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sturnioloszn · 28 days ago

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ICE BOUND (1) - M.S

summary; you accompany your father to his coaching session when your eyes land on his star player and captain, matt sturniolo.

warnings; smut, oral (blowjob), throat-fucking, praising, begging, dirty talk, pet names (just pretty girl lmao), think that's it?

a/n; it was a veryy close poll, but ice hockey matt won by the slightest. also, my next post will be about a taglist, and if you want to be part of it, more info will be there!

P2, P3

★ ° . *　　°　.　°☆ 　. * ● ¸. 　　　★ 　° :. ★　 * •

It was mid-december, and thick snow covered the ground. The icy winds still managed to bring me goosebumps even when I was wrapped in a large jacket, gloves, a beanie, and a scarf. The snow beneath my worn down shoes crunched with each step I took, and small snow flakes landed on the exposed areas of my face.

"Thanks for coming, y/n," my dad speaks from next to me, breaking me out of my thoughts. We were currently walking through the parking lot to reach the entrance of the local ice rink. I offered to watch one of my dad's practice sessions. Every Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday, he was down to this rink training his team of players, readying them for the tournament that was quickly arriving.

"Of course," I say, flashing a small smile. We finally enter the building, a surge of hot air hitting us. I instantly start taking my layers off, discarding them in one of the lockers. I was now much more comfortable in my baggy jumper and jeans.

I made my way to the rink, claiming my spot on one of the back row benches. Not many people came to the practice sessions, usually a parent or some friends, but that was it.

After a few moments, I saw a group of boys alongside my dad walk out of the locker room and onto the ice. My dad forced them to do three laps around the rink to warm up and then the practice actually began.

I watched them intensely, swinging their sticks and making the puck fly from one end of the rink to the other. I knew the basic rules due to the fact that my dad was literally an ice hockey coach, and I grew up around the sport.

After half an hour or so of this, I noticed one of the guys had a 'C' on his jumper. C? Captain? I never knew my dad allocated a captain already. Usually, he likes to mention random stuff like that, but I don't remember him ever talking about this.

Brown strands of hair peaked out through his helmet, and he proudly wore the number 4 and the surname 'Sturniolo' on his back. I don't even recall seeing him on the team at all. I guess the last game I came to see was about a year ago. Still though, kid managed to place captain in less than a year. He must be an ice hockey prodigy or some shit.

My focus remains on him the rest of the time. He glided smoothly on the ice, and his passes were clean. It was clear to see why he was captain. He must have felt me burning holes into the back of his head, and his eyes met mine. I instantly move to look at my shoes. Shit. That's embarrassing.

After almost two hours of practice, they begin to wrap up, and they all head towards the locker room. The last off the ice was the one and only prodigy himself. I walk down the benches as he skates off the ice and takes off his helmet, giving me a clearer view of his face. I go sit next to him on the bench as he's undoing his skates.

"That was a good game," I initiated the conversation, looking down at his red hands fiddling with the laces.

"Thanks, you watch often?" He asks, turning his head to look at me.

"Um, not really, but I know a thing or two," I say, giving a sly smile. He chuckles before looking back to his skates.

"Yeah? Who y'here for?" He asks again, probably referring to one of his teammates. He must think I'm either one of their girlfriends or one of their sisters. Well, I'm neither.

"Your coach," I reply. My answer makes his head snap to look at me; there's a look of shock played on his face. "I'm his daughter," I clarify, smiling once again.

"Oh. I was worried for a second," he breathes out. I tilt my head to look at him.

"Why would you be worried?" I question. He finally pulls his skates off his feet and replaces them with a beat-up pair of air force 1s. Sitting so close to him gives me the opportunity to really look at his face. He has a strong jawline, with defined cheekbones and a beautiful side profile. His hair was a similar shade to mine, and it was parted down the middle. But his most shocking feature was his icy blue eyes; from far away, they looked brown, but up close, they were a beautiful light, frost blue.

"Because a pretty girl like you can do much better than a man like him," he admits, turning to place his attention fully on me. I feel the blood rush to my cheeks, and I'm sure it doesn't go unnoticed by him.

"That's still my dad, watch your mouth," I say, swallowing down my butterflies. He raises his eyebrows and puts his hand up surrendering.

"You know I meant age, you can do better, age wise," he explains.

"Alright then, how old are you?" I ask boldly.

I can tell my question caught him off guard, but nevertheless, he answers, "I'm 19, you?". I tell him I'm the same age, and he just nods. I don't like his silence. It felt wrong. Hearing his voice felt... right? I quickly think of something else to ask to keep the conversation going.

"So... you haven't been here long, have you?". I'm pulling at straws, but it doesn't matter. He explains that he recently moved to Boston with his family and that he needed to find a new team to join so that he could keep up ice skating, so here he was.

I then asked him about being captain and how the hell he managed to claim that title so quickly. He said something about leadership and blah blah blah. To be completely honest, I wasn't listening; I was too busy drowning in his eyes to hear anything that was coming out of his pretty lips. His lips. They were the perfect shade of pink, and they looked so soft and plump. Fuck. He looked so kissable.

I took another look at his face, a dusty pink had settled onto his cheeks, and the beads of sweat that were previously on his forehead had dried down. Every now and again, he'd also rake his hand into his scruffy hair, trying to adjust it, and every time he did do that, I'd nearly melt. He looks edible.

"Are y'even listening?" He asks, narrowing his eyes. I'm slapped back into reality when I realised that I was, in fact, not listening.

"Um..totally...?" I reply. I didn't even convince myself, let alone him.

"What're you thinkin' about?" He asks. He doesn't even care that I wasn't listening. He cares more about what was occupying my mind instead of being pissed about what was coming out of his mouth.

That's a rare trait that many hockey players do not have. Self-awareness. That the world doesn't spin around them. But little did he know that it did spin around him because even though I wasn't paying attention to him speaking, I was only focused on him.

"..nothing," I answer, moving my eyes to the floor, unable to keep eye contact with him.

"Right... well, it was fun talking, but I gotta shower," he says, standing from the bench and looking down at me. No. I didn't want him to leave, but at the same time, the thought of hot water streaming down his soapy body was doing things to me. I feel my underwear dampen at the thought, I push my legs together, and his eyes skip down to my thighs.

He smirks before speaking again, "you know where to find me if you need," and with that, he made his way to the showers.

I went to find my dad, who was wrapping himself back up in his coat, to fight the weather. I tell him that I might actually go for a skate and that I'll make my way home soon. But in reality, I was going to go hunt down his best player.

I waved my dad goodbye and checked around the rest of the building for the rest of the team, but it seemed that they had already left. This is perfect.

I pushed the door to the showers open, and there's a running one. I slowly approach it until I'm standing behind the curtain. Holy shit. The only thing between me and his naked body was a sheet of fabric. What would happen if-

"Were you planning to just stand there quietly, or were you going to say something?" He speaks. My face instantly blushes, how the fuck did he know I'm standing here?

The water abruptly stops, and a few seconds later, the curtain is drawn back. To my disappointment, there was a white, fluffy towel wrapped around his waist. However, a pretty noticeable outline was pressed into the towel.

He spots me quite obviously staring at his groin. "Something you want?" He asks, grabbing another smaller towel and rubbing it onto his hair, drying it slightly.

At this point, my pussy is throbbing. Every word that comes out of his mouth adds another layer of wetness to my panties.

I nodded at his question before lowering myself to my knees. Now, this he didn't anticipate. I cringe at the feeling of the wet patches on my jean-covered knees.

A smirk grows on his lips, "you wouldn't be able to handle it,". Pfft, I'm yet to meet a man whose dick is bigger than their ego.

"Try me," I challenge. He gives me the nod of approval, and I tug the towel off his hips, letting it fall to the ground.

Well. I guess I've met the man whose dick is bigger than his ego now. Let's just say he has a very, very big ego.

I'm taken by surprise when his cock slings free and hits his stomach. I look up at him, and there's hints of desperation plotted on his face.

"How bad do you want me to suck it?" I speak sultry, placing my hands on his thighs, not giving him the relief he craves.

"So fucking bad," he admits, allowing his right hand to move to the back of my head, inching my face towards his tip. I then grab the base of his dick, pumping it painfully slow, watching beads of pre-cum build on his tip.

I stick my tongue out ever so slightly and go to lick up the salty beads that have accumulated. While I'm there, I place a few soft kisses on his swollen tip. By now, his head is thrown back, and his hand is tangled in my hair.

"Shit," he breathed out. I looked back up at him, and his eyes were shut and eyebrows furrowed. He looked so beautiful. I bring my mouth closer and barely take him in my mouth, sucking lightly.

I then ease more and more of himself into my mouth until my nose is almost pressed up against his pubic bone. I low groan escapes his lip. I then pull him out completely, and he shudders at the loss of contact.

"Please, just make me feel good," he pleads. God, could this man get any sexier?? I instantly comply and take him into my mouth, hollowing out my cheeks. I move my head back and forth, engulfing his cock. He fills my mouth perfectly.

I then bring the hand that's not resting on his thigh to his balls. I slightly toy and massage them, and the sound that left his lips was heavenly. I take him out of my mouth again and move lower to suck on his balls. He's lost all sense of composure at this stage.

"I n-need to cum... please, please, please," he moans while I move back to his cock. This time, I wrap my lips around him and take a hand to stroke him simultaneously. He bucks his hips forward, forcing me to take most of his length down my throat. It's not long until I feel his legs becoming weak and his moans grow in volume.

He places both his hands on either side of my head, "keep still and let me fuck your perfect throat," he grunts out, and I let him do just that. His tip hit the back of my throat over and over, making me gag on his cock, but this just encouraged him to keep going.

"F-fuck, you're doi-fuckkkk, doing so so g-good for me," he stutters. I can tell he's on the edge of euphoria and I moan around his cock to help him reach satisfaction. I feel his warm, bitter cum shoot down my throat. His hips are slowing down, and he lets go of the side of my head. I swallow his cum completely, sticking my tongue out to show him.

"You're amazing," he huffs out, helping me up from my knees.

"I know, I am pretty great," I grin. I then look down and notice the uncomfortable wet patches on my knees. He notices my discomfort and offers his spare pair of sweatpants, and I don't decline.

Once we're both dry and changed, he offers me a ride home, acknowledging the fact that everyone had already left a very long time ago. The ride home is enjoyable and not awkward at all, which was unexpected. I then realise that we did all of that but I don't even know his name, and I never told him mine.

"What's your name?" I ask, turning to look at him. He was focused on the road.

"Matt. What's your name, pretty girl?" He asks. I blush at the nickname, before responding.

"Y/n, but I prefer pretty girl," I smile. He turns his head to look at me with the same smile played on his lips.

★ ° . *　　°　.　°☆ 　. * ● ¸. 　　　★ 　° :. ★　 * •

a/n; next post is gonna be regarding a taglist, so make sure to keep updated if you want to be added to that. anywayy, thank you for reading this oneshot, love you all 💙

#the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #matthew bernard sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #sturniolo fandom #sturniolo smut

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puckinghischier · 8 months ago

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Jersey Talk

nico hischier x fem!reader, jack hughes x platonic!reader, luke hughes x platonic!reader

summary: reader finds herself engaging in a lot of jersey talk

notes: part 3 of my lil unnamed nico series!! i loved writing this part and hope you enjoy it as much as i do 🥹 also, i didn’t really proofread so ignore any mistakes. and just a disclaimer, i don’t claim to know everything there is to know about any of the players mentioned in my writing, so if there’s inaccuracies on timelines or personality traits, just ignore them and assume it’s for the plot 😌

p.s.!! i’m thinking about starting a tag list for this/any of my writing i post so if you want to be a part of that, let me know!!

part 1, part 2, part 4

[6.4k]

You absolutely love how foot travel friendly New Jersey is. Coming from an area where foot travel is virtually nonexistent, the change is a welcomed one. You appreciate being able to simply grab your favorite totes, your headphones, and make the fifteen-minute walk to the small corner store. Surely in the winter you’ll feel differently about the five-block trek, but hopefully you’ll have your car by then. For now, the comfortable Autumn air makes the walk enjoyable. The fresh air, the beautiful buildings, and the surprising friendliness of the strangers you pass on the street make you feel like you made the right decision in relocating your life to the garden state.

Luckily this grocery run was fairly light, only needing to pick up some essentials until one of the boys gives you a ride to the larger chain grocery store on one of their upcoming off days. You really just needed the ingredients to make dinner tonight, making good on your promise to be their personal shopper and occasional chef in exchange for a place to live. You even stopped in a small bakery about a block from your apartment and picked up a few assorted pastries for a sweet treat later, knowing how much Luke loves his dessert.

As you walk into the apartment, courtesy of your shiny new key Jack gave you last week, you see both him and Luke on the couch, each with one hand on an iPad held out so both could view the contents on the screen. You assume they’re watching game film, preparing for their game later in the week against the Rangers. Your assumption is confirmed when you hear the unmistakable sound of sticks slapping against pucks and ice coming from the iPad in question.

They’re both so engrossed in the game film on the screen that they have no clue that you’ve even walked through the door. You make your way to the kitchen to unload what’s in your hands, putting away what little groceries you bought. Once you’re finished in the kitchen, you make your way back out into the living room, wanting to catch up with your roommates on how their midday practice had gone. As you walk towards the living area, rounding the loveseat adjacent to the sectional where the boys sit, Luke catches your moving figure from the corner of his eye. His body jerks slightly, clearly startled until he notices its only you.

“Oh my god you just scared the shit out of me,” you hear him exhale, holding his hand to his chest.

You just chuckle as you see Jack whip his head up, confused as to what Luke was referring to until he saw you sitting down, tucking your feet up under your legs to get comfortable.

“When did you get home? Have you been here the whole time?” Jack asks, pausing the game film and sitting the iPad on the small coffee table in the center of the room.

“No, you two were just lost in hockey land when I came in. I went to the corner mart a few blocks down to get stuff to make dinner, then put it all away before coming in here. Thought I’d give you guys a few more minutes before I came in here and interrupted,” you replied, resting your chin on your hands that are placed on the arm of the loveseat.

“Well, you have our full attention now. What’s up?” Jack leans back into the couch once again, stretching his arms above his head.

“Just wanted to talk to my boys. See how practice went today. Figure out how you guys are going to fare against the Rags,” you throw in a small dig at their biggest rival team.

“The Rags? Since when do you participate in hockey talk?” Luke chimes into the conversation, laughing slightly at your attempt to assimilate into the world of hockey.

“Since I overheard a conversation at this cute little bakery down the street. While I was waiting in line there was a man in front of me with a Devils hat on and the guy working the counter was asking him about his thoughts on the game this week. He was talking about how much he wishes ‘the boys can pull their heads out of their asses and beat the damn Rags’ and I thought it was funny. Figured I should probably adopt the local vernacular if I want to fit in around here. You know, participate in the Jersey talk,” you recall with a shrug of your shoulders.

The two brothers let out a little chuckle at your story, amused at your attempt to insert yourself into their world. The two of them and Quinn taught you a lot about how hockey is played and the rules over the years, but their hope of you fully getting involved in all of the aspects of hockey and the fanbase quickly dissolved. They would sit and force you to watch reruns of games with them over the summer at the lake, and you would sit there and whine because of how badly you wanted to go out on the boat or drive the golf cart down to the local ice cream shop, not listening to a single word the trio would say to you. Once you made the decision to move in with the two youngest brothers, you figured you should probably put a little more effort into the whole hockey fan experience, considering you would likely be attending games on a regular basis.

“Well, we’ve been preparing for the Rags, so that old man in the bakery can rest easy knowing we’re working our asses off, which our heads aren’t in, by the way,” Jack speaks, correcting the stranger’s statement.

“Yeah, we’re doing really well, actually. We keep splitting the team up and forcing one half to mimic the Rangers and some of their techniques, so we’re actually getting really good at stopping them from getting the puck into our zone. Plus, our goalies are putting out some insane stops during practice, so I really think we’ve got this in the bag,” Luke adds, excited to showcase their hard work.

You’ve noticed that practices must have been hard for the boys this week. A lot of naps and ibuprofen consumed. You haven’t really seen much of them, if you’re being honest. They’re usually gone by the time you wake up in the mornings and so tired by the time they come home that they go straight to the couch or their bedrooms and fall asleep. By the time they wake up from their naps you’re usually already cooking dinner, at least getting to chat a bit while you cook. After finishing dinner they’re back to the couch, watching game film or heading back to the arena for various events and strategy meetings. They go to bed fairly early, considering all of their early morning starts, so evenings are usually spent in your room by yourself watching tv or catching up with your friends back home. You suppose you should get used to spending time by yourself, though, knowing you’ll be here by yourself more often than not during the season.

They had a game in Boston a few days prior, leaving you with your apartment to yourself for the first time in the two weeks you’ve lived with them. They were only gone for one night, but it was definitely lonely. You really haven’t been here long enough to have an abundance of people to call up anytime Jack and Luke were unavailable, so you had passed the time by exploring the area around your apartment complex a little, finding the perfect park to go sit at to soak up some much-needed sunshine. You couldn’t hide your excitement when the two brothers returned home the next evening, though. You got up from the couch and ran over to the door, ready to greet them and ask them all about the game (you had watched it on tv, but you really just wanted to talk to someone after a full day with no one’s company but your own), but you were greeted with tired eyes and frowns, despite their win the previous night. You simply gave each of them a hug and then sent them off to bed, knowing once they got some sleep they would be up for conversation.

This is why, right now, even though you have zero knowledge of what preparing for a rival hockey game consists of, you’re taking in every word the two have to offer about the subject. You’re just happy to have a few uninterrupted minutes to sit and talk with them.

“Good! That’s great! Really…good,” you say, giving a thumbs up and awkward smile after failing to come up with a better response to Luke’s statements.

Luke just laughs, appreciating your attempts at interest in their jobs.

“You’re coming to the game, right? We put back a ticket for you, but if you can’t make it that’s okay, too. Got you a pretty sick seat, though. Glass seat, right beside the net,” Jack reveals, raising his eyebrows a bit, as if trying to convince you.

“Of course I’ll be there, I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” you exclaim, a little offended at the mere thought you’d skip out on such a big game for them.

“You won’t be disappointed, I swear. We’re gonna kick some major Rags ass,” Luke adds, excitement showing at the idea of you being in the crowd.

“The real question here shouldn’t be if I’m coming to the game or not. It’s whose jersey am I going to wear?” you throw out, poking fun at the two.

“Pshh, c’mon that one’s a no brainer. You’ll obviously wear mine, I’m your favorite,” Jack waves off your words, fully confident that you’ll agree with him.

“I don’t know, Rowdy. I feel like plenty of people will have 86 jerseys on. It is Moose’s rookie season, maybe I should wear his so he feels included.”

“Yeah, dickhead. You have a whole arena full of people wearing your number, she should wear mine. We all know it’s the better number anyways,” Luke retorts.

Jack rolls his eyes, opening his mouth to fire back an insult at Luke, but he’s cut off by a knock at the door. You look over at the two boys to see if they know who might be at the door, but both of their faces mirror your confused look. So much for your uninterrupted time with them.

“Did you guys invite someone over? Or should I be worried that there’s a murderer standing on the other side of our door right now,” you ask.

“Well first of all I don’t think a murderer would knock on the door. They would probably pick the lock or something. Isn’t the whole point of murdering someone to do it when they don’t see it coming?” Jack responds, standing up. “Second of all, it’s probably just Nico. I had mentioned watching game film together at practice earlier and he told me he’d see how he was feeling later. Kinda forgot about it, if I’m being honest, but this is around the time he wakes up from his post-practice nap.”

You sit up a little straighter when Jack mentions his teammate and captain. You hadn’t seen him since your first night in town about two weeks ago. You’d caught little bits of information about him in passing from both Jack and Luke, but tried to keep your questions about him to a minimum. The two of you were still practically strangers, not having had any reason to communicate after that night. You assume he’s been as busy as Jack and Luke, coming and going far more than you. Still, you’re surprised you haven’t even run into him once. You figure his captain duties keep him far busier than even Luke and Jack.

You hear the front door open and then two sets of voices making their way down the short hallway. You look over to see Nico in a hoodie and sweats, a hat hiding his long hair. You think back to that night at the bar when his hair was uncovered and he was having to push it out of his eyes for most of the night, wishing you could catch a glimpse of the brown locks right now. The two were continuing their short conversation from the door, so Nico had yet to acknowledge you or Luke yet. You look away, starting to pick at a loose thread on your socks, knowing you needed to avert your eyes before you were caught staring.

Unknown to you, Luke had already noticed your stare, observing how fixated you were on his captain. You look over to find Luke staring at you, an undecipherable expression on his face. You give him a puzzled look, as if to say ‘what?’ and he responds by simply shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders a bit.

“Oh, hey you two. How’s it going?” Nico’s voice pulls you from your silent conversation with Luke, noticing Jack was no longer next to him.

“Hey, man. How was your nap? Your shoulder okay?” Luke asks him, adjusting his body slightly on the couch to make room for Nico to sit down.

You turn your head to look at Nico once again, a small hint of worry surfacing. He doesn’t look injured? His arm isn’t in a sling or anything, and he’s not holding it in pain. You watch as he sits down to see if even the smallest wince makes its way across his face as his back comes to rest against the plush cushions. If he’s in any sort of pain, he’s not letting it show in his actions.

“Yeah, perfectly fine. Don’t give yourself that much credit, kid. You don’t hit nearly as hard as you think you do,” Nico chuckles, taking his hand and tapping Luke on the knee a few times.

“Trying to hurt your captain before a huge game, Luke?” you speak for the first time since Nico entered the apartment. “Maybe I should wear Jack’s jersey on Saturday.”

“I knew it! See, my jersey is clearly the better choice, Moose. Sucks to suck, huh?” Jack interjects with a grin, walking from the direction of the kitchen, glass of water in hand.

“Now c’mon, Y/N, that isn’t even fair. It was an accident!” Luke cries out. “We were running drills and I was trying to stop, but I misjudged and ran into Nico. He didn’t even hit the glass that hard, you heard him!”he argues, looking between you and his brother.

“All I’m saying is, it won’t look good if the rookie is the reason the captain can’t play against public enemy number one. Then you’ll become public enemy number one, and I can’t be caught at a game wearing the new public enemy’s jersey. I’m already a newcomer, I can’t tarnish my reputation this early,” you hold your hands up in defense.

“What have I just walked into?” Nico asks, eyes darting between the three of you.

“Well, right before you walked in, we were talking about which jersey Y/N was going to wear to the game on Saturday. I told her the obvious choice was mine, but she decided to spew some bullshit about there being too many 86 jerseys already, so she should wear Luke’s since he’s new and needs to feel included,” Jack uses finger quotes around the last part of his sentence.

“Well, she has a point.”

“See! Even Cap thinks so! That’s it, you’re wearing my jersey, Y/N. Cap’s word is final,” Luke leans back, taking in his assumed victory.

Your mind wanders back to Nico’s words he spoke to you at the bar a couple of weeks ago, wondering if Luke’s statement includes those words, too.

“Maybe I should be fair and not wear either jersey. Just go down the roster and pick a random name and then buy it,” you joke, watching the brothers widen their eyes like you just told them you ran over their childhood pet.

“That’s…not even funny. How dare you even joke about something so important,” Jack stares at you, seriousness painted on his features.

“C’mon, Y/N, that’s just…that’s just cruel,” Luke emphasizes the last word dramatically.

“I think you should do it. In fact, I have a spare jersey I think you can wear,” Nico adds, looking at you with mischievous eyes.

“Oh, well that actually sounds lovely, Nico, thank you! What better way to show my support at my first Devils game than sporting the captain’s jersey?”

Jack and Luke both turn their heads to glare at their captain sitting between them. If looks could kill, the poor Swiss man would be six feet under right now. The Hughes brothers don’t play around when it comes to their jerseys. You remember when you had gone to one of Luke’s games while he was playing for Michigan, wanting to buy a Michigan jersey in support, but the gift shop had run out of Luke’s number once he announced his contract with the Devils. You knew you could have simply asked him for a jersey, knowing he had several lying around his dorm room, but the trip was supposed to be a surprise.

You were forced to buy a random jersey with some lesser known last name on it, because you still wanted to show up in Michigan attire. You don’t even remember whose name and number it was, but you remember the look on Luke’s face when he saw you during warm ups, going from pure joy to disgust in seconds. He skated off, going to the locker room briefly before returning with a yellow Jersey that he then threw over the glass to your seat, motioning for you to put it on. You just laughed and did as you were told. You’ve had similar arguments with both Jack and Quinn over threatening to wear a teammates jersey over the years, but you just like to poke fun at how protective the three are over you. Jack explained to you that they want you to wear their jersey’s because it shows their teammates that you’re to be left alone, knowing the reputations of their fellow players.

“Cap, please don’t make me kick you out of this apartment right now,” Jack looks at Nico with complete seriousness.

“Maybe I need to work on my body checks in practice tomorrow, Cap,” Luke tries to threaten.

Nico simply laughs, shaking his head at the sudden unity between the two bickering brothers.

“Alright, chill out you two, all jokes. Unless…” You trail off, standing up.

“No, no unless. You’re wearing one of our jerseys, preferably mine. Hey! Where are you going, this is serious!” Jack yells after you as you walk towards the kitchen.

“Unless you want to starve tonight, someone has to start making dinner. Plus, I have some jersey shopping to do,” you say, hearing Nico’s laughter ringing out once more as you enter the kitchen.

———————————————————————————

“Hey, Nico! Are you staying for dinner? I need to know how much pasta to make!” you shout from your spot by the stove, having just sat down a large pot of water on the hot eye.

You walk over to the cabinet to grab the box of pasta and a couple jars of sauce, waiting for an answer from the living room. You decided to go with just simple spaghetti and salad tonight, not really in the mood for having to prep a ton of food and spend an hour and a half cooking. Jack will probably complain about the amount of carbs he’s consuming, but he’ll get over it. As if he doesn’t burn enough calories from practice and his personal workouts he does on a daily basis. Luke will just be happy to have something that isn’t chicken, seeing as that’s all you made for the first few days of your new living arrangement, trying to stick to the meal plan Jack had the nutritionist send you.

After the third night of some form of chicken and vegetables, Luke was quick to inform you that no one on the team follows the meal plan so strictly. You also learned that Jack is going through some phase of eating nothing but chicken or steak and brown rice, Luke revealing that’s what the two mostly lived on during the weeks leading up to your move. You had told Luke he should learn to cook for himself, and then he wouldn’t be forced to eat what Jack or you decide to make if he doesn’t like it, but he had rolled his eyes and told you “this was the agreement, right? We won’t let you pay rent, so you told us you would contribute by cooking. So really, I’m just helping you fulfill your roommate duties.”

You still don’t have an answer from the three in the living room. You figure they’re too busy with game film to hear you, so you decide to just make enough for Nico, too. You can always pack up the leftovers and have them for lunch the next few days if needed. You dump what you think to be the proper amount of pasta for four people into the pot once it reaches a boil, then work on pouring the sauce into a pan to let it heat up. You cheated on the salad, too, deciding to just buy two bags of salad mix, dumping the bag into a large bowl and adding the small packets of toppings. You’ve just dumped the now done pasta into the colander in the sink, turning to put the pot back onto the stove to cool off a bit when a voice causes you to nearly drop the hot pot in your hands.

“It smells delicious in here,” Nico announces his presence, walking through the doorway towards the fridge.

You settle yourself before setting the pot down safely on the stovetop before speaking. “You know, I really need to get on ordering those squeaky shoes if I want to avoid a heart attack by 25.”

Turning your body, you see Nico hunched over looking in the fridge, arm reaching towards a water bottle before raising up, flashing you a smile.

“Nah, even if you buy them I wouldn’t wear them. This is like, our thing now. Me sneaking up on you, you getting mad, me getting a good laugh out of it,” he stands back at his full height now.

“How comforting that you find enjoyment out of my jumpiness. Such an admirable trait to have,” you grumble, taking the pasta from the sink and transfer it into the pan filled with sauce. “I was going to ask if you wanted to stay for dinner, seeing as it looks like I made enough to feed the entire team, but I think I’ll just leave you to fend for yourself. See how funny that is.”

This earns another laugh, Nico moving to lean against the counter opposite of you, watching you try to combine the sauce and the pasta without making a giant mess.

“Why don’t you just put it back in the pot you cooked the pasta in. You’ll be able to mix it easier.”

“Because apparently that would have been too easy,” you step back and huff, wondering why you didn’t think of that before you created an overflowing mess of sauce and noodles.

Nico makes his way over to you, placing his hands on your shoulders to move you out of the way. He picks up the pan and dumps the contents into the pot sitting next to it, not spilling a single drop.

“There, now you can mix it easier and it won’t spill out over the sides and cause an even bigger mess,” he states, placing the dirty pan in the sink behind you.

“Okay, captain chef, next time you’re cooking dinner, since you clearly have more kitchen skills than me,” you tell him, making your way across the kitchen to collect plates to sit on the table.

Nico just chuckles as he watches you grab the plates, sitting one in front of each chair around the small dining table that sits in the kitchen.

“It smells so good in here, please tell me its almost done,” Jack enters the kitchen, Luke trailing behind him.

“It is, just finished actually,” you look up, Nico carrying the pot of steaming pasta from the stove to the table, careful not to drop it.

“Rowdy, grab the salad over there by the sink for me while I grab some forks for everyone,” you move towards the silverware drawer, walking around the Swiss man in your kitchen, having to turn your body slightly as he steps back from the table.

“Well, I better get going, my leftovers aren’t going to heat themselves up,” Nico announces, starting to make his way out of the kitchen.

“Cap, are you crazy? Do you not see how much food Bouy made?” Jack places the bowl of salad next to the pot of pasta, taking his seat at the table.

“Jack, I’m being so serious right now, if you keep using that stupid nickname for me I will sneak laxatives into your protein shakes.” You take the seat across from Jack, Luke falling into the seat to your left.

“Well, as long as it’s okay with Bouy, I’d love to stay.” Nico walks back over to the table, taking the seat next to Jack, smirking while avoiding eye contact with you.

“I know where you live, so the threat extends to you too, Cap” you glare at Nico.

The rest of the meal is mostly filled with talk between the three hockey players, you chiming in here and there, until Jack shifts the topic of conversation to you.

“So, what’s the update with your new job? You have everything lined up and ready to go?”

“Yeah, talked to them earlier today, actually. They said they’d have my office ready in about a week, so I should be starting not long after that.” You shrug, not wanting to bore them with the details of the corporate scene in New Jersey.

“Where are you going to be working?” Nico asks, genuine interest present in his tone, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

“I got offered a position with a small publishing company not too far from here, actually. Mostly independent, up and coming authors, but still exciting,” you reveal, perking up a bit at the opportunity to talk about your passion.

“Was super worried I wasn’t going to be able to use my degree after college, seeing as the market for English lit degrees isn’t too wide unless you want to teach. At least, that’s how it is back home. After I graduated and Jack offered the spare room here, I applied to a few positions here in Jersey and a few in New York, willing to make the commute if needed. Only heard back from one place, though. And it just so happened to be a thirty-minute drive from here, so I accepted and started packing,” you explained.

“It was meant to be. The gang back together once again,” Jack beams.

“Well, the gang minus Quinn. The fucker just had to end up in Vancouver of all places,” Luke grumbles, still upset the oldest Hughes is so far away.

“Lucky for us I can work remotely if I ever need or want to, so this summer at the lake we can all be together again,” you try to cheer Luke up, knowing how much he wishes the three brothers could have played on the same team while making their dreams come true.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Jack celebrates. “This is going to be the best summer at the lake house yet. We’re all grown, most of us legal drinking age, but don’t worry, we won’t tell if you won’t, Lukey,” Jack winks over at Luke, knowing the underage drinking rule has never really applied in the sacred space of the lake houses, “and we’ll all finally be there together again after, what, like 6 years?”

“It’s been awhile, at least that long,” you try to think back to the last time everyone was there together.

It was the summer before Quinn got drafted. Quinn had signed to play hockey at Michigan a few months before everyone was set to arrive at the summer oasis. You remember being so proud of him. You couldn’t wait to finally see him and congratulate him in person, knowing how hard he had worked for it. You figured things would stay the same for a few more years, expecting him to come home every summer for the next four years before moving on to the NHL. You had no clue that he would be drafted only a summer later and that it would be the beginning of the end for the summers of fun at the lake house.

“Nico, you should come up this summer! It’s always such a good time!” Jack pulls you from your reminiscing.

“I mean, maybe. I’ve been talking to my parents about flying home during the off season this year, since I didn’t make it over there last year. But I could probably come for a few days, at least,” he shrugs his shoulders.

You try to picture Nico at the lake house, hat covering his hair, swim trunks and a t-shirt covering his body. You picture him lounging on the boat in the sun while Jack takes everyone out for a midday ride, finding a secluded spot somewhere on the lake to stop and swim for a while. You picture him trying to wake surf, wondering if he’d be instantly good at it or if he would end up wiping out in the water. You picture him sitting around the fire at night, a light hoodie on to the mask the chill that never fails to make an appearance on Michigan summer nights, the glow from the fire illuminating his face just enough for you to admire him. You picture him with a slight sunburn on his nose, tan skin glowing from being in the sun so often.

You must have been lost in your thoughts for longer than you realized, because you came back to the conversation with several calls of your name from the seat next to you.

“Are you even listening to us anymore? Or do you really not want Cap coming to the lake house?” Luke looks over at you, slightly waving his hand in front of your face.

“What? No,” you say, looking around at the expectant faces surrounding you. “I mean, no I don’t care if he comes. It would be fun, yeah. If he can make it, of course. You heard him, I’m sure he’s excited to see his family.”

“I’m sure I can work something out. Have the best of both worlds. These two have talked about the infamous lake house so much I’m curious to see if it really lives up to all the hype,” Nico leans back, nodding his head towards both Jack and Luke.

“Then its settled! Cap is coming to Michigan this summer!” Jack cheers, throwing his arms up in celebration.

You laugh in response to Jack’s excitement, noticing that everyone seems to be done eating, plates clean and glasses empty. You stand up and start to take some of the dishes to the sink, setting them in there before walking back over to the table.

“Since you’re in such a good mood, I think now would be the best time to tell you that you and Luke have dish duty tonight.” You clear the last of the dishes off the table.

You watch Jack’s face fall, while Luke’s does a sharp turn in your direction. You turn your back to them to walk back over to the counter, opening the cabinet below you to find Tupperware to store the leftovers in.

“On that note, I better get going. Have some laundry I need to get done before practice in the morning,” Nico stands, bringing over a few stray pieces of silverware you seemed to have missed.

“Oh, no you don’t, Cap. You heard her, she cooked, we clean,” Jack turns to look at his captain as he makes his way to the sink.

“No, I said you and Luke have dish duty tonight. Nico’s name was never mentioned. Guests don’t do the dishes, Jack. I know Ellen raised you better than that.”

“Nico is hardly a guest. He’s over here all the time!” Luke chimes in, opening one of the drawers by the sink, grabbing a towel to dry dishes with.

“He doesn’t pay any rent for the apartment, therefore he’s a guest. Just accept your fate, you two. You’ll survive, I promise.” You hand the pot you just emptied to Jack, taking the food in your hands to the fridge a few steps away.

“You don’t pay any rent, and you’re not a guest,” Jack mumbles, hands covered in soapy suds.

“Exactly! That means I don’t do the dishes, either. I knew you’d catch on eventually! And they say you’re just a pretty face,” you shut the fridge door, looking over at Jack with an amused grin.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” Jack whines.

“C’mon, man, you walked right into that one,” Nico adds, laughing at his teammate.

Jack glares at the taller man. “I thought you said you were leaving, that you had laundry to do or some shit.”

“I am, I am,” Nico throws his hands up in defense.

“I’ll walk you out, Nico. Leave the children to pout while doing their chores,” you jest, walking toward the kitchen’s exit.

“Thanks for dinner, Y/N. Ten times better than whatever I would’ve found in my fridge,” Nico says as you pass through the living room.

“Anytime, Cap,” you use his title, blaming Jack and Luke for the new habit. “After all, I owed you for rescuing me from sleeping in the hallway.”

This earns another one of those laughs you love to hear fall from his mouth, smiling to yourself as he follows you down the small hallway towards the front door.

“I feel like you definitely had to put in more effort on your end of that deal,” he steps through the door you’re holding open.

“I’ll just wait until you owe me a favor, then I’ll make sure to cash in some extravagant request,” you joke, leaning against the door as he stands in the hallway.

“I’ll be eagerly awaiting the day.”

Nico takes his apartment key from his pocket and unlocks his door, opening it and stepping inside, turning around to face you once again, his stance mirroring your own in his own doorway.

“So, I’ll see you at the game on Saturday, then?” He stalls a goodbye.

“Yep, I’ll be there. Still deciding which brother I’m going to piss off,” you reference the earlier argument over whose jersey you’ll wear.

“Oh, that reminds me-“ Nico says before propping his door open, leaving you alone in your doorway, confused as to where he could’ve gone.

After about a minute of you standing there, wondering if he was going to come back, he returns, holding a red jersey in his hand.

“Here, figured there’s no sense in you going out and buying one if you really wanted to mess with their heads.”

He hands you the jersey, stepping back into his doorway. You unfold the jersey and notice the big black C on the upper left corner of the jersey. It was a solid red jersey, the team’s symbol in the middle, two black stripes on the forearms of each sleeve, more black accents on the shoulders of the jersey. You look up at him, a little surprised.

“I- I can’t take one of your jerseys, Nico. What if I mess it up, or spill something on it? I’ll just wear one of the ones I have. This looks too nice to risk it,” you attempt to hand the jersey back across the hallway.

“No, I insist. I think it’ll be fun to mess around with them a little. Especially Jack, since he seemed so convinced you were going to wear his. They’ll never even see it coming,” Nico refuses.

You run the idea through your head for a second, thinking about how it would be a funny little dig at the boys. You also think about the implications of wearing a jersey that doesn’t belong to one of Hughes brothers. It’s harmless, though, right? Nico said it was just a fun way to get under their skin. ‘Don’t jump to conclusions, Y/N’ you think to yourself, trying to kick your habit of creative narratives in your head.

“Okay, but if I end up getting kicked out of my apartment I’m knocking on your door to sleep on your couch,” you finally agree.

“My door’s always open for you.”

You look back down to the jersey in your hands to hide the blush that appears on your face at his words. You know you’ve only known him for a short period of time, tonight being the first real chunk of time you’ve spent in his presence, but Nico is making it really hard for you to keep your feelings for him casual. You’ve always had a habit of getting a case of the heart eyes fast, but you’re trying to be normal, for once.

He’s likely just being his normal, personable self and you’re letting every smile and joke go to your head, placing more meaning on them than is warranted. There’s just something about him, though. He’s extremely attractive, for one. But it’s more than that. From all that you’ve learned about him through Jack and Luke, and the easy conversation that has flowed between the two of you from the moment you first spoke to him in the hallway, you can’t lie to yourself and say you’re not drawn to the Swiss captain.

Your mind circles back to the idea of wearing his jersey this weekend and what Jack and Luke will think. What if you seriously hurt their feelings? What if it affects how they play because they’re mad at you? What if they ignore you the whole game? You know the two brothers love you, but you also know how petty they can both be when mad.

“Stop overthinking it. I can see you getting lost up in that head of yours. It’s a harmless joke. They’re not going to freak out on the ice or anything. And if they do, I’m in more danger than you are,” Nico reassures you, pulling you from your thoughts.

“You better at least score a goal if I’m risking being homeless for you,” you tell him, looking back up at his face.

“How about I do you one better. If you promise to wear my jersey, I’ll score a hatty for your first ever New Jersey Devils hockey experience,” Nico offers, his eyes flashing with something you assume is delight at a challenge.

“Well then you better work on your slapshot tomorrow morning, Captain. I’ll be holding you to that Saturday night,” you take the bait, knowing how difficult a hat trick is to pull off.

“No need, I know I’ll have the right motivation night of to get it done,” he winks at you, causing your stomach to fill with butterflies. “And if I don’t, consider it your IOU for that extravagant request you might need one day,” He responds, crossing his arms and shrugging his shoulders, the nonchalance of his body language making you hope for his failure, just so you can think of some ridiculous task for him to perform.

“Thanks for the heads up, I’ll get right to brainstorming,” you respond, trying to prevent your thoughts from spiraling yet again.

Nico lets out a small laugh, standing up straight and placing his hand on the handle of his door. “Think hard. Let me know what you come up with. Have a good night, Bouy, see you Saturday.” He shuts the door before you can berate him for using the nickname you hate.

You walk back into your apartment, door shutting behind you, going straight to your room to hide the jersey before either of the boys see it. You think back on the entire interaction, a smile on your face at the possibility of being able to have Nico do anything you ask him. As you’re walking past the kitchen you hear Jack’s voice.

“Luke, am I stupid or did Y/N call me stupid earlier?” he recalls your earlier comment about him being ‘just a pretty face’.

“Think about how you worded the first part of your question and you’ll have your answer,” you hear Luke respond as you make it past the kitchen unnoticed, making you stifle a giggle so you won’t be discovered.

Oh how you loved being back with your boys.

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carlsdarling · 8 months ago

Text

Heated arguments

Carl and Y/N have an argument, then some make-up sex, and it gets really emotional... More of a plot, and also sex and fluff. Everyone is 18 or over. (This was requested, but the request somehow vanished from my inbox, don't know.)

WARNINGS: smut, nsfw, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex

You were just fed up. Carl's overprotective attitude, the way he constantly tried to control you and forbid you to do things, and you glared at him angrily when he scolded you for going on a supply run with Maggie and Glenn for once and then leaving them to search a pharmacy and getting surrounded by walkers. You'd wanted to search the pharmacy for a few more personal items, including condoms.

"You could have died," Carl told you, his face pale with anger, his jaw tense. "You almost died!"

"No, I wouldn't have died," you contradicted defiantly and crossed your arms in front of your chest.

"Are you kidding me?" Carl's voice pitched. "Maggie told me that there were at least a dozen walkers in the pharmacy when she and Glenn came in, and that you were stuck on top of a cabinet! If Maggie and Glenn hadn't vanquished the walkers, they would have tipped the cabinet over and eaten you alive."

"No, they wouldn't have," you replied against your better judgment. "The walkers would have given up."

Carl stared at you, stunned, his eye narrowed. "Are you really that stupid, Y/N, or are you just faking it?" he insulted you, ruffling his hair. "You know, I may not want to admit that my girlfriend has a birdbrain, but obviously she does," he stated brutally. "No one with a shred of intelligence would put themselves in a predicament like that! And then you get upset that I'm supposedly controlling you? Yes, maybe I do, but the reason is that you're stupid and reckless and can't take care of yourself!" Angrily, he clenched his right fist and punched a locker.

You flinched at his words and his outburst of anger, and you began to seethe inside. "Oh yeah, but of course Carl Grimes The Almighty is perfect! Who puts themselves in danger all the time, on purpose? You do! How many times have I told you not to go into dark stores alone to loot unimportant stuff?"

Only recently you had scolded Carl for going into an abandoned department store just to get an old CD player for you. Beaming like a child, he had presented the item to you and had been as proud as all the times before when he had taken extra dangerous actions just to be able to give you presents - perfume, jewelry, make-up, books, anything he knew you would like. No matter how many times you told him to stop, he wouldn't listen to you.

"At least I can look after myself," Carl replied angrily. "You can't. I forbid you to go on any tours without me!"

You put your hands up indignantly. "You don't have any right to forbid whatsoever, Carl! Fuck you!" you shouted at him before turning around abruptly and running off in the direction of your house.

"Fine!" Carl called after you. "Then do what you want!" Enraged, he marched off in the opposite direction, his hands in his pockets. It was true that he regularly did dangerous things himself - but only to please you and impress you. No, actually that was only half the truth. Carl's missing eye made him feel inferior to the other new lads in Alexandria, and he lived in constant fear that you might leave him for one of them. Carl couldn't bear the thought of losing you, so he desperately tried to impress and spoil you to prove to you that he was the best option for you. Even if it meant risking his life.

You slammed the door behind you in anger and even started cleaning the house in your frustration. Who did Carl think he was?

Not even an hour passed before there was a knock at the door. Standing on the threshold - Carl. You looked at him in silence. "Can I come in?" he asked shyly. Wordlessly, you let him in. "I... can we get along again?" He looked at you pleadingly and his hands were shaking, he was obviously nervous.

"Carl, you called me a birdbrain, I..."

"I didn't mean it that way," he murmured, hugging you and burying his face against your shoulder. "Let me make it up to you?"

Your body responded to Carl as it always did, and you moaned softly as he began to kiss your neck. You were like wax in his hands; you always had been, and you didn't protest as he directed you to the couch in the living room, swept the cushions down and pressed you onto the padding. "Carl, this is inappropriate, we're still in an argument," you whispered, gently trying to push him away.

"I was thinking of some make-up sex," Carl whispered back, and you succumbed to the temptation - even if it didn't solve your problems. Carl unbuttoned your blouse, unhooked your bra and soon had your jeans and panties pulled down too, leaving you naked in front of him. You couldn't wait to see him naked too and tugged impatiently at his belt. Carl stood up to hastily remove his clothes, and before he was about to lie back down next to you, you grabbed his slim hips, grasping his proudly erected dick and giving the tip some kitten licks, then slowly slid his veiny shaft into your mouth and sucked on it.

Carl's knees got wobbly, he inhaled sharply and began to whimper, then he put his hand on your head, tousled your hair and controlled the movements of your mouth. "Oh yes, please," he whispered breathless with arousal. You cupped his balls with one hand and rubbed them while you continued to slowly suck Carl off. Some precum leaked out of his cock and you swallowed it before suddenly withdrawing from him, eliciting a sound of disappointment from Carl. His dick glistened with your saliva as he lay on top of you without further foreplay, gently forcing your legs apart and thrusting into you in one smooth motion. You were more than ready for him and moaned out, your hot, soaking wet walls clenching around his cock. Carl's heart was beating right next to yours as he fucked you with skilled movements. You buried your face in his neck curve, kissing and nibbling his pale skin, while Carl's long hair tickled your face and you inhaled his scent, which intoxicated you as always - the typical, unique Carl scent that made your hormones go crazy.

You lifted your hips. Carl's cock slid in and out with a steady rhythm, and he breathed heavily, again and again he let out those small, adorable moans that turned you on even more. You stroked Carl's back, completely overwhelmed by your feelings for him, it was just you and Carl and your lovemaking, and your whimpering grew louder.

"You cumming?" Carl looked at you, little drops of sweat standing between his eyebrows.

"Carl, oh yes, Carl," you moaned, half senseless with lust. Carl was delighted as always that he was the reason you felt so good, and he would make sure you cum before he did. He withdrew from you almost completely, then slowly penetrated you again, again and again, until you were on the verge of madness. "Oh my God, Carl, you're so good." The orgasm came over you so hard it felt like your head was going to explode , and Carl noticed a new gush of slippery hot moisture welcoming his cock. He quickened his pace, his moans became louder and louder, his thrusts harder and more irregular, then he tensed up, all his muscles tightened, and he had his release right inside your pussy.

Carl stayed on top of you for a while, both of you sticky with sweat and body fluids, and you pressed against him. You two didn't speak until Carl finally pulled his dick out and lay down right beside you. "Are we... good with each other again?" he asked shyly.

You frowned. "The fact remains that you called me stupid, Carl," you said icily.

Carl winced with guilt. "I didn't really mean it. I'm sorry," he whispered glumly, and when you didn't respond, he reached for his jeans, which were lying on the floor next to the sofa, and fished out a necklace with a pendant in the shape of a glittering jaguar. He attempted to hand you the necklace. "Here, I found this when I was scavenging, and I thought..." He seemed anxious.

Anger welled up in you, and you slapped Carl's hand away; the necklace whirled through the air and landed on the ground. "Tell me, don't you get it?" you snapped at him. "I don't want you to keep getting unimportant things for me! You put yourself in unnecessary danger every time! For bullshit like a fucking necklace! And don't tell me you found the necklace by accident!"

Carl blushed and lowered his gaze. "You're right, the jewelry store was full of walkers. It... it's just... well, it's just that..."

You looked at him inquiringly. "It's - what, Carl?" you asked in a softer tone.

Carl struggled with himself, then it all burst out of him. "It's just that there are these new guys in the community, and I can see them staring at you - and at me, with my ruined face. I... what else can I do but go the extra mile to make sure you stay with me? To make you like me? I don't want to lose you, Y/N." Carl's lower lip quivered slightly.

Carl's words touched you and made you sad. He was so insecure about your affection for him that he felt he had to shower you with gifts and attention - even if it meant putting his life on the line. It took you a while before you could answer. Carl didn't look at you, he stared at the ceiling, a single tear trickling from his left eye. It flowed down the side of his cheek and dripped onto the sofa cushion, leaving a dark stain.

"Carl," you said, shocked. "Do you really think I feel so little for you? That I'd leave you for another guy if you didn't make an extra effort to please me all the time? No matter if you risk your life in the process?" You couldn't believe it.

Carl was crying now, and it was the first time you'd ever seen him cry, and it distressed you even more. "I... before those boys came, I was the only one here your age, and... and I was scared that you were only with me, because I am the only option." He sounded bitter. "But now that Ron and Benjamin and Spencer and the other lads are here, well... you have a choice, and why on earth would you pick me?" He sounded completely despondent.

You were completely gobsmacked, and you hugged Carl tightly. "You fucking idiot, you," you said tenderly, brushing his dark hair out of his face and kissing him; his tears tasted salty. "I didn't get together with you because you were the only option, but because I fell in love with you, eye or no eye. And I would never exchange you for another guy. And I don't want you to put yourself at risk to impress me ever again, because I couldn't bear it if something happened to you. Carl, I love you more than anything. I love you for who you are"

Carl looked at you, his eye puffy and red. "Really?" he whispered, smiling at you. It took a load off his mind. You felt him finally let go of his worries and his body relaxed.

You nodded. "Please don't ever do that again," you urged him, pointing to the necklace. "Promise me."

"I promise," he said quietly and stood up for a moment to pick up the necklace from the floor. "But I can still give it to you, can't I?" He grinned mischievously. "It's already here."

You rolled your eyes. "All right," you admitted defeat. Carl put the necklace on you and cuddled up to you again. "I love you, Y/N," he whispered happily, wrapping his arms around you.

Tags: @knochentrocken0808 @tessasweet @xxcarlswifexx @taylormarieee

#the walking dead #twd #carl grimes #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes imagines #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x y/n #carl fanfiction #carl grimes smut #carl grimes fluff

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tetzoro · 8 months ago

Text

MSBY BUSINESS — ༉‧₊˚.

ft. kuroo tetsuro !

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : kuroo goes out with the guys to give them his proposal.

꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : f!reader, alcohol mention, kuroo is tipsy + silly , fluff ! — WC : 2.6k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : the next installment for the all star project ! just something fun and silly hehe enjoy ! dividers by @/cafekitsune ᰔ

ᯓ★ masterlist

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᰔ*.ﾟ

“hey sweetheart.” kuroo slurred into the phone. you could hardly suppress your giggle. he was still out with some of the guys from MSBY, trying to secure them as players for the all stars match.

“hi tetsu.” you smile, folding the last of the laundry away. kuroo had begged you to come with him tonight, but you figured the deal would go better if it was kept just between the guys. besides, you had your own stuff to do and drinking on a thursday night was not on your list.

“you sound so pretty.” he dramatically sighs into the phone, the noise so loud you pull it back from your ear for a second. whenever kuroo drank too much, he’d exaggerate everything, especially with you, behaving like a toddler who needs your undivided attention.

“thank you.” you walk towards the living room, debating if you should start getting ready to pick him up. “are the guys taking care of you?”

kuroo wasted no time in gathering the guys for tonight’s meeting, wanting to jump on the project as soon as possible. only a week or so after the proposal had been approved, he set up a time to talk to them. MSBY would have a big pull for this match, especially because they were centralized right here in tokyo. but getting the bulk of the olympic players was on the table, as well as a few stars who moved out of the country to follow their dreams in volleyball.

“yeah i guess they are.” he mumbled, bokuto shouting something in the background. “but i want you to come take care of me.”

“well-“ you start before you hear bokuto shouting some more at your boyfriend. kuroo yaps back at him, the two bickering as kuroo sets the phone down for a minute.

“fine!” kuroo scoffs. “bokuto says hi.”

“hi bokuto.” you laugh.

“no!” kuroo groans. “don’t pay attention to him, pay attention to me.”

“i am, don’t worry.” you coo softly. on that note, you decide to get him. “why don’t i come get you?”

“you’d pick me up?” he sounds surprised.

“duh.” you roll your eyes, grabbing your coat and keys.

“guysss.” kuroos voice sounds further away from the phone. “my amazing girlfriend is coming to pick me up so i gotta go.”

“hold on, don’t go running off yet.” you laugh, “i’ll be there in 15.”

“okay, fine.” if you shut your eyes tight enough, you could practically see the pout on his face. “drive safe.”

after exchanging your goodbyes, or as kuroo insists — see you soon, you quickly get into the car and head over to where he said he was going to be for the night.

the drive over was seamless, city lights blurring past you as you made your way to him — your heart. music filled up the car, your favorite playlist spinning through the songs that you hold dearest to you.

pride swelled in your chest the closer you got to the bar. judging by the way kuroo’s voice sounded — and the fact he was drinking a smidge more than usual — tells you that maybe the deal went off without a hitch.

but who were you kidding, of course it did. kuroo was a man that would go after whatever he wanted, not stopping until he achieved it. and bokuto, atsumu and sakusa couldn’t pass up this opportunity even if they wanted to, their pride couldn’t handle it.

excitement fills you as you get to the parking lot, finding a suitable spot before heading inside. you couldn’t wait to hear how the night went, ready to hang on to every word kuroo told you.

as soon as you walk in, you hear a shout of your name. in a blink of an eye, bokuto is running towards you at full speed and your eyes widen as he sweeps you up off of the ground in a bone crushing hug.

“it’s been so long!” bokuto roared, holding onto you as your arms are stuck by your side, unable to bring them up and properly hug him back.

“oi!” kuroo quickly zips towards you both, his brows furrowed as he makes his way over. “put my girlfriend down!”

“but-“ bokuto looks at you and deflates, reluctantly letting you down.

“and it hasn’t been that long, you saw her 2 weeks ago.” kuroo slinked around a pouting bokuto and next to you, his face flushed as he presses his lips against your forehead, arm quickly wrapping around you. “hi sweetheart.”

“hi tetsu.” you beam up at him before looking back near bokuto as a flash of bleach blonde hair caught your eye. atsumu bounced over with sakusa shuffling behind. you exchanged greetings, kuroo wearing a proud smile as you did.

“how are you guys getting home?” you asked, looking concerned at how atsumu was swaying side to side, the effects of alcohol clearing weighing on him. you whisper over to kuroo, “how much did you let him drink?”

“what? we were celebrating!” kuroo cheers, bokuto and atsumu enthusiastically agreeing.

“to answer your question, a lot. but then again miya can never hold his liquor.” sakusa sighs, ignoring atsumu making an offended noise of protest. “unfortunately, i’ll be the one driving them home.”

“good luck.” you offer him a sympathetic smile, your hand squeezing kuroo’s side. “i’ll take this one off your hands, though.”

“appreciate it.” sakusa nods. as much as he oozes annoyance around these two, you know better. the fond look in his eye tells you all you need to know about how he truly feels about his teammates.

“oh wait! i saw your interview with nagi.” atsumu speaks up, interested to hear more. “he didn’t give ya much to work with, did he?”

“he didn’t seem interested in talking about how they’re preparing for the next olympics.” you shrug, feeling kuroo’s gaze on your face. “some of them are more open to it than others but i guess we’ll find out with the rest of the world.”

“i wonder if they’ll do another blue lock project.” kuroo wonders outloud.

“y’know, i thought training camps were already fun enough but blue lock sounded like a paradise, i wish they did it for volleyball.” bokuto looks off into the distance, probably imagining how it would play out in his head.

“imagine if we got to do that before the last olympics? we definitely would’ve beaten oikawa.” atsumu joins in, looking off in the same direction.

“did you guys actually read the interviews? it sounded like hell. sharing that space with people you hardly know for days on end, not seeing the sun—“ sakusa started.

“alright, alright, i hear ya.” atsumu’s face morphs into a scowl, crossing his arms and looking like a dejected kitten.

sakusa gave him a smug look before side eyeing bokuto who started bobbing his head along to the music playing overhead at the establishment. “did you idiots forget that we have practice tomorrow?”

bokuto and atsumu freeze, clearly answering his question by the dumbfounded look on their faces.

“see?” atsumu practically screeches at sakusa, who only took a slight step back with the raise of his eyebrow. “i told ya kuroo was a con man! made us drink all this stuff just to get us in on whatever scam he’s trying to pull.”

“what?” bokuto’s eyes widened, turning to face kuroo.

“hey, you guys were the one to order the sake bombs. plus, you already agreed to doing the match so,” kuroo said, a smirk lining his lips in victory. sakusa shook his head as atsumu kept babbling about how kuroo was going to take all their money next.

“alright!” you bounce on your heels, taking this as your cue to go. “well, i’ll be taking him home now, goodnight guys.”

bokuto’s confused look melts into a frown, throwing you and kuroo into a hug before whispering to him, “i’d let you steal my money anytime kuroo.”

kuroo laughed loudly, atsumu looking on in horror as sakusa realized he could enjoy this little ploy on the way home, an evil glint in his eye as he looks at atsumu.

“goodnight guys.” you wave as they exchange their goodbyes. with your hand still wrapped around kuroo, you guide him towards the door. it’s a quick walk to the car, but kuroo starts walking towards the drivers seat. “just what do you think you’re doing?”

“opening the door for the most beautiful person in the world.” kuroo says, unlocking it and swinging it wide open with a soft expression. he was such a dope when he was tipsy.

“thank you tets, but i think i’m the one that needs to help you get in the car, not the other way around.” you giggle, opening up the passenger seat. kuroo sighs in defeat and jogs over to his side. he gives you a kiss on the cheek before he slides into his seat.

“all buckled up and ready to go.” he nods with a little thumbs up. you close the door and make your way to the drivers seat, settling in before turning the car on, casting him a glance — eager eyes already set on you.

“so, how’d it go?” you smile before putting the car in drive, getting on the road back to your shared apartment.

kuroo excitedly fills you in on everything. how he barely finished his proposal before bokuto was already signing everyone up. sakusa looking mildly interested at the prospect of ushijima showing up — asking if he joins that they play against each other. atsumu casted kuroo sketchy looks until the two drinks he had caught up with him, going on and on about how kuroo needs onigiri miya to work the event too if he really wants it to be a success.

and then the sake bombs came out. you’re not entirely too sure if kuroo is telling the truth when he says bokuto was the one who suggested it but you go along with his story anyway.

once he’s finished with his tale, the ecstatic buzz in the car settles and he’s quiet. you quickly look over to check on him and see him dozed off, head resting against the chilled window — the sign of a successful night you suppose.

after a bit, you stopped at a red light, having time to properly cast your glance over to kuroo, who was still peacefully snoozing. the color kisses his skin, waves of scarlet and maroon flowing over his features. the warm glow suited him, red was always his color.

only a few more turns and you made it back to the apartment, throwing the car in park and swiftly exiting the car to make your way to the other side.

“tetsu.” you whisper, crouching through the passenger door as soon as you open it, face close to kuroo’s as you prod him awake.

“hi baby.” he smiles, eyes still shut but he had the sweetest smile on his face. you couldn’t help but melt a little at the sight.

“come on mr. con man.” you giggle, tugging on his sleeve. “let’s get you to bed.”

“just let me sleep here.” he nestles deeper into the seat.

“you’d make me sleep inside all by my lonesome? wow…” you playfully sigh, feigning a step away. kuroo’s eyes bolt open, hand reaching out for your waist.

“never.” he smiles, getting up and haphazardly throwing his arm around you. “take me to bed, please.”

“well, since you asked so nicely.” you shake your head softly, overly fond of the man you’re half carrying into your apartment.

“my savior.” he giggles, slightly tripping up the steps.

“you’re ridiculous.” you tease, smiling as you enter your shared space. “now get changed and go to bed.”

“im on it, boss.” he gives a lazy salute before stumbling into the bedroom. you shake your head with a smile, following him in there.

the house was just as you left it an hour ago, the empty laundry basket still sitting on the bed. as kuroo undresses, you take the basket off, holding it as you watch him.

“don’t be a perv.” he teases, unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off his shoulders before unbuckling his belt and doing the same with his trousers.

“why not? you do it all the time.” you smirk back, holding the basket just a little higher. he gets the message, bundling his clothes from the day into a ball and tossing it toward the hamper.

it lands in perfectly.

“score!” he cheers, throwing his fist victoriously up in the air, pride shining over his features. “i still got it.”

“easy tiger.” you roll your eyes, as you put the basket down. “lets get you to bed, okay?”

“okay.” kuroo moves so he's behind you, arms wrapping around you tightly, ready to wobble over to your bed like a penguin.

“i still need to change, tetsu.” you try to move but his hold on you is surprisingly strong for his current state.

“let me help then.” he purrs in your ear, pressing his lips against your ear. a shiver runs down your spine as his fingers run along the hem of your shirt, sliding under it and smoothing his hand along your skin.

“nuh uh, you need to sleep tonight if you’re gonna get up for work in the morning.” reluctantly, you grab his hand and pull it away from you, freeing yourself from his clutches.

“but—“ kuroo starts, looking absolutely pitiful. “i just wanted to help you get ready for bed. no funny stuff, promise.”

“yeah?” you raise a brow as he vigorously nods his head. “somehow i don’t believe that.”

“rude.” he pouts and looks away, nose high up in the air as if you’d ever question his integrity. you just roll your eyes.

“come on, you need to brush your teeth.” you take his hand and pull him with you, flipping on the blinding light.

“you’re so bossy sometimes.” he stands behind you in the mirror, looking at you through the glass with a smirk. his arms wrap around your waist, kissing your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder. “i like it.”

you just laugh, your palm reaching up to gently pat his cheek. the two of you quickly do your nighttime routine, full of kuroo stealing glances in the mirror and trying to wink at you with a mouth full of toothpaste.

“i’m going to go change but lie down, okay?” you say after you both finish and walk back into the bedroom. kuroo turns around and quickly pulls you in for a minty fresh kiss, letting himself melt into it for a moment before he pulls away.

“okay.” kuroo smirks and lays down on the bed, propped up on his elbows as he watches you get changed. “hurry up so i can hold you.”

“now look who the bossy one is.” you roll your eyes, changing out of your clothes and into one of kuroo’s old shirts before slipping into bed with him.

in the blink of an eye, kuroo scoops you in his arms, tangling his limbs with yours and burying his face in your neck.

“i love you.” the sound is muffled but you hear him loud and clear, heart swelling at his proclamation.

“i love you.” you whisper back, kuroo’s soft snores already filling the room as he dozed off once again, more than content to be in your loving arms after the next step of his plan had gone off without a hitch.

your fingers weave themselves into his hair, lightly brushing out the strands as you feel sleep trying to claim you as well. but there’s a nervous pit in your stomach that evades you from giving into your slumber, something that’s telling you things are going to be changing soon. now that the ball is officially rolling, you hope it doesn’t topple over everything you and kuroo have built together over the last two years.

thank you sm for reading ᰔ — next part

#◟˚. ☁️ ⋆ daydreams.#ᯓ★ — ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʟʟ sᴛᴀʀ ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛ .#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq!! x reader #kuroo series #haikyuu series

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saerins · 2 years ago

Text

─── 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

+ itoshi sae x f!reader | wc 4.7k | content: fluff (i promise), slight insecurities, comfort, 5 times he says yes and 1 time he says no

notes: ok ok so guys !! i know i’ve been posting angst recently so i offer you comfort sae !! <3 this man has my entire heart so i’m just gonna embrace it hehe may or may not have been thinking of ‘daylight’ when i wrote this .

summary: the way sae loves you is beautiful. it’s nothing like you envisioned and something you never knew you needed.

“be my girlfriend, then, idiot.”

he’s handsome, seventeen.

even more handsome when he’s on the field, being the beast you know he is. he dribbles past everyone like they’re robots, like they’re snails. he gets into the penalty area and scores, and everyone in the stand cheers.

if there’s one common knowledge in your high school, it’s that itoshi sae is one of the world’s best soccer players.

maybe it’s no wonder that you’re holding a bag full of gifts for sae for valentines, being assistant manager for your school’s soccer team. it’s astounding how heavy this bag is. but you’ll know that in the end, whatever’s inside will likely get distributed between the entire team anyway, given how sae never accepts a single one.

“is it that time of the year again?” sae sighs, squirting water from his bottle into his mouth, towel hanging around his neck as he walks out of the locker room shirtless, fresh after a shower and hair all damp, sticking to the sides of his face.

still handsome.

“would it kill you to accept at least one of them?”

you expect one of his usual retorts—maybe a yes or a one of them could be poisonous. but instead, he grabs the bag from you, still frowning. “fine then,” he says, opening the bag and peering inside before he turns his gaze back onto you, “which one’s from you?”

the one with the purple post-it attached to sae’s favourite candy bar.

“i didn’t give you any, itoshi,” you lie, keeping your calm and crossing your arms. but sae cocks a brow because he doesn’t believe you. “really!”

“yeah, you sure about that?” sae’s tone takes a surprisingly gentle turn, and you find it hard to get used to. especially when it’s coupled with an amused expression.

“really, i’d die before giving anything to a grump like you.”

sae nods his head like he doesn’t believe you and starts rifling through the contents. he takes something out—a candy bar with a purple post-it attached to it. you can’t escape from him even if you tried.

“you’re the most irritating smart handsome guy i know, i hope you make it to the big leagues, i’ll never get tired of watching you play,” sae reads out loud, monotonously because it’s his way of mocking you. his gaze shifts from the note up to you, and he has his answer by your unwillingness to meet his eyes. “slick.”

“oh, shut up,” you tell him before turning on your heels and walking off.

“you want me so bad.”

“you wish, itoshi sae.”

“hey, take the rest of these away from me,” sae calls after you, referring to the big bag of valentines’ gifts you’d just left him with.

you turn around, walking backwards. “i’m not your girlfriend, itoshi, not my job!”

sae smirks. “be my girlfriend then, idiot.”

taken off guard, you fail to watch where you’re walking and fall over a broom, knocking several of the janitor’s stuff over. sae runs over, straight-faced while he holds his hand out to you.

“damn klutz,” he remarks as he pulls you up on your feet.

you’re thankful sae’s not the kind to make jokes like how he swept you off your feet, but the close proximity is making you giddy, in a good way, and you’re not sure you want to pass up on that.

“so?”

“so what, itoshi? and let me go,” you say, trying to pull away from him. he doesn’t let go though.

“say yes, then i’ll let go,” he tells you, and you can feel his breath fanning your lips and you’re sure he’s having a field day watching you get flustered.

“sure you want me, itoshi sae?” because a part of you finds that hard to believe, with the way he rejects other girls left and right and barely feels any remorse.

but what you don’t know is how different you are to him. if he dare say, special. maybe it’s the way you’ve always seemed like the stubborn kind, the kind of girl that refuses to ask for help but secretly wants to be protected. the kind of girl who can always help herself, but kill him if he thinks you’re someone who wouldn’t mind having someone to lean on.

maybe at some point, he started to want to be that person for you. no matter how many times you scream his name for not complying to schedules, no matter how many times you flip your hair against his face. you have everyone on the soccer team on a leash, and most of all sae.

that’s the first time he tells you—yes, he wants you.

“not even if you bribe me.”

at nineteen, sae’s serious about you.

it’s no secret that he’s devoted—you can feel it. because sae isn’t the type to profess his love every day, no. he’s the kind that shows it through his actions, through the way he automatically carries your shopping for you, through the way he always takes your side in public, through the way he looks at you whenever you’re talking.

you have no doubt about it. it doesn’t even cross your mind that he might stray. yeah, you have your priorities, and he has his. you’ll go after them, and he’ll go after his—there’s no reason why you can’t chase your dreams in parallel.

your parents think otherwise, though.

like some rather typical parents do, they’re sceptical; sae can see it in their eyes. the way they furrow their brows whenever you invite him to chime in during dinner, the way they ask investigative questions—things about his past history that even you never asked him.

“mom!” you’re fed up with their interrogation tactics, shooting a warning glare at your parents.

your mom and dad look at each other in resignation before resuming to quietly eat their dinner. you’re reluctant to leave sae alone at the dinner table with your parents while you help to wash up, but sae tells you he’ll be fine. because he will.

they’re humans. they’re like you, just older and less prettier. why should sae be scared?

as expected, the moment you turn the tap on, your parents jump on him.

“you know, she really likes you,” your mom tells him. “i can’t say the same for you, though.”

sae’s never navigated around conversations with parents. he doesn’t know the first thing about this. he’s just keeping his fingers crossed he doesn’t fuck up.

“you look like someone who has a lot of girls, itoshi,” your father chimes in before sae can speak up. “you have a lot of girls on the side?”

he could not be more wrong.

“none, sir.”

why does this effort feel much more than necessary?

“why y/n?” your mother jumps in, and for the first time tonight, sae spots a genuine curiosity in her eyes.

not the best question to ask someone who doesn’t even remotely talk about their feelings. sae finds himself stumped, but your mother is, fortunately, a nice person deep down.

“just tell me this,” she leans forward, and your father seems to relax a little bit, sinking back against his chair. none of you realise the tap’s turned off. “do you love her?”

that’s… premature, if sae has any say in it. and he thinks it’s criminal that he’s telling your mother before he even tells you, but he knows that not admitting it would likely cause a rift between you and them—not something he wants.

making you miserable? no thank you.

so he nods, “yes, i do.”

“you realise that—”

“sir, let me put it this way: you can’t force me to stay away from her, not even if you bribe me.”

from the kitchen, you smile as you listen. looks like you had nothing to worry about after all.

“they’re nothing compared to you.”

you love seeing sae living his dreams; love having front-row seats to his matches, love catching the fleeting glimpses he gives after he wins.

he’s twenty-one and thriving in the soccer scene, more than ever. world-famous and revered. the two of you are stronger than ever, still, because despite how sae looks, he’s much softer than people think.

when he’s running late from practice, he texts you the moment he can, tells you what’s up. when he has to cancel on you, he makes sure he makes it up to you. if he has soccer obligations on special occasions, he’ll let you know.

it’s funny thinking back to the days when you used to squabble with each other, to the days when everyone was tired of hearing you and sae argue.

not that that should be a problem now anymore—why? simple, because non-disclosure agreements are ass. but a highly recommended thing by his publicist; to protect his image, and then he told you not to take it personally because he’s asking all of sae’s close contacts to sign it too.

which didn’t take long.

it was mostly rin and his parents, and some other guys he used to know back in high school.

oh, and there’s you. apparently, you can’t divulge anything about being in a relationship with itoshi sae. so, as far as the world is concerned, he’s a bachelor.

“it’ll sell better,” was all the explanation his publicist offered.

sae had been against it, because why should he hide you from the world? and it’s stupid. but his publicist is smart, pointing out that you might get harassed online if his loyal fans find out. (to which sae begrudgingly agreed to, for the interim.)

it was fine, up to a point, but you’d never really considered how you’d feel seeing all these headlines of sae possibly being romantically linked with all these socialites and up-and-coming movie stars.

a part of you, the prideful part, is too stuck-up to ask your boyfriend for assurance. mainly because you think it’s stupid. sae constantly texts you when he’s not with you (as much as his schedule allows), and whenever he’s done for the day he goes back home and calls you if he can.

the other part of you, the lovestruck one, is afraid that maybe you can’t measure up to everyone else. that just maybe, you’re worlds apart and you’re not good enough.

usually you’d wait for sae to tell you he’s home, you’d let him rest his mind on the way back, but this time you’re impulsive and you’re dialing his number before you know it.

“hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, picking up after just two rings. even he knows you don’t usually initiate the calls.

“um,” you stutter because you don’t actually know how to tell him you’re calling to ask for assurance. despite having been together for four years, you realise that neither of you have actually sat down and talked about feelings.

“babe, talk to me,” sae urges you, and you can hear him getting off the bus. he must have just reached his apartment complex. he must’ve been tired from an entire day of intensive bootcamp and here you are, calling him with your trivial matters.

“it’s nothing, sae, forget it.”

“wait, what—”

you hang up before he can say anything and quickly text him.

i’m feeling a little sick tonight, just going to rest early.

sae leaves you on read and you think you’ve fended him off.

you did not.

an hour later, he’s at your door, carrying all your favorite convenience store snacks and a worried expression.

“what is it?” he asks you. you’re a little too stunned to speak. sae lets himself in, placing the snacks on your dining table before he really looks at you, surveying your face. “what were you crying about?”

you suddenly feel stupid for thinking your puffy eyes wouldn’t give you away.

sae tips your chin up when you try to look down. “y/n, tell me,” and he sounds only concerned, and the guilt builds up inside you.

so you tell him—you tell him about your intrusive thoughts as he lets you lay against his chest on the couch. you tell him about your insecurities as he sits in silence and listens. you tell him that you think it’s stupid of you to think this and you’re beginning to think you’re an ass for keeping him up so late when he has training tomorrow morning.

but sae doesn’t feel that. not one bit.

“it’s not stupid,” he tells you, and if you’d been able to see his expression, you’d know that he can never look at anyone the same way he looks at you. “all those girls you’re worried about, they’re nothing compared to you.”

“really?” you sniffle, appreciating the fact that even though he’s horrible at talking emotions, he’s trying his best for you.

sae pulls some hair away from your face and you pull back to get a good look at him. “really, stupid.” you laugh and he laughs, and now you’re really feeling stupid because there’s no way sae would ever choose anyone else over you. would never dream of having any other option.

“promise?”

sae sighs, in that lovingly way he does. “yes, i promise,” and he means it—he’s never thought of being with anyone else. “i love you, don’t i?”

you nod, chuckling because yes, yes he does. and yes, you know that more than anyone. even if it has to be kept under wraps for now; there’s no cause for concern.

when you fall asleep on his chest and sae’s too cautious to wake you up, your mother wakes up to take some water and stumbles upon the sight. she greets sae with a nod and a smile, the softest one he’s seen so far.

“my daughter has good taste.”

“that’s a secret.”

sae’s only getting more and more famous as he gets older. a year later and he’s already garnering attention from everyone, with girls lining up to be a possible mrs itoshi.

you’re still unknown; hidden in the crevices, tucked between pieces of signed contracts. you’re dealing with it, it’s fine. it’s going great, only because you’ve learned to get used to it. it was either that or to call everything off, and you don’t want that.

it’s a friday night and sae’s away for another match, this time in london, and you’re watching post-game interviews on your screen while you finish your pack of chips.

they finally get to sae, throwing the normal obligatory questions like how he feels after winning the match, how he feels like being the man of the match. until they start asking personal questions like who he’d like to dedicate his win to.

he dodges the first few easily with vague answers. but then they get even more personal.

“so, itoshi, rumours have it that you’ve been in a long-term relationship now, is that true?”

you freeze up hearing the question, noticing how sae momentarily looks to the right before he rolls his eyes and turns back to the interviewer.

“maybe,” he answers, and you’re surprised. that’s the first time he’s probably not listened to his publicist.

“now who is this lucky lady?”

sae sighs, “that’s a secret.”

his interview ends there as he retreats back into the locker room, your phone vibrating almost immediately after.

one day i’m gonna show you off to everyone.

you smile as you type your response.

sure you want the whole world to know you belong to me?

you expect a retort about how it’s the other way around, but he does one better.

fuck yes.

“you make me lose my goddamn mind.”

you’re both comfortable, twenty-three and lounging in sae’s apartment, curled up in the couch, fingers intertwined and spending a lazy sunday in.

it’s right smack in the middle of his break and you’ve got him to yourself for four entire months. it’s been good, so good.

everyday you’re reminded of why you love him, of why he’s yours. the way he pulls you back against him in the mornings when you wake up. the way he says your name when he’s sleepy, the raspiness in his voice known only to you.

“hey, i’m heading out for a while,” he tells you, slipping on his slides and unlocking the door.

that’s how it usually goes; you’re still not allowed to admit to your relationship, even if sae has hinted at being in a committed relationship. what his publicist considers as minimising risks is that both of you shouldn’t be seen out in public together. that’s why you’re having fun nights out at odd hours and being romantic in private.

sae often just leaves in the middle of the day, some alone time and maybe get some groceries since you can’t let yourself be seen leaving his apartment. it’s not an ideal situation, but you’ll take it. the last thing you want to do is make his life harder.

while he’s gone, you do the chores—make the bed, defrost some chicken breasts, vacuum, maybe wash the laundry. he’s doing his best to learn the right way to do chores (because one time when you asked him to help vacuum he ended up vacuuming the bathroom too), but you find it’s easier if you just do them instead.

usually he comes back by now, takes about a half an hour because his apartment is nestled in the centre of town, surrounded by all the stores and amenities he could need. but you stare at the clock.

it’s been an hour and a half, what’s he up to?

sae doesn’t even respond when you text him. right as you’re about to call him, worried, you hear his keys jangling and the door opening.

you expected to find him carrying a huge bag of groceries with the amount of time he was gone, but he’s empty-handed and you’re starting to think maybe he was hounded by paparazzi.

“did you have trouble with some press?” you ask innocently, mop in your hand.

sae sighs, “fuck no, thank god.” he toes off his slides and tosses his keys on the dining table, taking his cap off and tousling his hair. his pretty pretty reddish brown locks.

“oh, then where’d you go?”

sae smirks at you this time, hiding something behind his back.

“what’re you up to, itoshi?”

he rolls his eyes because you only call him that when you’re afraid. “relax, baby,” he coos, inching closer to you and revealing what he’s holding.

sae’s holding up your keychain; a mini figurine of sae you got from one of the gift shops during his match. but you spot something that wasn’t there before—a key, painted black like the door to his apartment.

“sae?”

“this key’s yours.”

you blink at him, a little stupefied. “sae, did you get lost while trying to find the key copy place?”

sae clicks his tongue, annoyed. “shut up, do you want this or not?” by the way he’s all red, he did get lost.

you take the key from him, suppressing a grin. “aw thanks, now i can let myself in.”

sae sighs again, “i’m asking you to move in, stupid.”

“y-you want me to move in here?”

“yes.”

“like, you want to see my face everytime you wake up and before you go to bed?”

“yeah.”

“you want me to live here with you, together?”

“yes and if you ask anymore i’ll take it back.” because sae’s aware that you’re asking out of disbelief—he loves his alone time yet here he is, asking you to be with him whenever he’s back home. which isn’t that hard to believe for him; you’re the only one he’d ever want to be alone together with.

you giggle, “okay okay, roomie.”

sae only sighs. “you make me lose my goddamn mind.”

“i don’t want this anymore.”

it’s your fault, it’s all your fault.

sae’s publicist is at the house, screaming at the top of his lungs, and by sae’s unamused expression, he’s not having it. he’s just controlling himself so he doesn’t end up getting a lawsuit filed against him for employee abuse.

“who thinks it’s safe to go out wearing their boyfriend’s jersey, which isn’t even for sale yet by the way,” he rants, staring straight at you, “and go down and buy a birthday cake on his birthday and take it up to his apartment, all while knowing that the press is gonna be camping outside the complex?”

he makes you feel stupid.

sae steps in front of you, his broad shoulders the only thing making you feel safe from his publicist’s constant attack. “you yell at my girl one more time and you’re done,” sae threatens, managing to get his publicist to storm out of the house.

apparently, sae had a big endorsement deal all planned with the one stipulation being that he had to appear a bachelor up until the stunt was over. and now his publicist’s mad because that’s all down the drain and his commissions are gone.

“hey, you okay?” sae asks you, gently, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him.

you’re fine, you’ll get over it. it’s just what his publicist said that gets in your head.

it’s like you’re trying to ruin his deals.

being with a famous pro player comes with some form of caution, you know that right?

she’s just in the fucking way!

weeks pass and it’s not easier to drown out the voices. sae’s good at it, so he’s already moved past it, resumes work as per usual, assumes you’re okay too because of the multitude of times you insisted that you are.

but really? it’s fucking difficult.

if you thought you were insecure before everyone knew about you, it’s ten times worse now. while the majority of people are nice about it, saying wonderful stuff like how the two of you are so sweet and look so good together, there’s still so many people who shit on you.

wait, i thought he was with that model from that one shoot? damn, he got the short end of the stick with his gf lol

lmaooo what a downgrade from that other soccer star he was dating

@itosae you okay, dude? you blind or something?

there’s a lot more than that. a lot. some of them even found your account, messaged you directly and said some less-than-nice things.

you keep it all from sae, though. the last thing you need to do is distract him any further, especially when he has the champions’ league coming up.

“i’m fine, mom,” you say one night when your mother calls to check up on you. “i promise.”

you’re a bad daughter, keeping these from your mother who’s just concerned. she isn’t convinced, but she hangs up anyway afterwards, telling you to rest.

it’s easy for things to spiral when you keep them all to yourself. the voices in your head that belongs to sae’s disgruntled fans growing louder, drowning out the words of affection sae tells you everyday.

until one day you think you can’t take it anymore.

they’re all telling you that you’re not good enough, that you’re just a burden. his publicist is nowhere near your side, instead silently siding with the fans who berate you. sae’s oblivious to it all, you think, because he doesn’t do anything about it.

one day you’re just sitting side by side, watching a movie, sae’s arm around your shoulders, his fingers idly twirling your hair.

“sae, we need to talk.”

like the lover he is, he pauses the movie, adjusting himself to look at you. “yeah, what is it?” he’s smiling at you because he has no idea what’s coming.

and you know, you know if you tell him what you really think that it won’t work, so you put on your best game face. truth be told, you’d been building up to this moment anyway, purposely telling him you’d be busy whenever he’s back from his games just so you won’t spend time together. it was all to give him the illusion that you just weren’t interested anymore, no matter how fucked up that sounds.

“i don’t want this anymore.”

sae furrows his brows. “what? what’s this?”

you sigh, feigning frustration. “this, sae. us. i don’t want this anymore.”

“why not?”

“because i’m tired. i’m tired of dating someone who’s half here and half not, i’m tired of tolerating your stupid habits, i’m tired of being with you, sae.” you’re raising your voice, but sae doesn’t flinch. his expression doesn’t even change. you’re beginning to think you broke him, made him malfunction.

when sae doesn’t say anything, you continue.

“i want to break up.”

sae looks away from you, at the patch of rug on the floor beside him, jaw clenched. he blinks a few times before he looks back at you.

“no.”

now it’s your turn to be confused. “w-what?”

sae tilts his head to the side, concern etched in his expression. “i said no, y/n,” he repeats, sighing. he puts his forefinger under your chin, his thumb caressing the side of your face. “who are you trying to fool?”

“i-i mean what i said, sae.”

you’re in disbelief. you hate how he knows you better than anyone else, maybe better than yourself, and you’re beginning to realise no one can come close to sae for you.

“so you don’t love me anymore? don’t wanna be my girl anymore?” he asks, but it’s redundant because he knows the answers. “i love you, okay? and i’d be a shit boyfriend if i let you go like this.”

you’re speechless, so you don’t say a thing, just sit awkwardly in front of him while for the first time in his life, he resolves to being there for you.

“look, i don’t know what mean things people are saying online, but fuck them,” he tells you.

“sae, it’s not easy,” you sniffle.

“then talk to me, and stop shutting me out, you idiot,” he chastises, and you find yourself falling onto him. “i fired my publicist too, by the way. couldn’t stand him spouting shit about you even after i told him to shut the fuck up.”

you laugh at his exasperation, your chest somehow feeling lighter.

“and, do me a favor? ignore the mean comments, yeah?” sae tells you, softer this time. “i kinda don’t ever wanna lose you, so.” he has his head resting on top of yours, your fingers intertwined and your heart soaring.

until now, you’d thought it’d be easy to drive sae away. you thought if you’d been enough of a nuisance, an eyesore, that he’d just take your word for it and run, that he’d throw a fit and let you leave.

but he doesn’t.

sae stays. and he tells you to stay. because he doesn’t know much about laundry, or how to handle feelings, but what he knows is how to love you. he knows what you need and he knows what you’re thinking, even if he doesn’t necessarily tell you about it.

and sae is a bitch to the world. he’s not the friendliest to fans nor does he care about making friends or enemies.

but to you, he’s everything. he says no to either of you straying and he says yes to whatever you ask except when it doesn’t make sense and you never knew that this was the beauty of being with someone who wants you—in every sense of the word.

there’s a certain threshold to pass before you can see everything clearly. suddenly it’s like the mean voices are faded into the background, and suddenly sae’s love is all you hear, and nothing is blurred because now all you can think about is how even if the world fails you, sae never will.

“hey, sae?”

“mhm?”

“thank you.”

he smiles against your head and you can feel it. “i love you, stupid.”

and you love him; recognising your handwriting and sweeping you off your feet. you love him; braving your parents, living his dreams. you love him; protecting you and showing up at your door. you love him; bashful yearning and unwavering emotions.

so you kiss him in response, and that’s all he needs to know that you’re with him for life.

#itoshi sae x reader #bllk x reader #sae x reader #blue lock x reader #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae fluff #itoshi sae imagines #blue lock fluff #blue lock imagines #bllk fluff #sae itoshi x you #sae itoshi x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #sae x you #sae x y/n #૪ aeri’s fics !

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caligvlasaqvarivm · 4 months ago

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Why the Alpha Timeline is the Alpha Timeline

I figured I'd make a post, since it's pretty subtle and I think it genuinely passed a lot of people by? Homestuck is made up of a lot of words, haha.

The alpha timeline is described by Doc Scratch, functionally, as "the timeline that causes LE to exist."

The path which alone has my absolute mastery is the alpha timeline, a continuum I define as that which boasts exclusive rights both to my birth and to my death, two circumstantially simultaneous events.

Aranea also gives the explanation that the alpha timeline is the one where reality is perpetuated.

AG: Reality itself is using you and many others to propagate its own existence. Strictly speaking, there is only one path to its successful propagation. 8ut it still permits you to make choices.

Caliborn also states that his quest as a Lord of Time is coming to terms with the inevitability that everything, ever, in all of time, will be because of him - that he'll be the one to shape it, including the circumstances of his own defeat.

uu: AS A LORD OF TIME. I THINK I'M GOING TO MASTER TIME. NOT WITH MY BRAIN. WHICH WOULD BE TOO HARD. BUT WITH MY INSTINCTS. uu: LIKE IN A WAY THAT WORKS WITH MY NATURAL IMPULSES. SUCH AS MY AMBITION. MY WILL TO COMMIT MAYHEM. MY DESIRE TO PUNISH THOSE I DESPISE. uu: SO IF I WANT YOU TO BECOME STRONG. SO YOU CAN CHALLENGE ME LATER. AND I SEE EVIDENCE. THAT YOU PROBABLY BECOME SUCCESSFUL. uu: I THINK TO MYSELF. WHY SHOULDN'T I BE THE ONE TO MAKE THAT HAPPEN? IF IT'S GOING TO ANYWAY. uu: I THINK PART OF MY PERSONAL QUEST. IS TO BECOME AT EASE WITH THE FORCES OF INEVITABILITY. uu: INEVITABILITY THAT ALL THINGS SHOULD AND WILL FALL IN MY FAVOR. THAT ALL CAUSALITY ANSWERS TO ME. AND THAT ALL OUTCOMES NOT ONLY SERVE ME. BUT CONSIST OF MY BEING. uu: SO I FEEL THAT. THE MORE I GROW IN POWER. uu: THE MORE STUFF IT SHOULD TURN OUT I AM RESPONSIBLE FOR. uu: UP TO AND INCLUDING. EVERYTHING THAT EVER HAPPENS. uu: EVEN IF IT HAS TO BE. uu: RETROACTIVELY.

Aradia's stint as stewardess of the afterlife is explicitly described as "service to the lord of double death," and Dave explains that he acts instinctively - like Caliborn does - to fulfill the conditions of the alpha timeline. It's also worth noting that their classes, Maid and Knight, are roles that directly serve a Lord in the real world.

TEREZI: LUCK1LY YOU M4K3 4N 4DOR4BL3 H4NDM41D TO TH3 M4ST3R OF D34TH, 3SP3C14LLY 1N YOUR CUT3 CH3RRY P1X13 3NS3MBL3 ARADIA: you think so?

GG: well youre from the future right? GG: dont you know already if itll work? TG: yeah more or less TG: i never really studied how it went down all that closely TG: i just figured when the time came to sort it out the right thing to do would be obvious TG: like it is now TG: managing the loops is a balance of careful planning and just rolling with your in the moment decisions TG: and trusting they were the ones you were always supposed to make TG: by now im pretty used to having my intuition woven into the fabric of the alpha timeline

I'm starting with all that so I can explain that the GAME OVER timeline doesn't end when the time players disappear from it, like doomed timeline offshoots normally do, because it IS the alpha timeline: the sequence of events that causes GAME OVER to occur is the sequence of events that Caliborn/Lord English have chosen: one where (nearly) everyone dies, all hope of victory is lost, and his servant, the Condesce, gets to claim the Ultimate Reward, perpetuating the same misery and oppression in the new universe, and presumably all universes to come.

We see from Caliborn's chess match with Calliope that his (and by extension, LE)'s modus operandi is to follow the rules to the letter, while manipulating his opponent, tricking them with "shitty twists". It's always been explained that LE's actions have been "sanctioned by paradox space," that is, everything he's doing is explicitly allowed, nothing he's doing is against the rules - including the fact that he must be defeated. He has, via his mastery of time, perfectly engineered a situation where the only viable reality is the one where yes, he IS defeated... in the dream bubbles, by the dead and doomed, whom he sent to the dream bubbles in the first place via Condy, Jack English, and all the other boss fights. And his will, his ideals, are imposed on the new universe in spite of his defeat.

In a completely Watsonian read of the text, Lord English is an incredible villain because - subtly and unsublty - he IS basically responsible for every bad thing that ever happens, ever, to everyone. He has legitimately been the puppetmaster pulling the strings the entire time, pretty much all because Caliborn is a huge asshole who loves to hurt other people, and wants to do it as much as he can, to as many people as he can, for as long as he can.

But I think he's especially interesting through a Doylist perspective, through a reading of the text as a coming of age. Homestuck is a worth riddled with theme and symbolism, and thematically, Lord English represents everything that these kids need to overcome in order to mature into kind, empathetic adults who will be one day responsible for the care and oversight of a new universe. He represents selfishness, sadism, greed, destruction, oppression, fascism, murder, genocide, and hatred. And also literally the patriarchy.

And, you know what? Don't take my word for it. Here's Andrew Hussie's commentary from Book 6 Act 5 Act 2 Part 2:

Much of the logic [for who contributes to Lord English] orbits around these negative traits associated with men, or more specifically, the “toxically masculine” aspects often linked to certain male personalities. Dirk has a lot of these traits, which are central to Dave’s feelings of tension and abuse concerning his bro. The intellectual aggression, the power of assertion, the knowitall-ism, the mansplaining. That’s a lot of Dirk stuff when he’s at his worst. Equius shares a lot of those traits too, with some different points of emphasis. Both of them have this creepy-guy streak running through them, with strange or offputting interests, and seem to get a quiet kick out of making others uncomfortable through demonstrations of these fascinations. They are actually pretty similar characters in this way.

He's invited into the trolls' universe (and, by extension, the kids' universe) via the Dancestors, in an original sin kind of way. I'll let Hussie explain on their Formspring (emphasis mine):

We learn more about the troll race, as a once peaceful species and such before kid-ancestors as players scratched their session, though the short term relevance of this is mainly as a preamble to Scratch's religious story. Establishing an Eden-like paradise from which there is some departure through sin is sort of the boilerplate basis for religious lore. ... The failed players from peaceful Alternia made a classic "deal with the devil" move by causing the scratch after being given a choice by the mother of all monsters. (Echidna. Hey, she's a big snake!) By doing so they brought Scratch into their universe, and therefore all the things you'd expect that comes with summoning the devil.

The Dancestor's "departure through sin"? It was the fact that they couldn't get their shit together and grew up inside the Medium. That's why they're the age they are, 9 sweeps - adulthood by troll standards. They aren't kids anymore because that's the ultimate sign of having failed to do a coming of age. Symbolically, the Dancestors represent a prior generation of grown-ups that fucked everything up, leaving a huge mess for their descendents to clean up after. In fact, Doc Scratch even describes the alternate choice Echidna gave them:

The heroes could either accept their defeat along with the extinction of their race, and put no others at risk.

In other words, they could have stopped LE if they'd simply chosen not to Scratch. But once more, in line with their behavior up until that point, they chose the selfish option, and bore descendants into the world they ruined. They're immature, nasty, mean-spirited, cruel, callous, and shallow on purpose, because their role in the story is antagonistic. They're aligned (even if unwittingly) with Lord English, as they're the ones who directly invited him in via their failure to grow the fuck up.

There's also a reason why SBURB/SGRUB directly tie achieving godhood and reaching the Ultimate Reward to planetary quests fundamentally designed to help children mature. God-tiering is supposed to come at the end of one's quest, as achieving it directly teleports you to the Battlefield for the final boss.

AG: I really think how successfully they mature is tied to success in the game. It challenges the players in all the ways they need to 8e challenged to grow, which is different for every individual, and veeeeeeeery different for every race. AG: I don't think we were so hot at that aspect of the game. In fact, I'm sure we were quite awful. Hell, even I wasn't that gr8 at it! I actually just kinda fell ass 8ackwards into the god tier, to 8e honest.

And there's a perfectly functional Watsonian explanation for this - in order to increase the odds that the new universe will successfully propagate new universes, it's ideal to leave it in the hands of kind, mature people. But the Doylist explanation is, again, even more interesting.

Hussie has spoken extensively about the comic having always been about two things at its core: first, a creation myth... and second, a coming-of-age. These are complimentary themes, as Homestuck also makes statements about society and its effects on kids. In the real world, the kids of today become the voters, revolutionaries, and lawmakers of tomorrow. In Homestuck, they create, and are responsible for, a new universe.

I always saw HS as an exploration of young people developing relationships over the internet […] There’s a lot more to HS than just that obviously, but if there’s anything which it’s been about through and through, it’s modern kids relating to each other from afar, developing as people and growing up.

In fact, all the initial kids' entry artifacts are metaphors for "departures, loss of innocence, and sometimes the journey from childhood to adulthood outright." John biting an apple, symbolizing the act that cast Adam and Even from Eden. Rose breaking a bottle, the act of christening a boat, and an item integral to the main means by which she relates to her mother, alcohol - an adult substance. Dave hatching an egg, literally the act of bringing new life into the world. Jade shooting an effigy of her dog, both symbolic of Old Yeller, and of breaking a pinata, an act often done at quinceneras.

There comes a point in childhood where the child stops being a child - the safe, familiar, comfortable world that they knew stops existing, and they can never get it back. They are thrust into a world that is alien and massive, and forced to grapple with the weight of their future duties. They deal with losing their guardians and finding direction in their absence. They must decide how they want to grow up, and then are responsible for shaping the society that comes after them. In other words, SBURB/SGRUB in this metaphor represent adolescence.

Within that context, God-tiering is actually interesting because it symbolizes adulthood - a semi-permanent state that a child is supposed to reach at the end of their SBURB/SGRUB journey. And, in fact, it's treated that way - none of the characters reach god-tiering the "proper" way... and of our god-tiered characters, nearly all of them have some sort of emotional struggle with growing up too fast. Vriska with the expectations of her shitty society, Rose with her emulation of her mother, Dave with his abusive brother, and the Alpha kids with substance abuse (the jujus) and romantic drama.

Anyway, sometimes when Mario's running sideways he gets a star that makes him magic and invincible. OH. YOU MEAN HE BECOMES TRICKSTER MARIO. Yes, but less stupid. So for a while he becomes flashy and hyperactive and nothing's challenging anymore. He just starts barreling over mushrooms and leaping over pits as fast as he can, then gets to the end and jumps on the flagpole and that's it. Mario "wins". But the point is, he didn't really win. That magic star was actually devastating to his development as a human being. WHY. Because he skipped over many critical trials on his spiritual journey. Mario NEEDS to stomp on all those mushrooms. He NEEDS to bonk those bricks with his head, for the sake of his personal growth. By using the star, he is denying himself many powerful moments of catharsis.

Like... I dunno... seems pretty blatant to me!

So with Homestuck so firmly being a coming of age, and with the Dancestors - whose primary failure is that of unrelenting immaturity - being cast in an antagonistic role, doesn't that make Caliborn's position of ultimate final boss extremely fitting when we take this conversation into account?

You may be destined for bigger things, but you’re still an atrocious, stupid child. And you may have won the “game” with your sister, but that doesn’t mean it was the best thing for your development as a person. You had her dream self killed, which is not an opportunity your species typically gets. So she died prematurely, instead of allowing the conflict within you to settle itself naturally. In short, you forced your predomination to happen a little too early, and now you’re stuck. STUCK? Yes. Your personality is stuck in some sort of cantankerous prepubescent limbo. You are going to be a stunted, miserable tool forever.

He's literally a child who chose to stunt his own growth so that he could reap all the game's rewards for himself. Someone who so stubbornly desired the selfish, greedy, and immature option that he was willing to hurt himself to achieve it. Caliborn - and by extension, Lord English - is a direct symbol for the refusal to mature, to be kind, to care about other people. By including Dirk, Gamzee, and Equius at their worst, he also comes to represent misogyny, toxic masculinity, the patriarchy. He's the Condesce's master, and so by extension, he represents fascism and oppression; as Doc Scratch, he gets off on abusing girls, and so he also represents predators and abusers. And his goal is to perpetuate himself, his ideals, what he symbolically represents, down every successive generation. Much like how these cycles of abuse and oppression seek to perpetuate themselves in the real world!

And that's why the alpha timeline, the GAME OVER timeline, is the way that it is: it's one where Lord English WINS. In Lord English's version of the story, everything is fucked up forever. He might be defeated, as is the timeline's inevitability, but his politics, his bigotry, and his ideals live on.

Except.

Our Breath player gains a power that literally unsticks him from time.

Now, personally, I don't believe that the ending we got is the one that was originally intended. I don't feel the need to elaborate upon that here, but suffice to say, given how clearly and consistently these themes are set up throughout the entire rest of the comic, it just makes sense to me that the ending we got, where characters stay dead, never finish their character development, etc. etc., is a MASSIVE tonal and thematic departure, which smacks of external pressures and influences. Everything after [S] GAME OVER is soft canon to me for this reason. But there's things that survive in it that are really really interesting, so I'll mention some.

First, the pre-retcon versions of the characters still exist, as we see from (Vriska). That means that everyone who died in GAME OVER would not necessarily have stopped mattering to the plot. I firmly believe that the original ending would've seen Lord English confronted by the GAME OVER (characters), who would also have the most karmic claim to beating Lord English's face in. This would also satisfy his whole deal of playing by the rules - he knows he HAS to be defeated, he just gets to choose the circumstances of his defeat; without realizing that John's retcon powers can rewrite a timeline, he would've set up his own death to be in the bubbles, at the hands of the already-dead, while Condy claims the Ultimate Reward - thus making it so that he still wins in the end.

But Breath represents freedom, choices - and the retcon powers are something John gains mastery over after completing his personal quest, which we've established is directly tied, both literally and symbolically, into growing up and maturing. By becoming a kind, empathetic, mature adult, John is able to choose something else.

Second, that the Ultimate Self is brought up at all, which seems to me like it would mitigate the bittersweetness of the (characters) from GAME OVER staying dead - because, in my head, the original plan for the retcon was that it would bring everyone back, and therefore, all the (characters) from GAME OVER would live on through the surviving post-retcon gang, who will eventually achieve Ultimate Selfhood, as Davepetasprite^2 says they will. This would also directly mirror the words Godtier!Calliope gives to her counterpart:

CALLIOPE: bUt then... CALLIOPE: what shoUld i do? CALLIOPE: you don't need to do anything. CALLIOPE: be who you've become, and who i didn't. CALLIOPE: consume the fruits of an existence i could never understand. CALLIOPE: live.

Third, there's just so many outstanding plot threads, even for the characters that DO survive. Jake's prophesized to defeat Lord English, Dave never actually gets over his hesitance about time travel and defeating Lord English, Karkat has multiple means of bringing his dead friends back to life and doesn't say anything, Vriska and Terezi still aren't 100% reconciled, Gamzee's tragedy is never addressed, Jane, Dirk, Jake, and Roxy never really figure out their situationship, etc. etc. etc. ... to say nothing about all the plot threads left dangling for the characters that stay dead.

And finally...

Isn't that just kind of a better story? One where the kids get to grow, change, learn from their mistakes, and create a better, kinder universe, after defeating the avatars of cruelty, oppression, and immaturity?

Is it just me? Haha.

#homestuck #lord english #caliborn #doc scratch #andrew hussie #aranea serket #calliope #vriska serket #rose lalonde #dave strider #jade harley

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dailyadventureprompts · 10 months ago

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I've got a new d&d group and they're almost all new players, with some of them having played with me before in oneshots/ gotten a couple sessions into campaigns that fizzled.

There's the usual learning pains: No one's quite got a handle on the rules yet and is relying on me for which dice to roll ( it's a D20 friends, it's always going to be a D20 unless it's damage I don't know how many times I have to say that). Person A is nervous and over-talkative , person B is nervous and withdraws from conversation, Person C is always running a little late...

But what really surprises me is the difference between them and the group I've had going for 2 years now:

Newgroup THEORIZES in a way that I don't think I've ever seen despite playing this game for two decades. I'll ask them what they're doing and they'll have a multi-minute chat weighing the value of different options. They don't turn to ME, or ask me if things are possible ( which is what new players tend to do), they turn to eachother and ask if they think it's a good idea that they do X or Y and then what could happen from there. I'm trying to be a good DM and let them learn the ropes but it's FASCINATING response. For example; the barbarian says "I'll use my shield to pin the monster in place so we can question them about the villain" and before I can even get into my response another player will say "but what if I used my rope instead to tie them up?", meanwhile none of them have confirmed if the monster is in any way related to the villain or is capable of speech (it wasn't, it was a mimic fyi)

Newgroup is LASER targeted on their goal, which was a surprise as someone who was DMing for a party that purposefully jumped ship on the A plot ASAP and is actively resentful of anything resembling a main quest. Newgroup passes through a mining village that's been deserted after a recent attack by monsters which drove people up into the hills, a Classic rescue mission with a bit of a dungeon delve on top, intended to give the party some XP and magic items before they leave the early game and I stop pulling my punches. Newgroup stays just long enough to confirm that the monsters have nothing to do with the A plot and unanimously decide to leave the village post haste. Meanwhile I have to be careful about what information I drop to oldgroup, as if they catch a single whiff of villanious wrongdoing they'll drop what they're doing and divert their attention to wiping that threat off the map. I've now had to have multiple villains make peace treaties in all but name with this party because of their habit of knocking out rivals/threats/governments.

Because oldgroup know the game really well they're less experimental with what they want to accomplish. They know that things can be solved through class features/dice rolls/damage, and so those are their default solutions to most problems. Meanwhile newgroup has no IDEA what the limits of the game system are so they're trying clever stuff left and right. " Can I hit it in the eye with my arrow? Can I use this spell to find out if _____, Can we use the flying boots to _____?" They're asking genuinely good questions so often that it's made me want to play around with the d20 resolution system to get something more closed to the " drawback/mixed success" sorts of results you get in apocalypse world style games. ( I think I found a neat fix, more on that to come)

#dapper digresses

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galedekarios · 1 year ago

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gale, elminster & mystra: new infos from the epilogue and how they tie in with what we know from the base game

so i was mulling over bits and pieces of new information we got from the epilogue, connecting it to the stuff we already knew:

1. gale's story of how mystra came into his life in the full release

gale jumping from from "i'm what one might call a wizard prodigy, who from an early age could not only control the weave, but compose it" to "such was my skill that it earned me the attention of the mother of magic herself" to then the teacher, muse and lover dynamic.

and from early access:

Player: What did Mystra’s attention feel like? Gale: Love. Player: He sounds like a very talented individual Gale: He was. Even though it was in Mystra’s affections that his true power lay. Player: Teacher’s pet, was he? Gale: He fancied himself much more than that. He fancied himself favoured above all others. Perhaps it was not quite love, but you see, the wizard was but a very young man. It was most certainly love to him. Mystra showed him the secrets behind the veils. The gossamer veils first, draped across the Weave. The delicate veils next, draped across her body. ‘Chosen One’ she whispered, as she slipped them off completely.

2. elminster's new letter from the epilogue

we knew before that elminster must have come into his life early-ish as well from this convo:

"While most know Elminster the legend, few know him as you have. He plucked you from obscurity. Offered you his guidance. His faith."

we also know that gale got to attend blackstaff academy.

now, with the new letters from the epilogue, we know that elminster met him at eight years old:

elminster coming into his when gale was just "eight summers old", gale's talents being as they were from "an early age", mystra involving herself in his life.

perhaps those two events happening are connected: the chosen of mystra. plucking him from obscurity. taking him under his wing.

perhaps on the guidance of someone? someone very clever? someone who'd later use said mentor to also deliver a message that needed to be conveyed with the utmost severity of her bidding?

someone who'd involve herself in gale's life, too? someone who needs his ambitions to be laid to rest because of a future she glimpsed at?

3. raphael's new epilogue lines if gale fails his ascension:

Raphael: I owe you a debt of gratitude. You were the spark of ambition that rekindled Gale's ambitions, after Mystra had so cleverly put them to rest.

i'm thinking thoughts not only about "cleverly", implying some sort of scheming here or manipulation.

a goddess involving her chosen, to oversee a child, so full of promise and ambition -

(a relationship forming between elminster and gale, which even by the point we see them interact in the game, speaks of the care and love they hold for each other) -

before she too involves herself: becomes his mentor, teacher, and he becomes her chosen.

making gale her chosen as a form of control, so he perhaps would not oppose her, like, for instance, even elminster is hardly capable of.

but not only did she make him her chosen, in the same breath, she made him her lover.

we know she very much is capable of using her chosen for her needs.

raphael is also very directly saying that gale's "ambition" reawakened after meeting the protag. so we are talking about mystra putting them to rest before gale met the protag, so the comment couldn't possibly be about his character arc during the game.

i already touched on this a bit earlier but:

4. we also know that mystra has foresight, being able to predict the future to some sort of degree:

History of the Chosen of Mystra: The reason why Mystra, the Goddess of Magic, invested a portion of her divine might into mortals is not known. One of the popular theories, and one that is gaining more support in light of the other goddess' during that period, is that Mystra foresaw the Time of Troubles (and her own passing at the hands of Helm) and chose to give some of her powers to mortals in order to ensure that her successor (the female mage, Midnight, as it turned out) would have a number of nearly immortal allies in the struggle against the schemes of the gods (the now dead Bane, Myrkul and Bhaal) who precipitated the Time of Troubles by stealing the Tablets of Fate.

(again, i want to reiterate that larian doesn't keep close to the dnd timeline at times, and has quite a few lore mistakes and even breaks. i know mystra was 'dead' around the time gale would have been that young. take it up with larian, please. i'm only trying to extrapolate from the things we are told in the game and the narrative in it.)

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #elminster aumar #mystra #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 meta #ch: gale dekarios #ch: elminster aumar #ch: mystra #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #meta: mybg3 #bg3 spoilers #bg3 patch 5 spoilers #grooming cw

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 months ago

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might be an unrelated ask with how things are going on right now, but the only way i ever see traitor ace theory coming into fruition is if he destroys yuu's way back home because of how his feelings will boil over (since he thinks being vulnerable is uncool). i've always tried to convince myself that his silly tsundere moments are yume bait, though i really can't deny the fact that yuu is literally everything that his ex-girlfriend is not. they've watched a horror movie together from idia's lab sr (and sending grim all alone to get snacks???) in playful stage, they ride a roller coaster, and if you tell him you like it, he suggests going again again (just the two of them without grim???) bro is not slick with how attached he is to mc.

I have my own thoughts on Ace traitor theory (which you can read here)! To summarize, I don’t believe in it. If Ace betrays us at all, I think it will be in a trivial capacity (like he does something stupid that the rest of the group disagrees with, like taunting Malleus to attack him) and without malicious intent.

He may think being vulnerable is uncool, but I don’t think he’d take an action as drastic as destroying Yuu’s route home no matter how emotional he got. (That feels more like the stuff I see in angst and/or yandere fan works.) Ace gets mad and acts out, yes—but it tends to be in situations where he feels like being has been wronged, not to hinder the people he cares about. His character and his actions the entire story have done nothing but demonstrate that he values his friends and will be there for them until the bitter end, even if he whines about it the entire time.

And well 💦 when it comes to “is this platonic or romantic”, I always default to “it’s up to individual interpretation”. TWST will never give a “canon” ship for Yuu because that would impede the self-insert mass appeal design of the blank slate character. Not everyone wants to perceive X (in this case, Ace) as a love interest. Not everyone wants to perceive X (again, Ace in this case) as a friend. Therefore, there’s always going to baity lines to feed the yume crowd (Michard voice: give me your ur wallets) but lines are also kept plausibly deniable (framed as “jokes”/nor serious) or ambiguous enough to be interpreted either way.

In Ace’s Suitor Suit vignettes, he says this about his ex: “She said the thrill rides were too scary for her […] She vetoed all the action and horror flicks. Hanging out was just plain boring, so I stopped contacting her as time went on.” And indeed, Ace engages in the activities his ex refused with Yuu. They’re watching a horror movie together in Idia’s Labwear vignettes, as well as riding roller coasters and other thrill rides in Stage in Playful Land. Yes, you can interpret these as romantic since they sent Grim off by himself to get popcorn and want to ride again by themselves.

However, that’s not the only possible interpretation, and nor should it be. It could just as easily be argued that Ace and Yuu were just hanging out as friends in a “kicking back with your bros” kind of way (regardless of whatever gender Yuu identifies as). Watching horror movies and going on exciting rides are normal things that friends could do together. There is nothing inherently romantic about those acts by themselves. It could also be said that Ace is lazy and constantly trying to get out of work, so of course he’d pass off the job of getting more snacks onto someone else. The ride thing is innocuous too—maybe the others just aren’t feeling another round, while Ace and Yuu are still on that adrenaline high and want another hit of it. And again, it’s probably framed as wanting to do activities with Yuu specifically to help foster that parasocial relationship and create a sense of bonding with the player.

Of course Ace is attached to us and likes to hang out. We’re his friend, and that much has been established since the prologue. We are naturally a lot closer with him by default compared to several of the other guys (with maybe a few exceptions, like Deuce). Whether you see Ace and Yuu’s relationship as anything more than that is up to the individual!

That being said, I’d rather not talk in terms that imply one ship is “better”, “absolute”, or “more supported by canon” than others 😅 Not just for Ace x Yuu, but any ship, really. It unintentionally frames the discussion like a competition and leaves some people out of the talk if they don’t vibe with it or have different preferences, y’know?

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 7 months ago

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College Rafe AU where he plays football and they win the big game. because we all saw THE GIF from ‘The other Zoey’ and needed a football au

Was I listening to The Alchemy when I wrote this? Absolutely. My only football knowledge comes from watching Taylor at the games and the smallest from TV shows...so don't take it too seriously. I hope you enjoy <3

Warnings: possible inaccurate football stuff and Taylor references

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

The February wind blew as you sat in the stands and watched the team finish practice. You usually were tutoring at this hour, but the person canceled at the last minute, leaving you with an hour to spare before your work shift. You hated when people made you waste your time. Going to your dorm would be pointless since your job was on campus, so you went on the football field to surprise Rafe.

He ran across the field with the football, sweat dampening the collar of his gray tee shirt. You couldn’t help but worry about him getting cold. This Friday was the big championship game and, as the star player, Rafe couldn’t afford to get sick. No offense to the other players, but the team would lose without him.

Coach called the boys over and you watched Rafe taking off his helmet and wiping his face with the bottom of his shirt, flashing his abs. The few girls sitting lower in the stands were wetting their panties at the sight, dreaming impossible things. These abs were only yours to touch.

Minutes passed, and then Coach blew his final whistle, calling the end of practice. You went down the stands and called out Rafe’s name, tearing his attention from his teammate’s. When his eyes found you, he changed direction and told his teammate he’d catch up with them later.

‘’Shouldn’t you be tutoring that swim team jerk?’’

You tried to not look too annoyed as you explained the situation. ‘’He canceled on me two minutes before the lesson...’’

Rafe closed the last steps to you and pulled you in a loose hug, knowing you didn’t like it when he was hugging you with his sweaty body. You didn’t mind the sweat, it was the smell that lingered on your clothes that you didn’t like. One time, your co-worker asked why you smelled like a football locker room after a game… You’ve never been more embarrassed.

‘’I hope you’re charging him for the lesson. He made you waste your time waiting for him.’’

You wished you could do that, but that’s not how it worked.

‘’How was practice?’’ you asked, changing the subject. ‘’You ready for Friday?’’

‘’Coach doubled our pre-practice run because Robbe showed up hungover.’’ Rafe groaned, his legs sore from the extra running.

You drew your eyebrows together. ‘’It’s only Wednesday…’’

‘’Exactly. It’s the second time he shows up hungover this month. He better clean his act up before Friday or else Coach is gonna bench him. Just because his father gives big money to the school doesn’t mean he can do shit like that.’’

‘’Fucking entitled rich kids.’’

You scoffed. ‘’Sure, Mr. My-Father-Is-Ward-Cameron-And-Owns-An-Estate-Company.’’

Rafe rolled his eyes. ‘’Alright, alright.’’ A brisk of wind blew and he scrunched his nose, his cheeks red from the weather. You reached to touch it, and he leaned into the warmth of your palm. ‘’Mmh, that feels nice. Do you want to get pizza and watch a movies?’’

‘’Tempting offer, but I have to get going soon. I have work in twenty minutes.’’

You pouted and Rafe pulled you closer.

‘’Fuck work, stay with me.’’

A laugh left your lips. ‘’I can’t do that. I’ll get fired.’’

On Friday, you met Rafe’s family in the stands. You had met Ward, Rose and Wheezie before, but never Sarah. She was graduating high school this year and hadn’t been able to make it to any of Rafe’s games. It was nice to finally meet her.

‘’Ah, so you’re the lucky charm,’’ Sarah said, flashing you a smile. ‘’I’ve heard the team is on a winning streak since you and Rafe got together.’’

The lucky charm was a joke Rafe’s teammates made after noticing the team had been winning every time you attended. You thought it was only running around school, but apparently Sarah had heard about it.

The game was close to begin — seven minutes left before kickoff. From high up in the stands, you watched Rafe bouncing on his feet on the sideline, the stress of the game turned into bursts of energy. Damn, did his ass look good in his tight pants. Beside him, Topper was talking to the coach and pointing at something on the field. Perhaps a tactic idea?

You jumped up when the scoreboard came to light and cheered loudly as both teams were welcomed on the field. The ambiance was unlike any of his past games. Players took their positions, adrenaline coursing through their veins and waiting for the referee to blow the whistle.

As the game unfolded, your focus was on Rafe. He was running across the field, trying to catch the pass Topper made. He caught it, his fingers closing around it securely, but a beefy guy from the other team came from behind, driving him to the ground with a thunderous tackle.

You winced at the sight. You hated the contact part of football.

Soon enough, the second period was ending and the half-time began, the score 17-14 in favor of Rafe's team. Sarah and Rose went to the bathroom while Ward went to get drinks and a snack for Wheezie.

‘’Do you think they’re going to win?’’ she asked, scooting closer to you.

She had taken a quick liking to you, the girl who had taken her big brother’s heart.

You took a sip of your drink. ‘’I don’t know. I hope so. Rafe worked hard this season.’’

Wheezie nodded. ‘’Rafe knows how to play the game and he knows how to win. I’m confident we’ll win this one.’’

The third period had barely started when Rafe crossed the field, carrying the ball. He was running so fast and ducking the other players without losing his speed. You held your breath, sitting on the edge of your seat. As expected, someone from the opposing team went to intercept him, but Kelce saw him coming and tackled him, allowing Rafe to score another touchdown.

‘’Touchdown, Rafe Cameron!’’ The speakers echoed around the field, causing most of the spectators to stand and yell simultaneously.

You jumped in excitement, a proud smile lighting up your face. ‘’Yes, baby!’’

Later in the game, with only thirteen seconds left on the board in the fourth period, the teams were tied.

A score of 21-21 flashed on the scoreboard. There wasn't much time left, but you’ve seen Rafe score in eight seconds.

‘’Come on, Rafe, you can do it,’’ you said, although he couldn’t hear you.

Beside you, Sarah was holding Wheezie’s hand, stressed.

The referee blew his whistle, signaling the resumption of the game. The crowd erupted into a frenzy of cheers and applause as Rafe dashed across the field, evading defenders with lightning speed. With just three seconds left on the clock, he made a spectacular leap, soaring over the goal line to score the winning touchdown.

The crowd in the stands went wild. Rafe's teammates rushed towards him in a jubilant huddle, their cheers drowning out the roar of the crowd. In their excitement, they lifted him high above their heads, his helmet coming off in the process.

Wheezie jumped, loudly cheering for her brother. ‘’I told you he would win!’’

You took your jacket and headed down the stairs, Rafe’s family following behind as the game reporter declared the grand champions, his voice booming over the stadium speakers.

A lot of people had the same idea, which caused the large field to get crowded quickly. It was difficult to see over the taller heads, but your lips curled into a grin when you saw him standing at the center of it all, with his coach and teammates around him, looking both exhausted and exhilarated. His hair was tousled, his face flushed from the exertion of the game, but there was a radiant smile on his lips as he basked in the glory of victory.

You called out his name and his eyes searched around the field, high on adrenaline. Once he saw you, he broke away from the ecstatic mob of his teammates and sprinted towards you, his eyes shining with excitement. Without a moment's hesitation, Rafe enveloped you in a tight embrace, lifting you off your feet. You wrapped your arms around his neck, giggling and ignoring the sweat that was transferring to your clothes.

‘’You did it! It was unbelievable,’’ you said, your voice filled with emotions. ‘’You’re the best, baby. The absolute best.’’

—

OBX taglist: @moralina @eudximoniakr @toylewestinnyc @rottenstyx @sweeterheartxamerica @jordierama @viridwityy @izzy-laufeyson @kenzi-woycehoski @lilaconner @Katsukis1Wife @hawkegfs @mommyruuetrue @acornacreacure @snownjune @nmedina8611 @slvtherinseeker @slvtherinseeker @poppet05 @1stevelacyfan @illf4iry @withbeautyandrage @maybankslover @sunflowerziva @laylasbunbunny @Honey-marvel15 @leoluvsur-pappy @slytherhoes @kcskye123 @outerbanksacc @pedrosprincess @mikaelsonsstuff @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf @madelynie @loverofdrewstarkey @radiant-whore @outsider-at-hogwarts @luci1fer @bbycowboi @rafecameronsbadussy @urbfsbitchlol @nomorespahgetti @bloodyhw @Veescorneroftheworld @papayaboyluvr @slytherinambitious @darylscvmdumpster @tommysaxes @johannelis2302nely @lynbubble @straberryshortcake143 @beth-gallagher22 @doestalker @rubyliquor @theflcwer @angelxxrose @sierraluvzz @cruzgrecia @evelestrange @sunnysunny133696 @under-seasoned-pasta @hoeforsirius @buckyswhxre @emerald-09 @simonessolarsystem @rehead1180 @stvrkey @ynmunson @riddle18 @love4ldr

All and more taglist: @kenqki @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis @katherinejess @rafesgirlstuff @lafleshlumpeater @iamluminosity Anouk nani-2305 @books0fever

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #outer banks imagine #rafe outer banks

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keymintt · 2 years ago

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i’m sure this has been at least mentioned before but one of the things that’s so fucking funny to me abt kim is that, for all the shit he gives you (harry) when you try to get him to dance or wear the piss jacket, he actually wants to do those things to some extent

over the course of the game you can’t get him (or other characters for that matter) to do things he doesn’t want to do. disco elysium isn’t a power fantasy game like that. don’t get me wrong some things he needs to be convinced/challenged for, but he can and does outright Refuse things at times like when you suggest getting on the kineema and cutting the body down from there, not going into the tent with the ravers, or not climbing up the shitty feld building ladder, etc. and there are also definitely moments when he reluctantly puts up with harry/the player’s antics bc harry’s persistent and it’ll just put a quicker end to things to be like, “yeah sure fine i’ll eat the sandwich“ or, “i'll spare you another *20 hour mind-project*— yes, i am”

when you really badger him into dancing in the church and pass the authority check, he of course puts up some resistance but then goes, “now check *this* shit out!“ and starts busting it down! if he was reluctant to dance, he’d totally just do some stupid lil shimmy to appease harry with the same enthusiasm of, “oh god more cryptids” but no! he starts “heel kick[ing] the church floor with such intensity, it’s reasonable to fear he’ll kick a hole right through it“ he had those moves Locked And Loaded, but it’s not like he was gonna bust them out oh god no, then harry pulls his rank on him and he thinks “well everyone else here can see that the guy making a bigger fool of himself is ordering me to do it so i guess it’s okay for me to“

(thinking abt that, there’s prolly something to also say there abt music being a sort of outlet for kim. in my brain the anodic dance music and the shit speedfreaks fm plays have more in common than not, but kim also strikes me as somewhat of a music snob about that sort of stuff so. i dunno)

and then the pissfaggot jacket! when you’re trying to convince him to put it on he essentially says “you’re gonna keep bothering me about this no matter what“ but at the end of the interaction he still puts the jacket on and keeps it on! “the first chance i get, this thing’s coming off“ yeah right, the first chance he had was immediately after putting it on, harry clearly doesn’t give a shit if kim leaves him hanging fashion-wise, he’s the one who puts on the fuck the world jacket first! and once harry takes off the fuck jacket, the piss jacket is gone too, so it basically boils down to “as long as i’m following around this guy who’s making a bigger fool of himself, i can do this thing that i wanted to do got coerced into going along with“

kim’s also like “it really *does* look cool to have both of these jackets on right now“ once he puts it on like who are you kidding bro. your lame ass wanted this. sure he wanted to be a jackass and take the jackets but he also confiscated those hubcaps because they were cool and he was gonna eventually install them, was he not gonna steal the jacket to wear it?

he has his pristine little Image to uphold so he’ll only do things he wants to do if it looks like he’s being forced to and/or he won’t be the biggest fool in the room because god forbid he expresses himself. there’s plenty of deeper analysis here in conjunction with how he relishes in having control over his desires and how harry’s someone who can get him to break his rigid self-control and let loose a bit, but for me it just boils down to:

he’s so fucking lame and it’s so fucking funny

#he has things wrong with him <3 #disco elysium #kim kitsuragi #kim disco elysium #i hope this like. makes sense. i'm more of a fanart guy i don't ever really write out the analytical thoughts i have hkfghls #IF this even counts as analysis either #but nevertheless i had an Impulse #feel free to add to this too or like. debate it idc i'm interested #also hi. i'm talking on here actually #no i won't shut up #<talking tag #greatest hits

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roosterforme · 2 years ago

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Batting Practice Part 15 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: A perfect day isn't enough to solve all your problems, but a Bradley who shows you how much he wants you and Everett might just do the trick.

Warnings: Fluff and swearing

Length: 3200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

As Bradley pulled into the lot at Petco Park, he flashed a VIP parking pass at the guard. You still weren't sure why you needed to get to the game so early, but honestly, you didn't mind spending some extra time around Bradley today. He made Everett happy, and you were really considering giving him a second chance. Because he made you happy, too.

Bradley and Everett were singing a song about the Phillie Phanatic, and now you were singing along too. He held your hand tight while he parked the Bronco next to the ballpark, and when he grinned and pulled you out through his door with him, you couldn't help but smile.

"I'm so happy you came," he whispered, looking down at you with a crooked smile that had your heart melting. "I planned a lot of stuff to surprise Ev, but if you and he aren't having fun, then we can always just get some food or leave early."

You shook your head at him, amazed that he didn't get it yet. "There's nothing that kid wants more than to spend the day with you, watching the Phillies."

"That's what I want, too," he replied, opening the back door and lifting Everett down. "Ready, kiddo? I have something cool to show you."

You walked a few steps behind them as they made their way to the turnstile hand in hand. "What's faster, a slider or a changeup? And how does the catcher know when to get the pitcher to throw a curveball?" Everett rambled. They looked adorable in their matching backwards caps.

"They practice together a lot. Just the two of them. And they get really good at knowing how to communicate."

"That's cool. I wanna be a pitcher and a power hitter."

"Kid, if you can manage to combine those two, you'll hit the majors for sure," Bradley told him, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you were there. With a smile, he handed three tickets to the guy in the booth, and next thing you knew, you were all being ushered through an underground tunnel.

"Where are we going exactly?" you asked Bradley, losing the battle to slip your hand into his free one. The three of you were being led down a long ramp by a tour guide named John who had given each of you VIP badges to wear.

"On a locker room tour," he replied, and then Everett really got excited.

"I get to go in the locker room?" he asked, skipping ahead and making John chuckle.

"I told them you wanted to see the visitors' locker room," Bradley told Everett. "Maybe some of the Phillies uniforms will be hanging up."

And they were. You stood in the middle of the visitor's suite that looked more like a luxury hotel than a men's locker room while Everett ran around with your phone taking pictures. "Mom! Take a picture of us in front of the bats!"

You snapped a few photos of Bradley and Everett standing near the equipment, and then you tucked your phone away. "This is so cool," you whispered to Bradley while the tour guide showed Everett the snack bar that was reserved for the players. "Thank you."

Bradley sighed. "Jake hooked it up. He begged the groundskeeper. I think he felt bad for what he said to you at the bar."

You nodded and met his eyes. "He told me he likes moms." You watched his eyes narrow just a fraction as he licked his lips.

"Yeah, well I love moms, actually. I was just overcompensating for my insecurities before. You and Ev are intimidating."

You scoffed. "Intimidating?"

Bradley nodded, his brown eyes sincere. "I told you, Kitten, you two are perfect. And I got in my own head."

"I'm eating the snacks that the players eat!" Everett announced, holding up a bag of peanuts. The tour guide let him take a few as he led all three of you into one of the press boxes.

Your hand ended up in Bradley's and he kept pulling you closer, but once he saw who was in the press box, his grip on your hand tightened until it was almost painful.

"Ev, you asked who the starting pitchers were?" Bradley said in awe. "Well, here they are."

"Hey, are you Everett?" asked the Phillies starting pitcher, and you were afraid your son and Bradley were both going to faint.

"Yeah?" your son asked, and John led him closer to the table where two men were sitting.

"Wait, are you really a Phillies fan? I heard you're from San Diego!" said the Padres pitcher with a laugh.

"I like you, too!" Everett said hurriedly. "The Padres are my second favorite team, I swear!" You laughed and both pitchers smiled at you.

"How about we both sign a shirt for you?" asked the Phillies pitcher. "I don't think anyone else has a shirt signed by rival pitchers."

"Holy shit," Bradley muttered as he watched them each sign an MLB all-stars shirt and hand it to Everett.

"Why don't you get in there with him for a photo, Coach?" you asked. Bradley let go of your hand so fast to scramble behind the table with Everett, and you snapped a few pictures of the four of them. Then the pitchers stood and shook hands with Bradley, and it amazed you to see that he was built exactly like the professionals were. Tall, broad and strong.

"Have fun with your parents, Everett," the Padres pitcher told him, knocking his Phillies cap crooked and smiling. "Enjoy the game."

"We will!" Everett and Bradley said in unison, and you stood frozen in place. Maybe they had been too excited to process the word parents, but you'd heard it loud and clear.

They both looked dazed as John led them back through the tunnel. "Are you both okay?" you asked with a laugh as Bradley's hand found yours again.

"That was awesome," Bradley said, tossing Ev's new shirt over his shoulder as they emptied out of the tunnel and onto the ballfield. It was a perfect, clear day, and you heard John tell Everett he could run around anywhere except on the outfield. You watched your son take off like a rocket and run around the bases while you cheered for him. He looked so small out on a real infield.

"Oh, fuck it," Bradley said, and he took off running the bases too while you laughed and cheerer for both of them. Bradley caught up to Everett near home plate where you were standing, and after they both crossed the bag, he scooped Everett up into his arms.

They were both out of breath as Bradley said, "You'll have to get used to running that far if you're a power hitter."

"I can do it," Everett told him, and they had gigantic, matching smiles on their faces.

You snapped a few more photos, and then John asked, "Want to throw some pitches?" He handed Bradley a few pristine baseballs, and he and Everett took off toward the pitcher's mound. You stood off to the side as Bradley got Everett set up and in position with one of the balls. Then your son threw a pitch that didn't quite have enough force behind it to make it all the way to home plate, but it was thrown so accurately, you watched it roll to where the batters normally stood.

"Wow! Great job, Ev! Very accurate!" you shouted, thoroughly impressed. He threw a second pitch, and it was just as good as the first one. Then you watched Bradley trade places with him and wind up to throw what you thought was a slider. It sailed beautifully past home plate and bounced off the advertisement signs. He threw a second one that looked like a fastball.

"Hey! You're good!" said John as Bradley and Everett ran from the mound to home plate. "Did you play?"

"Just in college," Bradley replied, collecting the balls so John didn't have to. "A long time ago."

"He's a tee ball coach!" Everett announced. "He coaches my team!"

You didn't know if you could remember a time Everett looked this happy, and you felt like you were going to cry. This wasn't a one off. You needed this kind of day to happen again. Maybe not on the grand scale of gallivanting around Petco Park like VIPs, but you needed more days in the park getting ice cream. You needed more pizza nights. You need to have Bradley touching you at the batting cages and making love in his Bronco.

"Come here, Kitten," he called, waving you over. "I want a picture of the three of us on home plate."

You closed the distance to them, and Bradley tucked you against his side with Everett in front of both of you. John took some pictures with Bradley's phone, and you let your head rest on his shoulder. "Thank you for doing this," you whispered, leaning up to kiss his cheek. "He's in heaven."

"So am I," Bradley replied softly before kissing your lips. "I didn't do anything though. All I did was mess up, Kitten." He was being sincere, and you knew it. You thought you'd have to be an idiot to not forgive him. When John handed his phone back to him, you wrapped your arms around Bradley's waist.

"Cute family photos," John remarked, and Everett turned to see you in Bradley's arms.

"Thanks," Bradley replied as he rubbed your back. "Hey, Ev, why don't you run the bases one last time, kiddo?"

"I'll time you," John told him, setting the stopwatch on his phone and telling Ev when to start.

You looked up at Bradley and whispered, "I forgive you." He squeezed you tighter and let out a deep sigh of relief that made you smile. "And not just because today is perfect, but also because Everett and I are both attached to you, so you better not mess this up."

His lips were on yours in the sweetest kiss that had you reaching for more as he pulled away. He kissed you a little harder and whispered, "I'll be so good to you. Both of you," against your lips. You knew he was telling the truth.

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

Bradley was trying to stay calm, but it was nearly impossible. You were sitting two seats away from him, eating some nachos and smiling at Everett. Whenever your eyes met his, Bradley sighed in relief. He would ask you to be his girlfriend later tonight after the game. He was completely ready for that. Ready to be around for you and Everett.

"Thanks, Bradley," Ev told him, and Bradley managed to get a napkin under Everett's hot dog before it could drip ketchup on his jersey. "This is probably the best day I've ever had."

It was only the bottom of the first inning, but the Phillies were already leading by one run. The day had been perfect up to this point, but Bradley desperately wanted them to win for Everett. "Probably the best day I've ever had, too, kiddo."

The smile that touched your lips before you bit into a chip had Bradley grinning too. And as the innings wore on and the sun started to set, the stadium lights glowed to life. Everett was sitting on the edge of the seat when the Padres had the bases loaded, and it was all up to the pitcher that had autographed his shirt to save it for the Phillies. Without a word, Everett scrambled onto Bradley's lap to get a better view, and they both held their breath as the pitch count reached three balls and two strikes.

"Come on," Bradley muttered, wrapping his arm around Everett's middle. When the pitcher struck out the batter, Bradley jumped to his feet with Everett, and they cheered with the few other Phillies fans sitting in the section. "Still have the lead!"

You were sitting in Everett's vacant seat when Bradley settled down with Ev on his lap again, and he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. "You boys having fun?" you asked.

"Yep!" Everett said, clapping as the Phillies shortstop walked up to bat.

Bradley leaned in and kissed your cheek, his mustache tickling your ear. "We should do this all the time. At least until he gets to see every team play the Padres."

"And what if he decides he likes a different team better than the Phillies after he sees them all?" you asked, and Bradley scoffed.

"Do we look like fair weather fans?" he asked, gesturing to himself and Everett. "No. That's not going to happen, Kitten."

You laughed and leaned in to kiss him. "You're right. What was I thinking?"

"If the Phillies make it to the playoffs, we'll go to Philadelphia and watch them play and eat cheesesteaks and meet the Phanatic in person," he told you with conviction.

"Yeah, mom," Everett agreed, never taking his eyes off the game. "Because the Phanatic only goes to home games."

"Yeah, Kitten," Bradley echoed. "The Phanatic only goes to home games."

"You're both ridiculous," you said, but your smile was wide as you let your head rest on his shoulder.

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

You felt a tinge of disappointment as the Padres managed to tie the game in the eight inning. Everett was squirming a bit on Bradley's lap in anticipation, and Bradley had his fingers laced with yours.

"Do you want to switch laps, Ev?" you asked, and both Bradley and Everett replied with a firm No.

But Everett hopped off of Bradley's lap when the inning ended, and it didn't escape your attention that his gaze settled on your joined hands on the armrest. "I'll only be a little bit sad if the Phillies lose, okay? Because I'm having a lot of fun." Then he climbed back on Bradley's lap as you chuckled.

"Me too, kiddo, but wouldn't it be great if the Phillies hit a homerun to win the game?" he asked, straightening out Everett's cap.

"That would be so cool," Everett agreed as a new batter came up to the plate for the Phillies.

You pulled Bradley closer, and he gave you his undivided attention. You kissed his lips softly and said, "I think you're right. I want to do this all the time, too." Bradley's lips curled into a smile as he nodded, so you continued with a smile of your own. "The Padres play the Pirates here on Ev's birthday next month. So maybe we can do this again? I know it would be a late game, since it's during the week, but we could see if Molly and Bob want to come too. It could be really fun. What do you think?"

Bradley let go of your hand and wrapped his warm fingers around your neck, pulling you closer until your hand found his cheek while he kissed you. You moaned softly against his lips, you'd missed him this way so much. Then his nose bumped yours as he released your lips but kept you close to him. "Kitten, I think I love you."

"Look!" Everett shouted, and both you and Bradley turned to see what was going on. The echo of the solidly hit ball was still in the air as Bradley dumped Everett onto your lap and stood. You managed to stumble to your feet with Everett as Bradley jumped and caught the Phillies home run ball with his bare hand while the player rounded the bases to the sound of everyone in your section cheering. Then you watched as Bradley toppled over the armrest and into the aisle with a look of elation mixed with terror on his face.

"He caught it!" Everett cheered, launching himself onto Bradley who was trying to sit up awkwardly on the stairs. But he smiled and hugged Everett, handing him the ball while he clenched and unclenched his hand.

"Are you okay?" you asked, laughing as Bradley stood with Everett hanging onto him.

"Yeah, Kitten," he grunted, kissing your lips while everyone cheered. "Just gonna be a little sore. Damn, my hand hurts," he said, shaking it out again. The three of you were being featured on the big screen as they showed a replay of Bradley jumping up over and over again.

"Dad of the year!" the guy across the aisle shouted to Bradley, and you couldn't stop smiling.

"Thanks, man," Bradley replied with a laugh as he sat down. Everett had Bradley in a headlock as he examined his souvenir baseball with wide eyes.

"Wow," Everett said over and over again. "You're good at catching too, Coach."

"I'll teach you everything I know, kiddo."

"That was insane," you whispered, and Bradley laughed.

"I had to catch it. That was a once in a lifetime ball."

Everett was distracted by the end of the game as you leaned in close and pressed your lips to Bradley's. "I think I love you too, Coach."

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

Bradley hadn't stopped touching you for a single moment. He was a little sore from landing on his ass in the aisle, but he honestly couldn't remember a better day in recent memory. When the game ended in a victory for the Phillies, Everett hugged him tight, but Bradley kept his hand wrapped around yours.

When Everett scrambled onto your lap for a hug, you asked him, "Do you want to come back for your birthday? We haven't seen the Pirates play yet."

"Yeah!" Everett cheered, clearly running on a Phillies high. But by the time the three of you were exiting the ballpark, Bradley scopped Everett up and carried him. All of the excitement of the day seemed to have the kid running on empty all of a sudden. When the three of you finally empied out into the parking lot with the rest of the crowd, Everett was mostly asleep in his arms.

"He's wiped out," Bradley told you with a laugh. You had your hand wrapped around his waist, your fingers rubbing his side, and Bradley couldn't stop grinning.

"All the excitement caught up to him." You took the keys from Bradley's pocket and went ahead to unlock the Bronco and open the back door. Bradley carefully deposited Everett into the booster seat and buckled him in as his eyes opened briefly.

"I'm tired," Everett mumbled, and Bradley laughed as he kissed his forehead. "I know, kiddo. Love you." Then he closed the door and you were reaching for him in the shadows of the parking lot, pressing your body to his and kissing him just like he had become accustomed to. He had missed you so much.

He pushed you up against the back door of the Bronco, and you gasped as he sucked on your neck. Your body felt warm against the chill of the night air, and Bradley's hands found their way up inside your shirt. "Kitten," he moaned below your ear. You had one hand wrapped around his neck, and the other was pressing against the fly of his jeans. You could make him go insane. "Kitten, baby, I can't get enough of you."

"Take us home," you demanded. "And stay with me."

"God, yes," he agreed, and then you were climbing in the driver's door and crawling across the seat.

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

Best day ever! Good job, Coach! Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32!

PART 16

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