a minute or two, one hand on the back of your head as the other slipped under her jumper and softly trailed her fingertips up and down your warm skin. She closed her eyes and rested for just a second, before letting out a slightly stifled sigh and raising her head from where she had laid back. She gazed down at you, your cheek slightly smushed against her chest and your lips parted as you let out small breaths every so often, and did her best to memorise the sight for herself.

“Cariño.” She whispered, gently nudging your shoulder to wake you up so she could leave. If it was up to her, she would just slip out quietly and not wake you, but she knew the anxieties that would most likely cause for you and that was the last thing she wanted. “Wake up, cari. Por favor.”

“Shh. Sleep.” You grumbled, burying your face further into her neck and pulling the blanket tighter around you.

“No, mi amor.” Alexia chuckled softly, which only had you groaning. “Sorry. I have to go, it's the middle of the night.”

“Just stay, Ale.” You told her. Now that, she wasn't expecting. And if you weren't toeing the line between awake and asleep, you probably wouldn't have said it either.

“S…stay?” She repeated, though got no response from you. “Wake up, wake up. Just for a minute while I go.”

You reluctantly opened your eyes then, if only to frown when you lifted your head up to look at her properly.

“Why do you want to leave?” You asked in a slightly anxious mumble, those worries that Alexia wanted to avoid appearing anyway. To quell them quickly, she cupped your cheek and leaned forward to kiss your forehead.

“Because we haven't spent the night together yet and I don't want to cross any boundaries. This is your space, I don't want to intrude and overstay my welcome.” She answered sincerely, gazing at you so softly that had you been standing, your knees would have surely buckled.

Those three words were so close to slipping out then, but you feared it was too early and you didn't want to scare her away just as you'd gotten her back. She kept you and your needs in mind at all times- not an overbearing amount, instead in a way where she somehow always knew the moment it was necessary for her to voice her willingness to cater for them. You'd known each other for a number of months now, so she had come to know you well, but it still caught you off guard how thoughtful and caring she was. Other than Ingrid, you weren't sure you had ever come across someone outside of your family that treated you so... perfectly. So normally. It was second nature for the Spanish woman at this point, and that meant the world to you.

“Ale.” You breathed out quietly, shaking your head slightly. She frowned at your reaction, and you couldn't help the sleepy giggle that left your throat. “I would really, really love it if you stayed over. Only if you want to, though.”

Your hair was no doubt a mess from being asleep, you could feel how flushed your cheeks were, and the material of Alexia's t-shirt was probably imprinted on one side of your face. Despite this, Alexia still looked at you like you were the only person in the world.

“If you are happy with it, I would love to stay over. I couldn't think of anything better than waking up in the morning to you.” Her words had you blushing, as they often did, and in your shy embarrassment, you ducked your head down to hide the beaming smile on your face. You lifted it back up only a second or two later when you heard Alexia yawn above you, the pair of you bursting into loud, hearty laughter afterwards.

Together, even with your fingers intertwined for the very short journey, you headed to your bedroom. Alexia perched on the edge of the bed as you searched your wardrobe not only for yourself, but your girlfriend too. You turned around with a pair of shorts for you, more than happy to keep on the jumper of hers you wore, as well as a sweater and another pair of shorts for Alexia. However, she looked at you like there was something she was holding back when you went to hand over the clothes.

“I don’t… usually sleep with shorts or trousers on.” She admitted with an amusingly bright shade of pink to her cheeks. Even the tips of her ears had changed colours.

“That’s fine, Ale, you can sleep in whatever you want. Long as you’re comfy.” You told her, giggling at the small sigh of relief she let out as you put her shorts back into the drawers.

“I did not want to make you feel uncomfortable or anything. Thank you for this.” She smiled up at you before standing.

There was a miniscule moment of awkwardness where the two of you felt like teenagers at a sleepover, worrying about changing in front of each other, until Alexia turned so that her back was to you and began to unbutton and unzip her jeans. You turned too, not without a coy grin on your face, and quickly got changed, as did Alexia.

“Can I turn now?”

“Are you finished?”

You asked at the same time, laughing together once more whilst moving to face each other again. Alexia took in the sight of you in her jumper, the small detail making her heart skip with joy around her chest, and you shook your head at the fondness she admired you with as you tried not to look at the rather substantial amount of skin on show from the woman across from you. She looked adorable, in just her underwear and a sweater with slightly tousled hair. It was such a contrast to the person you saw on the pitch, and so what if you secretly, not-so-secretly loved the fact that you were the only one in the world that saw this dimension of her multifaceted persona?

“What side do you prefer?” You wondered, gesturing to the bed behind you.

“Which side?” Alexia scrunched her nose in confusion like she did back at the airport, and still you found it just as endearing.

“Yeah, like do you prefer being closer to the door or to the window?”

“Oh! I do not mind, cariño, you can pick.” You let out a dramatic breath at her decision, then immediately clambered under the covers, making Alexia smile. “So you like the window?”

“I do. I like being able to look out every morning, the sunrise wakes me up.” You answered her curiosity, and it was simply another fact which she stored away. She had a number of them memorised by now, but she hoped she could learn every single one.

“Do you, um… like to cuddle? When you sleep?” The blonde murmured a little shyly, lay on her back with her head turned to you. You had a feeling, from the sheepishness in her tone, that there was a certain answer she was hoping for. When you answered, you couldn't help the small, excited smile on your face.

“I think I do.”

At your response, she moved onto her side, her accent thick when she quietly demanded that you roll over away from her. Once you had, you hid your face in your pillow when she shuffled up close to you, her chest to your back. Were you sure you weren’t asleep? Because when her arm slipped around your waist and hugged you tight back against her, you were convinced you were dreaming.

But, of course, you always had something to say.

“Do you sleep with socks on?” You hummed curiously into the quiet room.

“Sí..? Why?”

“That’s so strange, Ale.” You commented, goosebumps rising on your skin with the huff she let out against your neck.

“Vete a dormir, idiota.” She grumbled, though you knew she was smiling, it came through so clearly in her voice.

You woke up first the next morning. You weren’t used to sharing a bed, so you didn’t sleep too great, but waking up to Alexia snuggled close to you with her head half on your pillow and an arm wrapped around your body to ensure you didn’t move from her hold, it was so worth it. Even if she called you a worm for the rest of the day, droning on and on about how wriggly you were overnight. This time, when she teased you, you could see the smile on her face as she did so, you didn’t have to assume she had a grin like the previous night. With how the first night went, you thought about your future with a smile on your face, now knowing that mornings were so much better than ever before when you woke up to Alexia’s grumpiness and her tendency to cling onto anytime you tried to leave the bed.

—

Just because you hated your own birthday, that didn’t mean you disliked other people’s birthdays. In fact, for the people closest to you, you relished the opportunity to meticulously plan for them and show them exactly how loved they were.

“Ale, I mean it. Don’t you dare show up early.”

February 2nd was of course your girlfriend's birthday. It was a morning training session that day, which was honestly quite lucky, and after some celebrations there with the club, you two were going your separate ways. Alexia had plans with some of her close-knit circle of friends from her hometown, whilst you were finishing up organising everything for when she came over to your place afterwards.

You had your arms crossed and eyebrows raised as you looked at her in warning where you stood at the driver's side window of her car. She had a smug grin on her face, like she wasn't listening to a thing you were saying.

“What if I just want to see you, mi amor?” She argued cheekily, but you scoffed.

“Well, I'm right here, telling you to NOT show up early.”

“But I'm early to everything! Early is on time, on time is-”

“On time is late, late is what the hell is the point of being alive, yes I know you, Alexia.” You jabbed a finger into her chest, smiling at the toothy grin she responded with. “But this is your birthday and I have everything planned down to a T, if you're early then I'm just going to kick you out and make you sit outside in the corridor until it's the right time.”

There was a tight schedule for the day, one you were not going to break. Alexia may try her damn hardest but her determination isn't going to win out this time, because yours is stronger.

She was going to spend the afternoon with her closest friends, the people that she knew she wouldn't be where she was now without them, whilst you had an intense few hours of cooking. Yes, hours. Cooking historically wasn't your favourite thing in the world, you were a pair that did not get along, but with a few tips and lessons from Alexia's mother, you had nearly perfected one dish that you knew Alexia would die for. Hopefully she wouldn't have to resort to such extremities as long as you keep to your timetable and she doesn't ruin that.

“Oh my god!” You suddenly exclaimed as your phone vibrated in your pocket, your alarm telling you to get home ASAP going off at that particular moment. “I need to go! You’re going to make me late!”

Before Alexia could even blink, you had kissed her cheek and turned to head back to your car. But she wasn’t allowing that.

“Oye! Ven aquí, engel.” She sounded serious and a little strict then, you had no choice but to turn around and walk back towards her skeptically. You stood about a foot away from her door, though she beckoned you over with a wave of her hand and raised an eyebrow when you only shuffled a tiny bit. “Ven aquí.”

You rolled your eyes at her and did as she said, though your attitude didn’t stay for long when she pinched your cheeks together with one hand and leaned up to leave a lingering, firm kiss to your pouted lips that momentarily turned your brain to mush. After she pulled back, she chuckled a little menacingly at the daze she left you in, until you blinked out of whatever not so PG thoughts you’d fallen into and back to the present.

“Don’t distract me!” You groaned, pushing her face away gently with your palm. “Have fun with your friends, I’ll see you later. At the right time, Ale!”

Fortunately for you, she did show up on ti- well, two minutes early actually, but you were running ahead of schedule thanks to the gracious extra time you gave yourself in case anything did go wrong. Some things… did go wrong, but all were salvageable, and now you had the most beautiful aroma of slow-cooked, completely homemade (apart from the actual pasta) shredded beef ragu pasta circling throughout your apartment, and if you didn’t say so yourself, it could definitely pass as a Michelin star meal.

However, out of all the outcomes you had thought of for that night, there was one that you never could have prepared yourself for.

“You reek of wine.” Was the first thing you said when you opened the door to your pink-cheeked, suspiciously happy girlfriend. You scrunched your nose up at the distinct scent coming from her, or actually it was probably just your hypersensitivity to most smells, whilst Alexia beamed at you from her place rooted in the doorway.

“Hola, guapisima.” The blonde grinned, reaching her arms out and making toddler-esque grabby hands at you, otherwise known as asking for a hug in sober language.

Your first thought, as you leaned in, was one of anxiety and stress, since you didn’t exactly plan to deal with a wine drunk Alexia for the first time especially with it being her birthday. But then, she hummed almost like a happy cat purring when you wrapped your arms around her, and she seemed relaxed and happy in a different way than you had seen so far. Thankfully she didn’t seem too drunk, maybe just a bit tipsy, and as you held her you giggled at the way she nuzzled her nose into the skin just below your jawline.

“You had fun then? With your friends?” You wondered as you ran a hand up and down her jumper clad back.

“Mhm.” She lifted her head up and smiled at you. You looked in her eyes, and found nothing but carefree and utter contentment swirling around there. It did something to your heart then, a feeling akin to relief and pride settling over you at how at peace she seemed to be in your company. Even if that was assisted by the alcohol in her system. “So happy to be with you now. I waited all day.”

“Yeah, yeah. Softie.” You teased, giggling at how she tutted in disapproval at your comment and raised an eyebrow at you. “Feliz cumpleaños.”

“Tusen takk.” Alexia grinned in turn, her eyes creasing in the corners. “Ves? I am not early. I am at the right time and hungry, so let me in.”

“No.” You said just as she went to move past you. You tightened your arms around her waist so that she couldn't move, and she frowned grumpily as a result. “You're two minutes early, actually.”

“Vale.” She sighed, giving up the fight much easier than you expected, which only raised your suspicions further. “You cooked, sí? Mami said you were cooking a big meal?”

“I did, it's almo-” You were right to be wary of her behaviour, as her hands slipped down to the back of your thighs and she hoisted you up into her arms, catching you off guard. You pushed the door shut behind her before she walked away, only just managing to reach it over her shoulder as she started walking through your flat. “Ale! What are you doing?!”

Not that she made it too far before she almost sent the two of you flying down to the floor when she bumped into the set of drawers near the entryway.

“Be careful! How much did you drink?” You scolded lightly, grabbing onto the door frame that led into the kitchen to steady yourselves.

“Hmm… does it matter?” She answered, curving the question with a smile on her face before the smell of food cooking caught her attention.

“No, you can’t be in here yet! Put me down, get out!” You panicked slightly at how the surprise would have been ruined as she went to head over to the stove, though it was instantly relieved when Alexia stopped in her tracks and lowered you back down to the floor with a grumble. “You can’t know yet, I need to serve it up. Go sit at the table and wait, please behave. No funny business.”

“I will stay here and behave and watch you.” The midfielder compromised, and with a defeated sigh, you nodded and got started with the final steps of the evening.

“You're so weird.” You muttered, turning to glance back at her where she leaned back against the wall with her hands clasped behind her like a bored, young child when she clicked her tongue in disapproval.

“Not weird.” She grumbled, giving up on standing around and waiting, instead wandering over to stand beside you, drooling at the food you'd prepared until something caught her eye. “What is this?”

She picked up the piece of paper she saw and read through it – albeit with slightly blurred vision – and felt a wave of adoration wash over her.

“Oh, it's the… timetable I wrote for myself tonight. So I didn't forget anything.” You replied sheepishly, opting out of facing the blonde in case her and her unpredictable drunken antics decided to tease you for it.

You knew it might be a little weird to anyone else that you'd make such a detailed outline for the evening, but it was something you had always done and it hadn't failed you thus far. It was very meticulous, with timings for food and reminders of tiny things you didn't want to forget and when you could get ready for her arrival as the dinner cooked without it ruining the process.

Though, Alexia didn't think it was weird or unusual. To her, it was just another glimpse into your mind and how it worked, and she treasured it anytime she got to see that. She was sure, when you weren't looking and didn't need it anymore, she'd slip it into her pocket and keep it as a memory. Sure it might just be a lined bit of paper ripped out of the nearest notebook with scribbled notes that only you could understand, but for Alexia it was a sentimental souvenir that represented so much more than just a nice evening together. Making sure everything went perfect and was well organised that night was one of your many ways of demonstrating your love for her and how deep it ran.

“I really appreciate you setting up this evening for us.” Alexia began quietly, resting her chin on your shoulder and wrapping an arm loosely around your waist as her hand found its place on your hip. “Mi novia bonita. You are the best.”

“I'm sorry we aren't going out or doing anything fancy.” You mumbled insecurely, suddenly shrinking in on yourself and allowing the doubts to come in.

Alexia might be here with a smile on her face, but would she have been happier elsewhere? An actual Michelin star restaurant with a girlfriend that could handle more than half an hour in such an environment? Dressed up to the nines and paying a bill of, at the very least, three digits rather than putting up with a haphazard home-cooked meal and a night in?

“Why you say that?” Alexia frowned, gently taking the dish you were holding as well as the ladle in your other hand and putting them both down for the time being. She put the lid back on the pot so that the food didn't cool too much, before urging you to face her with her hand moving to your shoulder. “Why, when I think this is the perfect way to spend my birthday?”

“Because other years you've had parties and nights out, you've told me all about them and the dinners you've had and stuff. This is just… nothing compared to all those. But it's all I can give you and it doesn't feel like enough. I just… I tried my best though.”

The words come out thick and fast with little warning, revealing stresses that you'd carried on your shoulders for days since you came up with the idea for this night. You tried to disguise them, whenever Alexia asked previously you what was up you shrugged her off, but of course it was now of all moments that you spilt all you felt.

“No. No, no, no.” Alexia said, her eyebrows pressed down into a scowl of determination, which you took as anger.

“I am sorry, Alexia, I did try my b-”

“And your best is so much more than I could wish for.” She cut you off in a firm voice, her hands on either side of your neck as her thumbs under her chin tilted your head up to face her. “It is more than enough. I see what you have done here for me and I see you. Not what you can't do. Those other things for my birthday, they were more for my family and my friends to enjoy. I liked them, but… there is a reason I didn't want to do all that this year and it's not because of you. It's because it's not what I want, but you know what I want, and I know that because you've planned this night and it is perfect for me.”

With her flushed cheeks and slightly tousled hair from… well, from what you weren't sure though it probably had the same reasonings as the red tinge to her cheeks, but it was her wide eyes that really tied off the slightly manic appearance of her. Like, if you didn't believe everything she said, she might go on a tipsy rampage against everyone that had done you so wrong it had led to your current doubtful mindset.

Your hands were clasped in front of you, fidgeting as you processed her words which had been a little unexpected. Perhaps a drunk Alexia wasn't such a worrying thing like you thought it might be.

“A… are you sure? I mean, I d-”

“Spending time with the woman I love? She cooks an amazing meal for me? And it is just us, nobody else?” She interrupted you again, a soft smile on her face as her thumbs carefully caressed the soft skin of your cheeks. “I love that, cariño, I really have been so excited all day. Please, never… belittle yourself over what you can't do, when everything that you are doing is more than good enough for everybody around you. Nobody loves like you do and I feel very lucky to be the one that gets all you have to give.”

Definitely not as bad as you feared.

“You…” Speechless, you trailed off and shook your head. So you leaned in and hugged her, because there was very little you could say to repay her for her thoughtfulness other than- “I love you.”

“I love you too, mi amor.” Alexia hummed into your ear, swaying you both on the spot before her temporarily depleted attention span averted back to the pasta that was calling her name. “I also love pasta so please let me eat now. Two minutes have passed, no?”

There was a grin pressed against the skin of your neck as you lightly hit her back for her comment. That night with Alexia was just another example of how well she truly knew you, unlike anyone you'd ever met. And that pride from earlier? It returned as you say across from her at the dinner table, a rich amount of pasta dished up in front of you both, because she said you knew her too. You knew her too.

As it turned out, your cooking skills far surpassed Alexia's expectations, nevermind your own. She may have been a tiny bit worried considering the few but memorable occasions of you trying to cook for her, so she'd have to thank her mother in a very generous way, because it might have been one of the best things she'd ever been served. When the midfielder slumped back in her chair, the button to her trousers undone after stuffing her face with a week’s worth of pasta, her eyes never steered away from you.

You weren't doing anything of note, you were simply loading the dishwasher up with the plates and cutlery and whatnot that you'd used that day. Yet, for your girlfriend, there was so much love blooming through her chest she had no idea what to do with it apart from gaze at you like you were the one who had invented football.

“Your presents are in my bedroom by the way. I, um… may have gone a bit overboard.” You admitted shyly as you went to go back to your chair, though you were stopped in your tracks when an arm curved around your waist and pulled you down to sit on Alexia’s lap.

“Your bedroom?” She said lowly, a glint in her eyes that were solely focused on your lips. You blushed, knowing exactly what was on her mind, having come to recognise the pattern in her behaviour when she wanted… something in particular. You dragged the whole thing out, knowing it only ended in one way, but where’s the fun in that?

“Mhm.” You nodded, your heart rate speeding up a tad at how she smirked afterwards.

“Vaya, qué conveniente, no?” Alexia murmured, leaning in so that your noses brushed together and your lips were millimetres apart. At her teasing, you tried to resist the bashful smile but Alexia saw it for a split second before you could repress it. “Bueno. Vamos.”

In an instant, she was up from her seat with you in her arms, one strict destination in her mind with one very likeable goal.

“Ale, I just had a giant bowl of pasta!”

“No me importa, mi amor.” She sang, before kicking the bedroom door shut behind you both.

—

From an outsider’s perspective, your relationship seemed just as perfect as it was in your point of view. Didn’t take a genius to recognise that; five minutes with you and Alexia, anyone could see how much you valued each other.

“-and then my mother rang Mapi, like actually called her, just to see if I was lying. They teamed up on me, snuppa, my mother and my girlfriend. Over soup.”

“That is… you got yourself into that mess, Ingrid. I can’t comment. Can’t take sides.”

Just like it had been ten years ago, back home in Norway in a tiny hotel in Oslo, you and Ingrid were sharing a room for an away game. There had been training, dinner, and now it was downtime where everybody could choose what they wanted to do. With Alexia at the press conference and Mapi… doing whatever Mapi did, you and Ingrid settled for a relaxed night in, though the movie you’d landed on was long forgotten in the background.

“You just took a side. Unbelievable.” The dark-haired woman sighed, shaking her head in disappointment. You grinned, lay on your side on your bed as Ingrid painted her nails across from you on hers.

It was peaceful and just what you wanted it to be, some time alone with your second favourite person in your life where you could just exist in each other’s company. Unfortunately, though to nobody’s surprise, it didn’t last long.

“Buenas noches.” Alexia smiled as she walked in, somehow having acquired a keycard to your room.

“What are you doing here?” You asked in confusion, not expecting to see her for the rest of the evening since you weren’t sharing a room.

“Oh, what a lovely greeting.” She scoffed jokingly, disregarding the fact you were midway through a conversation and flopping down onto the space next to you. The blonde lay on her stomach, face turned into your back as an arm flung around your waist. And she just stayed there.

With a glance at Ingrid, who shrugged her shoulders, you rolled your eyes at your girlfriend’s antics before the pair of you slipped back into conversation like nothing had happened. Alexia piped up every now and then, but for the most part, she remained quiet and just relished in your company.

Ingrid hadn’t seen these sides to either of you, ever.

It was something small, you and Alexia didn't even exchange a word, but there was a smile on your face as you chatted with Ingrid that the defender didn't see much until Alexia came into your life. Still, it was big enough for her to come to a realisation. Two, actually.

First, that you were happy with Alexia, which made her beam with joy for you and feel extra grateful for Alexia. The second, though, was something she had hoped would happen the minute she caught wind of the transfer rumours. You were completely, genuinely, whole-heartedly happy with your life at Barcelona. And in Barcelona too of course, but you weren't currently in the city at that moment, you were halfway across the country, so. But her point still stood.

However, no matter how much she valued your happiness, she could get to that another time. For now, she wanted-

“I want to go to sleep now.” She decided, zipping up the bag in which she kept all her nail stuff for when she travelled, looking at the two of you on the bed and noting the puzzled expression on your face.

“Then go to sleep, Ingrid, nobody is stopping you.” Alexia chuckled behind you at that, quickly leaving a kiss on the back of your neck before sitting up.

“No, she is trying to tell me to get out.” She yawned, sharing a smile with Ingrid at your misunderstanding.

“Oh. Well, get out then. You’re not even supposed to be here.” Ingrid grinned at your reply that had Alexia frowning, not expecting you to go against her.

“You’re supposed to be on my side, cari.” She argued, nudging your knee.

“Ask Ingrid. I don’t take sides. The only side I’m on is the right side of justice.” Ingrid bursted out laughing at that and you had to stifle your own, though you did smile at the unimpressed but amused look on Alexia’s face. “Take it up with the club, those are the rules. You’re the captain. I’m sure they will be so glad to hear you can’t stay away from your girlfriend for a few hours overnight.”

The captain shook her head and stood, tugging you off the bed and wrapping you up in a hug that had a better purpose than simply saying goodnight. She slipped her own keycard into your pocket and whispered something unintelligible for Ingrid’s ears to you. Then, she left with a grin, and Ingrid scoffed as you turned back to her shyly, cheeks bright red.

“You know what, I don’t even want to know.” Ingrid said, gathering her things to take into the bathroom to start her night routine.

“It was nothing like that!” You claimed abruptly, realising where her mind had gone. You hesitated for a moment, before remembering who it was in front of you. “She was just being sweet. Saying she would miss me for the night.”

All Ingrid could do was shake her head at the pair of you and how utterly loved up you were, because with every glimpse she caught of the true nature of your connection with each other, it exceeded her hopes and expectations every single time. So, with her hands on her hips as she took the sight of you smiling with a soft shyness to your face and how you fidgeted with the keycard in your pocket, she had no qualms expressing her feelings.

“Do you know how much it means to me? To see you this happy with someone?” Was what she said, which you weren’t expecting at all. You were expecting more teasing, or for her to just tell you to be quiet so she could get ready for bed. Certainly not that.

“What do you mean?” You wondered quietly. She came to stand in front of you and put her hands on your shoulders, meeting your curious stare with a proud look in her eye.

“It just makes me happy to see that you have found someone that treats you exactly as you deserve to be treated. Who isn't afraid to ask questions, who goes above and beyond for you, who sees you for who you are. I had no idea Alexia would be that person for you but I am so glad she is. I am just… relieved and proud that this is how things have worked out for you with moving to this club. I was worried you wouldn't like it but you have really made a place for yourself. And you even got yourself a girlfriend, like, look at you go!” Ingrid beamed, shaking you a little from excitement as she spoke.

You giggled at her because this moment was so Ingrid, but at the same time, it tugged on your heart strings. Her words put things into perspective for you about everything that had happened since you left Germany, and though there had been lows, there were so many more highs than you realised. Even still, the best was yet to come.

There wasn’t a single part of you that would ever get tired of hearing how proud and happy Ingrid was for you. You’d looked up to her since the moment you met her, she was an example to you, like a big sister. No way would you be the person you were without her. She’s one of those people you hold onto for life, and you would spend the rest of yours trying to repay her for everything she’d done for you.

The next morning, when Ingrid woke up alone in your shared hotel room, she wasn’t even surprised, nor was she the slightest bit concerned for your whereabouts. There was only one place you would be, and though you cruelly abandoned her some point during the night, the sight of you walking in with Alexia, wearing her training jersey with 11 printed on it, her arm around your shoulders as you giggled at something she said to you, was very much welcome.

—

When something wasn’t quite right with Alexia, your entire world felt off-kilt, until you got to the bottom of what was up with her. Sometimes she’d willingly come to you for some support and comfort, other times she was reluctant, and very much stuck in her own head.

Like, for example, just before the season started ramping up, she got a minor muscle injury that’d keep her out for a couple weeks. Everyone knew how it’d make her feel, but it was up to you to be there and reassure her that no, the world wasn’t ending, and yes, she could be the little spoon for that evening.

Alexia was a bit of a doom-thinker, which not many people knew about, but it was the truth. The moment she was told some bad news, there was a frown paired with a scowl which both were so deeply imprinted on her face, if there was a gust of strong wind, she might actually, genuinely, get stuck like that. Her mind worked on overdrive, thinking and thinking and thinking until she could land on the fastest solution to whatever was wrong. When there wasn’t an immediate solution, well… you wouldn’t be surprised if her head exploded.

So, after having gone home before Alexia was done with her physio assessment, you raced back as soon as you could the second one of the Barca staff told you she was still there, on her own, watching the B-team’s training session. You had tried ringing her, though you knew her phone was most likely sitting in her bag in the locker room as she attempted to gain some peace of mind. The captain had apparently been there for quite some time, however, and you felt she’d had enough time on her own to process it before she needed the care of someone she loved.

She sat on the second-to-top row of the bleachers, hood up and cap on with her hands in her pockets, slumped back against her chair as her eyes tracked every movement of the young players in front of her. You approached her quietly and cautiously, as if trying not to spook away some sort of wild, erratic, unpredictable animal. But no, it was just your emotionally inept girlfriend- inept only when it came to football and injuries.

Even though she could definitely hear you, she gave nothing away.

“Ale? Can I sit with you, or would you like some more time on your own?” You asked gently, the blonde staying silent. “I can leave if you’d like. Just thought I’d come check on you.”

After a second or two, she shook her head and waved you over. She didn’t really know what to say, her mind was split in half and each side was fighting it out between being angry and being logical. She knew she’d be back in no time, but there were still games missed. Missed games, missed opportunities.

You took the seat beside her and tried to get a read on her face, which was entirely emotionless apart from the way she pursed her lips and the slight scowl she had that couldn’t be blamed on the sun, thanks to her hat. Without really knowing how she felt, you didn’t know what to do. Alexia had never lashed out at you to ever give you the wrong idea, but you really didn’t want to say the wrong thing and make her feel worse, or angry.

That was until, about a minute after you sat down, she shuffled a little closer in her seat to where you sat, her shoulder just slightly brushing against yours. You knew that was her silently reaching out, so you complied easily, and rested a hand on her thigh, which she immediately grasped onto with her own.

“It is so annoying.” You heard her say some time later, her voice just a whisper which had the tiniest crack of emotion in it. “And I am annoyed that I feel annoyed.”

Her eyes were still unmoving from the pitch, but as you looked at her, you smiled sadly, and slipped your hand out of hers to wrap an arm around her shoulders. You coaxed her closer to you, glad when she leaned your head against yours. You would never wish for her to be in this position or a situation similar, but right now you knew she was okay and safe, so you relished in the fact she sought you out, like you did when the roles were reversed. It was the wrong moment to think such a thing, but you were almost relieved that she also needed you when she was going through a difficult time, like you needed her.

“I know. Nobody expects you to just sit back, take this news, and not be angry that an injury has come when you’re so in form. And when the team needs everybody because it’s going to get hectic soon. Let yourself feel frustrated, you’re allowed to and expected to. But when we wake up tomorrow, you’re gonna come here, and you’re gonna get on with rehab because that is your mindset. You know, when you get up in the morning, these resentful feelings will have gone. You just have to feel them.” You settled on reminding her that she knows she will get past it, because it was the truth, and trying to sugarcoat anything or pretending like all was okay would have been the wrong way to go about this situation.

Alexia was ineffably grateful. For you coming to be beside her, for your words, and just for you overall. She always found these first moments after bad news difficult, but the road ahead of her seemed so much clearer with every bit of reassurance you gave.

“And you will be with me, huh?” She turned to you with a slight smirk, an act you knew was a classic performance of fake it ‘til you make it. If she acted confident, maybe she would start to feel somewhat sure of herself again.

“And I will be with you for every second of it. Every second.” You told her with a bright smile, and the combination of that and your dedication to her also brought a smile of her own to her face. “You are the most determined person I have ever met. But it is human to have blips. It’s why I’m here; to try to make you feel better because you don’t have to go through blips alone.”

Somehow, you were saying all the right things, even if you thought you were just muddling through an internal checkbook of ‘things people say to each other during hard times.’ Seeing Alexia with a smile on her face compared to the stormy expression she wore when you arrived was a huge boost in confidence. Even more so when she turned her body towards you and ducked her head down so that she could rest her chin on your shoulder as she brought you in for a hug that comforted you just as much as it did her.

“Thank you for coming here.” She mumbled into your jacket, and you kissed her cheek afterwards.

“Always. It is my duty to the team, no?” You couldn’t help but grin in triumph when she laughed, slightly muffled by your clothes, but she laughed nevertheless. “And as your girlfriend, I suppose.”

“You suppose.”

“Fine. It is my duty, a duty I take very seriously. A duty I’m very good at, considering I’ve got you here in my arms, laughing like you didn’t look like you wanted to watch the world burn when I arrived.”

“You are… annoying. Cocky, smug, and annoying. Stop it.”

—

You were serious when you said you’d be there every second along her rehab. As you had told her, it was a duty you took very seriously. But how serious, Alexia didn’t know in that instance at the training ground.

One of your favourite love languages for others was gift giving, you were sort of known as the best present-buyer with everyone you know, because that was also another thing you did not joke about. Though, it was your spontaneity with such a habit that you knew people appreciated most. And who else would be at the top of that long list of people, other than your girlfriend.

Even if you did accidentally almost send her to hospital as you walked into her apartment out of the blue as she sat at her dining table with her headphones on.

Since she was out of playing action and feeling a little useless with what she could give to the team, she basically took it upon herself to take notes of the matches and training sessions that she’d missed whilst she was gone so that she could send them to the team and hope they got good use out of it. That meant her attention was entirely on her laptop and notepad when you walked in, a small gift bag in your hand and a nervous look on your face, which she missed of course.

It wasn’t until you were stood beside her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder that she jumped out of her skin and slammed her headphones down on the table so hard out of fear, you worried she’d broken them. Then, she exhaled deeply, hand on her heart as she worked to slow it down once she noticed it was you. Unfortunately for her, you had no control over the laughter that bubbled out of you at her dramatic reaction, to which she groaned and pulled you closer with an arm around your waist, hiding her face in your stomach out of embarrassment.

At that point, you noticed something very convenient for the gift you had bought her. Her hair was tied up into a messy bun, making your life so much easier.

“Close your eyes, Ale. I have something for you, you’re not allowed to see it.”

“Why get me something if I cannot see what it is?” She argued, putting on that frustratingly endearing faux innocent expression she often put on when trying to fight her case over something small and light-hearted like this.

“Just be quiet and do what I say.” You told her, attempting to be stern but it was entirely futile when she gazed up at you like that, and before you’d even finished your sentence, there was a smile on your face.

Despite how she rolled her eyes teasingly, she closed her eyes and sat still, waiting for whatever you had in store for her. As she sat there, she could hear you reaching into the bag she spotted and taking something out of it, but other than that, she was none the wiser to what her surprise was. Her eyebrows shot up when she felt you lay something delicate around her neck.

“Engel, what have you done?” She enquired, her eyes still shut as she fought the urge to open them prematurely.

You stayed silent, making sure the present was secure, before tapping her shoulder to indicate you were done and stepping back shyly. The second she opened her eyes, she fixed you with a knowing, accusatory glare, before standing and heading over to the mirror, where her face lit up at what she saw.

A dainty gold chain sat perfectly across her neckline, a simple piece of jewellery that immediately jumped up to the top of her favourites. There wasn’t anything outrightly extravagant about it, it was discreet and meant to be worn with daily casual clothes, but Alexia wondered how she’d gone without it for so long, because it was truly perfect. She couldn’t find a better word to describe it. Maybe priceless, because the sentiment behind it was even more beautiful to her than the appearance of it.

You had gone out with some friends having woken up without Alexia beside you that morning with no plans to see each other that day. Yet, there you were, showing up out of the blue with a surprise that she treasured after having it in her possession for no more than a minute. It was supposed to be an entirely inconspicuous day for the pair of you, but that flew out the window when you decided to get her a gift that could probably never be topped.

Alexia never really found herself as someone that people randomly bought gifts for. Sure, her mother and her sister might spot something and get it for her, but other than that, everyone assumed she had everything she could ever need, what with her wages and her sponsors and bonuses for all the thirty titles she’d won. She never would have known that a necklace could evoke such a whirlwind of emotion throughout her. It stuck in her mind, on repeat, over and over; you went out shopping with friends, without Alexia even jokingly asking for a present, and had seen something which made you think of her. And you even went so far as to buy it for her, and then surprise her at her own apartment with no warning.

“It’s just something small, I know it’s not all that special, but I saw it and thought of you and deci-”

The blonde had a habit of cutting you off when you rambled insecurely, though it wasn’t something you had a particular distaste for. Every time she did so, she stopped you in your tracks and did something that pulled each anxiety from your mind until you forgot what you were even worrying about. Whether that be by talking, or drawing you in for a hug, or offering a distraction, or in this case, indulging in the overwhelming amount of love she felt by kissing the life out of you.

Though, for her, that still wasn’t enough of an expression of her feelings, so just as you caught up with her she pulled away. Her arms were around your waist in an instant, and she lifted you up off the ground and spun you both around, like movie stars in the rain. However, thankfully you were both warm and majoritively dry in the comfort of Alexia’s apartment- majoritively dry, because there were… tears on your neck?

“Are you crying?” You asked in disbelief, surprised that she’d have such a reaction to just a necklace.

“Yes. Yes I am.” Alexia answered with a laugh, using one of her hands to hastily brush away the endless tears that fell. “I am crying because you bought me a necklace. For no reason, you bought me a necklace, and I really l-love that. It means a lot to m-me, amor.”

Her reaction almost had you crying too; she was adorable, and you hugged her tighter because it felt like that was all you could do. Every day with her, she showed a new side to who she was away from Alexia Putellas, the merciless footballer that was no match for anyone. This version, this emotional, choked up version of her was so heart-warming, part of you wished the world could see it, whilst the rest of you relished in the fact you were the only person to see it. Only you could make her cry over a necklace, and as weird as that was, it was your badge of honour you’d wear with pride.

Perhaps your bank account wouldn’t agree, but you’d buy her a dainty gold chain everyday of the year if it meant she felt at least half as loved as she made you feel.

—

Somewhere along the way since you first fell in love with Alexia, Barcelona officially became… home.

Germany was never home, you always knew you’d move away at some point. You liked the city you were in, you thought you loved it at the time, but… Barcelona introduced to you what love actually was, and it was Alexia.

You didn’t know what life had waiting for you years down the line, and if you thought about that and its unknowns for too long, you would send yourself into an anxious tizzy that was entirely unnecessary. For now, you were the happiest you’d ever been, and it just so happened that you were in Barcelona when that happened. The city was dreamy, though so was the woman you were in love with. So were your friends. Everything about your life was the best it’d ever been.

That, unsurprisingly to you, opened up a world of daydreams and scenarios to think about. The first on your agenda, which was a terrifying one if it didn’t go your way: would Alexia ever want to live with you?

“Ale? Can we talk about something?” You said out of the blue as the pair of you walked along a beach in Madeira, hand in hand as the waves lapped calmly over your feet and the sun and the sky flaunted its beauty with shades of purples, pinks, and oranges, painting the perfect, serene background to a conversation sure to bring some anxiety.

“Of course. Anything. Do you want to sit down and talk?” Alexia suggested, taking you both a little higher up the sand after you nodded. She took a seat first, before looking up at you with a welcoming smile as you paused for a moment, then sat down.

It was probably ridiculous and childish that you thought so, but you hated how the dynamic of any kind of relationship could change with one conversation. With what you were about to say, you felt sick at the possible outcomes. You knew what you were about to say, whilst Alexia was blissfully unaware of the storm you were about to kick up. The words were on the tip of your tongue as you looked at her, and your mouth opened and closed for a few moments as you built up the courage to speak them. Eventually, you did, and Alexia waited patiently throughout your internal warfare.

“Would you… ever want to, maybe, live together? One day?”

For a few brief moments (the worst of your life), Alexia didn’t respond. In that short time, your anxiety reached whole new heights, convincing you that the next words out of Alexia’s mouth would be her breaking up with you. They weren’t, of course they weren’t.

“I would love to. I really would.” She admitted coyly, smiling and shaking her head at the utter look of shock on your face. “I have been thinking about this for some time, I just didn’t know how to bring it up. So, please, tell me what you think.”

“What I think?” Alexia nodded, a comforting hand landing on your knee. “Well… I don’t know how we would do it.”

“What do you mean? We just decide whose apartment to move to and do that, no?”

It wasn’t that simple, unfortunately. This was something you did indeed have a lot of thoughts on, and maybe it’d be those that would finally scare her off.

Alexia was amazing at understanding, but she wasn’t perfect. Nobody could blame her for not being clued in on something like this, especially since it was the first time you were talking about it together.

“I… that wouldn’t work. Not for me anyway.” You started, a little disheartened by the frown that formed on her face. Still, you explained yourself. “If I moved into your apartment, it wouldn’t feel like my home. I love your apartment, I do, but it’s your apartment and always has been. If you moved into my apartment, that would mean that… it’s not my space anymore. Which makes no sense at all because it obviously would be, but… I don’t know how to explain it best. It’s…”

You trailed off, frustrated at how you couldn’t properly articulate yourself in such a delicate situation. But, now that she was clued in, Alexia understood exactly what you meant.

Your apartment was your dedicated space; having someone move in, no matter who it was, would feel like having an intruder there at all times. Everything would be different in your mind, even if the only physical difference was Alexia, your girlfriend. It’d take you months, or probably even years, to get used to it. And you know you couldn’t live like that, even if you so desperately wanted to.

Living with Alexia in her apartment would be even worse. You know her apartment as a visitor, but not as a resident. If you lived there, it would constantly feel like you were in someone else’s home and not your own. These two things, though they may be the easiest options theoretically, would cause all kinds of hell for you and probably reverse all the progress you’d made since moving to Spain. It would put strain on everything, from your relationships, to the football you played, to your mental health, everything. It just wasn’t a feasible or healthy option.

“I understand that, mi amor. I understand all that you said.” Alexia tried to reassure you, but you could see the sadness in her eyes that she tried to disguise. She was upset by this new revelation, and that wrecked you. “Please don’t feel guilty about it though. I am not mad or anything.”

You nodded and avoided her eyes, focussing your attention on the ocean in front of you and crossing your arms, like you were protecting yourself. You pulled away from your girlfriend to get away from the inevitable pain of her pulling away instead. Alexia realised that and had to suppress a sigh, not one of annoyance or along those lines, but out of concern, because she could see that turmoil this conversation had caused you.

She decided to give you a couple minutes to think on your own, wondering if that’s what you’d need to process all that had just occurred. She was right to do that, because you did something rare. Rather than dwelling on the negative outcomes of what just happened, you tried your best to make something good out of it.

Because, in the end, relationships were all about compromise.

“Maybe, next year or next season or whatever, we…” You paused to take a breath, then addressed Alexia directly. She met you with a curious and open gaze, wordlessly encouraging you to get whatever it was off your chest. “We revisit this conversation, and… look at houses together?”

A new, shared space would work. A blank canvas for you both to work together on, to figure out together, to make a house into a home, together.

Alexia’s wide, bright smile was worth more than anything else in the world. One second, she was sat beside you, and the next, she had lunged forward to tackle you to the soft gold ground beneath you, putting her weight on you as she leaned down to shower you with the surge of adoration she felt. She peppered kisses all over your face and down to your neck, eliciting a surprised giggle out of you that was priceless to her.

Your future, your shared future with the woman that lay on top of you, was in sight and near enough solidified. In a few years, you might not be a Barcelona player, football might take you down a completely different road, but the one you were on now, where you had plans to buy a house with Alexia, was enough for now, enough to settle the anxiety you always got when you thought about the future, because things were pretty good at that moment.

And to tie off an all-round very successful conversation, Alexia said something that summarised your whole relationship in only a single sentence.

“Whatever you want to do, we will do, because seeing you happy makes me happy also.”

—

depending on the reaction to this, i have no idea when or if there will be another story after this one. very anxious to post for reverie after all that happened because people have not so fun opinions about this overall topic that can and will wreck me which is pretty scary so :)

#alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #alexia putellas #woso #woso community #woso fic #fcb femeni

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paingoes · 2 months ago

Text

Rubies - Hangover

drunk delta makes an appearance

alt title: DIFFICULT AT PARTIES

(Content: living weapon whumpee, conditioned whumpee, rocky recovery, past trauma, alcohol, flashbacks, guilt, begging)

“Do you wanna come out with me tonight?” Kitty asked. She was only half visible within the shared bathroom, but she popped her head out to see if he’d answer. Delta looked up from his laptop. He was up on the top bunk, a couple pillows propped up behind him to shield his spine from the wall. His typing ceased.

“…Do you want me to?” he asked.

He had refused the first time, then the time after that. His associations with the word party had been less than positive. What he thought of first was thick smoke and deafening music. What he thought of next was clean yellow floors and the unbearable sense that everyone in that room would steal him away if they had half a chance. He’d had to bite back his own sense of betrayal when she’d asked. He was so sick of being arm candy, just a toy to be shown off or a silent threat to levy.

He hadn’t told her that was why. After a few hours, he had rationalized that that was not why she had invited him to go. But he’d still said no, once he was certain he was allowed to.

He could’ve said no again. But he knew there was a reason she kept asking — she wanted it. There was so little he could offer her in return for what she’d done for him. He could do this, if she really wanted him to.

He was curious, after all.

“House partyyyyyyy,” Kitty told him in the car. “My friend Nora’s house. She’s nice. You’ll like her.”

“Please don’t leave me alone,” he begged.

“I won’t!” She wrapped her hand around his own. “Prommy.”

“Prommy?”

“Different way of saying promise.”

“Okay.”

She pushed the door open, not releasing his hand as she stepped out into the street. He followed her, keeping close. He liked the way the wet asphalt reflected the street lights. It was still strange to be out so late. He’d so rarely been given the chance to before — and certainly not in places like this.

They walked up the rusted stairs of the fire escape. Other people were already crowded in the cage-like structure of the entryway. They blew smoke out through the bars, letting it dissipate into the cold night air. Kitty squeezed in between them. Delta tracked behind— nervous, but less so when he had a target to follow.

Inside, it was about as loud as he’d expected it it to be. His eyes traced over the bright purple lights cast up against the white-washed walls, the less than enthused but still rhythmic motion of bodies. They were all silhouettes. He took an effort to make out their faces, but it was a half-hearted one. His attention was still drawn back to Kitty, who seemed to have found her friend.

Despite being the ostensible host, Nora did not seem particularly interested in hosting. She sat back against what looked to be a fainting couch, with a few other students scattered around her in a semi-circle. She waved lazily as Kitty approached, but leaned forward into the hug she was met with. Kitty chirped happily before bouncing back to Delta’s side, looping one arm through his own.

“This is Delta. He just joined.” She smiled, showing all her teeth. These people weren’t in Galatea, but they’d know what she meant when she said it.

“Cute,” Nora said in low approval.

He blushed a bit, hiding further behind Kitty, following her as she moved to sit. He still got the overpowering urge to kneel at her feet. It still felt intensely inappropriate for him to be sitting beside her, to be at any of their levels. Even as he did, he felt nervous that they might kick him back down onto the floor. He wouldn’t have even protested. Sometimes the pain was not half as bad as the suspense.

It didn’t happen. He sat at her side anyway, reflexively pulling his legs up, curling up slightly. He listened idly to their conversation, what little he could make out over the music. It was…nice. He liked the way people spoke outside of Empire. He hadn’t realized that people weren’t always mean. It felt like he was living in a parallel reality sometimes.

They tried to include him in the conversation. It was an effort he appreciated, but not one he really responded to. His voice got caught when he tried.

“You’re in Intel too?” Nora asked him.

“Yes, miss.” He nodded. Kitty had told him he didn’t need to use the honorific anymore, but she hadn’t said he needed to drop it. It was hard to break the habit.

“How’d you get into that?” She smiled — and he saw that she had fangs too.

He shrugged. He was okay at it.

There wasn’t much he was allowed to talk about — and even fewer that he was inclined to. Levon had given him explicit orders not to mention his powers. That was technically his only restriction. But when so much of his life had traced back to it, he found himself more prone to mutism than ever. He hadn’t thought of a good cover story yet.

“Can I go?” he whispered to Kitty.

“You wanna leave?” Her eyes widened. “We can.”

He shook his head. “Just wanna walk around.”

“No prob.” She squeezed his hand. “You don’t have to ask permission.”

“Thank you.”

He drifted away from them, without any real direction. There were a lot of rooms in the apartment, far more than he would’ve expected there to be.

The alcohol lay unguarded within the busy kitchen.

Nobody stopped him. He’d been expecting someone to, really. He guessed he was always waiting for someone to yell at him, to cut him off. This was a time honored tradition in his life.

One of the boys of the half-circle had followed him, much to his surprise. He poured himself a drink, then one more for Delta, though he hadn’t yet finished the first. Delta swore the music was getting louder, because he didn’t hear any of the words that came out when the boy moved his lips, but he nodded as though he understood.

The boy moved over to the kitchen table and he found himself following him.

He was too drunk. He knew he was drunk and it felt dangerous, uncomfortable and ominous. There was a soft nausea forming in him. He watched the lights dance as if they might send him a message. The music was loud enough to be painful, but he could still hear the braindead chatter all around him. He’d been guided and abandoned, time and time again.

He liked the new girl the least.

“Like, I know,” she complained to the table. “It’s not like I’m fucking dumb.”

Both her hands flew up in frustration. She was even drunker than he was, but she seemed more adept at handling it. He got the sense she was like this even when she was sober.

“I just wish they weren’t so fucking nosy, you know? They’re such helicopter parents, I feel like I can’t even go anywhere without them telling me I’m gonna get chopped up. I’m a fucking adult!”

“At least you have parents,” Delta muttered.

He was vaguely aware of everything that quieted in the space around him after he had said it, but he could not be bothered to care.

“Oh,” she said.

His eyes practically glazed over as he dug himself in deeper, deliberately.

“No, I think it’s like. Reallllly cool. That you got to have that experience. It’s really awesome that had parents that loved you. And that you were allowed to develop as a person. I can see you really made the best of that opportunity.”

He cracked a small smile. It was such a bitchy thing to say. He didn’t know where the impulse came from, but he wanted to indulge it. As a treat, sometimes.

Her eyes widened with surprise, some mock-up of offense. For some reason, this annoyed him.

“You don’t even know what the fuck you’re talking about. Do you even hear yourself? You have no idea what it’s like. People are living in war zones right now and they don’t complain as much as you do.”

I never complained as much as you do.

It wasn’t fair.

Even from across the room, Kitty could hear Delta’s voice rising in agitation. She was shocked he was speaking at all. Loud or agitated were not qualities she would have ever expected in his voice. It set her on edge immediately.

She crossed the room to find him gripping the table so hard his knuckles turned white. His eyes were squinted in disgust. She caught only the tail end of it, but was surprised to hear just how much venomwas in his tone. She’d never heard it from him. It was so hateful.

“Delta,” she whispered, gripping at his elbow, “C’mere.”

It wasn’t that she meant to pull him around. She didn’t want to. But as she studied the faces of the people gathered around him, it was clear things were turning hostile. He was too fresh for it. She had to get him out.

He dead ignored her, still focused in on the completely one-sided argument he’d engaged himself in. It was only once she’d pulled him a good five feet away from the scene that he seemed to even realize he was moving. He rounded on her in frustration.

“Whaaaaaat?” He hissed. “I said it was cool. I think it is fucking awesome.”

“C’mon,” she nudged him out the doorway, out into the hall. He spun around, ripping himself free of her grasp. None of the disgust or the anger left his expression.

“What? You’re gonna hit me for it?” He challenged. “You hit me for everything, it doesn’t even matter what I do. I don’t care. I don’t even care.”

Kitty frowned. He wasn’t even talking to her anymore. She didn’t know where he had gone in his mind, but she knew it was miles away from the party: She felt a pang of guilt. She’d just wanted to try taking him out. It wasn’t even a crazy party. But it’d been too early. At some point, he’d gotten dead drunk, and she hadn’t even noticed.

“Delta.” Her tone was more pleading now, less irate. He didn’t respond to it either way. He wasn’t listening.

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” He snapped, then seemed to trip over himself. He braced his back against the wall for support as his hands fumbled by his waistband. He struggled with it. She realized with a start that he was attempting to peel his shirt off — though he was getting visibly frustrated with how little success he was having.

“Stop.” She said as she slid both her hands over his wrists. She knew she was stronger than him. His own fingers unhooked from the fabric of his shirt, going still.

“It’s not fair,” he said. “Everyone else can do whatever they want. No one ever corrects them. No one cares if they hurt me. But the second I say anything back-“

The speech giving way to a frustrated growl. He’d cut himself off, then tore his wrists free. She let him go. He moved both hands to cover his face.

“It’s not fair,” he whined. “I didn’t do anything.”

The place he woke up in was warm. His eyes fluttered open to find soft morning light shining onto the pink comforter. It was bunched up around his face. He’d nestled himself protectively beneath it. It wasn’t his bed, though.

It was the closest thing to it. He was on the lower bunk, which was Kitty’s section, and he slowly realized it was because she probably couldn’t get him up the ladder last night.

Dread descended on him wraithlike and frigid. He blinked a few more times, unmoving. He did not know how long he stayed like that. After years of being denied adequate rest, he was reluctant to give it up for anything. And no one ever forced him awake here. There was a dull throbbing in the back of his skull - it laid there dormant, menacing. It only erupted into real pain as the door opened and he shot upright in response.

Kitty closed the door gingerly behind her. Her tail curled low beneath her legs and all her limbs hung with neither tension or enthusiasm. Her face was marked with a visible displeasure. Though he’d seen it on her before, he knew it was different this time. It was purely his own doing.

He was on the floor in an instant. The sudden motion caused his stomach to lurch. More vividly, all the colors flashed behind his eyes at once as the migraine aura engulfed his vision. It was a biting pain. Each motion was dizzying, but not enough to destabilize him. He’d been trained better.

“I’m so sorry, Kitty. I’m so sorry.”

Maybe not that well-trained. His nails dug into the flesh of his thighs in a desperation motion. He was talking over her. He was speaking without permission, which he was not supposed to do if he was apologizing. He had learned to let the body language speak for itself since he wasn’t truly allowed to beg. He’d learned it well. Nobody could’ve denied that as he bent his head forward, kneeling down on the floor. But he had to say something to her aloud. He meant it.

She stood in front of him and something truly awful was conjured up in his memory, his own nausea intensifying tenfold just the same as his shame. He couldn’t look at her. Before, when he tilted his head down, his hair would’ve obscured his vision like curtains. It’d been a kind of shelter, even if all its protection was imagined. Here, even in the soft, warm light, he still felt exposed. There was no hiding from it.

“C’mon,” she said softly, “you don’t have to beg.”

There was no chance of that. Not after what had happened. Delta couldn’t bring himself to unfold from the kneel. Through the fabric of his pants, his nails scraped close to drawing blood. He was so sorry. He’d fucked up so bad.

Kitty lowered herself to her ground — and the shock of her presence alone was enough to rouse him. He glanced up nervously, though kept his chin tucked close to his chest, his body still recoiling in anticipation of a slap. It was the absolute least he deserved. He didn’t have the right to cringe away from it.

But she didn’t touch him. He could tell she wanted to — it was weird for her not to — but she was holding herself back. Her eyes searched him instead.

“How are you feeling?” She looked him over again, as though she might be able to see the migraine aura for herself if she stared long enough. “Your head okay? Are you hungover?”

He was, badly. Without meaning to, his hands slid out of his lap and up along his arms, wrapped protectively around himself.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated quietly.

“Okay. What are you sorry for?”

He winced. It was a familiar question. He answered immediately.

“I was disrespectful.” The safest option, always, the most broadly applicable. “To you. To everyone. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—“ -I’m not allowed to- “—talked to you like that.”

She sighed. His heart sunk to see she was not pleased with that answer.

“C’mere.”

Again, the words were familiar. But the action was not. She pressed one hand to the nape of his neck, gently pulling him closer. To his surprise, he let her. He pressed his head into her shoulder. The scene of smoke and liquor had been washed away, replaced with lye and jasmine. She was still being careful with him. Nothing hurt.

“You were being kind of an asshole.” She said as she stroked his hair back. “But I’m not mad at you, okay? You’re not in trouble. Do you get that?”

He believed her, if that was what she meant. He trusted she wouldn’t hurt him. Even if she should have. Even if he had without a doubt earned it this time. He nodded slowly, without removing himself from the embrace. She kissed the crown of his head.

He only got up when she encouraged him to, ushering him back onto the mattress instead of on the carpet. He only did it because she told him to. He didn’t feel right about it. It didn’t feel fair. There was little he could do to ward the guilt from his demeanor. His own body language had turned sulky, the way it did when he’d been punished, or when he expected to be.

Kitty seemed to cultivate a deliberate form of inattentiveness. She was still going through the room, straightening up, not looking directly at him anymore. He waited, sensing there was more. He was right. After a while, she added:

“I wish that wasn’t the first time you talked about it.”

Was that what she wanted as conciliation? For him to talk about it?

He didn’t like to. He tried hard not to think about it at all — even though it always burned in his brain. Even if he thought of it every night. He still went mute at each opportunity.

But he’d speak if she wanted him to. If he owed it to her, which he knew he did.

“Um. Last time-“ He hesitated a lot. “-Last time I got too drunk, I got really hungover. And I was. Um.”

He lowered his voice. The tone was becoming progressively less certain. It was harder than he expected.

“I got whipped for it,” he managed, “Until I bled. I wasn’t allowed to. Uh. Sleep. Or eat or anything. Just had to stand there, like, on display. Just to show I’d been punished. Or that I was being punished. Whatever.”

He didn’t realize it until he said it, but he was offering her ideas. If you wanted to… hung just by the tip of his tongue. If you wanted me to…

But she did not accept the invitation. She just looked sad. She crossed the distance between them — he still flinched — just to sit down on the bed beside him.

“I don’t know how anyone could ever hurt you,” she said. She sounded like she meant it, too. He shook his head.

It was arguably one of the more justified punishments he’d be given. He really had talked back in an awful way; he didn’t resent Paris for it. The opposite, really. That was why it had hurt so badly at the time, the same reason it hurt so bad now. He was sorry. He’d deserved it.

“Drink,” she said, pressing the water bottle into his hands. He nodded obliging, not realizing how badly he needed it until he drank.

He’d never be grateful enough.

“You’re really not going to hit me?” he asked quietly. There was no real surprise in that question anymore; he didn’t expect it from her. It was guilt alone that informed it.

He didn’t even need to be hit. He’d have done anything. Starved. Held still, let himself be chained until his muscles ached. But she wasn’t even yelling. He’d upset her again with the question, but she wasn’t punishing him for it. He felt a strange sense of absence. She did not let him dwell on it.

“Never,” she promised, “We’re gonna go get pho - helps with the hangover. You can come along if you want. If you wanna sleep it off, that’s cool too.”

He pulled his legs up onto the bed, hugging his knees close to his chest. His head felt empty, but raw and stinging about its hollow edges. He took another sip of water.

“Can I come? Please?”

“Yea! Yeah.” She grinned, tousling his hair. “Yeah, I’ve never taken you there before. You’re gonna love it.”

The place was small, but not cramped. Large windows let the morning light stream in the same easy way he’d now grown to expect from this planet. He found it a comfort now. The sun would always rise.

Laminated menus laid flat atop the plastic table. He let Kitty order for him, because it was all written in a language he couldn’t read, and because it felt nice to give up control to her. He trusted her enough for that.

He’d been surprised to learn that the we in question had been Kitty and Nora. Nora sat across the table from either of them, shifting the small spheres within her purple drink, eyes red with exhaustion. But if she held any resentment for the night before, she didn’t show it. She didn’t look upset to see him.

Delta drank the tea Kitty had suggested for him and found that he was right to trust her on it. It was sweeter than he was used to, but not unpleasant. It was a soft color. The caffeine in it eased the edge of his headache. His head felt clearer and cleaner the longer he stayed.

“I’m sorry for last night,” he said timidly to Nora. He felt a new shame about his own reticence, aware now that it only appeared as a cover for a secret ugliness in him. He’d proven it to her. He didn’t expect her to forgive it.

“Oh, yeah,” Nora barely looked up. “You’re good. Worse things have happened at my parties.”

He blinked. Was that it? He’d been prepared to get onto the floor and grovel for it, but she’d given it like it was nothing. Delta glanced sideways at Kitty for confirmation. She squeezed lightly at his arm in reassurance.

The soup came out shortly after. The broth was clear and aromatic. He poked at it idly, still self conscious about his own feeding, his mind still fixated on denial and absolution. But Kitty looked sad when he did not eat and even Nora seemed to raise an eyebrow in concern, so that he had no choice but to indulge them.

He was glad that he did, though. It was warm and saltier than he had expected, which he appreciated. The headache ebbed away even further and the raw tension in his stomach began to fade. He was grateful.

He hoped she knew that.

~~~

tags:

@catnykit @snakebites-and-ink @scoundrelwithboba @whatwhump

@pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @fuckass1000 @fuckcapitalismasshole @defire

@micechomper @writereleaserepeat @aloafofbreadwithanxiety @floral-comet-whump @littlebookworm69

@lordcatwich @human-123-person @paperprinxe @whomeidontknowthem @chiswhumpcorner

@bacillusinfection @ichortwine @whump-queen @lumpywhump

@jumpywhumpywriter

#whump #whump scenario #whump prompt #whump writing #living weapon whumpee #whump community #conditioned whumpee #rocky recovery #past trauma #alcohol #flashbacks #guilt #begging #whump recovery #hurt/comfort #rubies #delta #kitty

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endemise · 8 months ago

Text

long ramble, progress update, & potential release timeframe below:

hii! i got a lot of coding done and i think im finally satisfied with how the game looks (for now…)

here are some screenshots of what some of it will look like on mobile!

the friendship and romance levels shown in the relationship menu are just random as is the blurb for Aesop’s thoughts, they’re just for the example! (also characters thoughts are hidden by default, you click to reveal, then hide, them)

the stat bars were giving me hell but i finally figured them out with the the help of some forums and tumblr posts

i liked how in when twilight strikes by evertidings, the menu buttons (i.e. profile, stats, relationships) are listed at the top of the page so i took inspiration from that! and the many IFs that have a splash (?) screen at the beginning with the title

compared to when i started using twine (i think august 2023 was the first time i gave it a try), i’ve learned so much and there’s still so much to learn as well, i think coding has become my favorite part (making things looks pretty hehe)(with the help of amazing templates & ppl smarter than me, they do the heavy lifting fr)

with all the coding done (appearance wise) it’s lock in time for the revised prologue and chapter 1

the prologue has undergone a fair bit of change with the help of feedback & i’ve (hopefully) better established the setting and story.

some things that have changed besides wording and sentence structure, etc.: being able to choose what you did as a job (ex. working at the family inn) and meeting a new character (more like an old friend?)(no spoilers:))

some things i’ve been considering (SLIGHT SPOILER FOR CH.1 MAYBE): merging the revised prologue and chapter 1 into just the prologue bc chapter 1 differs a bit from the other chapters, but then the prologue would maybe be too strange timeframe wise? it’s a time skip after the events of the prologue (is that considered a spoiler, i don’t think so but???) that connects to the next chapters so maybe it’d just be better as its own chapter? or dropping the revised prologue by itself along with the updated ui/appearance then chapter 1 sometime after, or dropping the revised prologue and chapter 1 together, idk these are all just ideas i’ve been thinking about maybe i’ll do a poll

if you have anything you’d like to see, for example a specific job your MC worked, certain personality traits, or something like that, feel free to let me know & i’ll take them into consideration! i think now is the best time to add things bc it’s early development days & it’ll be easier to do so now than later

i’ve also decided to lean a little more into the supernatural aspect which i’m excited for (one specific thing really, i can’t wait to get to it🤭) the story’s world itself is fairly grounded in reality (as in the supernatural is unknown to most) but i’m looking forward to exploring it more

what you’re probably reading this for: depending on how i end up going about the prologue-chapter 1 merge decision & whether anything is added from requests/feedback, i’m aiming for a june release, july at the latest (fingers crossed). now that the appearance and function coding is complete (besides stat/choice tracking & other story related things), finishing the writing and coding it in is all that’s left

my schedule has done a 180 & some things are less than ideal at moment but it should all (hopefully) go smoothly from here! should anything change, i’ll let you all know

anyways, that’s all i have to say for now! ty for being patient & for reading this mess, i appreciate you all :)

#✻ — e talks #✻ — coding ramble #✻ — progress update #(albeit a messy one)#the fall of house black #the fall of house black if #tfohb if #if wip #interactive fiction

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birdmeh · 4 months ago

Text

. MakeDamnSure .

Chapter 1: City Lights

Jason Todd / Reader Warnings: canon typical violence Summary: Working at The Velvet Room had its pros: free movies, paid time off, and flexible schedules. But with every pro comes a con; for you, that con was Jason Todd. Rude, intimidating, and strangely passionate about romance movies.

Days would pass you by in a series of stale popcorn, sticky floors, dim lights, and faded posters. This specific day was a Tuesday night, which for any average person is nothing more than that, but for you, Tuesdays were the best day of your week. You got to leave work early, meaning your daily shift at The Velvet Room Theater was cut short by four hours. Instead of closing at twelve, you found yourself leaving at a promising eight o’clock.

This felt particularly rewarding following long harsh days of grueling classes and mountains of homework. The early escape allowed you to have a few extra hours of deserved freedom to unwind and keep to yourself. Despite this, you still felt as if your energy was at an all-time low, especially after being posted at the outdated ticket booth of all places. You sat aimlessly in the small gazebo-like structure at the entrance of the theater feeling completely confined by the four suffocating walls.

Business was slow, so like usual, you found yourself getting lost amongst the little things. The chipped yellow paint that lined the walls that you would gently scrape at it with your nail. The people that walked by, some the usual suspicious characters you would see roaming Gotham, others being families and businessmen on their commute back home. And most importantly the captivating neon signs that decorated the streets around you, pubs, bodegas, doctor's offices, psychics. No matter the place, the cramped street that The Velvet Room resided on had it.

When the occasional customer would stop by you would greet them with a sheepish tired smile and a default customer service voice that was warm and far too kind. Your robotic routine would consist of a greeting, understanding what movie the customer was looking for, naming the price, giving change when necessary, and handing over the ticket while informing them of their theater number. This routine ensured that every interaction went smoothly and up to par with your boss’ standards. Unfortunately, there are customers who feel the need to make the exchange much more difficult than it should be. Being the person you are you will always try to give them the benefit of the doubt not knowing what could have played out in their day to make them treat you with such hostility but sometimes assholes just want to be assholes.

This was the case for Jason Todd. _

You don’t know when but at some point throughout your shift you were taken by sleep, waking to a slow steady stream of drool dribbling from the corner of your lip to the oak desk your cheek was plastered onto. Squinted eyes take a moment to adjust to the newfound light and manage to jolt upwards at a dark-haired man aggressively tapping on the glass that separated you from him. Like a startled zoo animal, you readjust yourself into a much less compromising position, shooting upwards, flattening your wrinkled maroon shirt, wiping your face, and plastering on that award-winning customer service smile. The man did not seem amused by this. Instead, he greeted you with this intimidating cold gaze that only seemed to harden as he slowly racked his eyes over your disheveled form, clearly displeased at what he saw. He leaned over the counter making the small booth you reside in feel much smaller with his overbearing presence. The walls now seemed to be slowly closing in on you as the man inched his face towards the glass nearly fogging it up in the process.

“I’m sorry did I wake you?” There was no sincerity in his voice upon asking the simple question, instead, it was dripping with scrutiny. This made you feel small.

“No, no, not at all,” it takes the entirety of your being to recall the internal script that guides every customer interaction as he continues to look at you with that blank stare. “I’m so so sorry, is there anything I can help you with?”

“Yeah, I need one ticket for the 8 pm showing.” he's blunt, to the point, and almost snappy.

“Okay so one ticket for City Lights, would that be it?” The choice of film makes you press your lips into a thin line suppressing a smile. With all the new cliche douchebag action movies out there that you could only assume he liked, this man settled on a classical romantic comedy. A silent film about this tramp falling deeply in love with a lonely blind flower girl. He makes various efforts to help her regain her sight throughout the film in heartwarming and silly ways. It truly was a captivating piece, one of your favorites.

His fingers drum against the counter. He's irritated. “That's it.”

“Alright, that’ll be fifteen.”

The black-haired man pulls a twenty-dollar bill from an obnoxious tactical looking wallet. He slides it across the table without another word before reaching towards his chest pocket and pulling out an out-of-date flip phone as he awaited his change.

You quickly open up the register in the hopes of ending this painfully rude interaction only to realize that there are no singles or fives. There was definitely enough change to gather five dollars worth to return to the man but you used your best judgment to not do that, knowing for a fact that any Gothamite would be glad to throw said change back in your face. You were hardly able to meet the brooding man's eye as you glanced up, nervously gnawing away at the inside of your cheek. “I’m so-so-soooo sorry but we don’t have change. Do you have a ten and a five or anything more exact?”

He looks annoyed as he slips his phone back into his pocket. “No, I don't have exact change. What do you mean you don’t have any fives? It’s a five-dollar bill, any movie theater has to have fives. What kinda business do you think you’re running here?” He rambled on annoyance growing more and more present.

“We're low on small bills and we usually clear the register every few hours cause you know-,” you make a sheepish circular motion with your finger in an attempt to put emphasis on the area around you “Gotham.”

He crosses his arms over his gray sweater-clad chest, the furrow in his brow only deepening. “Listen, don’t be giving me attitude. Just because this is Gotham doesn’t mean it’s a free pass for shitty service.”

“No- that wasn’t what I was trying to do? I-” Panicked eyes glance at the digital clock beside you only to be met with a harsh red 8:03 flashing back at you.

This man was late for his movie and you were about to miss the next bus home. Trying to ignore his rude quip you spin on your heel towards the bag residing on a small stool beside you before reaching in and pulling out five crumpled-up singles. You then turn to your side to print his ticket and hastily slide both to him. Sure you wouldn’t have enough for your daily overpriced coffee tomorrow but anything was better than dealing with a disrespectful customer off the clock.

“Thanks,” he muttered, a scowl still etched onto his face as he narrowed his eyes at the ticket and crumpled loose bills that now resided in the palm of his hand. He then moved to turn away but not before backtracking and shooting you a glance that was not only laced with annoyance but curiosity as well. This was the last you saw of him before he made his way into the theater, door slamming shut behind him.

You release an exasperated breath thrilled by the fact that the confrontation was over. Obviously, you had dealt with many “colorful” personalities in your time working at The Velvet Room, it is just one of those things that you are forced to come to terms with when living in Gotham. Despite this, each confrontation does not fail to leave you more shaken up than the last.

You shot your manager a text informing her of your leave so she could ensure that one of your coworkers relieved you for the night shift. By now the clock read 8:06, and given the fact that your bus was set to leave in ten minutes, you were sure you were going to miss it. Making haste, you grab your purse, phone, and jacket, clumsily sliding the heavy leather garment over your shoulders.

As you finally step out of the ticketing booth the refreshing night air nips at your ears and nose; it wasn't like this in the morning yet with autumn coming in full swing the weather was becoming a bit more extreme. This makes you wrap your jacket around you a bit tighter as you make a beeline towards the bus stop.

— Surprisingly the bus was still there upon your arrival, sure you had run after it and flagged it down by flailing your arms around like the average Gotham madman but it was worth ensuring you got home on time. Once you're at the glass doors they swing open with a hiss allowing you to make slow calculated steps up the metallic stairs. You hesitate at the entrance scouring through your bag looking for the cash that you swore you had to pay the fare. Your hands then drift towards the pockets of your coat but are only met with empty fabric. The realization soon hits you that you overestimated the amount of cash you had in your bag and the money meant for your bus fare now resided in the pocket of the boorish customer from earlier.

Your stomach drops as you begin to acknowledge the ticketing machine waiting expectantly as well as the growing traction from the curious passenger around you, puzzled at what was taking so long. Now you make the choice to weigh your options. You could either A, ask for a free ride and explain your situation to the visibly annoyed driver or B, hop off and make the twenty-minute walk home.

With the circumstances making you wildly uneasy the second option seems like the clear choice.

You fade back into the sidewalk sheepishly as you feel your chest tighten with anxiety.

It isn’t like you haven’t walked alone in Gotham before, but with the sun having already set and the streets becoming more and more vacant by the minute you can't help but worry for your safety. To this, you found solace in the form of a small tube of pepper spray attached to your home keys that would, in the case of emergency, keep you safe. Of course this would only ever apply to some low level thug, because god forbid some Riddler or Scarecrow type decided to make an appearance. _ The street around you was dimly lit by the occasional faulty lamp post or neon bar sign that you refused to pay much attention to; for the sake of your personal wellbeing you knew to keep your head low and consciousness forward. Rapid steps carry you across the uneven pavement feeling forced to watch your footing and prevent a nasty fall.

A feeling of unease would only grow in your gut as your eyes linger on each person that passed you by. You scan their faces, taking note of the way that some would glance at you curiously while others seemed to be lost in their own world. A growing sense of vulnerability weighs heavily on you, but despite this you push on, determined to reach your home. The feeling of being watched however lingers over you, gnawing away your already decreased composure.

There is one particular man that catches your eye as walks towards your direction. He is tall and slim, the moon casting a sharp and twisted silhouette on the ground below him. A black zip-up hoodie clings to his pale figure, worn with age. His face is partially obscured by a baseball cap only allowing you to take note of piercing brown eyes that do not leave your own. He walks by allowing you to pick up on the smell of old cigarette smoke and booze. Your heart races and your posture stiffens as you pass him praying that he would not stop.

As you continue down the street you hear his foot steps slow to a halt. You cautiously look over your shoulder only to find that he has turned to completely face you, eyes locking intensely.

“Lost?” he asks, his voice low and teasing. There’s an edge to it that makes your skin crawl. He takes another step closer and you can’t help but be frozen where you stand.

“Listen..I’m just trying to get home” you squeeze out, making a weak attempt at keeping your voice steady while slowly raising your hands to put an emphasis on the fact that you meant no harm. The pepper-spray began to burn a hole in your pocket but the fear of making any sudden movements prohibited you from reaching for it.

“Here's what we’re gonna do,” he says, cutting you off as he pulls his sweatshirt up a tad exposing an old stained tank top and an opaque gun tucked into his waistband. “You’re gonna give me your bag, phone, and wallet.” His words are sharp and confident like he has done this before, and with the way things were going he definitely has. The tension is so insanely thick you could cut it with a knife. Sweat begins to bead at the palms of your hands, nape of your neck, and forehead while your chest rises and falls with quick breaths. You felt warm all over.

You try to swallow down the lump in your throat. “I don’t really have—”

“Save it,” he interrupts. “Just hand it over. Now.”

All it took was a second of hesitation and a slight twitch of your arm in the direction of your pocket for him to lunge towards you, fist connecting hard with your eye socket. You swore you saw stars. The pain shoots down your skull into your spine sending you into a panicked frenzy making you stagger away clumsily and almost immediately, you feel swelling around the eye. You don’t have the time to register what has happened before the man barks orders at you to keep it moving while shoving you towards a faulty lamp post, the cold surface biting into your back. Instinctively you raise your hands before deciding to toss your bag to the man's feet, watching helplessly as he rummages through it, pulling out whatever he finds of value.

Once satisfied he meets your terrified gaze once more. “Get out of here,”

You nod quickly, heart still pounding in your chest as you cautiously step away not even attempting to reach for whatever remained in your bag. He could keep it. You turn to sprint down the street, pain in your eye throbbing with each uncoordinated step, serving as a constant reminder of how dangerous these streets truly were.

You are not safe here in Gotham. You never were. You never will be.

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gruesomejack · 10 months ago

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He refused dinner again. He always did. Ever since he was a child, he couldn't bring himself to sit in that dining room and watch someone be bled into crystal glasses for his father's entertainment. The spectacle left him sicker than it did hungry. He could only think of that French dish-- Ortolan. A tiny songbird bird is caught and forcefed until fat and helpless before being drowned in liquor and eaten whole. The participants of the meal were supposed to wear shrouds over their faces to hide their sin from each other and God, but his father indulged his terrible gluttony happily and in full view.

No, Victory was out instead, ready to offer an ending just as cruel to another person, just in a way he could stomach.

The bar smelled like stale beer. If he wasn't so hungry, he sometimes spent a few hours alone in a booth just to listen to the chatter of people going on about their lives. He wasn't like them, and he could only just barely pretend to be, but he held onto it, scribbling down snippets and thoughts into the notebook he carried along with him. The joy and heartache of the human species were inspirations like no other. He didn't have that time tonight, though. Despite his staunch avoidance of his father's meals, he was still hungry, and trying to put it off any longer would only leave him sick.

Vi leaned against the bartop and frowned, flicking his eyes over the floor. It was slim pickings tonight. He tried to limit himself to people he thought could survive the meal-- Or at least wouldn't be missed if they couldn't. Everyone here seemed like they had a tribe of their own. They were laughing and talking and leaning against each other in ways that made his chest twist and ache; the loneliness was nearly as bad as the hunger. Pushing himself up, he started to inch towards the door. There were always other spots he could try.

Before he could reach the door, he found his gaze pulled towards a booth that seemed different from the others. The inhabitant was alone; there were a couple of empty glasses off to the side while a half-drunk one sat in front of him. There didn't seem to be anything or anyone for him to celebrate with. He was alone, just like him. Vi hesitated, but the ache in his stomach trumped any second thoughts he had.

Approaching the booth, he let himself slide into the empty seat opposite of the young man and found himself speechless for just a moment. He'd only caught his silhouette when he'd been near the door, but up close, he couldn't help but stare. Beneath the dejected expression, Victory felt his strange heart flutter as he admired the strong structure of such a lovely face. Clearing his throat, he warmed a little and hummed, his lips pulling into a small smile.

"I could feel your heavy heart from across the bar." He said and propped an elbow on the table, placing his cheek in his hand. The English dripping from his lips was perfect, but dressed in something elegant and foreign. The rest of him seemed about the same-- From the dark half-buttoned silk shirt he wore to the shock of white-grey hair framing a youthful face, he didn't exactly fit in with the surroundings Peridot eyes peeked over shaded glasses, almost too green as they searched the man's face. His nails were filed and immaculate, as was the rest of him. There wasn't a blemish anywhere on his visible skin. If perfection was something attainable, Victory was very, very close. "You're far too pretty to look so sad. What's ailing you?"

@purposefully-lost

#👁👁#;bring the sun

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mabelstone · 2 years ago

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Handsome Stranger

matt stone x reader

summary: where reader falls in love with the stranger in the apartment building across from her; part one.

word count: 1045

note: this is gonna be a softer fic but knowing me will probably spice up eventually. i've had this idea for soooo long but i'm not sure how everyone else will like it so please give me your feedback! <3

also surprise i'm australian so i made the character too... u can just ignore this and pretend she's from wherever you're from :)) so your version doesn't HAVE to be australian, she could have lived there briefly? its not that deep enjoy use your imagination

You'd only just moved to Brooklyn from Australia two months ago. The change was daunting and you were struggling to find your footing in such a new place. Though it'd always been a dream of yours to move to New York, you were still feeling out of place and the home sickness was starting to creep up. You'd heard it takes three months for the homesick feeling to flee, so your goal was to hold out just that little bit longer and try to enjoy the experience.

Coming from a small country town, the hustle and bustle of the Big Apple outside your window evoked a strange sense of comfort for you. You never truly felt alone, even though you were 10,000 miles (you'd had to learn the difference between kilometres and miles) from your friends and family. You'd often sit on your windowsill, as your apartment had no balcony, and watch all the pretty lights, and the cars, and hundreds and hundreds of people who occupied the streets. And more often than you'd like to admit, your eyes would wander to the handsome man in the apartment opposite yours. Your buildings were relatively close to one another, and it was safe to assume he also liked to enjoy the city life from afar. His eyes would often wander to your window as well.

Although you'd never shared a word, he'd become a huge comfort for you, almost a part of your nighttime routine. You'd get home from work around five, shower, play music or watch tv while you made some simple dinner, and then your favourite part; sit by your windowsill with a glass of red and admire your new life. Sometimes you'd read, sometimes you'd catch up on work emails. Most the time, you watched the handsome man in the other building smoke his nightly cigarette. Your buildings were quite high from the bright streets with just enough moonlight that you could just make out each others' faces.

Each night you'd watch the orange light illuminate his face, revealing the deep contours of his sharp bone structure. He'd lean his elbows on the windowsill, enjoying the autumn breeze as much as you, who sat with your back to the right side of the wall with your legs out in front of you, giving you the perfect view of the handsome stranger.

You wondered what kind of person he was. You believed you could tell a lot about a person from their apartment. From what you could see, he was relatively tidy and maybe a minimalistic, a single tall lamp responsible for the warm glow in his space. He wore button up tops and dress pants everyday, making you all the more curious about this man.

Each night after your shared glances and appreciation for the chaos below your buildings, he'd send a wave your way, and you'd always reciprocate, smiling ear to ear. You'd take that as your cue to close the blinds and get into bed.

You nearly missed it, but tonight he didn't wave. Instead, he gestured to himself, then you, then down to the ground. You cocked your head, raising your arms with a laugh he couldn't hear as a means to say "what?" He threw his head back dramatically, repeating his gestures slower and more exaggerated this time. "Oh, you wanna go down there?" You shouted across to him, hearing a faint, echoey, "what?" in return. You laughed again, shaking your head. You mirrored his own gesture back to him, earning yourself an eager nod and a thumbs up from the stranger. You chuckled to yourself as you watched him disappear back into his apartment, your heart racing as you comprehended what you just agreed to.

Only clad in silk pyjamas and slippers, you quickly grabbed your phone and keys and made your way to the elevator. You blood was buzzing through your veins like electricity at the thought of finally getting to hear his voice, to properly see his features in light.

Your heard thrummed in your ears as your elevator reached ground level, and suddenly you didn't want to meet the handsome stranger anymore. Your hands started sweating and you felt sick. You cursed your legs for dragging you out of your warm building and out onto the busy street, a little embarrassed that you were in your pyjamas. Just as you were about to back out, your eyes landed on him, and as if you were in a cliché movie scene, it all suddenly felt fine.

"Hey," he smiled breathlessly, towering over you, the sweetest tooth gap on display.

"Hello," you smiled equally as big, unable to control the blush that wildly painted your cheeks. "I'm Y/N."

"I'm Matt, pleasure to finally meet you." He stuck his hand out for you to shake, ripping a nervous giggle from you. You shook his hand back, still struggling to comprehend the situation.

"Likewise," you blushed even deeper, if possible. He was massive. So tall, broad shoulders. So incredibly masculine, yet the two words you would use to describe him would be handsome or... pretty.

"I'm kind of embarrassed to be out here in my pyjamas," you quietly spoke, moving in close so only he could hear. Your knees nearly gave out when he craned his neck down to hear you better. "I know we just met, but would you like to come up to my apartment?"

Although the words sounded suggestive, neither of you even thought of the invitation in a sexual way. It was like catching up with an old friend. In the elevator, you both pointed out the elephant(s) in the room. His height, your accent. He made fun of the way you said certain words, but you could tell he liked it by the way the corners of his eyes crinkled, and the way his tongue got stuck between his teeth when he'd laugh particularly hard. He was funny. You really liked him. Although you'd just met him, his presence was warm and somewhat felt like home. You couldn't believe the pathetic words that plagued your brain like a teenagers diary. But after he left your apartment at 4am, your stupid heart continued to pang against your ribcage, and your stupid mouth couldn't stop smiling.

pls send asks with ideas, i'd love to have you guys involved xx and if this is boring PLEASE tell me thx

#matt stone #matt stone x reader

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miloscat · 1 year ago

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[Review] Wario Land 4 (GBA)

A disappointing misstep... am I the only one who thinks this??

Despite coming so soon after Wario Land 3 (the fourth Wario Land game), Wario Land 4 (the fifth Wario Land game) makes a lot of changes. It tries to synthesise new ideas with the old and ends up feeling like a bit of a mess. It has a good reputation but honestly I don’t get it!

The first thing you notice is the visual refresh. We’re on the cusp of Warioware completely revolutionising Wario’s characterisation and setting, and WL4 gets a bit of a ripple from that. Wario is flexing and posing, driving a muscle car… read the manual though and it leans harder than ever into his hilariously gross habits and self-aggrandising mannerisms. Unlike a lot of other things in the game, this combination works well.

In a premise most reminiscent of Virtual Boy Wario Land, Wario is on the hunt for treasure and goes to explore an ancient ruin only to stumble on a series of wacky out-of-place environments contained within and a big weirdo out of nowhere as would-be antagonist. The use of magic portals does a little something for plausibility, I guess. Did Wario really need a princess to rescue though? Was that necessary? Shokora at least has a presence in the story thanks to her transformation into a mysterious cat who pops up in cutscenes / Mr. Game & Watch-style silhouette person who acts as shopkeeper.

The levels feel initially like throwbacks to pre-3 style, with a critical path and side rooms, where it isn’t always clear which is which. But you do need to thoroughly explore because getting all four chests in each level is mandatory to unlock the zone bosses, plus there’s a key to find to advance to the next level. Having to redo entire levels if you miss any of these is a real drag. There's also optional mini-puzzle challenges sectioned off in their own rooms, removed from the flow and aesthetic of the rest of the level. But things change when you find the frog switch: a giant timer appears, and you have to backtrack to where you came in. Sometimes things change in the level, or you find a new path to return via, but often those progress items are hidden in this time-pressured sequence as well.

Far from being an exciting combination of ideas, I think these concepts of structure and design are at odds, pulling in different directions. Similarly, the non-damaging conditions from WL2 and 3 return here, but in a position of reduced prominence, and they've reinstated a health meter mechanic on top. (The GBA's shoulder buttons also prompted a return of the run button from VBWL, but it feels underused.) Removing the timer and health system was a breath of fresh air in WL2... now they're back, and for what!?

The boss battles are another miss for me. They're also timed, and you have to do them quick to get maximum treasure, which is otherwise kind of a non-factor. Collecting coins in levels lets you play one of three minigames (none of which are very fun) to earn tokens. You can spend these in a shop before the boss door, for a variety of effects that simply remove health from the boss. This Breath of the Wild-style "reward" of making the fights shorter by just subtracting from their health bar is such an odd choice to me. The fights themselves are fine at best, but the bosses are visually overdesigned in a purposeful, grotesque way; I suppose it's meant to be amusingly absurd but I just found them ugly eyesores.

Playing the Wario Land games one by one, I've enjoyed seeing them refine the concept and bring in fresh ideas. WL4 on the other hand feels like it's trying to force ideas in and fumbling in the process, with a result that doesn't quite come together. Even though the play control is tighter and snappier, the game is less than the sum of its parts, less pure than previous Wario Lands. The music is really strange too, trying for some kind of esoteric wackiness but maybe trying too hard... The series has never looked better, but this might be a sign that it's losing its direction. Meanwhile Nintendo R&D1 themselves are soon to be restructured, splintering into oversight roles and smaller teams, and I think the "Wario platformer" series suffers as a consequence, while Warioware's star rises. We'll see in the next few reviews I suppose...

#wario #wario land #wario land 4 #nintendo r&d1 #gba #review

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disco-elysium-via-polls · 10 months ago

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MAGNESIUM-BASED LIFEFORM

Temporary bonus: -1 Shivers: No shakes

It is generally understood that human beings are carbon-based organisms, fusing little carbon tubes together to form complex, mushy structures capable of thought, love, and locomotion. It is also known that these structures sometimes like to “take the edge off” by consuming ethanol, amphetamine, etc. In such cases, it is important to supplement your body with magnesium. Tired? Mag it! Down? Mag time! Liver damage? MAXIMUM MAG! Some people say magnesium doesn’t really do anything and you just need to quit. What do we tell them?

DETECTIVE COSTEAU

Temporary bonus: -2 Conceptualization: An idiotic idea

Detective Raphaël Ambrosius Costeau – when you say it, it feels like you’re taking a bite of lemon meringue while sitting on the terrace of a seaside cafe. On a cool summer day. In Sur-La-Clef. It’s everything you’re *not*. You haven’t created many things during your stay in Martinaise, but you’ve created this. A fancy, sophisticated name that makes you sound intelligent. And that no one seems to *acknowledge*. Don’t you feel like you deserve a reward for coming up with something so special? And what would that reward *be*?

BRINGING OF THE LAW (LAW-JAW)

Temporary bonus: -1 Rhetoric: Weird jaw

Hey, so a little observation. It’s all cool, man. Don’t freak out, but every time you say “I am the law“ – and you say it *a lot*, it’s basically *hello* for you – your jaw does this *weird thing*. It sort of shifts sideways, hanging off your face at a jaunty angle, while the word *law* sounds oddly guttural and low. It’s… strange. You wouldn’t notice it, but after saying you’re the law eighty thousand times, the question *does* come up: why *do* you have Law Jaw?

DATE OF BIRTH GENERATOR

Temporary bonus: None

Your face looks like it’s 58 and your body feels like it’s 60. Your mind feels like it’s lived for one day or a hundred. Both longer than they ought to be, the day and the century…. But for how long, then, has this thing attached to your sentience walked the planet’s crust? Time to start racking those brains of yours, Elder One. When and where were you born?

ONE MORE DOOR

Temporary bonus: +1 Half-Light: What is behind it?

God dammit, it cannot be. A disgrace! That door on the coast… you remember the one, right? The one that leads to the abandoned supply depot? Why, in the name of all that’s holy, does it not open? *Why*?! There *has* to be a way to get through that unopenable door. By gods, you’re the police – all doors are supposed to open before you. What will the others at the precinct think if you can’t open a goddamn door? There must be a way.

COP OF THE APOCALYPSE

Temporary bonus: -1 Rhetoric: Rambling madman

You woke up in a hotel room and started rambling about the end of the world. It’s not your normal everyday doom-crying, either. Something truly colossal is approaching – the Gloaming. The Culling. The Bloodletting of Unimaginable Proportions. Until now you’ve been *pleasantly* vague about the precise nature of this cataclysm. No more! Put the Bloodletting on the burner and *really* figure out what’s threatening the fragile physical reality you just found yourself in.

HOMO-SEXUAL UNDERGROUND

Temporary bonus: None

You see mysterious strangers in the night. Leaning against unlit doorways, engaged in hushed conversation. A shadowy cabal exchanging looks, whispering in dark alleys and unmarked locales. A radical cell conspiring against the state -- and perhaps even against man and woman. Was that a secret handshake? What’s going on? Who are these secretive people? How will they accomplish their sinister and world-altering goals? And most importantly -- are you *one* of them? You could be. Maybe you forgot...

ANTI-OBJECT TASK FORCE

Temporary bonus: -2 Pain Threshold

Take a look at your hands. See how bruised they are? See those little scars? This is Exhibit A. The material world is holding you back. Containers, mailboxes, doors, chairs -- they are all your enemies. Always have been. Atoms themselves are in on the conspiracy, forming shapes and structures that you hate. You are energy stuck in a body. You are spirit trapped in matter. Break free! Beat up that lamp post! Let it know just how much objects *suck*.

#disco elysium

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bubblesandgutz · 2 years ago

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Every Record I Own - Day 770: Lungfish Sound In Time

The first time I heard about Can was reading an interview with Lungfish frontman Daniel Higgs in some zine back in the late '90s or early '00s. I don't remember anything else from the interview, just Higgs saying "the guys in the band have been listening to a lot of this old German group called Can." That was it. I don't know why it stuck in my head; I wasn't even a Lungfish fan at the time. But learning about new music (or old music, for that matter) back then meant reading zines, and I made a mental note to keep an eye out for this Can band.

It would be years before I'd actually hear Can. And strangely enough, I fell for Can before I fell for Lungfish. I don't even think I remembered that Higgs interview until listening to "You Doo Right" off Can's Monster Movie LP while walking around Brooklyn and thinking "damn, this could be a Lungfish song." By that time, I'd already owned Monster Movie for several years and was building up my Lungfish collection, but as is often the case with both bands, sometimes you hear a song a half dozen times before it suddenly comes to life and sinks into your soul. And on that afternoon where I was walking across Greenpoint to my rehearsal space with "You Doo Right" on my headphones, I made the connection between the two bands and remembered when krautrock first popped on my radar.

There are scattered moments across the first few Lungfish records where you could potentially hear some of krautrock's penchant for hypnotic patterns, but it really isn't until Sound In Time where the band really went for cyclical songwriting. Every song on the album adheres to one or two riffs repeated over the span of four or five minutes. As if to reinforce the cyclical vibe, the album begins and ends with the same instrumental passage---"Constellations" and "Constellations Pt. 2." Like Malcom Mooney, Higgs comes across like a man possessed, or perhaps a man in the throes of an acid trip, spitting out feverish cosmic mantras. Drummer Mitchell Feldstein might lack some of the jazz-trained finesse of Jaki Liebezeit, but he adheres to the same principle of finding a solid drum beat and sticking with it for the duration of the song. Similarly, Asa Osbourne borrows little from Can guitarist Michael Karoli other than a general aversion to pentatonic blues riffing, but there is a complete and utter absence of showboating that falls in line with Can's ego-less jams (though the backwards tracked guitars on "Jonah" are reminiscent of Neu!'s "Hallogallo," if we really wanna reinforce the krautrock comparisons). And as far as bassists go, it may be a stretch to peg new Lungfish bassist Sean Meadows as the band's Holger Czukay, but considering that his addition to the band brought them into a more transcendental era of songwriting and Czukay's own behind-the-scenes importance in shaping the classic era of Can, perhaps the parallel is deserved.

Can was all about spontaneity and jamming, whereas Lungfish feels very deliberate and structured. But Can edited their improvisations into something that felt patterned, and Lungfish leaned into structure until it began to feel malleable and alive. Both yielded a kind of otherworldly power tethered to droning melodies, steady rhythms, and idiosyncratic frontmen. With Sound In Time, Lungfish progressed beyond the trappings of the Dischord brand of post-hardcore into a sound that was distinctly their own. And like Can, they became one of those nearly peerless reference points for a specific sound. Lots of artists try to sound like Can. Lots of artists try to sound like Lungfish. And while you can hear their influence everywhere, ultimately, there is only one Can, and only one Lungfish.

#everyrecordiown #lungfish

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brooklynislandgirl · 7 months ago

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"Maybe not contortionist but definitely a decade or more of yoga under my belt and some double joints." Ben likely meant it as a rhetorical question but she felt the tiniest bit of pride in herself for the structure, the discipline, and yes, being able to tease him about it. She does feel his confession is sweet but doesn't point out that for some strange reason, she is quite the opposite. Plants and animals always thrive around her. "I'll keep your secret." She time-shares between his face and his hands, the corners of her lips twitching as she fights off an appreciative smile. She recognises the movements if not the final product. Some day she might tell him about the thousands of cranes she made once upon a time. She finds his commitment to books, the enthusiasm for Dumas, endearing beyond explanation. Bites back the urge to say that most serial murderers are. "My question is how you kept yourself from smothering him in his sleep. I mean that's pretty egregious a crime. Right up there with Andy-" Beth stops herself short. She hoards memories of her brother like the greediest of dragons. "Maybe I'm basic, but my favourite was always Henry V. Macbeth of course, oh and the Tempest!" She half lowers her lids and gently clears her throat. "Not a soul but felt a fever of the mad, and played some tricks of desperation. All but mariners plunged in the foaming brine and quit the vessel, then all afire with me. The King's son Ferdinand, with hair upstaring then like reed, not hair- was the first man that leaped; cried 'Hell is empty, and all the devils are here'...." Once quoting Ariel, she chuckles with a hint of shyness in her tone if not features. "But...I'll take your background into consideration and absolve you of blame because...your dad." The blossom smiles fully, showing him hints of teeth and crinkles at the corners of her nose. Maybe it's the story of his mother. The sweetness and kindness of a woman sharing art with her son. Maybe it's the idea that they in turn encouraged their son to bring brightness to sick children. Beth always lauds paediatrics and the work done for children, has a soft spot for people who care about kids. "Has anyone ever told you how wonderful you are?" The question holds not a single trace of sarcasm. The sound of his laughter and the way it shapes his face sinks down into the pit of her belly and warms her through the core of her being. "I don't believe you've ever had a bad hair day. And I think letting it be a little longer than average is totally a power-move. Huge part of your rizz, as the kids say." Despite every urge to lean across the space between them and help him mop up is strong, she also knows that the last thing he needs is an extra pair of hands. It doesn't stop another laugh from escaping her, more sympathetic than mocking, and has her muttering a gentle apology between the delicate wind chime sound.

It's his turn to enjoy her own mirth tinted surprise. Delicate fingers splay out to cover her lips but the subsequent snerking sound is anything but graceful. Her lips tremble and a blush leeches into her face. Half a heartbeat later she does rake him with a smouldering look from his mouth to his knees then back. "That would be such a tragedy." She can't help but twitch when he jerks. A sense of guilt rises up to cushion the not quite bruised feelings further softened by understanding. Andy used to complain about her tactile nature but never enough to break her of the habit. What she wasn't expecting though is that he then returns the touch with one of his own, or how she finds herself wanting him to do it again. A ghost of his thumb lingers. Then is given company by his other and she can't help but notice how easy it feels, how natural, to be held between them. "I don't disagree, though sometimes... It's hard to keep that in mind when it feels like you're driving in the dark without a road-map." She's only vaguely aware of the intimate portrait they create remaining so close, so intertwined ~the side of her knee now nudges the space between his, only a little more space than their hands. Within the moment, Beth finds herself wondering if it would be so bad if she simply became Ellie forever. She smiles as he answers her with a refreshing honesty not depicting himself as a silver-tongued Casanova as many would without fear of being caught out. That makes Ben much more charming and that much more human. Relatable. She harbours no ill-will toward the historical Jess for bringing Ben good memories to look back on, for helping him figure some part of himself out. There are other things though that bloom into desire; to know how or why it had ended. What did he take forward from it, what helped him survive the heartbreak even if he had been the one to instigate it all. Had she gotten on with his family? Had his brother welcomed her at the very least? But Ben isn't a novel and she isn't entitled to answers. Maybe if he brings it up some day, then she'll have more solid ground from which to ask. Her other hand lifts. Past the swan/crane, past the drying drops of coffee on the table. Her wrist brushes his cheek and brings with it the faintest hint of something sweetly floral. She tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. "My wish for you, then, is that if and when you feel it again, and you will...you deserve to, that is brings you just as much happiness, just as much tenderness."

"Bendy? Am I dealing with a contortionist here?" Chuckling, Ben pulled a napkin from the dispenser at their side, then absently started folding it into the shape of a triangle. "As for my 'pisceside,' it's wholly innocent. I can't seem to keep anything alive for more than a couple weeks."

Keeping his eyes on his "hard work," Ben kept folding until his napkin resembled a kite. He hummed along at Ellie's alleged "short list," pleased with her choices. However, once she mentioned one of his own personal favorites, he could no longer remain silent. "Oh, Dumas!" he exclaimed, pleased. "I, too, was fond of The Count of Monte Cristo growing up. It was actually on a different summer reading list than mine, but I decided to...well...read all of the assigned materials for every different course level." He scrunched his nose, purposely crossing his eyes. "Did I mention I was an odd child? In fact, I recall Samuel teasing me by intentionally pronouncing Dumas 'dumbass.' The inference with that one was pretty clear."

Chuckling, Ben pulled up the thinner end of his napkin to reflect a neck shape. "As for me, you're probably unsurprised to hear I'm a fan of Shakespeare. Twelfth Night and The Taming of the Shrew are my favorites, though I've often revisited Othello and The Merchant of Venice, as well." Creating a Z-shaped crease, Ben continued folding with verve, never lifting his eyes. "Anyway, I suppose I should share something modern that I enjoy...Tolkien and Gaiman are certainly good choices -- I enjoyed Stardust -- and I also love C.S. Lewis. My father's a preacher, so sue me."

Finished with his fiddling, Ben set an origami swan down in front of Ellie, pleased that the napkin hadn't been so flimsy that it couldn't retain its shape. "I also had a craft-loving mother who taught me a number of things to while away the hours -- when I was around fifteen, my dad would take me to the local children's hospital so I could teach the kids to make these. I've made hundreds, so I could probably create them in my sleep."

When Ellie spoke of glamor being responsible for masking her "inner troll," Ben laughed, his eyes crinkling warmly around the edges. "Well, remind me to give you a call on my bad hair days, because your glamor is really working." Though once she referred to his flaming sword, he'd tragically been taking a sip of coffee. The quip caused him to backwash into his mug, nearly slopping the dark liquid over said pull-over.

Using a fresh napkin to wipe up the mess, he grinned, sheepish and eyes shining. "I've never refused a dare in all my life, El, so those are dangerous words... Though whether for you or myself, it still remains to be seen." Setting his coffee off to the side -- better to be safe than sorry -- he wryly agreed, "I may do the occasional sit-up, but I certainly don't have a washboard going on under there, and I have to disappoint you by saying the sword isn't flaming. Otherwise, it'd burn a hole right through my slacks."

Ben didn't want to talk about "the other girl." High school growing pains were precisely that: pains, and none he wished to relive despite them mostly being harmless. Instead, he focused on the gentle movement of Ellie's mouth, soft and supple, and shining with the remnants of her own beverage. A part of him wished to wipe it away -- to cup her face, to hold her hand -- but the deeper these thoughts traversed, the more he physically curled away from the idea. Or rather, until Ellie reached for his hand of her own accord.

At first he jerked, startled by the contact, before idly skimming his thumb over the ridge of her knuckles. Ben listened to her speak, but just like before, his eyes kept darting toward her mouth, taking note of how hushed her words were and how this time, there was a mournful tension in her lips, almost as if she were physically trying to swallow back the confession.

Lonely? Yes -- yes, yes, he was lonely too. Unbidden, he curled his free hand over top of their interlocked ones, gently squeezing. "Those impulses aren't always wrong," Ben softly offered. "Sometimes, we're drawn to certain people for a purpose...out of fate."

Ellie remained curved toward him, edging closer still. Her eyes locked with his own, and a peculiar tickle formed in the pit of his stomach, much like the freefall on a rollercoaster, or momentarily losing one's balance. And then she asked that, and God above, his purposeful thoughts came grinding to a halt.

"I've...yes," Ben stammered, his mouth dry. "Once." Why had he admitted that? Wincing, he somehow kept his eyes on her face, a bloom of pink curling along the edge of his cheeks. "Her name was Jess. We met my first year of college, and she was just so...different. She never told me I was strange, and she actually seemed interested in everything I had to say. I'd never really had that before." Smiling, a hint of shyness bled into his gaze. "She had this cute little quirk where she'd play with her bangs any time she wanted to kiss me. I'm not sure why that was a correlation, but once she started fidgeting, I was compelled to reach for some breath mints."

Expression softening, Ben lifted his head more fully, appraising Ellie with a gentle openness. "I can't describe what she made me feel...just that when I was with her, I felt safe and free to be myself. I never thought I'd feel that way again." The unspoken words until you came along lingered on the tip of his tongue, incomplete and needling him, burning him to the quick.

#honorhearted #Someone I Have Not Yet Met|Ben Tallmadge #Whispers Down By the Lake|Ben and Beth #Cracks In the Foundation|Turn Modern au #Brooklyn Stories|New York

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manicpixiedreamcurl · 2 years ago

Text

Headcanon: Eddie likes making smart girls dumb

Word Count: ~2,620

Warnings: 18+ only. Minors dni. Dumbification kink (yup!), rough oral sex (m receiving), face slapping, degrading language throughout, reader is worry on legs and eddie lives to turn her brain off essentially. Reader says something mean but she's stressed and she APOLOGISES AND MEANS IT.

A/N: “Hey, Jo, don’t you have like five different proper wips that aren’t just these needlessly long headcanons your brain comes up with when you should be sleeping?” “Yup! Now read the needlessly long headcanon.”

“Maybe just a little break would do you some good, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, remaining as you are, hunched over your desk. Evidence of how you’ve spent the afternoon is spread across the table. Various empty coffee cups, your bright desk lamp, stacked textbooks, a colour coded periodic table, your lilac notepad that was new last week, now open a quarter of the way through, covered in black notes and pink highlighter lines.

Eddie arrived twenty minutes ago, uninvited, having not spoken to you properly in three days.

Since you were asked by a desperate Ms Loudon to tutor him in History at the beginning of the year, Eddie has improved in every subject he takes. You didn’t just sit with him and run through major events, didn’t just read his essays half bored to give him meaningless feedback. You taught him how to help himself. Finally, Eddie has the knack, the knowledge on how to motivate himself to just sit down and study.

It was a strange, sick relief to realise with finality that he wasn’t stupid like people thought. No, Eddie’s capable, smart even. But smart only goes so far when you can’t sit at your desk without finding yourself seeking out a joint, or a guitar, or a porn mag. These days, he gets Cs more often than he gets Ds or Fs on tests. More Bs on essays than any other grade. The first A he’s had since the eighth grade came, red and circled, in Art last week. An essay on Jean-Michel Basquiat with multiple scribbles reading “good point!”

Turns out, setting a schedule that works for him, taking breaks every hour for a Dr Pepper or a crunchy snack, sitting with you in the library so you can talk each other through your notes, works for him.

So yeah, he knows your way works better than his ever did, ever will. But shit, it’s a Saturday night, and the test isn’t till Tuesday. Chemistry’s a bitch, sure, but Jeff’s your lab partner and Eddie’s heard that you can draw structural formulas with the same ease as writing your name. Or drawing a love heart on his hand, the way you like to do sometimes.

He’s so grateful for you. Not just that he credits you as the reason he’s assured to graduate this year, but that, since he kissed you for the first time, leaning over a library table to hold your busy head in his hands, you’ve opened yourself up to him so sweet it makes his heart sore. You taught him so much, sharing your seemingly endless smarts, and you��ve let him teach you in return. How to play a power chord, roll a joint, let a boy like Eddie lay you down and master your body till you’re a writhing, crying mess with an empty head.

So now, watching you rub your sore eyes, stretch your sore back, crack your sore neck. Yeah, he wants to do something about it.

“I just think maybe you’re overexerting yourself this time,” he says from your pretty, flowery bed, shoes left at the door the way your Mom insists on, the rule held fast even when she’s out.

You feel your shoulders tense, frustration running up the back of your neck to clench your jaw. Why is Eddie even here? You didn’t invite him. Didn’t ask him to come sit a judge, share his unsolicited opinions on the way you work.

“You can think that, but I need to have these notes on carboxylic acid memorised tonight so I can focus on oxidising and reducing agents tomorrow. That gives me the right amount of time to study reversible reactions on Monday night.” You look at him with a tight smile, hoping you’ve explained yourself enough that he’ll leave it, now. “I have a plan, Eddie.”

“You always do,” Eddie grins, his bright eyes not working their usual magic. You look back to your book and sigh, frustrated that you’re using brain power trying to work out how to ask him to leave when you should be focused on reduction reactions. “But, I mean, how long will it really take you to learn what you need about, um, oxidising stuff, tomorrow? Don’t you think you could get back to the acids then, too?”

“Why should I?”

“Cause it’s a Saturday night. You’re exhausted. And deep down you want to watch Children of the Corn with me and cuddle.”

Your heart tweaks inside its ice cage, and you hate him a little then for trying to tempt you away. “Of course I want to relax, Eddie. That’s not the point.”

Eddie smooths his hands across his knees. “Well, what is the point? ‘Cause I really think you’d be better off taking some time away from all the books.”

The graphite at the end of your pencil snaps to leave wood chips, the final push that has you twisting in your seat and yelling. “You’re really not the right person to be doling out advice on studying, Eddie! The fact that you think wanting to relax means you should is the reason you’ve been a high school senior for three years straight!”

Eddie’s kind face goes hard. Your throat tightens with regret.

"I didn't mean that."

"No?" He asks, smacking his hands to his knees as he stands. Your heart fights its way from the ice, pounding and hot with worry. He’s moving to your door when you rush to him, grabbing his arms to hold him there.

"I'm sorry," you say, eyes watering, overwhelmed. Your brain is fit to burst, thoughts running wild. Eddie’s going to break up with you now, for being mean. Eddie’s going to break up with you and never speak to you or kiss you or touch you or smile at you ever again. "I'm so sorry, Eddie."

"I dunno. That was, uh, kinda mean, you know? Sounded like you think I'm dumb or something."

Your head shakes rapidly. "I don't think that. I know you're not dumb, Eddie. Please, I'm sorry-"

"You're sorry?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that."

"You gonna apologise to me properly?"

You stare at him.

There it is, behind the cold stare. He’s got what he wanted. There’s no way you’re going back to that desk now. Even in the low light of your table lamp, you can see the mischief, the satisfaction and anticipation. Eddie isn't angry, not in the slightest.

"Eddie-"

"You just told me you don't even know why you insulted me. That’s kinda stupid of you, ya know? Sounds to me like maybe, between the two of us, you might be dumb one. So maybe instead of arguing with me, you should stop pretending to know better and just let me be in charge, ‘kay?"

Your fingers flex on his arms, one kind of nervous tension leaving your body even as another creeps up. Eddie blinks slowly, like he’s waiting. When you don’t say anything, unclear on what he wants you to say, he sighs, takes his arms from your hold to grasp you. One hand, wide and strong, finds the back of your head, directing your gaze to his. The other presses against your throat, the contrast of warm fingers and cold rings sending shivers through you.

“Are you going to let me be in charge tonight, dummy? Do what I tell you, and nothing else?”

Your head would loll if it wasn’t for his grip, and you wonder if he knew that already. “Mm. Tell me what to do, Eddie.”

Eddie grins, hums, presses a quick kiss to your lips. He murmurs into the skin of your cheek. “Let’s start with you on your knees, ‘kay?”

You breathe a soft, affirmative noise as he pushes you down, down till your knees are pressed to the soft rug in the middle of the room. Distantly, you realise that Eddie stood right here on purpose. Knew you’d end up just like this while you were still in a tizzy at the thought of him leaving. The thought is gone in an instant with Eddie’s thumb digging into the back of your mouth, circling your tongue to gather drool. The other hand goes for his belt, the rough tug and the clinking sound making your clit ache. You watch, mouth open and pleading, while he unzips his pants enough to pull himself from his boxers. Eddie fists his pink cock with tight fingers, the spit he took from your mouth aiding a smooth glide.

It’s torture. You can smell him, the musk of Eddie’s cock, the lingering smell of his tea tree shampoo that he rubs through the thick, dark hair as the base when he showers. The pretty pink head is dripping white pre, more and more forced out each time his foreskin closes over the tip.

“Eddie,” you whisper, looking up at him to find his gaze focused on your desperate face already. “Please.”

“I’ve got a choice for you, dummy,” he says, hips jerking at the thought of what he’s about to offer you. “If that empty head of yours can manage it.” Eddie pulls his foreskin back, exposing the white cum collected there, and smooths it away with two fingers. “Open.”

You practically unlock your jaw, tongue exposed so he knows how much you want this. Eddie smirks, fingers finding your mouth. He presses the pads to the taste buds at the very back then drags them forward, covering your tongue in the masculine, salty taste of his cum. Your mouth waters, swallowing it down the second you can and following his fingers with your mouth, managing a little kiss to them before his hand is flat on your cheek. The sharp smack makes you squirm, eyes darting from his amused gaze to his cock.

“Good?”

“So good,” you nod, eyeing his tip, hoping for more.

“Hm. Here’s the choice then. My cum in your mouth,” Eddie widens his stance, bringing his cock perfectly level with your wet lips. “Or breathing.”

You groan, mouth opening wide again, knees shuffling desperately. It’s answer enough. Eddie laughs, grasps his cock at the base, and slides home.

“Shit,” he says, holding your head at either side. Your chin finds his heavy balls, throat long since used to taking Eddie all the way. The stretch, the plugging of your throat, is blissful. Nothing else is important now. Not tests or studying or broken pencils. It’s not your place to worry about that anymore, not your place to worry about anything. You just need to keep your mouth open and let Eddie enjoy your throat. His head rolls, long hair reaching down his back. Eddie groans through his teeth and returns his gaze to you. He finds your eyes red-rimmed and watery. “Shit, shit, shit.”

He keeps you there longer than you're used to, until the stunted breaths you can only take through your nose like this stop being just enough. You jerk, hands moving from your thighs to his, instinct forcing you to bat at him through denim. Your lungs protest enough that you gag, forcing him from your throat and back to your mouth. You take a desperate, gasping breath as Eddie’s cock leaves your warmth.

Another slap, quick and harsh. “You made your choice, dummy,” Eddie says over the sound of your returning breath. He clasps his base again, driving back down your throat but granting you the blessing of thrusting, giving you half seconds to breathe around his dick when the tip finds your tongue again.

Then he holds his hips still, hands covering your ears and bobbing your head like you’re a toy, made to move along his cock as he desires. The movement makes you dizzy, like your brain is knocking around your skull. “Fucking perfect like this,” he says. “Doing what you’re supposed to be doing, just taking my cock like a silly slut-”

Your nose meets the wiry hairs at the base of him with each aggressive push of your head, your eyes rolling back at the smell of him and the throb of his thick, perfect cock in your gullet. Everything now is just smell and taste and feeling. Nothing to think about, question or consider.

You want to rub your cunt desperately, but your own body wouldn’t allow it unless Eddie were to suggest shoving your fingers in your panties. Instead, you ache between your legs and keep your jaw wide for him. Your cheek throbs suddenly with another slap, no longer a punishment, but just because the way you take a little violence makes Eddie’s cock twitch happily.

“Who's fucking dumb, baby?” He asks, forcing himself down your throat again, waiting until you’re twitching and writhing. Below him, on your knees where you should be. “Who’s fucking dumb? Me or the slut who chose the taste of my dick over breathing?” He slaps your right cheek, crosses his hand over to slap the left. Your face tingles pleasantly. “Fucking-” Eddie presses forward, cock going no deeper, but just squishing his swollen balls against your chin. “Answer me, you stupid slut.”

You try. You try because Eddie told you to, but he’s blocking any sound that could hope to escape. The vibrations of your attempt at me, I’m dumb, travel up his cock and he groans. “‘M gonna cum,” Eddie pulls away, listens to the desperate gasp and the release of built up spit over his cock. He thrusts again, taking and giving you back his cock in quick succession, saliva dripping down his balls and covering your chin. “Gonna cum in your fucking mouth. All it’s good for. ‘S not for speaking, fucking talking back and insulting me, ’s just for sucking my fucking dick- shit!”

Eddie rests the head of his cock on your tongue, using the waves of drool you’ve given him to jerk his cock into your mouth. You moan happily the whole time, tongue finally able to do its job of licking at Eddie’s salty, smooth head for his pleasure. His cock twitches, throbs, and Eddie covers your tongue with ropes of his thick cum. You hold it, even when he takes his softening cock from between your lips. You open them to display it, a white pool in your pink mouth. Eddie huffs a laugh.

“You’re not impressing anyone with that. Just swallow it, dummy.”

Eddie’s cum flows, thick and wet, down your throat. The final slap turns your face to the side with its impact, leaves your cheek almost numb, You press your face back into Eddie’s hand, body knowing it’s always his touch that you need more of, even if it hurts. You sigh blissfully, feeling good, used, and empty.

“Come here, dummy,” Eddie says softly, throwing himself back on your bed and opening his arms with wiggling fingers. You climb into his arms without a thought, pressing your whole face to his sweaty neck. You lick a little, wanting another hit of the tastes his body provides. Eddie rubs a thumb over your aching cheek. “Feeling good?”

“Mmm.” Your clit is still crying for attention, your cunt has been leaking and ready for him since he pushed you to your knees. A faraway thought assures you that Eddie will get to that, once he’s eased you out of the headspace of degraded dummy back to his pretty, sweet girl who gets kisses between her legs for being so good and smart.

“This brain of yours, baby.” Eddie strokes your hair and kisses your temple. “You gotta learn to turn it off sometimes, you know?”

“Don’t need to learn anything.” You shift and squirm in your cuddle to find more of Eddie’s skin. “You do it for me.”

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson headcanon

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