#this is so basic but her name meaning 'beside' gets me so emotional | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

precious-little-scoundrel · 1 month

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MotA Fanfiction: John Brady and first person/reader/insert no use of y/n.

18+: John Brady had me at “like you told me” five seconds before “son of a bitch that’s France” and now we’ve got seven kids and a mortgage. The following could be a very existential diary page about the first few months of that marriage.

But basically, John Brady makes me rabid: here have some purple prose smut about it mixed into an essay on happiness

My mother readied me for many things but not for this. I dig through the archives of her heavy advice, her off handed comments, her jubilant prognostications, all I keep so dutifully in my mind, and I search for some hint from her that she knew it could be like this. But I find nothing, it is all too weak or strong or wordy.

Did it not come in words?

Were her misty eyes when she settled the veil over my face the true meaning of it? Had I mistaken her emotion as a presentment of missing me when it was instead tremulous excitement for what was in store? Had she known when she wrapped me in white and insisted it fit me lovingly to my proportions that it was not tidiness and appreciation for good seams but instead, that holy knowledge of what more awaited me? That a wedding dress in its fit reflects what happens when the groom removes it?

She knew I had myself a good man. Did she suspect how well he’d fit me?

And I thought it was merely cloth, I had been too busy even for my own wedding. I was too busy loving him, the idea of him, of him being mine. Perhaps if we had met in peacetime, if he had courted me between his hours at the office and my semesters I would have looked forward to my wedding, planned each detail and worried over all manner of things that brides are said to care about.

But we had not; I’d no sooner loved him than he’d gone, and no sooner had death returned him on loan than I married him. I loved him and everyone else but me seemed to know what that meant as he kissed frosting from my wrist.

I had thought I’d known at the registry office, signing in ink my name, scrawling a practiced B that ended with a flourished Y.

Mrs. Brady.

I’d thought I’d known then. I had given the benign judge a saucy smile of the fully enlightened. I had no idea. To ask me if I was happy that day would have been a good joke, to ask me if I could be happier when we waved out a window chalked with news of our nuptials: it would have been more than half insulting.

I was happy. I thought I knew. And that night, what little doubt I had about the gaps in my theory, he filled. Love in its rawest form, breaking me apart, making a place for himself, I clung to his shoulders; this part my mother had told me of. She told me it got better; I can’t speak to that. He was pushing and petting and I endured until surrender turned to fascination and again to arousal by his rhythm, the concrete sense of his need, the clarity of his release. And still I was urging my sweet boy to take and take; it did not get better, it got sublime. I could not fault my mother for her faulty preparations, even though I think she knew -for her own sake I hope she knew. There are no words for it when two bodies become one, minds meld and he finds his way eased by your blood till he’s in so deep you think he’s probed at your heart. I don’t hear of people speaking about that part, and mother didn’t tell me, but I think they know.

I am quite forgiving of her that night, I thought I knew then, I assumed what she left unsaid, it was merely out for lack of vocabulary. Lying beside him, having tasted heaven, I am generous. She tried. I know.

He had put a pillow under my hips before he opened me, it tilted me kindly for his invasion and I wonder who told him of that. His innate desire to please had long ago led me to find he was good at kissing, and that he liked to kiss me everywhere. He was as delighted by the back of my knees as he was by my throat, and he forgot all reason when he tasted between my thighs, only his firm and unyielding hands on my hips gave a mottled clue he kept at such kissing for his own satisfaction as much as mine.

I know that I am happy then, on my wedding night, and next morning I am happier still. I might try at being cross with my own self, for sabotaging my arrival at absolute knowledge except that I cannot help but be giddy for it; he loves to kiss me, my boy, and he has a warm blush on his face in the sunlight, this first morning I’ve woken up beside him, and his hands are already busy with me. Mine grow busy with him and I know this is how we will spend our days, kissing with him inside me, and I am happy.

No one who encounters me in the coming weeks can doubt it. My parents whisper amongst themselves, his too, church members and fellow servicemen. My Johnny is not settled with a job and so we lodge at various places in the next two months, and soon each of our hosts knows it, too. It cannot be stifled beneath his quieting palm when he breaks me apart, thin walls and no place to call our own except the harbor of my body, that’s his home and he goes into it. Often and more vigorously each time until I associate happiness with the most alarming strength of exertion from the lithe length of him rolling against mine, noses to toes; I draw blood from his hand.

Even my boy is beginning to see: he makes me happy. He has the most melancholy eyes, my boy, I recalled them as being calm and observant before he went away. But he has observed too much though he never says so, and out of his army greens there is not a speck of baby blue left in them, they’re cold gray and the only time I see them sparkle are when I’ve made him laugh so hard a tear rolls down his creased cheeks. I am impatient with his happiness, I know it and I know I’m wrong for it, but I miss the sky blue of them and the way I didn’t used to have to guess at what roils beneath them.

If he can’t feel happiness as thoroughly as me, he at least presents with quiet confidence as he finds a peacetime footing, there is a job offer in Maryland and we take our first road-trip. He is full of plans and maps and well drawn schedules and I am full of 55 mph breezes up the nose, feet in his lap and face hung out the window merrily, there are endless rows of pines and the feel of bark against my back at the rest pavilion. More, more, more, I demand of him and he gives it, it’s happiness turned hungry, greedy, close to vicious. Happiness that needs topping off.

We fight that night before his interview. A silly thing, inconsequential, hotel room adding to the displaced feeling I have begun to feel after our adventure calmed into adult necessity. He is preoccupied with being excellent and I am preoccupied with happiness. Chiefly if I make him happy or not; this is the first night he has not been so undivided in his passion and I allow it to vex me. I am young and I am happy and I guard it jealously, thinking that holding it -gripping him- tight fistedly desperate about it, will keep it all the closer.

“I am doing this for us.” his tone cuts me, I have admired it slashing others but it has never been directed at me before. He is wiser than I am and a self proclaimed cynic. I think he is fighting me in my happy quest, but, “For us, I’m doing this for us.”

His fingers dig into my cheeks and it is assurance enough. I have to agree that even heaven must have some maintenance work intruding on the celestial revels from time to time.

By the time I stand on the bed and cinch his tie the next morning before his interview, I have never been more in love. I am happy, yes, but there is admiration for him there too, but I struggle with finding a place for it.

Love, it seems, multiplies and I remain fixated with happiness in its tidiest form. Like the moment we cut the cake. I ask him that night if he has ever felt that, felt it simple and tidy.

“I feel a million things about you.” he swears instead; his tone suggests it is the most devout compliment.

I pray for wisdom next Sunday. I can feel that there is more to happiness than I know and it unsettles me. Our fight has long been made up but those million things that Johnny thinks and knows of me haunt the little life I try to construct, they haunt it as badly as whatever plagues his dreams at night.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” he begs a hundred times to me night after thrashing night; he suggests the sofa, I won’t hear of it. The bruises his flailing limbs land on mine are no darker than those he makes in calculated romance. His dreams respond to the feeling of my hands on his belly, he wakes easily with it, I have something to wake for and it is not perfect or quiet or even gentle always, but I am in love and when he allows me, I feel powerful and needed, hands on his belly, a thin tickle of hair beneath my palm. “You’re an Angel.” he swears to me, lips warm and plush against mine, I am so in love.

My cycle stops soon after the interview trip. I wait until I am sure to tell him one night, we are sprawled across our bed gasping back breath and I tell him, simple and direct as he prefers. I had wanted him one last time before he thought of me as a madonna. It had not been so different, I had been preoccupied with the child but I had also found my peak, and he had grasped greedily at my breasts, my nipples knotting beneath his fingers and only a lingering soreness in them to remind me of my secret. With his seed dripping from me, redundant and warm, I tell him.

“A baby?” My husband’s eyes glow, he cups my face like I am holy, his lips thank me with kisses to my nose and eyelids, “We’re havin’ a baby?”

He is all preparedness now. Striding with purpose and when he kisses me he is kissing the mother of his child; he gets the job in Maryland. We tell my parents of our happy news before we go, it surprises no one and yet there are celebrations as if we waited a decade. My Johnny is pleased and his smile is fixed, but I remember him when I told him, the glow about him, the naked press of him to me, his kisses on my belly. These are things I wish I could tell my mother -these are things that make me happier. Even more than the child itself.

On the way back to Maryland, our car trip is sedate, I eat ginger candies to quell the nausea and Johnny contemplates an unspoken thing. When I contemplate at all I think of driving down here over a month ago and the feeling of bark behind me and his hips snapping into me. I wonder if our child was made in the pines -how very different a few weeks makes a trip. He has foregone smoking his pipe indoors out of consideration for my queasy stomach.

“There’s somebody out here I should see.” He answers me at the gas pump, knowing I can tell he is preoccupied.

One of his crew lives off this exit, it’s why he’s filling up when the tank is half full. Johnny says he should go see him, and where he goes I will too.

Waist gunner Timmons is missing both legs. Together he and Johnny speak of bonds and education, his new job and the likelihood of drought, tidbits about the other boys' peacetime business failures, they laugh without malice. They laugh at themselves too. When taking our leave Johnny tells him our news. It makes me blush and I don’t know why, I was proud of our making the child. I should be proud of our finished product. I see him slip a hefty dollared bill in the coat pocket of the garden cover by the door as we leave.

Johnny stops our car at the end of the long gravel drive and while it confuses me, I know he is in a turmoil. His fists suddenly slam against the steering wheel and his face goes red beneath it’s feckless.

“Baby?” I question him but then he is weeping, forehead pressed to his knuckles on the steering wheel, aggravating buzz of a fly against the windshield unheeded.

It’s ugly and hiccuping and half panicked, he can’t seem to stop though the angry set of his shoulders tells me he wishes to, and after helpless fluttering beside him, I undo my waist belt and slide over to his side, arm thrown over his shoulders, forcefully prying him from the wheel. He lays in my arms and weeps for what feels like hours, letting me hold him and swear to him and soothe him. I’ve never known him like this, he speaks of Whys and Who’s and What’s He Got Going For Him to Deserve So Much Good Luck.

I am his good luck, his lips tell me as they press to my belly, he has fully sagged into my lap in his misery. I am his good luck, me and the baby and the job in Maryland and it is the first time I’ve ever thought of happiness as guilt.

The first days in Maryland, I cannot say that he is happier but he looks at me more openly, the guarded set of his eyes is gone and something sheepish but trusting shimmers there instead. Still steel gray but I notice the flutter of lashes around them and the dusting of pink cheeks more often. We never speak about Timmon’s driveway but I come to realize with a jolt: he’s softer for having let me see one of his million parts. I know him better now and it shows in his loosened shoulders and his shy smiles, the almost joyous eagerness he has to begin life here.

We close on an offer on a house, brick with a little porch, a small front drive and boxy lawn but in back there is a tall whitewashed fence going round and garden beds that are empty and waiting. It’s a prize and we are both delighted and he swoops me up, light as a feather, and brings me over the threshold.

“You’ve been waiting to do that!” I realize, he didn’t do it on our wedding night at the hotel or any of our other lodgings.

“We’ve got ourselves a home.” he grins back and there is such relief in his face I wonder at how much concern he was harboring before.

I begin to watch my man the way he watches me, I think less and less of whether he is happy and more and more if he feels safe. It’s why I’ve made no move to couple since he has not, not since I told him of the baby. We have been traveling, then moving in our boxes and he has been feeling whatever it was he felt in Timmons driveway. Some modicum of selflessness takes up residence in my childish heart, allowing him to hold me and not demanding proof of happiness from him. He cradles my belly every night as we spoon and I can feel his lips quirking in smiles as he gently hums to our child.

I watch my husband like he first watched me, from the bandstand, boyish cheeks blown full and nimble fingers flying over brass keys, I knew I wanted him then before he did. I went after him fast and furious, unlike myself in the way I tenaciously kept our first halting conversations going, shocking myself with the way I fanned my skirts around his lap and let him play beneath them -he was better at that than talking and I obliged him ravenously. Told him he looked handsome in his uniform and he told me he’d like to marry me. He came back to me as promised, four years late, yet the happiness that his first glittery eyed glance sparked in me is something I crave now as if I have not dabbled in far more heady pursuits with him thus far. His child grows in my belly but I miss his blush when I first stared at him past his bunker behind his music stand.

He watched me first, I wanted him worse. His eyes were blue then.

I admit my petulance to my mother after a week at the new house. Not that I am so wanton as to be bereft after a ten day abstinence, but that I cannot seem to settle some gnawing resentment that has begun. Again, not over the coupling. I am not sure what it’s over. I love him more than ever, and yet, that first blush of blazing white happiness of our first few days has given way to a nurturing watchfulness, an almost heartbreaking sympathy, a self effacing desire for his joy that robs me of my own. I ask her for a remedy.

She tells me I loved the idea of him before, and now I love him. And love is not made of happiness alone. She tells me to talk to him. “If you don’t know what it is,” she says, “he may. He knows you.”

He loves a thousand million parts of me, he had said. And then I had scoffed, feeling so sure I was comprised of only one: happiness.

Amongst the other basic necessities of settling in, we do our best to scope out the town, having arrived on a Thursday we attended mass soon in the only Catholic Church to be found in the small place, we find the town’s rec hall more promising, I keep my eyes peeled for a music store. There is one in Millersville, I find it when I go to inspect a couch that caught my eye in the Hutzlers catalog.

I do not know if he needs reeds. He hasn’t played since he got back, he may have a stack of extras in some box. But the sentimentality fills me strongly, the memory of missing him and waiting for him and having no ability to reach him over there except by sending the packages. And each of his letters with their little sheepish addendum: please send more reeds.

I got up from dinner that night to give them to him. He had asked about my day and as if I had some horrid secret to cover I had choked on my descriptions of the couch until I had broken down and admitted there was more. I place the item beside his plate and he puts down his fork while I stand in suspense.

An innocuous plastic wrapped package of saxophone reeds was probably not what my Johnny was expecting but he lets out a cut off little laugh about it.

“Did you even need more?” I am weirdly in knots over it, fingers nervously bunching at my dress and he leaves off opening the package to slip his own into mine to prevent the tick.

“I did.” he murmurs warmly, pressing a kiss to my forearm that dangles beside him, “Thank you.”

“Is that why you’re not playing?”

He looks surprised. “I -just busy, I suppose?” he questions himself.

“I miss it.” vocalized at last, I realize just how much.

“Do you?” his lips curve in a smile against my arm and move across to my belly, the hot gusts of his affection damping my dress. “Well, if my sweetheart misses it…” his lips have moved so low along my dress I feel an ache where I am missing other things.

He cleans his instrument that night while sat at the table while I do the dishes, our clearing of it a joint endeavor. He fusses over the need to grease it and other things too technical to be questioned but I understand, it won’t be played tonight. But it’s good to see him at the familiar task, his affection and seriousness for his work both manifesting across his face.

The next day he goes with me to Hutzlers, his opinion on household furnishings having been impeccable thus far and far more decisive than my own. He humors my myriad of hypotheticals regarding comfort and staining and color schemes, hands shoved easily in his pockets and a gentle smile on his face, I know by look alone he is categorizing each of my expert arguments into tidy little categories that he will present to me again in fifteen minutes time when a decision must be made.

In the end we purchase a pale blue couch with roses imprinted tone on tone into the fabric. It was decided upon only after he had hauled me down to the cushions to see if it were a plausibly good place to kiss. I now wonder if we have gotten a blue couch instead of a peach one simply due to the fact it was further from the window and he felt free to dip me down over the arm for a brief half minute.

Either way, it is set in stone that our new couch will be blue and on the way to the cash register, he immovably halts at a counter displaying the most heart wrenchingly cute baby items.

“We have to get somethin’.” he sounds almost exasperated at the previous weeks’ oversight.

We leave with ten different things, not having agreed upon what gender our child will be and I am unable to argue that booties are always a sensible option for either sex, I also want to strangle the woman behind the counter whose over eager desire to help robs me of the unguarded delight Johnny was showing over the little things before she came up.

He is opening my car door and teasing me for being so mercurial when he himself turns mildly glum before a hard determination sets his jaw.

“What?” I question, half wondering if he sees some old acquaintance or is having some awful recollection. I can’t imagine what amongst this urban place and departmental hedonism could inspire it but, stranger associations have done so.

“It’s midway through September.” he mutters, keen eyes fixed at the store’s grand facade, hand still heavy on the window before closing my door.

“Yep.” I am at a loss.

“But the seasons are milder down here.” he is presenting a case of his own for something and all I can do is agree, Maryland is more temperate than New York.

“Your mother even gave me a book about the different zones.”

“Yeah.” he is pleased with my perceived understanding, face lighting up, “So it’ll stay warmer down here.”

“For longer.”

“Yeah.”

“Johnny? What?”

He seems to realize I’ve not understood what he keeps looking at so intensely across the parking lot. “I want to buy bushes and flowers but it’s September.” he admits.

An extravagance this late in the season, and my man is not extravagant. “They’re very pretty.” I settle for acknowledging, knowing this is something he must decide but he looks so torn I would do anything to smooth that creased brow.

“It would make the place more, I dunno,” he stares down at his hand on the still adjar car door and shrugs, “…homey?”

“Some things are perennial.” a little blossom of hope tinges my own voice, my mind had gotten away with me -if he is this invested while yet undecided, I cannot imagine what diligence he might display at husbandry were he to act on it. And there’s nothing I have grown to love more in all my watching than him at some diligence.

We don’t get them. But in the car on the ride back there is discussion that the place is only a fifteen minute drive. Which pertains to the delivery of our couch, and we must hurry back to have the front door opened and I wanted to sweep where it will be once more. The delivery boys thump the blue thing on our floorboards carefully and its large presence is exactly what Johnny was saying we needed -Hominess. Emphatic. Settled. Ours.

No sooner have they left with his kind tips in their pockets than he is pulling me down on it, a hungry imitation of his actions at the store with hands more risky and insistent. I have been missing him so badly I come apart easily from his finger’s ministrations between my legs, sidetracked in trying to pull off my panties and garter belt. When he sees me go, he takes mercy and lets up, a gentle swiping through his prized currency of sticky pleasure and I watch him bring those long fingers to his lips, sucking them clean.

“You taste different.” he admits with heavy lidded eyes, “Since…” he doesn’t finish his explanation of the change in my belly, the slight swollen pooch that is our child.

“Bad?” I ask with feminine panic at the very notion.

He is settled on his belly between my thighs, blue couch a plush landing beneath us both, “N’bad.” is emphatically mumbled against me and my legs kick out the buzz of his voice. By his vocal and insistent enjoyment of it, I cannot help but be assured. Not bad. I keen up at our ceiling as he wrings one and then two and then -he won’t stop and I am needy for it, enjoying the familiar span of his hand dominating my belly, only this time it is cupping my swollen womb. I settle in relief that the proof of my maternity beneath his palm does not deter him, or at least, distract. He hums into his messy work and noses at me where I am all lightning and pulsing need, his hips jerking down into our plush new addition each time I pull at his dark locks.

Different, he says of my taste, and wedges his face in deeper, his hips beginning to move with the movements of his face against my parts and I swear to him that he is good, that he is perfect, that I’ve missed him, that he is beautiful and that he should have gotten those flowers.

His corresponding laugh makes me gush onto his tongue and his humor turns into a moan that only prolonges my delicious agony. He pushes my legs wider so forcefully I think he would like to take them off entirely if he could, his face smothered in my heat.

“You have a job now.” I present a case of my own to him, about the flowers as I try to get on top of the feeling, it is too much and he is unrelenting and I try to grasp onto something that is not his rocking body and clever lips, “A very good job and a car and -and we have this house, a-nd a-a a very nice couch -aaah God!”

His grip on my hips is deathly as I list his accomplishments until he seems to seize and then sag, tongue grown listless at last as his lips part and a shuddering groan fans over my tacky thigh.

“And we deserve flowers.” I whisper hoarsely, petting the dark strands from out of his eyes.

He’s spent himself in his writhing, I can tell by the molten expression on his face when his eyes finally drag up to meet mine over the small swell of my stomach, and set off by our new couch, they are the sparkliest of baby blues.

I have never been more startled. Or pleased. I had forgotten to watch for it, and so it had returned of its own skittish volition. I cling to that glimmer of blue until his smile grows wider and his eyes flutter shut in exhaustion.

Happiness.

At the end that night, bathed and fed and having inspected our new assortment of infant wear and argued once more over the likely gender, he brings his instrument out of its case with the package of reeds in hand. He has been offered a part time job at the high school, teaching music. It would be a hobby, he protests against his own interest in it, it would take away from time with me and Little One.

“I could go, too.” I point out.

“You’d like that?” he is pleased, the lamp is too dim for me to discern if there is blue but his lashes flutter briskly and I kiss his cheek, it’s hot beneath my lips.

“I always love watching you play.”

Before he fits the reed to the mouthpiece he makes me close my lips around it, a red stain marking it after, much to his satisfaction.

“You’ll be teaching children!” I swat at him, utterly pleased despite my own remonstrance.

“And I am married.” he says as if it were a universal absolution for all things.

The clock strikes five fifteen the next evening and he is not back. I have a plentiful assortment of excuses to choose from to explain his variance from routine. Traffic, work, a waylaying colleague -he has only been at work a couple of weeks, it is absurd to expect a forever unchanging home time. By five forty I cannot pretend expectation of what may have occurred and so keep the meatloaf warm with its proper cozy and when there is a bustle at the front door, I sprint to it like he’s back home from the war again.

It’s well I opened the door myself, he was endeavoring to while juggling three large potted plants in his arms. There is dirt in his white collar and I let out a little whoop at his uncharacteristic impulsiveness, stepping aside to help him get them through to the back porch. It doesn’t even need discussing, the large sliding glass door gives a beautiful view of the backyard from the living room and it’s sheltering insures privacy and a deterrent from our children’s stray balls flying to the next lot. At least for a few years. And the plants will go in the empty beds at the perimeter.

It is a Friday, and we eat my tepid meatloaf in between his smooching apologies for having been tardy and garbled plans for where we will put each plant and how we will stagger them according to their eventual size. It was far more than the three pots he brought, the trunk and also the cab were full of fauna.

Our excitement next morning is idiotic, we manage to snicker at ourselves for being so domesticated that this inspires frenzy but the self awareness gets not further than that, I throw on my rattiest -and coolest- sundress and he his jeans and with only his white singlet, breakfast is inhaled while standing at the backdoor, last minute plotting being discussed between bites. And then we spend our entire Saturday at it.

Johnny digs the holes and carries the plants to their allotted places and only then allows me to gently labor in filling soil over the roots, we eat cold meatloaf and slug down ice tea under the afternoon heat, not even bothering to go inside. When I have no other job, I weed the beds in preparation, watching unreservedly the way his shoulders glisten in his hard work. I have caught him eying the neckline of my dress, the recent changes he has imposed on my body now ensuring it does not gap so much as bulge while I lean over and grasp the next offending dandelion. I know he is watching and he knows I am watching and we are happy at our work, tidy garden beds filling out and his tongue pressed to his top lip to catch a drop of sweat.

The sun is a glittering soft light through the western trees by the time we take stock.

“Nothin’ left to do but water them.” he has his arm over my shoulder, hand nearly brown with caked soil where it hangs against my smudged breast, his undershirt gone translucent from sweat, the oddest attraction to his underarm blooms in me as he huffs in satisfaction next to me. I press a kiss to the swell of his pec instead, he folds with a shocked giggle, he is ticklish.

“It’s very homey.” I pronounce, feeling indeed a bone deep satisfaction over our garden at our own house from our own hands. His elbow crooks further and he has my neck secure in the bend, golden hour light the prettiest thing in the world as he nuzzles our sweaty noses and slowly claims a kiss.

“Our kids are gonna get to play out here for years.” he seems to realize as he lays his head atop mine, his voice sounds so softly comforted I can feel my eyes smart with tears.

He can feel my nod beneath his chin. “And us.” I suggest.

“And us.” he agrees with a laugh, “I’m gonna mow.” He decides suddenly and he is giving me one more smooch before moving away, headed at a jog to the garage for his machine before the sun fully dips. Never one to leave a job slightly imperfect.

I water our new additions while he pushes the mower, strip after strip, along our back yard, closer and closer to complete perfection. I have little doubt that once he finishes this he may find yet another task and knowing we have done enough, I go inside as he finishes the last swaths and grab a tablecloth, an opened bottle of wine along with salami and a brick of cheese. I have these waiting for him on a cloth, laid upon his freshly shorn grass. He cuts the engine, I watch him as he heedlessly take off his soaked singlet and uses it to rub the grass from his eyes. He is beautiful, my boy, where tan skin blends to fair and a strong, lean back disappears into jeans. There are dimples on his back, right below that belt, I know them, I’ve traced them with my tongue.

“C’mon, we’ve done enough. Sit and look at how perfect it is.” I beckon and his face lights up at my little spread, sauntering over, undershirt still clasped in his hand.

“Im filthy.” he warns and runs his hand along his sweat sheened belly in a motion I find obscenely captivating.

I pat at the tablecloth, “So am I.” for my dress is soiled and I am sweaty and only my hands are really fit for food as I scrubbed them thoroughly.

He holds his own up to show their grimey palms yet sits himself beside me anyway, and I notice the callouses dotted along the pads of his hands. I want to kiss them, soil and all.

“Then I’ll feed you.” I reply to his unspoken question and bring a bite to his lips.

We toast each other with the wine, drinking from the bottle and we watch as dusk begins to throw her first veil over the golden light.

“I’m not nauseous anymore these days.” I report and he is sweetly relieved for me, I pull out the pipe I packed for him and hand it to him between salami rolls.

His eyebrow, mobile and ever so empathetic, asks if I am sure but I am, and I watch as the match recreates a golden glow on his face once more today as he lights up and I watch him with the most lazy feeling in the world as he watches our gardens go muted by dusk.

“We’ve really done it.” he observes, relief dripping in his voice, a long exhale tinges the air around me with sweet tobacco and I am reminded of courting, of chasing him down while trying to appear reserved. Of wanting him so badly I had little choice but to remain devoted. The smell of smoke in the street would stop me dead in my tracks, thinking of this young man an ocean away.

I think I know what he means but I need to be certain, and I find I am hungry to know everything, every bit of him. If his current happiness is placed in stark relief against some previous melancholy, I want to know that, too. “What have we done?” I ask teasingly, scooting nearer to him on the cloth and kissing at his shoulder. He smells of gasoline and grass and pipe smoke. And I taste salt when I lick my lips.

“We’ve got ourselves a home.” he grins so easily, my boy, and if it were earlier in the summer there might be fireflies out in the twilight. “And you’re not nauseous anymore.” he giggles.

I’ve wanted long enough these many weeks, when my lips trail from the meat of his shoulder to his beautiful neck, he cannot mistake my intentions.

“O-out here?” he stutters out, hissing at the end by my bite on his fragile throat, i place my hand on his jeans and palm at him. There is still nothing so thrilling to me than the feel of a man firming, the way he awakes to me and only me and at my least whim, even while his mouth is all stuttering questions and his eyes are startled shimmering pools. He is always surprised when I initiate, as if he can imagine his own desire being that needy but not my own, he is always surprised and I realize it may be the only one of the million parts he does not fully know of me: how badly I love him at all times. “N-now?” he is rocking denim clad hips into my palm and their fit has grown impossibly taut.

I have the zipper down, my hand meeting the sweat soaked crease of his thigh and wiry curls that are equally wet from his work, when I wrap my small fist around him, he is clammy and pulsing in my hand. It should be revolting, perhaps, with dirt and gasoline and sweat acting like a gritty lubricant, but nausea has been replaced by something else hungry and while he may have found comfort in having provided the necessary civilian checklist for our lives, I am a woman whose body he has forever altered with his child and I have never loved anything so much as watching him at work. I want to smell it, feel it, taste the gritty earth of the man who has renovated my very flesh.

“Yes, now,” I beg, giving him one last squeeze before I lay myself back, sundress riding up my thighs, “I want you to take me under our gardenia.”

He watches me raptly, boyish eyes fawn-like and batting lashes fluttering like moth wings in the dim light; he rises to his knees and stays there as I unbutton my soiled dress. There are twenty four buttons to the hem and I make theater of each until I am bare. More than he anticipated, for while at work I did enjoy the last bit of clement weather on all my parts.

He makes a pained noise of want at the sight, maybe he too loves the sheen of sweat that makes us both shimmer in the far off patio light, how it reflects off my swelling belly, breasts grown large enough my necklines are impossible to keep discreet. I stop him from tasting me with a foot to his clavicle, I love his mouth but I want to be taken. And he indulges me, shimmying between the parted scraps of my dress and laying himself against my body, denim rough and thrilling against my bare thighs, the slightest space between our bellies lest he crush me. I am hardly large enough for it to be a concern but I can see his fascination with it, his preoccupation, his hair hangs into his eyes as he stares down at where his desire parts my petals and I can feel the drag of him against me, sweat and unabashed want making a swamp of me.

I peak and thrash from the torture of his steady grind alone, and in a typical moment of firm implacability, I feel my husband press into me while I am yet writhing. He scoops the back of my knees into the crook of his elbows, leaning over me with mischief on his face as he folds me, “You started this.” he still has enough self possession to remind before he gives into the grip of my heat and begins to move in me, engaging work-sore muscles not yet fully fatigued.

If my novel new shape has created some preoccupation, if my symptoms and moods had once ruled me in earlier weeks, it is worth it now for the way my body goes alight beneath him, electric delight curling my toes and fuzzing my sternum at each thrust, I respond to him half possessed and he snickers like he knew of this before me. I swell until my sheath is so tight it makes us both keen from it, slippery to the point of cacophonous. I claw at his back and his shoulders don’t stand a chance at remaining unmarred as he stays unperturbed and sweetly vicious inside me, jamming himself deeper. When I begin to scream he lets down a leg and cups my neck, forcing my mouth against his own.

He tastes of wine. I hook my toe into the denim of his waistband and tug it further down, till I can fully see the pale swell of his backside and I think the motion tickles him as he giggles in his rhythm. I can register that the air has grown cool as the sun fully deserts us, leaving us to it with a final curtain call on the happiest day I’ve ever known.

The force of our endeavor has shoved me up the blanket until I am well and truly beneath the far branches of our gardenia. I tilt my head up and smell the blossoms’ heady scent, their leaves and white flowers blending into the canopy of nightly stars beginning to show. Johnny’s warm face is tucked, groaning, into my neck, our bodies so close as he begins to falter in his control that I cannot watch him. So I watch the blossoms above sway in my vision as his need rucks my body up and down beneath them for a few more desperate minutes. I turn my face and press a kiss to his temple, his hair damp with sweat and smelling so much of him I clench. I love you, so good, you’re so good to me, so deep, so deep, I love you- my mind is adrift and where he rocks inside me is all I know and I babble and beg and praise him for it.

His breath is a hot steam over my clavicle, dirty hands tenderly grasping at a swollen breasts, he bites at my lower lip to hush himself when the pleasure overtakes and I too go under one more time, legs drawing up again under the wracking delight and my modest man groans and pants the filthiest appreciations, for taking him, slippery beautiful thing, tightest little cunt, could spend all my days in you, milk me, that’s it milk me sweetheart, you like it when I make you?

What he babbles to me as he spurts is never something later to be answered, it is gibberish and rhetorical and yet I believe every word, treasure them when he rolls off and pants beside me, I will rehearse them in my mind when he is gone to work. I know this last set will have me ready down to my thighs long before five o’clock.

In the cold night air his hands are soothing the damage his forceful want has done, petting my trembling flank down like a horse after a race, it gives me zapping little after-quakes that make him hum into our kisses as his warm palm feels me twitch and clench and melt.

We should go inside soon -we both mumble it at the same time and barely have energy to laugh over it. We stay on the tablecloth, grass texturing our backs, his only movements are to roll me closer to him, pulling my gaping dress with me, and plucking a white starry blossom for behind my ear. After he has placed it he drops his head again, pillowed on my upper arm and I can feel his breath even out across my throat.

My mother did not tell me of this. I have asked others in the most discreet way I can summon, but they all just say they hope I’ll be happy, they’re sure I’ll be happy, he seems to make me happy, they themselves are happy.

It is likely only myself at fault, but now I think of happiness as a very desperate thing, tentative and elusive and ever watchful. I did not expect to find its most distilled essence in quiet things. There is nothing more to write as our happiness did indeed persist after we woke and rose and went to shower, chilly from our exposure, it went on after we had wrapped ourselves under the bedding and clutched at each other like twins. But what is there to relate of such happiness? It has no great drama, it is not so very vigilant unless it is to actively prevent sadness, and even that is welcome here when it must be passing by. Perhaps the poets, or the preachers, or my wise boy would tell me it’s joy I feel. Maybe that was what I was looking for all this time.

Maybe that is what feels so foreignly precious about lying on a blanket with his spend cooling between my legs, our shrubs like loyal sentinels dotting the fence line and my man gently snoring atop me after having created a life sworn to himself when he thought he might die. It is sobering to be integral to that dream, but it is also peaceful.

It is joy, I suppose. Or a sort of Garden Variety Happiness.

Here’s my widdle Brady Taglist, thanks to each of you for expressing such interest and always showing such love. This was a bit of a weird passion project and I’ve got no idea if it actually “worked” but it was the branching out my creative brain needed. So many of y’all are already nailing this Man so well, 🤨😏 I’ve been such a happy recipient of all yalls works. Scream at me. Lemme know. Xoxo

@luminouslywriting

@ktredshoes

@archival-hogwash

@gigisimsonmars

@steph-speaks

@ab4eva

@lilfreebee

@slowsweetlove

@xxanaduwrites

@blurredcolour

@venus-planetof-love

@pearlparty

@winniemaywebber

@sagesolsticewrites

@ginabaker1666

#masters of the air #mota #mota fanfic #mota imagine #mota spoilers #john brady x oc #john brady x reader #John Brady #John Brady imagine #mota smut #mota x reader #ladies who brady

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devilishchaos · 9 months

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THE { } AND | Rúben Dias Imagine

Rating / genre: interview?, conversation

Pairings: Reader x Rúben Dias

Summary: Y/N and Rúben play a card game and answer questions about each other. Basically admiration to one another.

Warnings: not really an Imagine; first pov; mention of death; it's fluff I think, like it's soft and brings Y/N and Rúben together idk I'm trying something new

Word Count: 1 475 words

This is a work of fiction. The story, names, characters and incidents either are product or the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Walking into the room I admired the set that the crew had put together. I went around the table that was in the middle and sat down in a chair on the left, while Rúben sat beside me in a different chair, to my right.

“You ready?” he asked me after we were mic'd up and ready to go, then grabbed my hand, knowing that I get nervous when someone is filming me. Although I knew what I was getting myself into when we decided that we were going to start dating. I mean this kind of stuff comes with dating a celebrity right?

“Yeah.”

“Are you okay with doing this?”

“Rúben, I am here. If I wasn’t okay with any of this I wouldn’t be here, no?”

“Okay baby, let’s do this!” He smiles.

“Okay guys, you know the drill. Y/N will ask Rúben the questions off her cue cards, Rúben you will ask Y/N the questions off your cue cards and you have to answer the questions about the other person. We begin rolling in 3, 2, 1..” the director said and the cameras began rolling.

“Hello guys, it’s Rúben here. I am here with Y/N, my girlfriend..”

“Hello.”

“..and today we will be playing THE { } AND card game in this creative studio, exploring human emotion, intimacy and connection.” Rúben said and looked in my direction, which meant that it was time for my line.

I took a deep breath and just said it.

“Each one of us has their cue cards. Mine consist of questions for Rúben, Rúben’s cards consist of questions for me to answer. And we will be answering them in front of you guys. Who is going to start first?” I looked at Rúben and he suggested that I do.

“Okay. First question Rúbes. Describe the moment you realized you could trust me.” I read the question out loud and placed my card on the table.

“Okay, so..just when you were there for me, I mean, without me asking, without anything..just how much I could tell you loved me by the way you handled me when I didn’t know what was going on, what to do and which direction to take.” Rúben answered and here we were on the first question and there were tears in my eyes already. “There's that. My turn. What does my love feel like? ”

“Oh wow..” I was taken aback “..what does your love feel like? Hmm..your love is intense and hard..you love hard to the point where I’m like “Let me breathe.” but at the same time it’s so warm and..safe. It makes me relax. You know?” and he just nodded his head. “What is a pain in me you wish you could heal?”

“The loss of your grandfather..” the moment he said that sentence, it felt like the air had been sucked out of my lungs because he knows how I feel about that.

“I really do. But I know I never could heal it. What I want you to do is to heal it yourself, because no one can heal your pain..I know this was before my time. Before me and you got together, so I can’t tell you he died of his sickness nor that he wasn’t murdered by accident..but baby there’s nothing that you could have done to help him, you’ve seen his state..” Rúben stopped for a second and reached for my face to wipe a couple of tears because by now the tears were falling freely. Then he continued

“I don't think anybody comes back from losing someone that they love deeply. But if I could, I'll take that pain away. I'll take your pain because I can deal with that pain. You understand what I’m saying? Because you already know how I deal with hurt. I don't let it kill me because I think that's what you're supposed to do. You're supposed to take your lessons, whether it’s good or bad, whether it’s a loss or a gain. You just gotta take it and learn how to live with it, because that's yours and it's never going to go away. But I just want you to learn how to live with that wound without letting it consume you.”

And with that I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding and started fanning my face a bit. God, I was probably red as a tomato in the face.

“You good? Should we continue?” Rúben asked me with concern.

“Yeah, yeah..I’m good. Ask me.” I gave him a smile.

“When do you feel closest to me?”

“When we cuddle.” I let out a giggle “I mean it’s a specific type of a cuddle. So like during the day if we cuddle it’s usually on the couch or on a chair outside in the garden. And most of the time it’s you laying down and me attached to you like a koala or something, and I put my head on your chest and yeah. I love that. But I feel closest to you at night or after a hard time that I was going through, with work or uni, when we spoon..and I am the little spoon..and I just I don’t know what is it but my head fits perfectly on your shoulder and it’s so comfy..you embrace me with both hands and your head is really close to mine..it’s the best, honestly.”

“Really? I didn’t know that. We should do it more often.”

“Yes. So Rúben, how am I most like you and how does that scare you? What a great question.”

“It’s very simple. You are indefatigably honest. You reek of integrity and that scares me I guess, because that’s a holy grail for me. I can’t stand the emotional cowardness that people showcase these days.”

“The same goes to you, babe.”

“Okay. Y/N. When do you worry about me the most?”

“Well, when you’re being too harsh on yourself. When you’re struggling or going through a hard time with work, family or me. Makes me feel helpless..and on that note it’s going to sound cliche but also when you go on the pitch. I feel like that implies to everybody who has such dynamic jobs. But like it’s not you who I am concerned about..well it’s you but what I mean is you are probably the most diplomatic person that I know. And I know you, and I know you would never start shit first. You know what I mean? It’s the other players that I don’t trust, because I’ve seen horrific things happen out there. You are usually the first one to try to stop a fight or whatever, but I am afraid that someone would purposefully hurt you or injure you, or try to provoke you. These thoughts alone make me anxious. I sometimes can't wait to hear the final whistle, no matter if you're losing or winning, if there are more than five yellow cards given - I'm on the edge the whole time and I want it to be over with..Well would you look at this Rú, last question. When do you think I need you most and are you there?”

“A tough one. Hmm..I think you need me most when you are not feeling well. Mentally, emotionally and physically. I think I am there. I feel like I am there, If I can be there I am. And even if I almost can’t be there, I find a way to be there with you. Through whatever it is that you're going through. And it’s hard because you require alone time. And I respect that and I give it to you, well I try to but I know you..you'll most likely overthink everything and knowing that you are restless and in distress makes me go crazy..Now, your last question Y/N. When are you the most in love with me?”

“Oh my God..when you are surrounded by family and friends. Doesn’t matter if your parents come to visit us in Manchester or we go to Portugal. That’s when you are completely relaxing. As I said before, you are very intense, passionate, responsible, serious and just about your business in your day-to-day lifestyle. You are on the edge 24/7 trying to do your best everyday and seeing you with your family absolutely melts me. You get more soft, you get to chill and rest, loosen up a bit, and let go of any negative energy. Recharge your batteries, you know what I’m saying.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, Rúben.”

“Well, there you go guys. This was me and my lovely girlfriend answering these great questions that I feel like brought us closer to one another. Hope you enjoyed it, we sure did. And I guess I will see you soon. Have a great day. Bye, guys.”

#ruben dias #ruben gato dias #ruben dias fic #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias imagines #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias x you #ruben dias x y/n #ruben dias fluff

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madame-fear · 1 month

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Okay, so. Yesterday I received a rather extent anon message blaming me for, apparently, “not being neutral in the drama” because I’m mutuals with someone that had little involvement in the situation I think, and as I found out today, my mutual already clarified things and apologised.

I left my answer to the ask in the drafts, but today I opted to ignore the message and remove the drafted answer. I did this not only because I wanted to drop things already and not stir up any more shit, but also because I have a condition where I constantly tremble, and any extreme emotion — whether it’s good or bad — makes my shaking worsen to the point I can barely function even for basic things and I feel sick in the stomach.

It wasn’t worth going through that. I thought it would be better to answer ask messages of people ranting, or asking things about it that were within the reach of my knowledge.

Until today, that a burner account named @/quillantrophy (which, they accidentally exposed their real account @/wewereforever in one of their screenshots and now they both deactivated), thought they could do a “call out” post... Posting my answers to anon asks & basically treating me as a hypocrite over nothing?

And they said I should explain things because since I wasn’t commenting on anything they said on the post, I was “adding fuel to the fire” (that exact quote). I didn’t have time to explain things at the moment, but I do now and I will answer bit by bit. I will do this just to avoid possible misunderstandings.

I want to clarify that I don’t feel comfortable getting involved in things that I’ve never been involved in— and if I receive more messages about the drama itself, those messages will be deleted. I feel kind of bad about this since people have only been coming to my ask box asking thing about it confuses, or seeking comfort from the moment, but like we’ve been saying, it’s better to drop things already, and focus on the good things inside the fandom.

The answer to the post is below the cut. It’s going to be long, sorry, but I prefer to clear any misunderstandings. And I will highlight something extremely important down below, besides apologising deeply for any misunderstanding. And this is the last time I will be talking about it

“there’s no issue with this, but she claims to be neutral and is currently explaining/advocating on the situation whilst adopting this stance.” I am neutral on the situation. I will eternally remain neutral because as we’ve seen, neither side is good.

As I’ve said before, Cal had little to do with all of this huge mess. From what I learned today, she already clarified and apologised about the situation. Cal was dragged through the mud by both of the groups out of nowhere, and she also fell for their shit so she was fooled by them just like lots of other people— she told me herself.

“This is bullshit, there’s no transparency” huh? what does that even mean,, I just… Literally don’t have any involvement at all? What can I say or do about it? Both groups of people were already on my blocklist since last year lmao.

“She has connection to the drama purely through this even as she apparently didn’t participate — allegedly.” I’m sorry but the allegedly part is killing me too. I wasn’t even on their Discord groups, nor talked to any of the people involved, explain why the word ‘allegedly’ was even added?

also, how the hell am I supposed to be connected to the drama if, as you said, I didn’t even participate in it, only because I’m mutuals with someone who was named in it? What kind of sense does that make?

As I stated above, I am, and always have been a neutral onlooker about the situation, who explained the situation to the confused people, even posting the links with the full info and proof to not spread incorrect information accidentally.

“Does @bucknastysbabe even know or care you’re slamming her on main and then love bombing her the next?” Cal knows about all your post, and all my answers to each ask regarding the situation.

She knows I hadn’t seen her apology/clarifying video until today. She even cheered me up when I had an anxiety attack after this person made this post, only to then delete it and deactivate the account. So, yes, she knows pretty much everything and she knows it was a mere mistake of mine.

Then, the person posted this. I will show the screenshots of what they said, and what answered ask they were referring to using their own SS.

(sorry if the screenshot pics are switched of their right places) I had no idea that was a direct quote from Cal’s apology video, because I OBVIOUSLY HADN’T SEEN IT. I don’t know how else to stress this, but I’m not chronically online, and neither I see everything my mutuals post.

Either way, I literally re-read my own response to check what I had answered, and this was terribly misunderstood. The only response I had about Cal’s statement was “why am I not surprised?”, and in the rest of my response, I tried to be as neutral as possible— in the rest of my response, I was referring to the general situation of the drama, and in fact I was mostly referring to the things Bel, Fae, Em and Ange said + did.

But nothing else, thats it, because I wanted to speak about the situation in general and I was referring to the group of people— I didn’t name names and neither I referenced Cal’s statement any further. I deeply apologise for the misunderstanding, but sometimes I explain myself awfully mostly because English isn’t my native language.

if this was considered with any possible ill intention at all, I offer once again my most sincere apologies. I never had any bad intention, and the only thing I’ve been doing was answer the asks of the people who came to my ask box inquiring about what had happened, try to offer comfort to those who felt disappointed and heartbroken, and in general just try to provide as much positivity as I could amidst the terrible situation.

Some believe I was trying to gain attention from the situation, and that I was stroking the flames of the drama. I at no cost even thought of ‘getting attention’ from it, or that I was actually getting attention, I simply answered the messages I was receiving to interact with my own followers— I mean, it didn’t feel good to leave them hanging.

I do have to take responsibility that perhaps my actions continued to keep the drama up, but again, I never had this intention, and I’m terribly sorry if that’s what my answers and interactions caused.

Please I do hope you guys understand my point of view, and that I never intended for any of this to be understood in the wrong manner. I have to admit that despite all the lovely people and fun moments I had/have in the fandom, it’s also responsible for worsening my condition the 90% of the times due to the unnecessary drama, and this situation today made me feel extremely bad physically as it automatically involved me in a situation I didn’t want to be involved in, nor have anything to do with it.

And that’s why, from now on, I won’t be answering any message related to the drama anymore to not keep mentioning the things that happened. As I said all the way above, we should currently be focusing only on the good, positive things of the fandom— and hopefully, we will all learn to not be rude or gossip about other people over mere fandoms, or fanfanfiction.

Then again, thank you for reading and understanding. If I expressed myself wrongly anywhere in here, please feel free to ask me about it and I will glady re-explain it. I hope this can clear everything, and please, I don’t want to be involved any further in anything.

#fandom rants #I hope this cleared everything out. I am as polite and as clear as I can be about the situation.#important #✧.* amiraverse #hotd drama

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angelskills · 9 months

Text

Toji x F!reader

warning : angst, p/wp, 18+, smut, virgin/sensitive reader

meanings: Y/N : your name, E/C : eye color

authors: me & my bff

trigger warning: abuse, breakdown, fights

note: this is my first fan-fiction, so please let me know what I should change or work on. Please be honest.

PART 1 (scroll down for smut with the header 18+)

You wanted to feel something again. Other than sadness, disgust, anger. You never knew how to deal with your emotions. Nor how to express them.

Your family was nothing but emotional damage to you. You are the oldest, with a younger brother. Parents who always argue with each other, and you being left with your younger brother to comfort.

You had to take care of your family alone. Cook, clean, serve. You name it. But one thing, you were perfect. Your personality, your loyalty, your looks. Same thing over and over.

Little did you know it would only bring you misfortune.

Your family was struggling financially. And with you being the most perfect human being, they had decided to sell you off to the Kamo clan.

“Y/N, you gotta understand. We need money and-" your mom says.

"Is that a fucking excuse, mother?" you interrupt.

Those memories flash back to you as you run away from the clan, remembering the trauma they left you. You hated them. They treated you like a dog. Slapping you whenever you got the slightest thing wrong. Threatening to leave you in the streets. You barely felt happiness. But, your friend, Yumi. She worked as a maid with you but as the idea of running away came out of your mouth, she immediately refused. Not giving into the risks of getting caught. You had tried convincing but she had said her farewell. You were starved if you did not behave. Even if you behaved and somehow bothered somebody, they would do unspeakable things. But, there was always this guy who would stand out. He used weapons, which you are not supposed to use if you are a sorcerer. Well, you had always thought he was one.

You run and run and run. Of course, barefoot. You can't run with zoris (shoes worn with a kimono). Leaving scars, and cuts on your foot. Tripping about a 100 times. You were glad that you managed to get out. But, what now? You had tripped again, bruising your knee unable to get up. You felt dizzy, the trauma, leaving your friend behind, starvation. Your tears fell on the ground. Crying for a little luck.

At the end, you passed out.

You wake up on a queen-sized bed. Holy shit, it was so comfortable and soft. Who knows when you last slept on an actual bed, let alone a queen-sized bed.

But wait hold on, who's house is this? Where are you? You had tried to get up but your knees hold you back. Damn, you were hurt bad. On top of that, you felt dizzy, you had a cold too?! Maybe running away while it was raining wasn't really a good idea. Anyways, a man walks in the room. God damn, he was attractive. Huge, and muscles. And obviously, tall. He had a scar beside his lips. Wearing a robe and wet hair. Wait a minute.

"TOJI ZEN'IN?!" you yell, scared as fuck. You thought he was basically going to kill you. He looks at you funny. You were glaring at him, backing up with your blanket about to cry.

"It's Fushiguro now, are you dumb?" he said, walking up to you.

"Why am I here?!" you asked, absolutely creeped out by Toji.

"Uh.. maybe because you were on the ground? Passed out? I can always just throw you out in the streets, you know?"

Your eyes widen and sudden memories of the threats the Kamo clan left you with started poping up in your mind. Not to mention they had actually done that to you.

His phone starts ringing, "Wait, gotta take this." he said attempting to walk away. Your hands squeezed his robe not letting him go, "I'm sorry." you said as tears started flooding your eyes. Rubbing your head, he walked away. After he exited the room, you got so embarrassed because you had such an unnecessary reaction. You got up carefully and walked out of the room. You saw Toji on the balcony talking some nonsense. The apartment was clean. But luxurious.

Toji walked up to you, "Wtf was that about?"

"I don't know. Your apartment is so pretty though." You said. Trying not to bust out crying and beg for help. You wanted to open up, but you didn't want pity.

"Okay, enough chitchatting. You need to go." He said.

"I have nowhere to go. Plus." You spread your arms trying to hint at your dirty clothes.

"What? You want a hug or somethin'?" He said, trying to hold in a laugh.

"Ugh, no! I'm talking about my clothes" You yelled.

He finally understood you and gave you a T-shirt and grey sweatpants, which, of course, was really baggy. At least, it was comfy tho!

"Do you have a bathroom?" You asked.

"No, I piss in the bushes." He said angrily.

You got mad at him. He pointed you to the bathroom. You struggled to walk but made it just fine. After you showered and changed, you saw Toji eating in front of the TV. Holy shit, this is really the modern world.

You sat beside him, "So... what do you do for a living?"

He looks at you up and down, "Get rid of people like you."

You looked at him mortified but also in confusion, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Never mind."

You were still confused. What does he mean by "People like you"?

Toji's phone started ringing, "I have to go now, you can leave or stay. I don't care." He got up to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"Nunya"

"What's Nunya?"

"Nunya business" he said leaving the apartment.

Of course, you were mad. But, you knew you had to get out of here. You started looking around the rooms to gather stuff you will need. You took a bag and stuffed food, water, clothes and came across a safe. You knew what you had to do. You looked around the room the safe was in and luckily found a screwdriver. You started unscrewing the hinges. Holy shit, that man was rich. You thought to yourself in shock, "What the hell does he do for a living to have this much cash lying around?" You took about ¥1.5 million. Your leg was still hurting but you had to go. You left the apartment and you were looking for directions to a nearby hotel. You asked some local people for directions.

You got to the hotel. And you were just planning on staying there until you have somewhere to stay. It was nighttime already and you were tired. You went to your room 101 and damn, it looks so luxurious. Well, this is what ¥4,500 gets you. You jumped on your bed, feeling the pain in your back slowly drift away. You were tired. But, at least you have some money to get you going for now. As you were just about to fall asleep, you heard noises from next door. Damn, they were loud. They were having a bit TOO much fun. You were fed up with it and knocked on the door of the room next to yours. A girl opened the door after a while, "What do you need?", having a blanket covering.

"Nothing but uh can you guys be more quiet. I can hear you from next door-" You got interrupted. You saw Toji show up behind the girl as he was putting on his shirt, "What's going o-"

He saw you. Your heart dropped to your stomach but you were also in shock.

"One second, I'll be right back." He said to the girl as he left the room. You attempted to back up to your room and close the door on him. You turned around and suddenly heard him push the door open. He grabbed your arm to make you face him, "What the fuck are you doing here?" He was mad. "I left, duh. I should be asking you that" you replied, looking at him directly into the eyes. "Why do you have all my stuff? On top of that, my clothes?! Wait a minute, how did you even pay for this hotel room?" You looked down, scared of what he might do. He noticed the bag of money on your bed, "Okay, I'll be taking this" as he grabbed the bag from the bed and tried to walk out. You attempted to catch up to him, "Wait wait, I don't want any trouble" You tried to grab his arm. He then swiftly grabbed both your wrists at once and pushed you against the wall, pulling his head closer to yours. Your heart was beating so fast that you might have actually passed out. "Don't mess with my shit." He looked into your eyes. You felt like he was controlling you with his eyes. "I'll be taking my money now, I expect you to return all of my things tomorrow things. If you don't show up, I'll find you." He left the room and you dropped immediately to the floor. What's going on? You were in shock but you weren't complaining either. But you hated to admit you couldn't help but feel yourself blushing a little.

You went to bed trying so hard not to think about him. But more than that, you were worried about the money. You didn't know where to go and staying in his apartment would just be weird and awkward. Even if you wanted to run away, you wouldn't have anything. You thought to yourself, maybe going back to Toji's place and try to convince him to help you out a little bit.

The next morning, you got up but left Toji's stuff in the hotel room. You went back to Toji's place and knocked on his door.

"Where's my stuff?" he said.

"Okay, Toji listen. I'm in a very difficult place right now and you seem to have a lot of money and I know you can spare a little bit. Especially since you helped me that one night." you begged him, "Please, I just need help right now."

You were the type of person who never asked for help, but this time you actually needed it.

He stared at you with a blank expression. "Please..."

"And what will I get in return for doing all of this for you?"

"What? Why do I need to do anything?" You said, in confusin.

"Alright then, you can leave." he said as he was about to close the door on you.

"WAIT I can... be a really good maid! I swear, I'm really good at cooking, cleaning, laundry, anything!! You name it!!"

"Anything?" He said, kneeling a bit down to get closer to your face, smirking.

"Yeah anything... as long as it pays." You jump in surprise.

A while later...

You didn't know how it got to this point. From Toji saving you to begging him for help to you squirming on his lap with your pussy spread by his two thick, long fingers. Oh, he loved to torture tf out of you. His fingers hit your sweet spot every single time, making you whimper. You wanted more. No, you needed it. Hiding your face in his neck trying to quiet down.

"Damn, you're sensitive." he whispered in your ears.

He slid in one more finger, making you moan in pain but also pleasure. You were dripping. The slick sounds that were made by Toji as he kept abusing your cunt. Hugging, gripping onto his neck, scratching, almost bruising it from the pleasure. "Hngh- T-toji- please." Meanwhile, he had his face buried between your tits. Sucking and kissing your nipples. Not being able to take it, you came all over his fingers

With the other hand, Toji pushed his underwear off and tossed it to the other side. You were surprised, just seeing his cock made your pussy clench around his fingers. He took his fingers out and slid It in your mouth, making you suck his fingers, "Good girl." As you were distracted, he swiped his head between your swollen lips. You yelped in pain, your sloppy hole clenched around his cock, "W-wait, i-i don't think- aanghh! it'll f-fit"

"It will." He groaned, grabbing you by your waist and pulling you down onto his cock as he laid back. At this point, you were a mess. You were drooling, moaning your life out, only being able to scream Toji's name. You were that sensitive.

"T-toji! Hngh- aahh!! p-please more!!" You moaned, but it seemed like Toji was struggling too. You clenched so well around him, so tight and he absolutely loved it, “H-holy shit, fuckfuckfuck.” You couldn't take it anymore, it was so much. Being fucked by Toji Zen'in? Damn, you were lucky. You grabbed him by the neck and pulled him into a kiss. Pulling out from the kiss to catch your breath.

You felt your orgasm coming again, being sensitive still from the last time. Toji chose not to be cruel this time and abuse your cunt even more.

Your hands clenched on his chest. Your legs were shaking but you loved it.

Next Morning...

You woke up on Toji's bed, your back hurting from last night. But, Toji had already left the apartment. Toji had told you before that there were bandages in the closet for your feet. After you put bandages on your feet, you noticed that you guys are out of milk and eggs so you decided to go out for groceries.

You left the apartment and started to walk, you saw Toji and his eyes swidened at you, "Y/N, go back to the apartment, Wtf are you doing??"

"I'm getting groceries. Cuz your fridge is empty. Unless you want to starve." You spit out.

"I don't give a fuck, Y/N." He said, "I'll starve, just go back."

"Too bad, I don't want to starve and you can't control me." You said, about to walk away.

He grabbed you by your wrist, "Well last I heard you’re my maid and I’m the one paying you so maybe just do what I ask you" and pushes you into the alley way aggressively. Pinning you onto the wall as he covered your mouth with his palm, "Don't speak."

You peeked your head a little bit, fighting against Toji's palm(you had to put in A LOT of effort) and recognizing one of the Kamo Clan's guards. You immediately pushed your head back on the wall, in a state of panic. You were scared that you would get dragged back to the clan, as tears flooded your eyes.

Toji put his hands firmly on your waist, pulling you closer to him. But, at this point, you were crying quietly. He wiped your tears, "Stop crying..." He felt awkward. You tried not to burst out crying even more, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

Toji looked out to see if there were any guards, "Okay, let's go back to the apartment" he said as he grabbed your arm.

You got back and he made you sit on the couch. He offered you water and made you some fish cakes, "Are you okay now?"

He sat next to you. You struggled to speak, "Why are you being nice to me all of a sudden?"

"I dunno... I felt bad." He said as his mouth was filled with the food, "Do you want some space?"

You nodded and he led you to his room, and he sat in front of the TV, watching his favorite drama.

After a while, he knocked on the door, "You good now?" as he opened the door, "Yeah, I'm fine now.. thank you" You smiled lightly. You attempted to get up but from last night and the cuts on your feet, you tripped, falling on Toji's chest. He caught you but it's like yours and his eyes were locked. You grabbed him by his neck to pull him into a kiss. He picked you up as your legs wrapped around his waist. Passionately giving him kisses.

As he had you against the wall, he started taking your panties off, putting your leg on his shoulder. He slid in two of his fingers in your hole at once stretching you out, making you yelp in pleasure. You tried your best to hold in your moans, clinging onto his neck and legit scratching it as he abused your sweet spot.

"We went through this last night, Y/N." He groaned.

Hearing him say your name made your pussy clench around his fingers even more, bringing you close to your orgasm. "T-toji- I'm c-close"

Well, this time, he decided to be cruel!

As you were so so so close, he pulled out his fingers, not letting you feel the satisfaction. You whined at the loss of his fingers, "Not yet."

He took off his underwear and threw it somewhere, who cares? "to-o oh,! fast!" You whimpered in the sudden spark of pain and pleasure. You felt his cock entering your hole as he grabbed your waist to push you down, "C'mon, you can take this, like you did last night." He wasn't even fully in and your pussy was already dripping. He moved his hands on the sensitive part of your cunt, already learning your body. He pushed his cock further in, "T-toji- hngh- can't take it when you go too fast-"

"Isn't this what you want?" He smirked at you, rubbing his hands on your cunt, coating his hands with your juice. He started rubbing his cock at the sponge area in your pussy, making him groan, "aah- fuck.."

"Oh- ah- fuck toji! i'm g-gonna cum- i-it feels s-so damn good- aah"

Your pussy clenched around his cock so well, making him groan. He pulled you into a kiss as you coated his cock with your orgasm.

#jjk #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #fushiguro toji #jujutsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen #jjk toji #smut

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ikuzeminna · 1 year

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In my previous post I talked about the women of Gundam Wing not being treated as awards or reasons for man pain for the guys and I’m actually a little surprised that no one so far called me out on Meilan because at first glance, she falls right into that category. Because her death is specifically there to motivate Wufei and do nothing else. No one else knows about her, her death doesn’t affect anyone or anything else.

Except for her grandma who is apparently still so grief-stricken she blows up her entire colony. Thanks for more trauma, Master Long.

But I guess I’m gonna call myself out here then and derail this into a meta about Meilan’s portrayal actually being male-coded. Apparently I’m also gonna make up words while doing so lol

What do I mean? Let’s first clear up what I meant when I said the Wing women aren’t used for man pain. Man pain is quite an umbrella term that’s supposed to describe any instance of the narrative portraying a male’s emotional pain be of a higher magnitude than anyone else’s within his story. Especially women’s.

In my post I was referring to the very specific case where a woman’s suffering is stripped from her narratively and made exclusively a guy’s problem, to the point it only exists if it’s in relation to him. Think Gwen Stacy’s death affecting Spiderman or 2009‘s Spock’s mom dying or Aang burning Katara and then moping about never firebending again, necessitating her comforting him about his (accidental) assault on her. messed up doesn’t even begin to cover that last one The girl with the puppy is actually an example of this in Wing because her death only exists to make Heero feel bad. She isn't even given a name. The most classic example really is a guy’s mom dying though and him being forever sad about it. It’s the easy way for the writer to give his manly man something to cry over without making him a wimp. Otherwise Kira from Gundam Seed would be more popular.

But when we get asked to name a famous fictional death, I think most people will pick Mufasa, the prime example ever of a death affecting the audience. And it makes sense. Because not only was Mufasa a good parent, who sacrificed his life to save his son, Simba’s entire hero’s journey is basically living up to his father’s example. It's what drives the story.

And that’s the difference between men and women dying in fiction, especially parents. If a mother dies, it’s something to be sad over (i.e. Spock). If a father dies, it’s a legacy to uphold (i.e. Kirk). Simba is never worried about living up to Sarabi’s expectations. Hiccup spends three movies trying not to shame his father. Katniss won’t shut up about what a great person her dad was even though her mom is right there, being the medic for her entire district, but never being worth emulating in any way.

The same goes if it’s just a friend. A female friend’s death is a devastating event, a male friend’s death is a call to not let his sacrifice be in vain.

Which brings us back to Meilan. Meilan may have been written as just a device to give Wufei a tragic backstory, which lands her squarely in man pain territory, but narratively she is the same category as Mufasa, influencing Wufei to the degree he changes his entire way of life to live up to her memory and hold himself accountable during the series when he fails to do so, which yanks her right out of it again.

Besides, Wufei never goes around openly mourning her death. It’s hidden in aggressiveness and weird sexism towards Noin and his odd reverence of his Gundam. I love that it was supposed to be a secret that would have been revealed at the middle of the series, just like everyone else’s backstories, had the schedule not been crazy, giving us the recap episodes instead. Alas...

But this is one of the reasons I love Gundam Wing so much. The colony leader Heero Yuy and the late King Peacecraft may be revered figures within its universe, but by the end of the series, and definitely by EW, the person the entire galaxy admires is Relena. A girl. Which is completely deserved for all the things she manages to pull off, mind you.

I love most that Heero admiring Relena also has a very personal aspect to it. He knows her. He knows how bullheaded she can be. She’s not an abstract to him, he’s intimately familiar with that Gundanium backbone of hers. That scene on Libra where they keep throwing compliments at each other is great. Relena tries to transfer her accomplishments to Heero, playing into narrative tradition of gender roles here where the guy always gets all the glory, no matter how competent the girl may have been (glaring at you here, Hiccup and Astrid >_>) and Heero, the show’s male protagonist, bounces it right back, telling her he is nothing compared to her, landing a sweet blow to narrative sexism.

Gundam Wing is a weird little show where I don’t know if one could call it feminist considering how every woman is assigned to a man, with Treize and Zechs and Duo and Wufei standing above their female counterparts due to their strength or lineage or because they’re the series’ Char clone, but within the roles it assigned to everyone, it does a wonderful job of not being sexist about them. Une is portrayed as more competent than Treize, who is more of an opportunist. Zechs outright says Noin is better than him. Wufei won’t shut up about Nataku and what a failure he is. It's like the show apologizes for being Gundam and made in the 90s, explaining why the pilots and big bads all have to be male, but they'll make the female characters as cool as they can to make up for it. Here, have some Sally and Noin being a badass duo or Relena and Dorothy carrying the philosophical debate during the Cinq arc.

....Except Hilde. I got nothing here because her and Duo are classic gender roles to a T, haha. But at least Duo is not being a jerk about it, which is more than can be said about most fictional guys trying to dictate a female’s actions. Duo lets Hilde make her own decisions.

#Duo is a gentleman #and epic #it still stinks that there couldn't be more to Meilan #but I'll give it a pass since 98% of Wufei's actions are based on her #gundam wing #gender roles #long meilan #chang wufei #duo maxwell #relena peacecraft #heero yuy #I don't wanna tag everyone I mentioned #that'd be 6 different fandoms #nah

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ruenii · 1 year

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Tim gets hit by a huGE dose of cuddle pollen Ivy made, but she modified it to make the victim more...loopy, or lower their inhibitions. It basically makes them not give a shit and do what they ACTUALLY want, but the fluff version.

So since Tim deep, deep, deeeeeep down is a huge fuckin sap. (You can never, ever take away this headcanon from me.)

He pounces on someone (read: Duke) the second he wakes up in the medbay. And since the batfam doesn't know that Tim isn't a corny ass sap, they think it's the pollen doing it, but nope, Timmy is just very touch-starved and wants to share his affection.

THE CASE OF DUKE THOMAS:

Duke gets pounced on first (he's Tim's favorite) and gets a clingy leech whose arms and legs are wrapped around his body very tightly and is also nuzzling the crook of his neck.

He's also trying very hard to control the blush on his face when Tim praises him, whether it be from training, school, or his personal achievements. Even if Tim constantly praises him when he wasn't dosed, he still couldn't get used to the sheer support.

The boy just huffs and carries Tim like a teddy bear, and the others are just watching silently at the display. (Dick seething in the bg but lets ignore that–)

THE CASE OF CASSANDRA CAIN:

Cass is the second, she doesn't dodge as Tim pounces on her back, his arms tucked around her head and legs wrapped around her neck.

Tim tells her how he's so glad that he's her sister and how he loves her very much, and would actually commit genocide for her—

And Cass just smiles cutely and pats him on the thigh, and continues to walk to the library, with Tim still on her shoulders, who is still complimenting and praising Cass, and also still wanting to commit war crimes for her.

THE CASE OF JASON TODD:

The third one is Jason, it's a slow night, nothing's really happening, just some regular drug busts, gang fights, and burglars, but other than that, everything's just very relaxed. Well, as relaxed as Gotham can get.

It's during this patrol when Tim slowly comes up beside him and intertwines their hands together, careful and gentle, because he knows Jason is still kind of uncomfortable to touch, not so much now, but it's still there, but he's working on it bit by bit.

Of course, Jason knows Tim knows about his fear of touch, I mean he'd be pretty surprised if he didn't, but he doesn't mind that Tim doesn't force Jason to hug or cuddle him vigorously, but does it in a subtler, gentle way.

Jason huffs and squeezes Tim's hand as thanks. Tim grins and squeezes back. They share a comfortable silence as they walk to a nearby cafe.

THE CASE OF STEPHANIE BROWN:

The fourth is Stephanie, and since they're exes-turned-to-best friends, and very cuddly, she wasn't that surprised but was more excited that this Tim doesn't hold back on the mushiness of it all.

They have a competition to see who can call the other the most cringiest, corny names that they can think of.

(Spoiler: (haha spoiler) Steph's in the lead)

The fact that Tim was hit by the pollen didn't change anything drastic to their dynamic, it sort of just, well, evolved it, they're still the cuddliest of buddies. And if they get more cringier and exhausting to the rest of the batfam? Well, it's their problem now.

THE CASE OF DICK GRAYSON:

The fifth is Dick, who is still very bitter that Tim didn't hug him first-

("But...bUT I WAS HIS BIG BROTHER FIRST– WHAT DO YOU HAVE THAT I DON'T?!–"

"Uhhh...respecting his boundaries? being normal and not overbearing or being allergic to emotions? just being a friend to him in general to be honest-"

"..." )

And was also very relieved that he wasn't seriously hurt.

He's at the living room watching some random Rom-Com when Tim appears and stands closely to the couch Dick was on, curious about the movie as well.

Dick doesn't get a chance to say anything until something hits his chest. And when he looked down to see what it was, he almost cried from joy.

Tim was hugging him!! He was hugging him!! HA TAKE THAT DUKE–

Dick adjusted their position so that they're more comfortable, Tim's legs were on his thighs and his head was leaning on his shoulder.

Tim didn't really seem to mind as he was manhandled, but squirmed a little bit when Dick hugged him too hard.

Dick's just happy to see his little brother showing affection first!! He's come a long way. He says dramatically as he wipes a fake tear out of his eye.

THE CASE OF DAMIAN WAYNE:

The Sixth one is Damian, he was unnerved to see Tim being openly affectionate to the family, as he was used to seeing him being sarcastic and reserved, but not this... Grayson 2.0 clone.

(and also because he's a little, a tiny, bit offended that he wasn't the one who he hugged and looked for first. I mean, hello, Timothy? I am the youngest?? We trauma bonded?? I cradled you in my arms?? I'm Robin???)

But he was forced to accept this new Timothy. This new Timothy who gave him head pats for a good job, who scooped him in his arms in the morning when he's too tired to notice everything, who sets him on his lap and watches Animal Documentaries when he feels like Damian is too angry or is having a tantrum.

This new Timothy treated him like how he would treat his own little brother. He doesn't force him to do something he doesn't want unless it's absolutely needed. Respects his personal space when Damian was not in the mood but shows how he cares about him in other ways.

And, and. . . .this Tim was just affected by the pollen. It was not real, he was just forced to do this because of some stupid, meaningless, pollen. He doesn't really love Damian, he's just hallucinating.

But Damian doesn't push Tim off of him when he carries him up the stairs like a toddler.

Or when he praises him on how much he grew as a person, how much he learned, how he's so glad that he's with them now and comfortable in his own home, how kind he is to animals, or when he softly leans down and kisses his forehead good night.

Maybe tomorrow. Damian thinks, as Tims soft voice sends him to sleep.

THE CASE OF BRUCE WAYNE:

The seventh, is obviously, Bruce.

He wasn't a perfect parent, that much he can say at least. He was a broken man, who couldn't deal with his emotions properly.

It's getting better now though, as he's been seeing Dinah Lance twice a month. It's not going to be easy to change things that have been engraved in his heart for a long time.

But if it's for his kids? Bruce would do it in a heartbeat.

Tim walks over to where Bruce is, perched over the Bat Computer, looking at evidence of another human trafficking ring that had yet to be found.

He can see Bruce's shoulders stiffen, his expression carefully blank, but his hands were gripping the console too hard.

Bruce hears Tim approaching him from behind. His brilliant, intelligent, and lovable Tim. He doesn't deserve him, hell, he doesn't deserve any of his children

He feels like he failed them, and he had yet to apologize to all of them, some more than others, but he's working on it together with Dinah.

He's shocked when he feels Tim hug him from behind, nuzzling his head into his back. Bruce, still unmoving decided to turn his head to look at Tim, who was drowsy as he just woke up from a nap and wanted to find Bruce. (His son, his beautiful, capable, strong son.)

"Tim? You should go to your room if you're still tired—"

"You'reee. . . doing your besttttt, Bruceee...I'm proud of youuu...!"

Tim keeps on complimenting him, and god does the guilt fucking eat him alive

Bruce is shaking, Tim can feel it, but he was so sleepy, so he has to say this before he has to go upstairs to his room and fall asleep.

"I love you."

And Tim passes out, his hands loosely falling from Bruce's waist, but he catches him just in time before he hits the floor.

Bruce picks him up in a bridal carry and leaves the Bat Cave. He stays silent for most of the trip until he arrives at Tim's room and tucks him into bed.

A lone tear slid down his face as he cupped Tim's cheek into his much, much bigger hands. Looking at his son with pure adoration.

"I love you too."

He kisses his forehead before he leaves the room and turns off the light. Wondering why his throat feels likes there's a lump inside of it all of a sudden.

----

THE CASE OF THE SIRENS:

When they finally get to Ivy, she just laughs at them, cackling even.

"You idiots! That pollen was to just make someone show how they really feel, the nicer kind, I mean."

She rests her chin on top of her hand.

"It was supposed to be a prototype but hey, at least we know it works now."

Ivy looks at them and their glares bore holes into her skull, too bad she doesn't care.

"It takes their nicest qualities and times them to a ten. So Tim?"

She points at Red Robin who's busy hugging Harvey and is being cooed at by Catwoman.

"Is just a soft guy at heart, it wasn't forced or something, the pollen just helped him amp up his confidence and makes him do what he always, truly, wanted."

Ivy turns her back on them and goes over to Harley and Catwoman, and Tim beams at her, Ivy gives a soft smile and pats his head.

THE CASE OF THE BATFAM:

Meanwhile...

"WHAT?!–"

"Oh, so you guys didn't know Tim was a huge sap?"

"NO??? HOW WERE WE SUPPOSED TO KNOW!!???"

"Being a normal person man, it gets you anywhere."

"Babybird's soft as fuck, and also very cuddly, you guys just don't have the privilege to hear or see it like normal lol."

"Todd, you have five seconds until I dismember you–"

"Oh please Dami, you're just embarrassed!"

"Very true. His ears are turning very red."

"I AM NOT BLUSHING! SHUT UP!"

Bruce is just there in the middle, staring out at nothing, the only thing on his mind is just Tim saying I love you to him, echoing every 5 seconds.

Tim is just on cloud nine, happy.

Loopy, but still very happy.

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sasusakucoded · 6 months

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"Karin! Karin! Help! Anyone? Please!!"

Sasuke? I hadn't heard his voice for a while.. Let alone calling out for my name like that. "I'm there! Wait, Sasuke!"

I met him at the entrance of the Southern Hideout. Orochimaru was rushing as well. Sasuke's voice was panicky. It made both of us nervous and worried.

"What is it?" I was surprised to see him. He was still as handsome as ever. His face was serious but unlike before, it was more of a look of concern. It took me a few seconds to notice that he was with someone. It was Sakura. She looked weak. I was too stunned to see them clinging on to each other like that. I knew they were traveling together but I didn't anticipate to feel this way. I still liked him, which was foolish by the way. But at that time, that was the only thought in my mind.

Since I was dumbfounded, Sasuke talked to Orochimaru instead. All I could think of was how he was holding her —so gentle, so kindly.. Everything I wanted from him.

Orochimaru led them to a room. I still didn't know what was happening. I just followed them. When Sasuke helped Sakura remove her cloak, only then that I realized she was pregnant. To say that I was so shocked was an understatement. Sakura nodded at me but I couldn't remember if I even responded back.

Sasuke left her there and I followed him.

"Y-You got her pregnant?" I asked. I was very emotional for some reason. I thought I stopped liking him but seeing him again made me remember our past moments.

"Who else?"

I didn't answer. I was bawling my eyes out but I managed to cry quietly. I didn't want to, to be honest, because I knew they had been together for a while.. But I couldn't help it.

"Karin.. Please help Sakura.. I'll do anything, just tell me what needs to be done."

Of course you will.. Anything for her, right?

"H-Have you heard of water birth?" Kusagakure, the village where I came from, was not advanced medically, but this was one thing that was practiced there.

"Water birth? What is that?"

"It's basically delivering the baby in a pool filled with warm water. It has benefits but of course there are risks too."

Sasuke thought for a moment. Just like in our missions before, he wanted it to be planned perfectly. He knew they had to be very careful.

"Can you ask Sakura while I talk to Orochimaru? Maybe she has an idea about it. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Without thinking, I rushed back to the room. Sakura smiled at me as soon as I entered. Why was she so nice? Why did she have that warm aura? We had no proper conversations before, but it felt like she was a long time friend. No wonder Sasuke liked her.

I sat beside her and asked her directly. "Do you happen to know what a water birth is?" I hated how I delivered my question. I sounded so cold and passive.

"Yes, I've heard of it.. Do you think we can do that here?"

"Yes. We don't have the equipment needed specifically for deliverng a baby, so I think water birth is the best option. That's a common practice in Kusa."

"Oh nice! So, that means you know how to do it.. We don't have that yet in Konoha.."

"I've seen a couple but haven't assisted anyone personally.. There are risks too but I think the benefits are higher in number."

We discussed for a bit. I told her everything that I know. I asked her again and she agreed. "Okay, I'll tell Sasuke that we need to prepare the pool." I was about to get up when she held and slightly pulled my arm.

"Thank you, Karin.." She smiled at me —that big happy genuine smile.

"I promise, you and the baby will be safe. You can count on me." I didn't expect those words to come out of my mouth but they did.

I went to Orochimaru's office and told them the plan. Sasuke and I prepared the pool. He opened a portal connected to a dimension full of hot springs. We took water from there. In no time, the pool was ready.

It was funny to see Sasuke being shy and worried at the same time. He was hesitant to assist Sakura at first. He thought he should stay out of the room because it was a woman's thing. But when he saw Sakura struggling, he made sure to be right by her side, holding her hand all the while.

I was focused on Sakura but I kept looking at Sasuke too. Was he crying? His eyes were red. Was he worried about Sakura? Was he scared that the baby— his baby wouldn't make it?

When we finally heard the little cries, Sakura and Sasuke were both very happy. I took the baby and cut its umbilical cord. "I'll preserve this!" I told them. They didn't seem to hear me. They were just giddy that both were safe and that the whole thing was finished.

"Sakura, can you stand up? You need to deliver the placenta."

She nodded. That was Sasuke's cue to help her as her legs were still wobbly. I gave him the baby and I assisted Sakura.

"I've prepared the towel and the clothes.. After this you can go out of the pool." I glanced at Sasuke. I had never seen him that happy. That time, I was sure he was crying.

"Sarada. Uchiha Sarada. Hello my love!"

Orochimaru knocked and entered the room. He didn't say a word. He was just observing of what was happening. "Karin!"

I went to him thinking he had orders.

"Hmm. I've never seen you smile like that before."

I was taken aback. I didn't even realize it. Indeed, I was very, very happy at that moment.

Maybe I got it all wrong. I really thought all I wanted was to see Sasuke smile at me.. But apparently, I– I just really wanted to see him smile.. Like a real happy smile. And that smile —he only showed it to Sakura. That moment, I finally understood.

I was busy with my thoughts when they called me. "Karin!!" I looked at them. Sakura was holding their baby. Sasuke's arm was around his little family. "Thank you!" Sakura added, "we will forever be indebted to you, Karin."

"No, I still owe you a lot Sakura." And that includes making that man happy.

#sasusaku #sasusaku headcanon #ss headcanon #from ask #ty anon #sscoded no 277

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spaceagebachelormann · 1 year

Note

Hi! Was wondering if I could request headcanons about what It'd be like to be best friends with either Percy Jackson or Leo Valdez? If possible gn or m reader, thank you!

BEING THEIR BEST FRIEND - PERCY JACKSON AND LEO VALDEZ

ੈ✩‧₊˚ FANDOM: riordanverse

ੈ✩‧₊˚ FORMAT: headcanon

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: swearing, angst because i can’t help myself, ttc spoilers, tlo spoilers, tlh spoilers, moa spoilers, hoh spoilers, boo spoilers, toa spoilers

masterlist || riordanverse masterlist || navigation

୨⎯ percy jackson⎯୧

oh my

so you guys probably met at camp half blood during his first year

he was NOT having a good day and you just came and sat beside him and started rambling about random shit

and he was like “okay….”

after that you randomly came up and started talking to eachother

and soon you were inseparable

you get invited on quests with him!!

they let you come as a 4th person for emotional support

he forces you to eat blue food

once you meet sally blue food is all you eat

speaking of sally she loves you

istg she’s atleast once referred to you as her other child

she’s really glad you came up to percy and started rambling about anything and everything because now he has lots of friends

do NOT blame yourself for what happened to bianca and zoë, even if it WAS your fault, or he will shove blue pancakes down your throat until you agree that it wasn’t your fault

also i have a headcanon that bianca and percy were best friends so you three have your own little trio until she dies

if you got hurt during the battle of manhattan (in the first series) my guy would be going insane

demanding to know what happened

anyway then he goes missing and now your going insane trying to figure out what happened

while he’s gone you become good friends with leo and come with them on their quest as a distraction to the fear you feel every minute of everyday of not knowing if your best friend is okay

when you guys find him you laugh while annabeth judo flips him

then judo flip him yourself

you and annabeth are a platonic power couple

BONUS 1:

Y/N, in a high voice, holding barbie: hey ken! I was thinking about going back to school and starting a career!

Percy, in a deep voice, holding ken: nonsense, barbie. you’re staying home and having my kids

Annabeth: what the fuck are you guys doing?

Y/N: playing systemic oppression

i feel like if you’re part of the 7 he’d be a bit annoyed because he knows being part of a prophecy like that means you’re gonna get hurt a lot

but like he can’t stop you from coming along because you’re in a prophecy

it’s impossible (probably)

THE SLEEPLESS NIGHTS WHEN HE FALLS INTO TARTARUS WITH ANNABETH

YOUR BSF COULD BE DEAD

HOW ARE YOU EXPECTED NOT TO PANIC

when they get out okay you and him go for like a night in the city to catch up cause you’ve both been busy

it was… chaotic

so for dramatic affect let’s say gaea destroyed your house so you have no place to stay and he’s like “you can live with me!!!”

you do then lester shows up and you terrify him with your… well your everything basically

if percabeth has kids your probably the wine aunt/uncle/relative

you go to the same high school

and take almost all the same classes

HE WILL NEVER TAKE MATH OR ENGLISH EVER AGAIN

you randomly storm into eachothers classes to tell eachother the most random things

“PERCY LOOK I FOUND A FROG”

“THATS SO COOL WHATS ITS NAME”

the chaos that you two would cause accidentally

you buy recorders together and annoy EVERYONE

annabeth breaks them eventually

in conclusion: being percys best friend is: chaotic, fun, and also dangerous. he’s protective but that doesn’t have to be a bad thing because like he’d fight for you if anything were to happen

10/10 best friend would recommend

BONUS 2:

Percy: it’s dark in here

Y/N: don’t worry i got this

Y/N: *stomps feet*

Y/N: *sketchers light up*

୨⎯ leo valdez ⎯୧

for my own sake i’m gonna say you met at the boarding school

you, jason, leo, and piper were all VERYYYY good friends

you had your own little squad

you were closest with leo though because of your energy matching

anyway when the whole thing at the grand canyon happens you two are tryna work together to do whatever you can

spoiler warning: IT DIDNT WORK

you tried okay

when the chariot crashes at chb you’re both like “wtf”

you probably pointed out the thing above his head

when he learns he can do fire powers you guys have fires every week where you make s’mores and yell at people from afar

funniest duo

probably forbids you to do random stuff

if you’re part of the 7 hes probably happy because:

a) HES GOING ON A QUEST WITH HIS BESTFRIEND

b) you can do your pranks together and make everyone angry at you

so help me god if you fall into tartarus with percy and annabeth he will jump in after you

no he tries but jason doesn’t let him

if you don’t fall in but are restless and worried after he’ll stay by you the whole time

even though your kinda freaking him out he’s not gonna leave you like this

when they come back alright hes so happy to see your tense shoulders relax and you fall asleep easily that night

OH ALSO PLATONIC FLIRTING

you’d probably propose at restaurants to get free food

or if someone’s bothering you or him the other will come and flirt and act like your/his partner to scare them away

i’m pretty sure leo has canonically read the hunger games so he rants to you about it while sobbing his eyes out

WHEN HE HAS TO DIE IN BOO HE AVOIDS YOU FOR AWHILE AS TO NOT GET ATTACHED TO YOU FURTHER

when you find out what’s he’s gonna do it’s too late and he’s already gone 😨😨

another 6 restless months

you lose hope then your sibling comes in and says “HES BACK”

you judo flip his ass so hard

then you meet calypso and become friends with her too

she’s like you and leo’s gaurdian

BONUS 1:

*Y/N and Leo sitting together in jail*

Leo: so who should we call

Y/N: i’d call calypso but i feel safer in jail

comforting eachother after jason dies

okay back to the not sad stuff

BONUS 2:

Y/N: *holding perfume bottle* is this whiskey or perfume?

Leo: *chugs entire bottle*

Leo: it’s perfume

#mars writing 🧈#pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus #percy jackson x reader #leo valdez x reader #heroes of olympus x reader #leo valdez #percy jackson

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subdee · 2 years

Text

Phantom Troupe thoughts

SPOILERS FOR MANGA CHAPTERS 395 and 396!!!!!

...Ahem. I haven’t checked the main tag or been on tumblr much in the last few weeks so forgive me if this is old news but... catching up on Hunter x Hunter and can’t believe that in the year of our lord 2022, we finally have canon confirmation that the Sheila conspiracy theorists were right all along!!!

Sheila confirmed member of the OG phantom troupe!! Also the book she gave little Kurapika and Pairo in the “Kurapika’s Memories” chapter, that inspired them to want to leave the tribe and attempt the Hunter exam, was probably “Dino Hunter” because it looks the same and Sheila only reads one book apparently.

This whole thing - Sheila being probably a member of the OG phantom troupe and basically pretending to stay sick so she could keep talking to Kurapika and Pairo - naturally leads to the dark interpretation that after K&P spent months caring for her she turned around and lead the Phantom Troupe back to the exact location of Kurapika’s tribe... Something fans have speculated for over a decade now...

***

On another note, how funny is it that the “Phantom Troupe” started as literally a troupe - as in a troop of actors?

Or in this case, it’s even more nerdy - they are a troop of fandubbers LOLOLOL.

...No wonder they were willing to let Hisoka in he probably reminded them of their roots with his theatrical sensibilities LOLOLOLOL so they ignored the creepy vibes...

I am sensing some kind of tragic backstory for Sarasa, btw, even more than the other members of the Phantom Troupe we meet in these panels, because we meet her by name, and she seems like the emotional heart of the troop... Chrollo has the Vision (TM) - more on that later - that gets all of them together, but she’s the emotional glue that helps them all to get along! Also the only OG member (besides Sheila) who isn’t around anymore at the start of the manga!

From right to left, top to bottom: Sarasa, Uvo, Chrollo, Machi, Nobu/Shalnark, Franklin, Sheila, Pakunoda, Phinks, Feitan.

If Togashi wanted to simplify the backstory (although caveat: since when does Togashi want to simplify anything?), Sarasa could be the thing Kurapika’s tribe “took from” the Troupe (re: the Meteor City motto).

BUT, and getting back to “nothing is ever that simple in Hunter x Hunter”... these chapters specifically mention that “a female traveler” found and reported the bodies... and that could be Sheila as well

***

...Something occurs to me here. The Meteor City motto is well known, Kurapika wasn’t present when the Kurta clan was massacred, couldn’t anyone have left the note to frame them?

...Can you imagine if after ll this time, it wasn’t the Phantom Troupe who massacred the Kurta clan at all????

The only “evidence” reported in the news is the note, after all... we learn Kurapika’s motives really early (like chapter 2) but after all this time, I can’t remember if Kurapika ever explains how he knows it was them!!!!!!!

Here’s when he explains his motives to Leorio... there’s nothing here about how he came to decide it was the Phantom Troupe who massacred the Kurta.... Uvo doesn’t remember (at first) anything about the massacre and Chrollo neither confirms nor denies it... when Kurapika asks if he was the boss at the time of the massacre he just laughs it off and says there’s nothing to say about it. Everything he says is vague, like he knows that Melody has the ability to detect lies so he carefully only says true things, but without giving anything away (and unlike Uvo, you get the impression that Chrollo would definitely remember the details of his past heists.

Melody catches the contradiction here (chapter 117):

And here’s what Chrollo has to say about the massacre (chapter 115):

It’s a bit of a stretch, but the way he says this... I mean Chrollo is slippery in general, he doesn’t answer Gon’s question (about how they can kill people with no relation to them) either, so this could just be Chrollo being Chrollo. But I wonder if he’s being vague on purpose bc the Spiders, for some reason, agreed to take the fall for this one despite not being involved.

...The thing that seems to contradict this is that Uvo does say he remembers the massacre... not at first, but later, after Kurapika has him chained up:

It’s in chapter 82.. .chapter 83 is when Uvo remembers and it seems pretty clear-cut BUT Uvo is a hot-head who says the thing he enjoys most is killing avengers, and it’s not clear yet that Kurapika really has the upper hand so he could just be riling him up.

... What he says seems too specific to be just a taunt, but here’s the panels just in case you guys want to decide yourselves:

IDK IDK.. it seems pretty clear cut but the wording here has always been slippery.

Meanwhile, also on the side of “maybe they didn’t do it” is Nobu, who’s pretty vehement in the most recent chapters that the Phantom Troupe don’t indiscriminately murder for no reason and aren’t trying to burn the world to the ground (anymore), unlike Morena’s minions and also unlike the public perception of them.

There’s even a story in the manga about people from Meteor City being falsely accused of a crime (chapter 102):

The message on the corpse’s foot is the only proof that people from Meteor City carried out the assassinations.... remember pretty early in the manga when Kurapika almost kills that prisoner in Trick Tower with the fake spider tattoo because he goes into a rage? Falsely accusing people from Meteor City, other criminals impersonating members of the Phantom Troupe, and (some) people knowing about the Meteor City calling cards are all facts in the Hunter x Hunter world.

Not saying the Phantom Troupe aren’t a bunch of thieves and murderers - of course they are and we seem them committing a mass murder on panel even LOL - but how funny would it be if we, the readers, have accepted for twenty years that the Spiders massacred the Kurta clan because Kurapika said so, but he (and we) have been wrong this whole time????

No one even thinks to question this because we know they are more than capable of doing it...

Well anyway, it’s a pretty far-out theory and I’m not sure I even want it to be true, because I think the Spiders can be sympathetic/interesting and have massacred the whole Kurta clan, it’s not like they have to be completely innocent to be compelling characters.

...Incidentally this chapter (102) is the same one that shows the videotape that apparently formed the basis for the Phantom Troupe getting together... to make fandubs of a sentai show** LOLOLOL thanks for finally explaining the significance of this panel more than 20 years later AND making it the most nerdy thing possible, Togashi.

**Not just any sentai show, but one where the heroes clean up garbage... I mean you can see why it would appeal to the kids in Meteor City... but as a 90s kid it just reminds me of Captain Planet :P

Not much other thoughts, except that the baby phantom troupe are adorable.... Uvo and Nobu being older than the rest of them and playground bullies, Chrollo’s best friends being Sheila and Sarasa (girls), and Machi refusing to play the princess are all kind of perfect actually.

^Chrollo and the girls.

I also really enjoy how... well you know, all this time we knew the Phantom Troupe had their own motives for being thieves and murderers and for having that bond with each other, but now we actually get to see why & how the bond was formed in the first place... the Phantom Troupe are the main characters of their own story and Gon and Killua butt into that story (Gon especially) to support Kurapika without understanding anything about their motives actually, in typical myopic-child fashion.

...I do have other thoughts about the most recent chapter re: toilet-chan, but I’ll put those in another post.

#hunter x hunter #hxh #hxh spoilers #hxh manga spoilers #hxh chapter 395 #hxh chapter 396 #please please please let this post ok i spent so long on it!

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gaysindistress · 7 months

Note

Can you do more specifically saudi!reader angst fanfic where the reader parents didn’t want the reader to marry bucky but eventually they accepted him???? Thank youuu i live for your fics!!!! <3

Thank you for your kind words and I hope you enjoy this fic!!

Think of me once in a while

Warnings: angst, this is a modern au where Bucky served in the Iraq war and lost his arm during his last tour.

Word count: basically 1.3k

gaysindistress masterlist

Translations: I sincerely apologize if these are wrong. I tried to find terms used in Saudi or the Gulf in general rather than use the Levant ones I know but Google isn’t as helpful as it should be.

Yumma - mom

Hayati - my life

Aboui - dad

Ya gamar - moon/moon flower

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest

“Do you love him? It’s a simple question; yes or no, Y/N,” my mom asks me.

She had asked me over dinner the night before, saying that her father and her needed to discuss something important with me. I’d figured it would be about Bucky because when is it not? Every time we talk, he becomes the topic of rather heated arguments and one of us ends up storming out while the other cries. I knew they wouldn’t be thrilled at the idea that I didn’t want to marry another Saudi but I’d hoped that Bucky’s charming smile and sweet personality would win them over.

Evidently they did not.

I stare down at the rings that adorned her rings and suck in a deep breath, not ready to say anything. There is so much history, so much love and adoration to quantify before I could even begin to think about how to answer. Sure, I knew the answer; yes. An outstanding and profound yes. I had said yes when he proposed on our yearly cabin trip and every day thereafter. Never once did it even cross my mind to question the love that I felt for Bucky.

I’d hoped that by now, after having seen that love and watched it flourish despite the trials and tribulations of life, my mom would be able to tell that yes I did love with my entire being.

My mom’s soft but stern voice brings me back from the subspace I seemed to disappear to. It called my name, drawing my attention to her as she buckled down in her questioning, “Y/N. Tell me honestly, do you love him?”

My hand moves on its own and slides a stray piece of hair behind my ear as I ponder how to even begin to answer her.

“Yes of course I do, Yumma,” I tell her, looking over at her where she sits on the opposite side of the dinning table. Her dark eyes meet mine and they match mine in color and in emotion, full of a terrible fear for the uncertain fate of our relationship.

“Then it’s settled,” she says after a moment, leaning back in her chair and folding her hands in her lap.

“What do you mean ‘it’s settled’?” I ask as the panic sets in. My hands had been resting on the table but now they’re dragging themselves up and down my arms in attempts to comfort myself.

“I always told myself that I wanted you to have the best life you could,” she begins as she looks down at her hands, “It’s why we moved here; to give you the opportunity to succeed without obstacles. I knew that things would be different being in a new country but I wasn't expecting it to be…this different. You were never afraid as a child to try for what you wanted and failure didn’t seem to bother you. You excelled in school and your teachers always had good things to say about you. I knew from the moment you were born that you would grow into the strong and intelligent woman that you’ve become. There was never a doubt in my mind about that but…”

She pauses, tears beginning to flood her eyes and I can see her words getting stuck on her tongue.

I get up, moving to sit beside her and her hand in mine. I don’t say anything, allowing her time to unstick the mess of words she has ready to fall out.

“James…he’s not who I wanted for you. His past, it’s too dark for you and I worry that it’ll pull you down with him. I don’t want you to be burdened by his pain. You are such a happy and bright person, Hayati. I can’t watch you fall into his darkness.”

Her concern is well intentioned but it still brings me the familiar wave of pain and disappointment.

“Yumma, I know his service and tours in Iraq are hard for you and Aboui but please give him a chance. He’s made my life better in too many ways to count since I met him and all he’s wanted for the last three years is for you to give him a chance.”

We just watch each other, waiting for the other to move or speak. It’s killing both of us, I’m sure, to not know what the other is thinking and not knowing how to respond. I want my mom to tell me that she’ll try but I know that it would be a lie to get me to stop begging her. She knows that if she doesn’t, it might be the end of our close relationship because I wouldn’t be able to give up the man I’m completely and utterly in love with. Those unshed tears start to fall as it breaks her into a thousand pieces to think about that possibility.

She is the first to speak however.

Using the pads of her fingers, she wipes her cheeks clean of any falling tears as she pulls her thoughts together.

“He means this much to you?” She asks in a voice so small I almost don’t hear her. Her hands have found mine as they bridge the metaphorical and physical gap between us.

I nod, unable to speak in fear that the sudden sound might scare her.

“Let me speak to your aboui when he gets home. I won’t make any promises other than I will talk to him.”

“Thank you, Yumma,” are the only words I have the strength to whisper before I pull her into a bone crushing hug that she returns.

The sound of the front door open echos through the apartment, scaring both me and Alpine. I check the time on my phone, confused since Bucky shouldn’t be off for another two hours. As quietly as I can, I slide out of bed and grab the aluminum Louisville slugger my dear fiancé insists I keep by my side of the bed. He went as far as putting a sock on it because “if the punk who was stupid enough to break in tries to grab the bat, they’ll grab the sock and it’ll slide off so you can hit them again.”

I had rolled my eyes at the ridiculousness of it but now I’m thankful that he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

As I’m raising it to swing, the punk who was stupid enough to break in walks into the bedroom. Except it’s not said punk, it’s Bucky and if he weren’t holding back tears, I’m sure he would’ve laughed at me.

Upon seeing me, he glances to the bat and then to me before taking long strides towards me. I drop the bat in time for him to fall to his knees and wrap his arms around my waist, burying his face and letting out a quiet broken sob in the fabric of my sweater.

“Ya gamar what’s wrong?” whispering, I hug me back with the same force he does me and gently stroke his hair.

His body shakes while he inhales in a deep and steadying way before answering me, “she called me today and asked if we could come over for dinner tomorrow night. She said… she said they needed to apologize and wanted to start over if that’s what I wanted.”

My own tears overtake my eyes as I drop onto the bed with Bucky still clinging to my waist. His prosthetic arm is cold where it’s worked its way under my sweater but I can’t find it in myself to care. Not when my mom and dad have finally begun to accept the man I wish to call my husband.

Nothing else matters to us at that moment.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #marvel imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #think of me once in a while bucky #bucky barnes reader insert #reqeust

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krunktrunk · 7 months

Text

it's late but I need to get this out

IDEAL COMING OUT SCENE FOR MIKE (FOR ME PERSONALLY, IDC IF ITS THE FIRST TIME HE COMES OUT I JUST WOULD LOVE FOR THIS TO HAPPEN) (not the best writing it's just kind of a basic what I want to happen)

Mike's said something wrong again, he and Will had a fight, or he fully realized something and basically broke down. he runs away, in the middle of the literal end of the world, and everyone freaks out about where he is. Nancy goes out to find him (or multiple but she goes out) and goes to the junkyard.

she finds Mike there, either sitting in a old bus or the backseat of a rundown car, he's crying and curled himself up, as much as his limbs can. she's angry at him for running away and she's ready to yell at him but seeing him in this state makes her soften, she quietly sits down beside him and looks straight ahead.

Mike looks at her, but doesn't say anything. "why did you leave?" she asks, he just sniffles and shrugs. "come on Mike, talk to me" he uncurls himself slightly. "there's something wrong with me" Nancy is confused, of course she is. "what do you mean?" "why couldn't I just love her?" he says it more to himself, Nancy starts to understand. this is about eleven. "you're only young, the one for you will come eventually, it's not weird to not be in love at this age" she thinks she's helping, but Mike cries more. "that's the issue, I have met the one, i met them a long time ago,but I can't ever be with them" she looks interested, maybe picking up on the non-gender specific pronoun. "why?" Mike curls himself up more. "because it's wrong"

it finally clicks. Nancy sinks back into the seat, staying quiet for a moment. the only noise is Mike's sobs, but the camera is focused on Nancy as her face scrunches, confusion and slight sadness. her face lightens up just slightly, a smile forming as she starts to speak.

"do you remember the first time you watched superman?" Mike looks up, confused, but his sobs stop slightly. "because I do.. you were obsessed, like so much that we had to buy the DVD because we were spending so much money hiring it" she's laughing, but Mike just looks confused. "could you tell me about this person.. the one that is the one for you?" and Mike does, he says features about Will, and Nancy's gathered by this point who Mike likes, she already kind of figured. "why did you bring up superman?" it was a weird comment afterall, but Nancy laughs and explains.

"you were so obsessed, with superman, didn't care much for when he was Clark Kent.. but then you met Will" Mike freezes a little, but Nancy continues. "and instead of dragging me to watch the movies with you, you dragged him.. and he liked him as Clark Kent, so you did too.. even though you always had a thing for super powers" Mike 100% has a thing for a super powers so I don't think it would be unusual for him to have a crush on superman as he compared El to him lmao.

they keep talking, and Nancy talks more about his obsession with superman, and Clark Kent, but it turns more and more into Will, just without saying the name. like will using Els name to speak about his emotions.

"because.. everyone taught you to like superman, he was the better cooler version, he was who everyone liked.. but you liked Clark Kent, and there's nothing wrong with liking Clark Kent, even if everyone else likes superman" Mike nods, the scene slightly reminiscent of Wills coming out to Jonathan, not actually saying it but implying it, Nancy just doing it a bit more obviously.

I then feel like at the end of it she would say something like, "are you going to talk to Will?" to really show that she understands, and Mike will say yes, and they will hug and they will say how much they love and care for eachother because they are siblings and yeah.

that was long lol. I will forever spread my Mike has a crush on superman propaganda

#byler #stranger things #byler endgame #lgbtq #sobbing #fuck it we balling #mike wheeler #please #will byers #nancy wheeler #coming out #i love them

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astranva · 2 years

Text

Good Influence Podcast: Fans' Reaction

Word Count: 1.5k

Category: Angst-ish

Warning: few curse words

Summary: Fans react to Harry’s episode on Good Influence podcast where he talked about bsgf!yn.

Backstage Girlfriend!Universe Masterlist

Liked by annetwist and 638,973 others

goodinfluencegs OUT NOW!⭐️ This is a special one. This week, I’m chatting with my brother, Harry Styles @harrystyles, as he talks about his relationship, self-accountability, and emotional vulnerability. This one means a lot to me because it’s always an interesting conversation when someone opens up about their feelings. Listen wherever you get your podcasts ⭐️

Comments

user1 3 months after y/n’s podcast too

user2 just listened to it. i’ve been a fan of harry’s for so many years and not once has he ever been this honest, open and direct. it’s so clear how much his relationship with y/n meant and how much influence she has on his personality. it’s really sad that things ended between them because harry was basically a shit boyfriend but from what i see, they’re both dealing with it differently. i wish him growth and healing 🥹

user3 THE WAY HE SLIPPED UP AND SAID HER NAME

↳ user4 I NOTICED IT TOO I LITERALLY SCREAMED

↳ user5 i already knew he was talking about her but nothing could’ve prepared me for hearing him actually say it

user6 i know he’s human and makes mistakes, but when he said he was loved and supported in the relationship and that y/n would have gone to the ends of the world for him and how she basically told him that his career doesn’t matter unless HE’s okay and believes that he’s worth more than work…and then he still went ahead and broke her heart…ik we don’t know exactly what happened but i think i lost so much respect for him :/

↳ user7 i agree so much with you. i’d react the same way if he wasn’t a celebrity too. like he literally said he took advantage of her and people are still stanning him 😀

↳ user8 @user6 @user7 why are you acting as if him admitting it means nothing? he’s obviously working on himself and beating himself up for it. why do you have to make it worse for him?

122,937 likes

harryupdatesacc I know it’s not the time…but unseens of Harry and Y/N via louiseburcham & mutualfriendwhowasprivateonig

Comments

user1 they look so good together 🥲

user2 the fact that there were people who thought they were “platonic soulmates” when they were literally together

user3 harry really left THIS for his fucking director whom he has no chemistry with 🤡

user4 yall still stan him?

↳ user5 yes.

↳ user6 @user5 L

↳ user7 ^^ do you realize that there are so many things we don’t know?

↳ user6 @user7 he literally admitted that he broke her heart and took advantage of her love for him?? what are u on about

↳ user8 @user6 and he apologized and y/n forgave him. why are you upset? he obviously feels like shit and he said it and he LOOKS it. Y/N moved on so how about you do too?

user9 2022 didn’t have to show me that harry is a toxic boyfriend and ex

↳ user10 how is he toxic though? he apologized and he came clean. genuinely asking, not trying to fight 💗

↳ user9 @user10 besides hurting y/n and as he said “broke her heart”, if the theories are true then he put his acting career and publicity first and agreed to the holivia stunt when he was with someone. he talks about y/n so much (ik it’s the interviewers’ fault but he knows better than to keep mentioning her name and can stop them from talking about her)

↳ user9 @user10 he still follows her on instagram (she unfollowed him 5 days after ONO london) and tbh i feel like that’s just…no.

user11 “toxicrry era” don’t call yourself a fan when you attack your fave like that wtf

↳ user12 even harry himself called himself toxic and that what he did was fucked up. you don’t have to be far up his ass 24/7 😘

user13 you’re acting as if y/n is angel 🤡

↳ user14 ….she is though

↳ user13 @user13 not you calling someone who took advantage of harry’s fame and now joe’s fame “an angel” lmfao

↳ user14 believe it or not, women can be in relationships with famous people and still be hardworking and make their own living😭 just because she works in the industry doesn’t mean she took advantage of any of them. besides, not YOU calling someone who made harry happy and put his mental health first anything but an angel but go off i guess

Twitter

@user1twitterhandle

y/n talking about harry: “he’s an amazing person with the biggest heart and admirable character”

harry about y/n: “i’m just a jealous son of a bitch at the end of the day”

652 Retweets 63 Quote Tweets 1,729 Likes

↳ user2 @user2twitterhandle

Replying to @user1twitterhandle

that’s literally not what he said? did you seriously disregard that he only praised her during the entire podcast? wtf touch some grass

293 Retweets 18 Quote Tweets 2.7K Likes

@user3twitterhandle

say what you want to say, y/n will always be harry’s “the one that got away”

14.8K Retweets 28 Quote Tweets 29.5K Likes

@user4twittrthandle

i wish he admitted that holivia was a stunt and that it was y/n who was his girlfriend all along though

104 Retweets 14 Quote Tweets 303 Likes

@user5twitterhandle

the fact that he SPOKE about it shows us how real this relationship was. y/n is the love of his fucking life. he has never felt like that about anyone before

8.2K Retweets 87 Quote Tweets 26.1K Likes

@user6twitterhandle

y/n telling harry “you owe it to yourself to grow in more ways that your songs and career allow you to”. end tweet

28.1K Retweets 102 Quote Tweets 84.8K Likes

@user7twitterhandle

“it’s important to me that people realize that the person who stands on a stage can also be the same person who broke someone’s heart.” - harry on ‘Good Influence’

37K Retweets 294 Quote Tweets 173.5K Likes

↳ user8 @user8twitterhandle

Replying to @user7twitterhandle

idk but hearing that felt like a punch to my gut. it’s so real. it’s awakening.

183 Retweets 6 Quote Tweets 872 Likes

TikTok

As always, there were a lot of videos on the app of people reacting to the podcast that nobody had expected; people crying, screaming, talking, and every possible reaction that one could show.

In a 736K liked TikTok video, a fan was sitting in her car—a common setting that was used, and one that had you feeling like it was going to be a good one—starting the 3-minute video by taking a breath.

“Let’s talk,” she said before the video cut to her again, “What the fuck? What the actual fuck?” She began, pinching her nose and looking outside the window before looking back at her phone, “So, for those who don’t know, Harry talked about Y/N, his ex, on his sister’s podcast and he said a lot of things.

“One,” she raised a finger, “That he broke her heart. It was him who hurt her. Two,” two fingers, “She gave him nothing but love and support and basically was—was an amazing girlfriend. Three,” three fingers, “He could’ve done better. And four,” four fingers, “That he’s basically jealous of Joe—Joe Keery, who’s currently Y/N’s boyfriend,” she said.

The girl then sighed, “It’s good that Harry, like—It’s good that he talked about this and that he’s trying to heal. I think it shows how mature their relationship was even if it went to shit, but,” she pursed her lips for a second, “I think we should all know that publicity stunts happen in the industry and Harry’s relationship with Y/N was caught in the middle—it got hurt, got abused in the middle. You guys can’t think like, oh no, Harry lied to us about Olivia.

“Because that’s just childish. Fake relationships suck, sure, but they happen. And I will not be getting into discussions of whether Holivia was fake or not because,” she raised a hand up, “It literally was. Because according to timelines and the leaked pictures, Harry and Y/N were together for 3 years.”

Nevertheless, people in her comments still commented about feeling betrayed by Harry for being part in a publicity stunt.

In another TikTok video, a clip from Harry’s Coachella performance of Boyfriends was added as he talked:

“To boyfriends everywhere,” he said, before the video cut to a leaked picture of you and Harry, “Fuck you,” Harry’s voice said before the text was written right under Harry’s face in the picture.

In another viral video, it was Brittany Broski, her mascara smudged with tears as she cried, with music from the song Somewhere Only We Know by Keane playing, and with two texts over her head:

""It’s not your breakup, why the hell are u crying?"" and "Harry styles what the fuck is your problem"

The video then shifted to the two most recent leaked pictures of you and Harry as a guitar was added to the background sound, and another text, and a quote that Harry had said in the podcast, was added:

“You never knew you had it in you to hurt the one person you love.”

#backstage girlfriend #backstage gf!yn #bsgf blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst imagine #harry styles fake social media

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