#there will be subtle physical differences between the two of them i just need to figure out *how* subtle (or not subtle) those are | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

babygorewhore · 6 months

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I’ll follow you until you love me.

The moment Eddie Munson saw you, he thought you were perfect and once he finds your social media, it gives him insight into your world. But he can’t get enough of you. Eddie can’t stop himself from acting on his desire to follow you. Eddie is determined to make you his. But maybe he’s not as subtle as he thinks.

This is my installment of a shared universe with a mutual. Who will be writing her installment of this universe soon.

Warnings! Smut! 18plus only! Stalker! Eddie. Obsession. Oral! Fem recieving! Unprotected PnV! Fem reader is alternative/goth in this. Eddie is a Bartender. I’m sick and I edited once so if you saw mistakes ignore them.

Eddie knew he was breaking some sort of code. But he couldn’t find it in himself to stop. He was…addicted. You weren’t even friends. Friendly at best. He knew you for only a couple of weeks. Your parents owned his favorite music store and he was sorting through the collection of Black Sabbath CDs when he saw you for the first time in the same aisle.

He immediately fell for you. Everything about you was perfect. Your body. Your face. Your clothes. Your voice. Eddie was completely mesmerized when you both had a conversation about why CDs were essential to the music listening experience. It took everything in him not to kiss you and ruin your pretty lipstick.

As soon as he was alone in his van, he yanked out his phone. Typed in your name and hunted for any sign of accounts you had. He didn’t even use his social media but you would be the exception. You were everything. After several minutes, he finally found your pretty picture. He sighed and leaned back in the seat.

It was your instagram. And in your bio you listed your tik tok, twitter and even your Facebook. Jackpot. Eddie’s eyes scanned over your uploads, his breathing getting heavier. It was almost as if he had a taste of your life. Your world.

The whole week in between his shift at work and when he came home, he devoured everything you posted. He watched every video you reposted, he needed to know your humor, your likes, your dislikes. He couldn’t tear himself away from looking at you.

One night, you posted your work schedule for the next week at the music store. And that’s when he decided he needed to see you again.

His shift ended at the Hawkins bar two hours after he originally planned because some fuckwad didn’t know how to show up on time. The music store would only be open for another hour so he raced to his van and probably broke three laws speeding to the building.

He speedily parked, exited and practiced in his head what he would say. He needs a copy of the band you liked Bad Omens. You posted about them all the time. Eddie needed the physical copy. Something you both talked about so it wouldn’t be weird if he asked for a disc. He inhaled and pushed open the door, glancing around as the bell rung. A collection of people were here, he tried to keep his cool. The CDS. His hair was tied into a bun and he wore all black just like you always did. He shook his head and confidently strides to the shelves.

It was different. More organized. All the decades were correct. Everything was straightened. You had the magic touch. Eddie smiled when his fingers grazed over the plastic, you had touched these. He saw Bad omens right away, but he came here for help. He purposely took a step back and wore a confused expression.

“Eddie?” There. There you were. His cock twitched. Goosebumps rose on his skin. He didn’t turn right away, no. You wouldn’t get it that easy. As badly as he wanted to turn around and-

Your hand gently grazed his shoulder. He wanted to rip off his leather jacket to feel your fingers on his bare skin and his breath shuddered. Finally, he shifted in your direction. Eddie almost kissed you. He had to plant his feet heavily on the floor to prevent himself. Your eyes were soft, searching his brown irises. Small crinkles around your brows showed hours of work but your mouth was curved into a polite, curious smile. You wore all black, a bad omens shirt, leggings and boots. A small name tag was right above your heart. You looked perfect. But he focused on your lipstick, the same you wore that first day. He wanted to smear your makeup. Make it run down your face while you were on your knees. He wanted to grip your hair and guide you through-

“It is Eddie, right? Don’t tell me I forgot.” He jerked his head.

“Yes. It’s Eddie. I’m glad you’re here. I’m in serious need of a music recommendation,” Eddie internally melted when you flashed him a grin.

“Well, I’m happy to assist you. I’m assuming you want this in the form of a CD?” You gave him a knowing look.

He clapped his hands. “ You remembered that. Yes. Always.” You giggled and you extended your hand towards the collection of CDs on the shelves.

“What sound are you looking for? I know you like metal. But do you want a classic recommendation, something underrated or unknown?” You sounded so considerate. You were doing your job, he knew that. But he clung to whatever interest you gave him.

“Honestly, what are you listening too? I want something different. You can only listen to so much Metallica and Black Sabbath,” Eddie dramatically pressed a finger to his lips. “Don’t tell anyone I said that.”

You nodded in kind. “Your secret is safe with me. But I can’t believe you’re actually asking for my opinion.”

“Why? I mean, I’d assume someone who shares my appreciation for metal has great taste.” He saw you from the corner of his eye, you dip your head down for a second. He needed to pace this conversation, withhold what he knows. He just needs to keep hearing your voice. He was almost trembling from the way you were accepting his attempts at charm.

“I mean-If I’m being honest. My favorite band is Bad Omens.” Eddie raised his eyebrows and nodded towards your shirt. His shoulders relaxed. Finally. This was how it went in his head.

“I haven’t listened to them. I’ve seen them on tik tok, but I just haven’t dived in.” He hoped you believed his lie.

“Excuse me?” You both turned and a older man stood at the entrance. Wearing a guns and roses shirt and light blue jeans. “I need help.”

Eddie’s chest burned. No, no, no. He just got you talking. You face him with a shadow of disappointment dancing across your features. He wanted to scream at the man but he had to stay calm. He couldn’t risk you seeing him differently. You didn’t hardly know him.

Yet.

“I’m sorry, Eddie. Gotta help him. But the CD is right there, and if you ring the bell someone will check you out. It was nice seeing you! I hope you like it!”

He was struggling to bury his anger even long after he paid for the album and made his way home. Eddie paced his room. You. You were so beautiful. So sweet. He wanted to keep listening to you talk. He wanted to know every single band you loved. He wanted-no, he needed more of you. He dug his phone out of his pocket.

Settling on his bed, knees spread apart, his thump quickly found your profile. You had so many followers. So many people watching, commenting and sharing with you online. He clenched his jaw when he looked at your story. Eddie blinked at the loud music attached. You had a closed lipped smile and your eyes were shut. And the caption talked about how much you hated rude customers. But then he recognized the song. It was Bad Omens.

He chewed his bottom lip. Was that because of him? Were you thinking about him? The same way he thought of you? He turned up the volume. Listened carefully. Was this song on the album he bought? He picked up the bag and yanked out the plastic, reading the song list on the back . Yes. It was. Eddie pressed the CD against his chest. You touched it. He brought it higher, over his chin until his lips pressed against it. He held it against his mouth, while he stared at your photo.

Eddie had memorized your work schedule. Maybe he could stop by again tomorrow. Fuck, he couldn’t. He had to work and It was too soon. You would be confused.

He couldn’t fit anymore CDs on his shelf but he would fucking build a new one if that meant he could buy more from you.

The next day he was in his car. Parked across the street with a few cars giving distance from the music store. He didn’t plan it. He was going into work in a hour. But He just needed to see you. Just look at you. That’s it. A death of Peace of mind album was playing in his van and his jaw was clenching so hard from waiting for you to step out. He had fell asleep with his phone on his chest from frantically scrolling on your profile last night.

He didn’t know how his resolution disappeared so quickly. But he couldn’t stop thinking about how sweet you were. How quickly his conversation with you ended. He couldn’t stand it. He needed more. Eddie’s breathing shortened when the entrance opened and you stepped out. You adjusted your bag, shuffled to close the door behind you and cast your search around the direction of the street.

He gripped the steering wheel, so hard his hands trembled as you moved aside for a stranger. You smiled brightly then you started to walk in the opposite direction. His eyes trailed down your body. Black jeans, black hoodie and converse. They lingered on the curve of your thighs in those pants. But he frowned. Were you walking home? You didn’t have a car?

Without a second thought, he turned the keys. In the back of his mind, he knew he was going overboard. He had work. He needed to leave. Soon. But god damn he just needed to make sure you got home safe. His van came alive and he maneuvered onto the street. There was a stop light coming, and he sped up to try and beat it before it turned red. He didn’t know how he would remain invisible as he followed you, but he had to try.

Eddie wasn’t sure how he managed, but you didn’t turn to see his van. Your apartment wasn’t far from the store thank fuck. He settled across the street, behind two cars. The same tactic he used earlier. You jogged up the driveway, where there wasnt a car. His suspicions confirmed. The complex wasn’t big, it looked similar to his own.

He glanced at the clock. He needed to get going. He hated being late. But your address was seared into his mind. He would never forget it. Eddie pulled out his phone, frantically clicking on your instagram. You had a new story. You were smiling, an adorable grin and your fingers were held in a peace sign. The caption said you were finally home. He wanted to help you relax. Spread your legs and make you see stars and never think about a stressful day again.

His dick was growing hard as he imagined your sweet face. Covered in his cum. Your eyeliner running down your cheeks. His hand ghosted the center of his pants before he stopped.

No. No he wouldn’t touch himself. He needed you. He needed to cum inside you. You deserved better than him jerking off in his car before he had the privilege of being with you. Eddie exhaled, forcing himself to drive.

The night shift was always packed. Plus as the manager, he was responsible for training and handling reckless drinkers. His hair was tied up, his usual style for his shift and his sleeves were rolled up, muscles flexing as he slid a glass to a guest. But his mind was a whirlwind. He hadn’t been able to check his phone. What were you doing? Were you relaxing? He was buzzing with energy. He hadn’t even told Steve about you yet, who apparently was busy with his own infatuation. Eddie kept looking at the clock. He had to stay over again but closing was coming soon. Halloween was in just a few days. What were you going to do? Dress up? Go to a party? Fuck, he needed to know.

He had fucking fell asleep before he had a chance to look at your instagram when he got home well after 3am. He crashed on his couch, still wearing his work clothes with his phone in his pocket where it died. Eddie practically shoved the end of the charger into his phone, his leg bouncing from waiting for it to turn back on. He knew he should have charged it. Now, it would take longer to see you.

He wanted to touch himself as he imagined your lips wrapped around him, choking on his dick as his hand is gripping your hair. His hand even drifted to his crotch until he stopped himself. No, he promised himself he wouldn’t cum until it was inside you. You were his. He checked his phone again as it finally came back to life. His fingers were frantic as they clicked on your name.

You uploaded a new story. Eddie sighed in relief. As it came up, your face looked tired. You weren’t smiling, instead you were holding up a glass, clinking it with another glass belonging to your best friend. His chest tightened. He wanted to be there. He wanted to drink with you, hold you and take care of you. You had to walk home. And he had to fucking work. He swiped to the next story.

It was this morning, he knew only because of the time included. Just an hour ago. You were smiling this time. It was your day off and you were thrilled to to go the Halloween store today. Eddie couldn’t stop looking at your bright eyes, the excitement and he needed to see it again. In person.

He had to try. He would go the store. Pretend he was looking for a Halloween costume. But when? You didn’t give a time. It didn’t matter. He would stay all day and wait. It was his day off too.

Eddie threw himself in the shower, got dressed and drove to the store. It didn’t matter if it was an hour away. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t planned dressing up, or that he would have to swap schedules. You were on his mind. Whatever you were doing, he wanted to be a part of it.

Bad omens played loudly in his van as he came into the parking lot. Eddie’s heart started to hammer as he unbuckled and stepped out. His neck was warm at the thought of hearing your voice again so he tied his hair up.

Opening the door, he was greeted with gruesome decor, rows of costumes and several people shopping. Fuck, how was he supposed to find you? If you were even here yet? His shoe tapped impatiently as he was torn on where to go. Costumes. That’s where he’d start. But what kind? Sexy? Scary? in between?

As he walked down the section, he pretended to search. His rings occasionally getting caught in the fabrics and plastic. He wasn’t interested in this. He didn’t want to participate without you. Oh god, who drove you here? Were you going to be alone? He didn’t think about that. He just moved. Eddie dug out his phone from his pocket.

“Hey, Eddie! Is that you?”

He froze.

Eddie turned around and there you were.

This time, you were wearing a dress. A black one. With a matching sweater and combat boots. But his eyes fell to the tattoo on your chest. He hadn’t seen it because you always wore higher neck tops. Eddie almost salivated. Your makeup was dark again with your apparent favorite lipstick. He wanted to touch your skin, run his tongue along the art. He knew you would taste sweet. So sweet.

“Yeah, it’s me.” Eddie dropped into a serious expression. “Are you following me?”

Your eyes widened and you shook your head. “No, I just saw you-“ Then he grinned. He knew he was such a tease.

“I’m joking, sweets. I’m just here for my Halloween costume.” Such a fucking lie. But he needed to establish a common ground.

You sighed in relief.

“Me too. We had the same idea.” You didn’t protest at the nickname. Eddie tried not to smirk. You were happy to see him. He had to ball his fists to keep from touching you.

“What are you going as? I haven’t decided.” Eddie forced himself to sound light hearted but he truly needed an idea. You set the stage on his actions.

You gestured, “Follow me and I’ll show you.”

And then you stuck out your hand. Eddie thought he would bust in his pants. He accepted as you gently guided him to the other side of the store, where a large amount of costumes were hanging on the wall. Your grip was firm, warm and steady. You were confident in taking his hand. Eddie’s eyes were glued to your lower half, covered by the fitted dress. Your calves peeked out from the slits on the side. He saw more ink. How many tattoos did you have? He wanted to explore them. Compare them to his. You came to a stop and released him. Eddie wanted to stop you, grab your hand again.

“I’m going with this,” You pointed to the hanging plastic bag and Eddie followed direction.

The picture was a Sweeney Todd costume. Fake blood included and wig. It would be hot. You could pull off anything. But the wig he wanted to protest against. Covering your perfect hair? The hair he wanted to dig his fingers in and pull? Caress? Both? “That’s a great one. I think you’ll stand out. Not everyone knows that reference.”

You smiled again. Eddie felt like he won the lottery. “I like to stand out from the crowd, I guess. My best friend is throwing a Halloween party this year. And I finally had the day off to come here.” Eddie nodded, swallowing the urge to reveal he already knew that.

“I hope you’re not working too hard but I can’t stop listening to the CD. You knew exactly what I needed.” Your hands reached up, pressing against your chest. “You really like it? I’m not used to someone actually agreeing with me.” Eddie couldn’t believe that. Who could resist you? Who wouldn’t give your favorite band a try? He would fix that problem.

“Why wouldn’t I like it, sweets? I’ll have to get more recommendations soon, it makes my driving more exciting.” You opened your mouth to respond but something caught your eye and you excitedly beamed.

Eddie turned, desperate to find what caught your attention other than him.

“That’s my favorite slasher movie! If I hadn’t already decided on this, I would wear that.” Eddie’s eyes widened. It was a Ghostface costume. Why didn’t he know that? He ground his teeth. He should have looked closer at your posts. Maybe he would have seen it. You had amazing taste in movies.

“An amazing movie. That would have also been a perfect choice. But I’m not sure anyone could be scared of you, pretty girl. You’re way too sweet.” The names slipped out his mouth before he could catch himself. But you dipped your head and bashfully peeked at him through your lashes.

He couldn’t believe this was happening. He itched to say more, compliment you more but he didn’t want to freak you out. Especially considering he watched your instagram everyday to know exactly what you were doing but he needed you. He would do whatever he needed to make you feel the same way.

Your phone started to ring. Eddie wanted to beg you not to answer. No, stay here in the moment. You sighed, holding the device up. “It’s my dad. I need to take this. But I hope I’ll see you at the store again! And maybe we can talk more. You really get me.” And then you turned away, quietly speaking to your father.

Each time he managed to speak to you, get somewhere, it was interrupted. But this wouldn’t be wasted. No. Eddie moved away from you, as painful as it was and quickly picked up the Ghostface costume. He didn’t know how he would make this work but god damn it he would.

Eddies emotions went beyond his limit when he was hunched over, phone glued to his hand as he poured over your story on his bed when he got home. Your stories consisted of showing off the costume you bought and then several memes about Halloween being everyday for you. And then you posted your old looks. Most of them were edgy, skulls, prosthetics and some were even masks. Except one. You were wearing a short, thigh high black dress. Fishnets and heels. Your face painted with the Crow makeup. Your chest ink and your leg tattoos were on display.

The intricate thorns that wrapped around both thighs but on the left center was a large showing of multiple flowers. On the right was a skull, jaw slightly open to allow a dark snake to wrap around.

His cock felt like it was going to burst but he would not give in. He just didn’t know what to do. How would he get into the party? Sneak in? He was going insane.

And that’s when Steve hit him up. When Eddie answered the phone, Steve proceeded to explain that there was a Halloween party at a penthouse. And the owner just so happened to be your best friend.

Eddie thanked whatever universe, energy or even a God if he even bothered to look at him considering what he was doing. It was Halloween night. He wore the long, black gown. A black shirt and jeans underneath. Heavy boots. Most importantly, the Mask. Steve charmed the security, getting them both inside. The lights were off only to be be replaced with LED strips covering the edges of the wall and even the ceiling.

The living room was spacious, modern furniture and sleek tables covered in red cups, beer bottles and liquor bottles. He squinted his eyes, his vision obscured by the mask. No one paid much attention to him, most people had some sort of horror film costume, he wasn’t the only Ghostface. Fuck. How would you tell it was him? He did all of this for you. Music blared, he could feel it in his chest as he walked around the penthouse. Stepping on decorations fallen to the wood floor.

Steve left his side but Eddie knew he was looking for the hostess of this party. Where were you?

There.

His breath hitched and he froze in the doorway of the kitchen. You were pouring a drink in a solo cup. Your costume was perfect. The white puffed sleeves, black vest and striped pants. Fake blood coated your hands, darkening your fingernails. You weren’t wearing a wig, instead you had the signature white streak in your hair. Good. You didn’t need the wig. He opened his mouth to talk but you turned and started walking into the next room.

No. No. Why did he take so fucking long? He was here right now. He used so much effort to be close to you. Eddie took a steadying breath. And he walked directly behind you, he kept trying to tap your shoulder but you were quick. Nearly jogging. His boots hit against the floor, growing louder from speed. You maneuvered through the crowd. Where you going? He almost lost you but you started climbing the stairs where more cobwebs and pumpkins sat.

Were you running from him? From someone else? Was your best friend up here? His mind raced with endless options as he continued prowling behind you. No one was here. He almost slammed into you as you abruptly halted.

You spun around.

“Eddie, why are you following me?” Oh, fuck.

Up close, your makeup was messy. Eyeliner smudged heavily, your lips were dark and glossy. You looked up at him through lashes. But you didn’t sound angry. Or fearful.

You sounded…playful.

He tilted his head. “I was-“

“It’s okay, Eddie. I know you’ve been following me. I know every time you look at my pictures. I knew that you followed me home. And it wasn’t an accident at the store the other day. I was hoping you would buy this.” You reached over, grasping the material of the cloak between your fingers.

Eddie grew hot. He thought he could be subtle but apparently not. You knew the whole time. But why weren’t you upset? He didn’t want you to be. But that would have been naive.

He clutched your hand. “I couldn’t help it. You’re perfect. The moment I saw you, I knew I needed you. I needed to see you, make sure you were safe. I can’t get you out of my mind. Fuck. And I just wanted to be here tonight to finally talk to you without being interrupted. All I’ve done is listen to the album you love. I know you said you weren’t mad but please, god I need you. I need to feel you. I need to-“

“Fuck me?” You finished. “Did you touch yourself while looking at me, Eddie?”

He was buzzing, ignited from the way your lips were in a smirk. You stepped closer and with your free hand, you removed his mask. His hair was even messier and his nostrils flared as he took in your perfume.

He was almost against the wall but he couldn’t take it. Eddie’s hands gripped your hips and he smashed his lips to yours. You tasted better than he imagined. And you met his intensity. Eddie flipped so you were the one pinned against the wall, diving his tongue inside your mouth. His cock was so hard it hurt and he pressed his pelvis against yours, grinding into you. A moan escaped your mouth and he reached down, grasping your knee and pulling it around his hip. He could feel how wet you were through your pants.

Eddie ripped away from your mouth, moving to concentrate to the soft skin of your neck when you grabbed him by his arm and burst through a door he didn’t notice was there. He only had time to register a bed in the center of the room before you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled his bottom lip with your teeth. “I wanted you the first day you came in,” You murmured. Eddie pushed your back against the bed, landing him on top of you and he straddled your lap.

“I-can I-can I fuck you?” He had to ask, as frenzied as he felt, he needed you to want it as much as he did.

“Fuck, Eddie. Yes, I want it so bad.” You whined, arching your back into him as he buried his face in your neck, peppering kisses against your jaw before sucking the spot above your collar bone.

You tore off the cloak, before taking off his black shirt with it and running your hands down his chest, stomach before tugging his belt. Eddie lifted his head, helping you as he kicked off his jeans. But he wanted to taste you. He slid down, peeling off your tight pants and your underwear. Eddie got impossibly harder as you mewled as he separated your legs.

Your cunt dripped with arousal and he spread it apart, coating his thick fingers. He dove in, flattening his tongue against your clit. Eddie moaned at your sweet taste as he licked down your slit before slipping his tongue inside you. You were jerking your hips to hump his face, his nose continually hitting the sensitive nerves in the center.

“I’m gonna cum.” Eddie didn’t speed up, he stayed hungrily lapping your pussy and your movement locked, your thighs squeezing his head. The entire lower half of his face was glistening as he pulled away.

Eddie crawled over you and captured your lips in a bruising kiss. Smearing cum all over your mouth, messing your lipstick even further. Just like he imagined.

“Please, fuck me.” You whimpered and he clumsily took off his boxers, releasing his heavy cock leaking with precum.

Eddie lined his dick against you before pressing inside, stretching your pussy as you clenched around him. He groaned from deep in his chest and shuddered. Your nails dug into his skin as he started thrusting, deep and hard. The bed was slamming against the wall.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect, baby.”

He couldn’t even speak anymore, you felt so good he saw stars and he loved the pain from you scratching him. “I’m-I’m close.”

He wanted to hold off for you but the way you cried out, burying your face on his shoulder, Eddie spilled into you. Fuck condoms, he thought. His breath came in choked pants as he pulled out and scooped you into his arms. He was completely naked and you only had a shirt on, that he planned on removing once he caught his breath.

“I can’t believe you knew the whole time. And I can’t believe you liked me back.”

Your head turned as he held you close to him, his arms tight around you. He never wanted to let you go. Now that he’s tasted you, he could never stop.

“Eddie, why do you think I let you follow my account? Why do you think I told you to listen to bad omens? I wanted you to think about me. Besides, your friend Steve pulling the same move on my best friend.”

Holy shit. My first Eddie fic. I’m back with fics! Huge thanks to my tumblr wife @xxhellfirebunnyxx for helping me with this, encouraging me and beta reading. And my little sister @scene-and-dandylover for always supporting me.

Taglist for this!

@reidsbtch @battymunson @take-everything-you-can @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @taintandviolent @hyperharlz @elaine-in-the-membrane @onegirlmanytales @randominstake

If I forgot about have mercy I am tired

#eddie munson series #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #Stalker! eddie #eddie smut

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m1ssunderstanding · 2 months

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Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 1.1

So disclaimer: I took screenshots instead of photographing my screen this time, but the quality of footage is a thousand times worse so the images are still mostly shit. But anyway, here we go :)

We're going to have to keep a tally on how many times they refer to their relationship in romantic terms. Less than a minute in, Paul has used the description, “great love affair.”

And John's right on his heels with “the sexual equivalent of . . . People in love.” So there's 2 already. Oh boy.

That opening montage of John and Paul just living for the light in each other's eyes should actually be the official music video for “I wanna hold your hand.”

Also I wonder how many songs they have about hiding. Someone's got to have a list somewhere right?

I adore the absolute lack of reaction to John manhandling Paul.

And then This Look. He's in love with him, ladies and gentlemen.

I remember seeing somewhere that this footage was literally right after they'd finished “she loves you.” Which was pretty recently after Bob Wooler, which was right after Barcelona. And if you're like me and you think that song is secretly about their relationship? If Paul's just been singing “she said you hurt her so, she almost lost her mind, but now she says she knows you're not the hurting kind. She said she loves you” at you, after all of that? Of course John's acting like a fucking puppy dog.

Poor George tally number 1

Excuse me??? John wants to live in the Beatle apartment instead of with his actual literal wife until Paul decides to move in with his girlfriend? What? He's so insane. Cynthia, you're lucky Paul's a fucking social climber.

I think it's indicative of two things that Paul said “screw secret girlfriends” while John happily went along with secret wives. One: different levels of security in masculinity (John doesn't have gay eyebrows etc) and two: different relationships. Jane and Paul's relationship was a smart career move for both of them and I think, being upper-class, and having her own career, and not being a mother, Jane was in more of a position to have a say.

Every time I watch that footage of Ken Dodd asking about their parents I physically cringe. Poor poor babies. Do your research you idiot! I don't think that ever happened again. I wonder if Brian made sure of that.

Paul literally talks like such a husband here. “We've thought about it, and probably the thing that John and I will do . . .”

Obsessed with Paul shouldering himself between George and John after George's little joke shove. It's so protective and yet so subtle. Exactly the same strong posture and easy smile as when he stepped between John and that interviewer during the Jesus scandal.

Poor George tally number 2 (you can't quite tell from the pic but John is shoving him out of the way because how dare he put his suitcase by Paul's?! That's John's suitcase's spot!!)

All the Beatles were cuddly with each other. It's one of the cutest bits about them, the puppies in a basket aspect. But I think we'll need a “noticable spacing difference” tally for this rewatch, too, and here's the first.

Paul wearing John's hat for attention and it fully and completely doing the job? They're so embarrassing!

I actually love that John's imitation of his upper-class Scottish family (which Paul can't do) is actually much more convincing than his broad Liverpudlian (which Paul nails in two variations, one based off his own family) I'm obsessed with the class dynamics between them.

Poor George tally three. He shares this one with Ringo. That moment when Paul's pretending to interview them about their purple hearts and cuts them both off with, “thank you. Mi-mister Lennon,” and John and Paul proceed to completely forget the other two exist for who knows how long – certainly longer than the videographer was willing to record.

I find John sliding into Paul's raspy “tiiight yeeeah” with his very turned on “mmmMM it's been a hard” extremely suggestive. I'm sorry but I do.

It's like he thinks if he looks away for too long he's going to disappear or something. Which. Now that I said that. Yeah. That is what it is. Poor separation-issues baby.

Ringo: Paul, you wrote a beautiful song and you sing it great. John: yeah and you're SEXY! Let's not forget that, everyone.

Am I crazy to obsess over every little musical similarity in their songs? Yes. Can I help it? No. The little “oh-oh ohoho” in the If I Fell demo is exactly the same as in Imagine and (frothing and writhing) it means something I can feel it! I just have no idea what.

I also find the lyric change from “i hope that she won't cry” to “i hope that she will cry” extremely interesting. There's always a heterosexual explanation. Trust me, the straights are the Simone Biles of mental gymnastics. But while the published lyric can be read as a man bitter toward his ex girlfriend hoping to hurt her by flaunting his new relationship, the demo version is trickier. Could it be that he doesn't want to hurt his wife's feelings by letting her know he's in love with someone else? But who else could John Lennon possibly have been in love with at the time?

“Too too much in love. Woah, too too much in love with you.” My heart

#I'm sad because I really wanted to make a post about y'all's excellent tags on get back especially some that were such good points but I got #So if you want more discussion on those get back posts or if you want to laugh check out the tags on them #I think I'll just highlight and comment on tags as we go with ULM #ringo starr #george harrison #ulm #understanding lennon mccartney #mclennon #the beatles #paul mccartney #john lennon

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pix3lplays · 2 months

Note

Heloo, I have an idea

Or thoughts

How's your robot beloved (beloveds?) would hold you?

[Skitters away Godspeed]

- 🐜 (antnon-)

🐜 antnon! I love that. And your idea too…I have many robot beloveds so…have a few, from a variety of fandoms…

Robots my beloved…

-Various fandom robots and how they hold you-

Screwllum: A Proper gentleman robot~he’s not going to get super cuddly with you, but especially in public. He’s never been much for showing love through literal touch, but…with a human partner…he does appreciate that you might need some physical affection.

It’s subtle with Screwllum. The two of you sitting close together, your leg touching his, either your hand on his thigh, or his hand on yours. It’s elegant…refined, and tasteful. Enough for anyone to be able to tell the two of you are together.

Sometimes you want more though. He wishes he could understand your desire for physical affection, especially when he’s involved. You really want to sit on his lap? He’s a robot. He’s not soft or comfortable and yet…if you manage to get some time alone with him you can sit on his lap for a bit.

And yeah. He’s not very comfortable. But you make it work. Just drape yourself over his lap and hope for the best.

Svarog: He’s comfortable touching humans he trusts, and if you’re his? He’s got enough experience to know that physical affection is a good way to show he cares about his favorite humans.

For a while, the physical affection is pretty situational. He tends to touch you when he’s feeling protective of you. A hand on your hip, or on your lower back. Kinda shocking the first time you experienced Svarog’s (overly) protective side. You were just dealing with someone who was sorta upset at you, and apparently them raising their voice at you triggered Svarog’s protective instincts.

You’re so used to him, you hardly even noticed the robot’s presence, until the person you were talking to suddenly shut up, and you felt a large, robotic hand on your shoulder. He doesn’t even have to say anything and they’re leaving. The overprotectiveness IS a bit annoying but…given what you know about Clara you can’t blame him for being overprotective with his humans.

Also!! Something cool about Svarog…he’ll let you sit on his shoulder if you promise to exercise caution. It’s…a lot higher up than you were initially expecting…kinda scary…but very fun.

Sam: I made a whole post about this but…it takes a while for him to figure out how to be gentle with you. He’s REALLY strong, and can’t really feel pressure, so he doesn’t notice if he’s hurting you unless you say something, or yelp in pain. He gets used to it eventually, and you get carried around bridal style by the warrior, EVERYWHERE. Or if you don’t feel like being carried, but your bodyguard still wants his hands on you…he’ll have one hand on your hip, and his other hand holding yours.

He would never say it, but he does love it when you’re the one who initiates physical affection with him.

This typically happens when you’re feeling cold and want to warm up against your physically warm robot.

He kinda just, sits and manspreads so you can sit comfortably between his legs and lean up against his chest.

Cozy~

Epsilon (Pluto): A robot with a much better understanding of interacting with humans than most of my robot beloveds…

Given that he’s raising small human children, you’re not surprised he’s good at simple acts of physical affection.

Hugs and handholding are something he’s pretty good at, though…on much smaller people. He has to get used to hugging you, and holding your hand, though he adjusts pretty quickly. But hugs are brief, and handholding is distant enough…when you do want to cuddle for real he’s a little stiff and awkward. He’s sitting, and you sit next to him, and take his hand and lean your head on his shoulder…

He’s not necessarily uncomfortable, because it’s you, but you can tell he’s a bit nervous. Go easy on him and take it slow. He’ll get used to cuddling you, it’s just…different when it’s his human lover.

Eventually it gets to the point where you can cuddle comfortably on his chest, but a personal favorite of yours is sitting on the back of a couch, him sitting between your legs so you can comfortably rub his shoulders, or play with his hair. It’s a shame he can’t actually enjoy the sensations that come from you touching him, but just being close to you, and knowing what the gestures are supposed to mean are enough to him.

But yeah the most he’ll do for you in public is handholding and hugs. Occasionally he’ll stand close enough for your arms to brush, it’s nice. His hands are nice, too. So incredibly powerful, and yet he was always so gentle with you, and with his children.

Billy Kid (Zenless Zone Zero): OK OK he’s a CYBORG I KNOW but lemme have this~

Despite how physically affectionate he would LIKE to be, he’s not very good at it…he doesn’t know his own strength, and he tends to not pay attention…so you’ll move to hold his hand or lean against him, and he’ll spin around really fast because oh it’s his favorite person! And he ends up bonking you because he spun around too fast, not paying attention to how close you are to him…he always feels so bad when he accidentally hurts you…just tell him what he needs to do to hold you properly and he’ll do his best…in certain combat situations though, sometimes he just has to pick you up and RUN.

But yeah, just…be aware when you’re cuddling Billy and you’ll be totally fine! Maybe.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr Sam x reader #honkai star rail Sam x reader #Screwllum #Screwllum x reader #hsr Screwllum x reader #honkai star rail Screwllum x reader #Svarog #Svarog x reader #hsr Svarog x reader #honkai star rail Svarog x reader #pluto epsilon x reader #Epsilon x reader #Billy Kid x reader #zzz Billy Kid x reader #zenless zone zero billy kid x reader

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myillicitaffair · 3 months

Text

One of your girls part two | Carlos Sainz Jr

Summary: after a fateful outcome, Carlos wants to fix what he unintentionally broke.

Warnings: english not being my mother tongue, angst, alcohol consumption, dirty dancing, small description of throwing up, cheating, mentions of sex, messed up dynamics, slight swearing.

Notes: second part of this fic. i also wanted to say i’m currently taking request, to anyone who might be interested xx.

Credits: the gif used belongs to @neymarhamilton ‘s tumblr account, so all credits belong to them. this part, just like the one before, is inspired by the song “one of your girls” by Troye Sivan.

1.8k

SIX MONTHS AGO:

A chilly night welcomes my friend group as we make our way through a prestigious and crowded restaurant situated in the heart of Madrid.

Being born and raised in Spain´s capital city, the girls now walking into the facilities have been by my side my whole life; faith brought us together our first day of school, just three frightened little kids trying to survive elementary.

I like to believe that we complement each other, even if we hadn´t met all those years ago, life would have found a way to connect us.

A girl’s night out is a rare occurrence between us; always being on the shy side, we very much prefer staying in, drowning ourselves in sweet treats while marathoning our comfort romcoms.

The reason why we´re summoned tonight is quite simple… my very first broken heart.

You see, in an attempt to lighten the mood, my friends brought us to an extremely exclusive eatery, one where we clearly didn´t fit in. The difference was quite notorious, surrounded by leggy models and their handsome companions, I quite frankly begin to wonder why I ever agreed.

With a deep breath, I straighten my back and let the hostess remove my coat. “In for a penny, in for a pound” I think with a resigned shrug of the shoulders.

As we´re carried to our spot, I try and take the essence of the place in. I start noticing its eccentric décor, dim lights brightening the burgundy walls, leather booths scattered all over the classy tile floor.

What makes an ordinary dinner such a big success? Its bizarre modality.

Our table is filled with strangers, completely engulfed in their different conversations. The main reason for my friends to take us to this unconventional location was exactly this; the inexorable need to engage in conversations with foreign people.

The first round of dirty martinis arrives as the last costumers take their places next to me, with a lousy cheer I pour the drink down my throat, feeling its pleasant burning down my body, warming me up, making me forget.

“Easy there tiger”- the man sited by my side chuckles, gesturing towards my empty glass.

I take a moment to wander across his features. Thick eyebrows, big brown eyes, plump lips. Definitely attractive, exactly what I need.

A smile creeps up my face, the wires in my brain getting to work.

I notice an elegantly worn designer shirt hugging his chest, his forearms resting against the wooden surface, his attentive stare trying to read my thoughts.

“And you are?”- I condescendingly tease him.

“Carlos”- his hand travels to mine, embracing me with his warm- “Carlos Sainz.”

The subtle body hair covering his fist tickling my naked skin, igniting a fire deep inside me.

And in that moment, I simply knew there was no getting out, not anybody else as long as he kept staring at me like this, eating me raw with his gaze.

That was the first night I ever came back home with him.

————

FOUR MONTHS AGO:

Carlos is away for the weekend, oceans separating us, palpable distance every time he races through my mind.

I try convincing myself It’s the sex I miss, the obvious physical attraction, the invisible force that pulls us towards the other, the feeling of his warm skin being impossibly closer to mine.

Truth being told, I’m sitting immovable on my bed, nervously waiting for a call.

I can’t help but recall his soft locks intertwined with my fingers, his tongue inching towards my neck, how he never fails to make my blood boil with a simple grin.

My phone brings me out of my daydreams, screaming for attention as a call enters it. His name glistening on the screen, filling me with pure bliss and forcing me to hold my giggles.

Acting like a schoolgirl with a crush while being a full-grown adult… how pathetic!

Two rings go by before i pick up, bitting my bottom lip to keep my voice calm as if I wasn’t desperately clinging to it seconds ago.

“Gorgeous, you got a minute to spare?”- he asks, clear amusement in his tone, abusing the charm he knows he has.

“That depends, Carlos, who’s asking?”

I’m gobsmacked at how composed I sound, nowhere near how I actually feel.

My knuckles turn white from grasping my sheets.

“Don’t be like that, princess, I know you miss me”- his smile visible through his speech.

My heart skips a beat, can his words be revealing my true feelings?

“Oh honey, keep lying to yourself if it helps you sleep at night…”

I’m met with his scandalous laugh filling the line, raising my pulse until it’s beating on my ears.

Everything stops, everything keeps going.

I close my eyes in acknowledgement, being forced to admit what i’ve been denying ever since I met him.

Oh, how screwed I am!

———

TWO MONTHS AGO:

The music rumbles at the disco, throbbing on my skin with its intensity.

Being dragged to a hip party, my friends and I are bundled up in the comfort of our own group, dancing between ourselves.

As I rock my body to meet the pulsating rhythm, I embrace Carlos’s presence behind me, tightly grabbing my waggling hips.

He presses himself into me and I rub against his growing erection, purposely torturing him. His kisses start straying while sucking visible red marks into my neck.

His penetrating cologne invades my nostrils, clinging into my bare skin like a golden tattoo.

The mix of the alcohol I insisted on chugging and his hands shaping my whole body becoming intoxicating.

A foreign touch on my shoulder makes me open my eyes, leaving me to face my friend staring at me like i’ve grown a second head.

“You’re coming with me”- she pronounces as she drags me away from Carlos, who snorts in disbelief.

“What? Why?”- I ask as i’m forced to take a seat at the bar.

“Have you gone mad? You two were literally dry humping each other in the middle of the crowd!”- She hisses worriedly, forcing me to drink the water bottle she bought for me.

As she sits next to me, I prepare myself for the lecture she’s about to impart me, letting my eyes wonder across the dance floor.

I catch a glimpse of Carlos standing against a wall, hemmed by complete darkness, sometimes interrupted by one of the dj's lights.

When the spotlight lands on him, I start noticing the delicate hands hugging his broad shoulders, the almost nonexistent distance between him and the blonde caressing his cheeks.

Bile climbs up my throat, threatening to be ejected thanks to the scene before me.

Her lips all over his neck, staining the collar of his white shirt with lipstick.

Realizing i’m not paying an iota of attention to her, my friends follows my gaze stumbling across the sequence.

Effortlessly, she yanks me away from the enclosed space and into the garden.

Without being able to stop myself, I empty the contents of my stomach into the ground, constantly replaying the flashbacks of their sensual dance.

“Everything’s okay now, love”- My friend states while caressing my tangled up hair. Her fingertips come into contact with my cheeks, brushing my tears away.

Sobs are quick to scape my lungs, becoming more and more erratic as I imagine the second by second unfolding inside the disco.

———

PRESENT:

After running away from Carlos’s house, in the middle of a Madrilenian night, I’m fast to hide into the loneliness of my apartment.

I can’t even find comfort in blaming him as I was the one to agree with our “no exclusivity policy”, believing I could make it work.

How stupid of me to think I would be capable of not being trapped into his nets.

Clearly the only solution I can possibly come up with is crying it out, and that’s how I found myself in this situation; puffy eyes, completely ruined mascara, quivering eyes from shedding way too many tears.

Could I have been more stupid? I can’t even resonate one good reason why I would ever accept what he’s willing to offer me while wanting him in his entirety.

My determination is easily devastated as desperate fists bang against my door.

“Please, open up”- A too familiar voice implores from outside the apartment.

“I don’t ever wanna see you again”- I manage to scream through whimpers.

“I beg of you, please let me in! I swear I can explain.”

Standing right on the other side of the door, I feel my hand toying with the doorknob, trying to determinate whether or not to listen to his pleas.

“There’s nothing to explain, Carlos!”- I say, above a whisper, my voice to fragile for anything else.

“There’s been a while since i’ve been with anyone else, alright? Not since all I could think about was you!”

An unbreakable silence fills the hallways of the building, only the sound of his pantings and heavy breathing interrupting the stillness.

Without much hesitation, I open the hinges separating us.

Clearly, I was nowhere near prepared for the view before me; his full brown eyes now shimmering with unshed orbs, accumulated in his tear ducts.

“How about the girl from the voicemail?”- I ask, almost scared to find out this is all a product of my imagination.

“I know what that seemed like, but I promise you it’s not what you think!”- he says, piercing me with his gaze- “That was my ex girlfriend. She has a hard time letting go of me, even though there’s been more than a year since we’ve last been together. I never answer her calls and that’s why she’s getting more and more desesperate.”

Everything around me stops just to listen to his next words, my heart betting so out of control he might even hear it.

“Back at my apartment you told me you were enamored by me, well, there’s no use in trying to deny i’m in love with you”- he whispers, just loud enough for me to hear- “so much it’s physically painful, it’s all I can think about.”

My brain turned into mush as his confession sinks in. I almost want to laugh at how ridiculous the idea seems to me; the man I love, probably the only one i’ll ever love, stating that my feelings are reciprocate.

A sigh leaves my parted lips as a quiet tear runs down my face.

“I know i’ve made my mistakes and believe me when I say i’ll regret them every minute i’m on this earth, but I promise you, that if you give me the chance, i’ll make it up to you until my dying breath”- his voice sounds shaky, as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of him.

I don’t think I ever reacted as fast as now, jumping into his embrace, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs around his torso. Little giggles leave both of our mouths at the ridiculous situation.

“I love you”- He murmurs, muffled by the kisses he’s pressing against my checks.

“I love you too”- I answer back, with our bodies still entwined.

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cloudraker · 1 year

Note

heyo! I saw ur post and wanted to ask for tfp decepticons with a winged! S/o

preferably with megatron, soundwave or shockwave and knockout! Like how they would react and act around them, or like how they would use reader to their advantage? (Not in a bad way)

Reader has a long wingspan (18 ft) and is bigger than a normal human? Like smaller than Arcee but bigger than average.

Please tell me if that’s too much for you! And ty! <3 stay safe

Ofc!! And no worries, it's not too much at all :) Thank you sm for requesting <3

TFP Megatron, Soundwave, Shockwave, and Knock Out with a Winged S/o

Under the cut :)

Megatron

Honestly probably doesn't even notice you're any different at first until you start zipping around

I would say that of the four he's the one that cares the least

That isn't to say he doesn't care at all, far from it! He's got more than a handful of schemes, plots, ploys, etc ready to use when the need should arise

Depending on how you fly and such, he might take your movements into consideration when it comes to his own flight or when training troops. The information gets passed on to Starscream for the latter, but he's still aware of it

He doesn't expect you to be able to keep up with him when he's flying, but he will commend the effort

He does expect your wings to be in peak condition; they're one of your defining features and something that he see as putting you above the rest of your species

If you're at all self conscious about your wings, he scoffs and tells you to take pride in what sets you apart. It's not great advice, but it's something

Soundwave

Enjoys running his fingers through your feathers if you'll let him

Despite being in a relationship, he's still got a job to do. If you're up for it, he'll ask you to do recon or survey areas that need to be scouted in a more subtle way

He's not above using your humanity for the benefit of the Decepticons, but he wouldn't knowingly put you in harms way

Of the four, he's got the easiest time helping you groom your wings due to how thin his digits are

He draws comparisons between you and Laserbeak at times, though he does keep those thoughts to himself

Shockwave

Dude has got plans and ploys in place to test things and ideas

At times it might feel like you're more an experiment than a partner

He's always more than happy to run tests on how far you can fly and how fast, how much weight you can carry and for how long/far

He's also rather interested in your biology, pulling up diagrams of a typical human body and comparing it to yours, trying to figure out why you're different

It might be hard to notice, but he's more careful when it comes to tests. It's one of the few ways he has to show he does actually care about you, and doesn't want to see you hurt if it can be avoided

If there's something you want to train towards physically, you can count on him to come up with the most optimal training program possible

He finds it helpful to have you in the lab and having you zip around and collecting tools for him so he doesn't have to step away from his work

He understands the concept of keeping muscles strong, and makes sure you exercise enough if you're keeping him company in the lab

Knock Out

Dude makes sure you know how pretty your wings are

Makes sure you've got every product you'd ever need to keep them in top condition. Don't ask where he got them from tho

Schedules regular sessions where the two of you just preen and gossip

Also finds it super helpful that you can just fly up and reach the spots he can't and buff them out for him

Absolutely admires the strength you have in your wings. The idea that you have to actually flap them and have enough strength to get yourself off the ground is foreign to him as it's super different for Cybertronians

Not a fan of molting tbh. There's feathers everywhere and guh they're everywhere

Will still (reluctantly) help you deal with it tho

Knock Out makes sure you know he thinks that your wings make you much cooler than other people, and is not above making fun of the Autobots for having 'inferior' humans on their side

#transformers #transformers x reader #transformers prime #tfp #transformers headcanon #maccadam #megatron #tfp megatron #megatron x reader #soundwave #tfp soundwave #soundwave x reader #shockwave #tfp shockwave #shockwave x reader #knockout #tfp knock out #knockout x reader

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sodasa-was-taken · 1 month

Text

How subtle is the romance of G-Witch really: The language of romance and the bias in interpretation

First of all, I want to express my gratitude for all the feedback I've received. You guys are awesome. When I posted my first analysis, I had no idea how it would be perceived. Throughout my life, I've mostly been met with confusion, if not a bit of curiosity, when I've told people about my fascination with the romance genre. Even people who like the genre don't treat it with the respect I do but rather see it as something they can turn their brains off to. I was scared that people who saw my analysis would think that G-Witch, I dunno, had too much else going on to be considered a romance. I can't tell you all how validating it's been to get this much praise for writing about one of my biggest passions. Thank you so much.

This post is less an analysis of G-Witch as it's an exploration of the hypocrisy in how straight and gay romances are interpreted even by the queer community. I've engaged with a lot of female/male romances, especially when I was younger and thought I was straight, so it's quite surreal seeing similar stories being interpreted vastly differently based only on whether the main characters are queer or not.

There's been a lot of discussion about how explicit same-sex relationships in fiction should be. Many agree that the minimum for the characters to be unambiguously into each other is for them to kiss. That would be an ideal metric if the same applied to a man and a woman being into each other. It does not. For the vast majority of history, since people first started portraying characters in romantic relationships, explicit depictions of physical affection between those characters haven't been a thing. Depicting that sort of thing didn't become commonplace until the 20th century. For example, you would be hard-pressed to find any of the somewhat indecent positions Miorine and Suletta get into in a Jean Austin novel. Like, usually in a platonic hug, you lay your head on someone's shoulder or clavicle, and Miorine's burying her face in the upper part of Suletta's cleavage. How scandalous!

Of course, these views are centuries old, and the expectations of what should be included in a story about people getting together have changed drastically since then. Except in a lot of ways, it hasn't. Especially in manga, light novels, and anime, it can take real-life years for two characters to show affection through physician touch. Still, it’s expected that the characters are or will become attracted to one another and that they’ll end up together before the end of the story. Unless they’re the same gender, where not only is that not an expectation, but due to tropes such as Bury Your Gays, people are more likely to think one of them is going to die. That’s messed up. Being a main character in a romance or something adjacent shouldn’t be a death sentence for any character. Then there’s the fact that same-sex couples-to-be in fiction can be as forward as they want in their physical and verbal affections. Still, a straight couple-to-be that does nothing but bigger or just be the most prominent characters in their respective genders will still be perceived as less ambiguous. A man and a woman who get a bit flustered around each other are hopelessly in love. Yet, two girls sharing an intimate hug after a conversation about how neither wants their engagement to just be a transaction; that’s “totally platonic.”

Better yet, Hollywood has fine-tuned this to the point that the male and female leads only need to look at each other for about five seconds, and it’s enough to infer that they’re attracted to each other. This has become so ubiquitous that people have gotten confused when the leads are implied not to have gotten together despite having shown zero romantic intent. Having the character show romantic intent isn’t generally considered a requirement for them to end up together in a Hollywood film. No, seriously. All this is to say that literary and visual shorthand have always been and continue to be a major part of romances. Yet, the bar is much higher when it comes to the confirmation that two characters of the same gender are into each other. An author can use the exact same narrative tools that have become a staple of female/male romances/romantic subplots, and someone will tell you you're being led on for picking up on them.

The main reason for the high standards placed on same-sex couples is the desire for representation. If straight couples are allowed to or even expected to kiss at some point in the story, the same should be the case for same-sex couples. That said, kissing neither is nor should be the be-all and end-all of good representation. Yeah, straight couples get to kiss and have sexual relationships, but by all accounts, a significant amount of straight representation is absolutely abysmal. Lots of straight romances reek of sexism, outdated gender roles, and stereotyping, are toxic, and straight-up have a reputation for romanticizing abuse. If kissing or an “I love you” is the metric to which good representation is judged, two straight people who have zero chemistry or are downright abusive would be better representation than a same-sex couple whose relationship is built on mutual respect and support but who doesn't get to kiss or say “I love you” and that's ridiculous.

It’s also worth noting how people who tell others they’re crazy for seeing a queer story where according to them, there aren’t any, get characterized as needing to see something explicit to pick up that a story is or even just be interpreted as a queer romance. The thing is, most of these people aren’t dense; they’re willfully ignorant. They can pick up on the signs just as easily as they can in male/female romances; they’re choosing not to, even if it’s likely an unconscious decision. There seems to be a need among queer people to have depictions in media that even bigots can’t deny are queer. Why though? Representation is vital in helping to normalize the existence of various types of people, but for so many queer people, it just doesn’t seem to be enough. So what if some people wouldn’t get it unless the characters kiss? Those people will just start complaining about how they’re having queerness forced down their throats, and that’s their problem. There’s so much more to the queer experience than displays of physical affection, and this representation gatekeeping isn’t helping anyone. Normalizing same-sex couple kissing is important, but normalizing people of the same gender kissing is only going to normalize the kissing itself. If, for example, two people of the same gender get to kiss and then one of them gets killed off, that's the opposite of normalizing same-sex relationships.

Pulling from my own experiences, I've never been told that there was anything wrong with two people of the same gender kissing. Still, I saw same-sex relationships as inferior and believed being in one couldn't give me the life I wanted. I tried so hard to convince myself that I was straight and was only attracted to someone with a different gender presentation than me – because I was also an egg who told myself I was wrong for feeling uncomfortable for being referred to as my assigned gender at birth. Honestly, I thought that I would be happier if I didn’t even entertain the idea of getting together with someone with the same gender presentation as me. So, imagine how much it meant to me to see a show about two girls where one of them didn’t even think that getting engaged to another girl was an option, both of them having young men interested in them but asking each other to spend their life with them, and ending the show being married and being all the happier for being with the other. That's the kind of representation I've been looking for.

On a less serious note, I’d like to share an antidote from when I watched episode one for the first time. When Suletta sees someone floating around in space who appears to be in danger I didn’t initially consider that the person in question might be Miorine. The visuals planted the idea in my mind and the thing that confirmed it was the framing of the two inside Aerial’s cockpit. I couldn’t explain what I was picking up on, but to me, it was a dead giveaway.

#queer representation #mobile suit gundam the witch from mercury #the witch from mercury #g witch #sulemio #suletta x miorine #love is love and film language is film language #when the visuals dialogue and music all suggest something romantic is happening how subtle is it really?

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petrichor-idyllic · 1 year

Note

Hellooo how about a Minho x she/her reader where Minho has been hit by the lightning and hs the scars and one day Reader walks on Minho being half naked and she traces his scars and theres tension building up ;) THANK YOU

I love lightning scars Minho so absolutely.

This is a relatively new request, but I'm trying to get some of the easier ones done since I'm currently away.

And I just liked this idea.

SPARKS

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. After TDC in the Safe Haven. You're a Right Arm member because I just like the idea.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, spice, typical dumb horny teenage bullshit. That's it, really.

You're a member of the Right Arm.

You're not high-ranking or necessarily special. You just ended up tagging along after Vince came through the refugee camp you were staying at.

But that doesn't mean you don't do anything. You're bold and forward, and you went through life-risking measures to help WICKED's Subjects escape.

Because, well, everyone did.

That doesn't matter now, though. They're safe, you're safe - everyone is safe and everything is okay.

Well, kind of.

Trauma doesn't just vanish. But, people are getting on with their lives.

And so are you.

You've ended up befriending some of the Gladers. Originally, you were friends with Harriet and Sonya since they'd been around a while - and they introduced you to the boys. So, you've got your own little friendship group now.

You're particularly close to Frypan and have some friendly competition with Gally. But you like them all the same.

Well...

Almost.

You don't know what it is about Minho that has you in such a chokehold. Sure, maybe if you were some innocent girl from a Maze who didn't know how to act around boys, it would make sense. But you're not.

You've survived the Scorch and the land outside of the remainder of society. It's not like Minho is the first person you've ever been attracted to either. So, why does he make you feel like this?

Apart from the fact he is undeniably attractive.

You figure it's just dumb surface level physical attraction. And with nothing else better to do, you decide to test the waters a bit.

Glancing at him across the table as the bonfire dances and his friends chat, often meeting each other's gaze. He holds it longer than he should. He always does.

Always standing or sitting next to him; your arms or your knees brushing as neither of you make any effort to grow the distance between you.

Playful inside jokes that often have subtle suggestive undertones. Normally, in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it style that the other Gladers brush off or don't notice. This results in Minho smirking into his chosen beverage, drinking up your figure out of the corner of his eye.

It goes on like this for a while; just being in the same friend group with some subtle flirtations going on. It's actually kind of fun and a much needed way to relax.

But it doesn't actually go much further than that. And you're fine with that.

For a while.

The jokes start becoming more explicit. The eye contact becoming less subtle. The closeness becoming drunken dancing instead of just standing together.

People are starting to notice.

The dumb attraction is starting to become actual feelings. He's brave and strong and funny and everything you want - and it's just making the sexual tension thicker.

God - it's getting bad. Anyone and everyone in a room with you two would be able to feel it.

The Gladers often tease Minho about it, talking about how he's one wrong move away from ripping your clothes off and cracking where he stands.

It's taking a lot of resilience from the both of you. Especially since you're both stubborn - it's become a silent game of who will crumble first.

"Hey, (Y/N)!" You're currently sorting out bedding and hauling different types of sleeping arrangements around camp. With Gally being put in charge of the Builders now, the huts are being thrown up like there's no tomorrow.

The Gladers and other Maze Subjects got the first available buildings, along with high up Right Arm members. You don't really mind, to be fair, you enjoy the hammocks and are happy to help the Gladers.

But as Thomas shouts you, you groan, turning around, blankets threatening to spill out of your hold. "Hey, Thomas. You good?"

"Yeah," something seems off about him as he fiddles with the hem of his shirt, "I know you're already busy, but could you check on Minho for me?"

"Huh?" You tilt your head, concern immediately setting in. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"Uh," Thomas did not think this far ahead of his dumb plan. "Well, we just haven't seen him all day - seems kinda down. Figured you'd be the best person to speak to him."

This perplexes you. "Why me? You guys are closer."

And you could've sworn you'd seen Gally and Minho shoving each other about earlier today. Though, maybe you're just mixing up your days.

"Yeah, but he likes you, so..." You pause, farrowing your brows. He likes you? In what context? Like you know that he likes you. But... like, more than just the dumb flirting?

You shake it off. "Alright, gimme a second."

You dump the bedding off where it needs to be and make a beeline for Minho's hut.

Little do you know that Minho has just gotten out of the shower - and is completely fine. Thomas and Frypan decided they'd had enough of enduring the tension between you and this is the result that.

Reaching the door, it's slightly ajar, and in your concerned state, you, for some reason, decide not to knock.

"Hey, Minho, are you-?" You push open the door and immediately freeze.

Well, shit.

Minho stands with his back to you, loose sweatpants hanging off of his hips and he's without a shirt. He rubs his hair with a towel, freezing at your voice and turning slightly to look at you.

Which would be less awkward if you weren't in some kind of trance.

Minho is tall and muscular, and he doesn't have to be half naked for you to be aware of that. But, that's not what's stands out.

All over his upper body, mainly populating his back, are pinkish lines. They travel down his spine and split like webs across his back, some whisps creeping across his sides and grazing his front.

"You just gonna stare or ask me about it?" Minho says after a good few seconds pass.

What do you even ask?

"Uh, what... why..?" You trail off and Minho raises his eyebrow before scoffing.

"I got hit by lightning." He states matter-of-factly. "Ended up giving me some scars."

"When did that happen?"

"Out in the Scorch, just before we met Brenda and Jorge."

"And you never mentioned this?"

"Well, it didn't seem like a big deal," he smirks. "And I'm kinda enjoying the look on your face."

This kind of snaps you back into reality. You're here for a reason.

You clear you throat, closing the door behind you for more privacy just in case the ex-Runner is on the verge of a meltdown. "Are you... alright?"

"Uh, yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Minho is growing more concerned by the second. What is happening here?

"Well, Thomas said that something was wrong and asked me to talk to you."

Minho scoffs, putting the dots together and slowly nodding his head before rubbing his face with his hands. "Did he, now? Shuckin' slinthead. I knew they were up to something."

"Huh?"

"They're messing with you - us, even."

"Huh? Why would- oh! Oh."

Ah. That makes more sense. And is mildly mortifying.

"Yeah." Minho shakes his head, turning away from you again as he mumbles to himself. "Sorry, my friends are dicks."

"It's uh, fine. It's fine."

Your gaze falls back on Minho's chiselled form. He's practically mouth-watering.

And it's not like this is weird. You've been pushing each other's boundaries since day one. This could be another opportunity to see how far you can take things. I mean, he would if this were the other way around. So, with a sudden peak in confidence, you walk over.

Minho chucks his towel on his bed. "So, are you-?"

Minho doesn't even get the chance to finish his question as electricity sparks through him. Again. This time, not because he's nearly dying, but because your fingers graze his back.

His entire body stills, his mind immediately becoming foggy, and the hair on his arms stands on end.

"Do they still hurt?" You ask, your gaze focused on his skin and your voice low.

You're gentle in your moments, letting your fingertips barely tickle his flesh. But with the immediate and tense reaction, you're reminded that Minho is about as touch-straved as someone can get.

He's just good at hiding it.

"Uh, no, not really. They kinda feel weird sometimes, and I was really buggin' out about them when I first noticed them. But I guess I had bigger klunk on my plate." He tries to maintain his composure, but his voice wavers at several points.

You bring your hand higher, dancing across his spine and between his shoulder blades.

"Why were you buggin' out?" You've grown somewhat used to the Glader way of speaking.

He hesitates for a second, physically jumping when your other hand joins in, using your thumb to rub circles and pull at the scars threating to escape to his middrift.

"Well, I uh- shit," he mumbles the cuss word, stepping back more and into your touch, letting his head fall back. "I just... they just look weird, yanno?"

"I think they look hot."

Okay, you're becoming very bold.

"Hm? You think I look hot?" He asks, half-looking over his shoulder at you, not wanting to fully turn around and lose the feeling.

"That's not what I said."

"That's what I'm askin'."

You blink at him, watching his lopsided smile creep across his face.

In a game of confidence - Minho will always win.

Which means trying to play it cool.

"I just think scars are interesting, they tell a story."

"Do you go around touching everyone's scars, then?" He cracks a wicked grin you can't see as he turns his head away again. "That might get you in a bit of trouble around here."

"Yeah, but not with you." It actually is genuinely fun tracing the patterns in his skin. You have one hand following one path and the other following a different one.

"Oh, yeah? How do you know that?"

"Because you like it."

He peers at you again, his face suddenly serious and his tone lower than before. "You're really starting to push it, yanno that?"

"Push what?" You tilt your head, pretending to play innocent.

"You know what."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"So, you're just feeling me up because you think my scars are hot?" He scoffs. "That's what's happening here?"

You think for a second. Fuck it. "Yep."

"Well, there's more scars if you wanna touch them?"

Your eyes flicker to his face, letting your arms fall from his skin. He turns around, holding his hands behind his back, he rocks on his heels.

From his back, travelling to his front are smaller webs of the scarring. At first glance, you thought they only reached around his sides, but now you're realising there's thinner, less noticeable branches trailing across his abs.

He presses his lips into a thin line, almost like he's calling your bluff. Because this is the game you've been playing. Pushing each other. And you've pushed him so he's pushing you.

Though, this very well might end up being the breaking point.

Too stubborn to back down, your hand connects with his stomach area. He flinches, but very quickly relaxes again. You gently run your fingers across the lines and the curves of not only the remains of the electricity, but of just his body.

Your eyes flicker to his face as you expect him to make some cocky comment about how that's not a scar. But he doesn't. His eyes are fixated on your hand.

It's a feeling he's never really experienced before - watching someone enjoy him. Someone touch him with such care. With such want. Someone touching him like this at all is new.

And it's you.

You're the one touching him.

You.

And that's making it so much worse.

He doesn't make any effort to hide or stop the tightening sensation in his pants or the way his chest is rising and falling. His mind is falling into complete fog; he feels like he's taken something he probably shouldn't have.

You notice it, too.

"Minho-?"

"Shut up," he says almost immediately, eyes finally meeting yours. His pupils are wide and his eyelids heavy. "This... this isn't fair. You can't..."

He seems a strange mix of stressed and turned on.

"Okay, I'll stop," you pull your hand away, but he immediately grabs it, laying it flat against his middrift. "Minho?"

"Don't," he mumbles. "Don't stop." He can't look at you properly.

God, what's happening to him?

"Look," he continues, trying to gain some sort of clarity for a second. "If you're just messing around, that's fine, but leave now, okay? 'Cause this is getting cruel."

His words and the way he's acting is sending heat straight to your core. You step towards him, your faces inches apart.

"Are you caving, Minho?" Your voice is sultry as your hand slides further down his front.

"Are you?" He responds, leaning in further, your noses brush and you can feel his breath on your face.

"We can't keep doing this, yanno? One of us has to break eventually." You mumble, practically into his lips.

His eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips.

"Shuck it," his hands come to your waist, yanking you closer as he finally kisses you. You squeak from the force behind it as you throw you arms around his neck, clawing into his back to try and steady yourself.

It takes a matter of seconds for Minho to spin you around, pushing you onto the bed, both of you tangling together. Desperation sets in fairly quickly.

Minho's hands under your shirt as you try to pull it over your head. His lips on your neck and chest as he slips a hand under you, trying to yank your jeans down. You leave stains on his skin from your nails.

It's a blur of emotion and hormones.

Then Minho hesitates as he sits back. At first, you think he's just admiring you as you lay in your underwear, but there's something else.

"You good?" You ask, becoming concerned.

"You know we're not gonna be friends anymore if we do this, right? Like the flirting and klunk is fun, but this is different. We can't take this back. A-and I've never done this before. I don't wanna shuck up our friendship or make things weird."

You blink at him before sitting up. He watches you as you move onto your knees and kiss him again.

"I don't wanna be your damn friend, Minho. Take the hint."

It's like there's a light behind his eyes, a smile creeping across his face, but unlike his usual cocky smirk, it's soft and warm and genuine.

He pecks your lips. It's sweet and unusual for him. "You wanna be more than friends, then?"

"Yeah," you chuckle, "but I'm sure we can worry about that later. We're a bit busy right now." You wrap your arms around his neck again, lightly touching the scars on his back. He grins at you, connecting your lips again as he pushes you down.

He pulls away, his teeth brushing your ear lobe as he lets out a low chuckle.

"Sounds like a good plan."

Here ya go, another spicey Minho piece for y'all.

I hope you enjoyed :))

#🌿 petri tmr minho #🌿 petri writes #🌿 petri writes tmr #🍃 petri tmr #tmr fanfiction #tmr imagines #minho the maze runner #tmr minho #minho maze runner #minho tmr #minho tmr x reader #the maze runner

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polyklok · 1 year

Text

When they’re down bad

Dethklok and their massive, throbbing crush. You can interpret this as and xReader, xOC, or even towards each other idk I don’t make the rules.

Nathan Explosion

Unlike the other members, Nathan has had experience with actual girlfriends (rather than just flings) before, and so can identify the difference between attraction and actual romantic interest pretty quickly.

But he’s still a total idiot about it. He basically hasn’t developed his flirting style since high school; he hasn’t needed to. He’s famous! So, he just sorta forces himself into their attention all the time. He purposely bumps into them, asks to borrow random things, always stands or sits next to them. He just wants to constantly be around them.

He tries to start conversations too but, my god, he’s so awkward! They’ll be sitting in silence together and he just shouts “MAN, THIS WEATHER IS CRAZY.” While it’s been perfectly sunny for three days straight. BTW, he’s always yelling around his crush. It’s partly because he’s nervous, partly because he’s trying to assert his “dominance” (he doesn’t have any)

He tries to drop not-so-subtle hints about his feelings. Like, there will be a couple in public, clearly on a very romantic, cheesy date and he’ll be like “THAT LOOKS FUN, WE SHOULD DO THAT SOMETIME” to his crush. Or if there’s a kissing scene in a movie, he squeezes their hand or something. Just, out of the blue.

In general, he’s pretty obvious and is sort of a disaster, but it’s cute and oddly charming. 7/10 because I suddenly decided I’m ranking them

Pickles The Drummer

If Nathan was a disaster, he’s the end of the world

He desperately tries to play himself up in front of his crush, specifically trying to seem more classy and sophisticated, which are two things Pickles is not. He’s the kind of guy to try to be suave and lean up against a wall and then immediately eat shit, falling to the floor.

He likes to talk around his crush but never to his crush, ya’know? Like, if they are in a room, he’ll speak all loudly to a group about how cool he is and all the things he’s done. But in a one-on-one convo, he’s literally shaking and sweating and nodding along like his brain isn’t in full panic mode (it is). Because he physically can stand how gorgeous his crush is and how obsessed he is with them.

He’ll probably try to drink more than usual to calm his nerves, but it really makes it worse. Cause now he’s a bumbling idiot who’s only talking about how ‘damn pretty’ they are and threatening to get into a fight with the bartender.

Eventually, he does calm down. And he gets to be his natural, funny and relaxed self around them. His heart still flutters, but the anxiety doesn’t consume him like it used to and he has a real conversation with his crush and it feels like he’s falling in love all over again.

Like in most situations, Pickles is kinda a wreck. But he needs time and the right amount of booze to be a pretty great guy, 6/10

Skwisgaar Skwigelf

Sound the fucking alarms because this Swedish whore has himself a crush. Seriously though, the realization hits him like a fucking truck. He’s just like, wow this person is hot and I like spending time with them and they have a great personality and they’re funny and they make me feel nice and HOLY FUCK

He gets so pissed. Like, genuine anger at himself and them and everyone else in the world because something is wrong. He can’t bring himself to take it out on them, so he just always scoffs and ignores them for weeks on end. But the whole time, they’re in his head. He feels all warm and fuzzy in more places than just his dick for once.

Eventually, he stops being just a baby and gives them a weird, half-assed apology his ego is still fragile, ok?! And starts flirting. Hard. Constantly praising their body and making unsubtle sexual innuendos, it’s the only thing he really knows how to do in this situation. God forbid they giggle or flirt back, because his face is gonna turn completely red and he’ll need to excuse himself for a 10-minute freak out.

Skwisgaar just feels so many strong emotions, and these new, affectionate ones are just kicking his ass. There’s a good chance that he gives up because he just can’t handle it. But, he might just persist and slowly open up and let them in.

He’s pretty much a noob for these sorts of things. He’s a sex god, not a Prince Charming. 3/10

Toki Wartooth

Toki is actually more passive when it comes to romantic feelings than you would expect; he can accept potential love interests as friends very easily. But once someone has embedded themselves in his brain as more than just a groupie or a good friend, my man is COMPLETELY ride or die

Doesn’t make any effort to hide it either. He gets all giggly around them, biting his lip, twirling his hair, kicking his feet. He’s seriously smitten and everyone can tell, including the crush. He won’t deny it either, “Of course I’s likes them! Who wouldn’ts?”

His wooing methods are completely cheesy as well. Like, leaving a large, lovey-dovey gift basket on their doorstep or writing awful poetry for them completely in Norwegian. In fact, he’s pretty much always getting them little gifts and they’re all genuine, even the stereotypical ones.

He also gets very, very touchy. Greeting them with hugs and holding hands and even little surprise kisses. He knows that they’re not technically dating, but he still sees them as his one and only, so he already begins cementing himself as their partner.

Although, if they don’t show any interest back, he’ll stop after a week or so simply because he gets bored easily. I’m not gonna sit her and act like he doesn’t have the patience of a four-year-old.

Man goes all in with his flirting but it fizzes out very quickly. 7/10

William Murderface

I was wrong about Pickles; THIS is the ultimate disaster. Poor guy really can’t take it, he’s so flustered and anxious and a bit furious at the whole situation. William is so fueled by hatred and hostility that he can’t fathom the fact that he genuinely likes someone and craves their love. For him, it feels like he’s gonna die without them and yet he refuses to go within a foot of them.

Most of the time, he just stares at them with his angry look on his face. If they ask what’s wrong, he just mumbles and walks away. But really, he gets so excited that they talked to him, even though he immediately fucked it up.

Maybe with some time, he can find a slightly better way to deal with his intense feelings. He mostly just needs to learn to relax and have some confidence, but those are both things he has never been good at. But, if he does manage do to so and have a conversation with them…it’s still pretty bad. He’ll stutter and stumble, walking on eggshells because he knows that he has a tendency to say stupid shit.

Even if the relationship doesn’t ever go anywhere, there’s a very good chance he’ll be this nervous around them for months, possibly years. If his crush manages to get the message and starts encouraging his ‘advances’, it’ll still be a while until he’s anything less than a wreck.

Someone please help Murderface, he’s dying out here. 2/10

Btw I wrote this last night and am posting it without much proofreading so sorry if it’s awful

#dethklok #metalocalypse #polyklok is real #william murderface #dethklok headcanon #metalocaypse headcanon #nathan explosion #toki wartooth #pickles the drummer #skwisgaar skwigelf #dethklok x reader #metalocalypse x reader

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postmodernbeliever · 1 month

Text

how to relax - fox mulder x female reader (smut)

a seemingly endless case in the middle of nowhere has you stressed out of your mind, to the point where the only thing that doesn't push you too far is fox mulder. with all that stress and no way to reel yourself in, your partner decides he wants to help show you how to relax.

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wrote this bc sometimes we (i) just need a (toe curling) self-insert to satisfy our (my) daydreams. i dedicate this to all those who are chubby and in love with fox mulder. if you prefer to read on ao3, you can find me at the same username.

my ao3 | word count; 5,419 (i got excited, okay?)

content tags (i copied from ao3 bc im lazy): dom fox mulder, praise kink, fluff and smut, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, hand & finger kink, subspace, size difference, belly bulge, co-workers, mutual pining, idiots in love, pet names, stress relief, cross-posted on ao3, smut, subtle plus size reader, soft fox mulder, mentions of freudian shit bc come on this is the x files, talking you through it, fox is literally so awoooooga the whole time, fox gets cocky as always, fox mulder the munch, bathroom sex, fox just can’t help himself literally so i hope you enjoy

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

you’d been beyond stressed all day, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary for you. what was frustrating was that you had managed to grow so agitated that it seemed nothing could help you calm down.

your work with the fbi was your life, in all its stress-inducing, time-consuming, hair-splitting glory. you were as tight-assed as they came (ask literally anybody!) all of that pressure on top of a naturally anxious and irritable demeanor made you difficult to enjoy being around, and you knew it. but today, of all days, it was truly catching up to you physically. the muscles of your jaw were sore from the tension they held, fighting between your teeth for release. your head swelled between your eyes and nose, pulsing softly like a glowing light that wouldn’t dim. your throat was dry, your footsteps heavy, your hands restless; you were wound so tight that everyone you encountered feared you might snap like a rubber band, lashing against them in recoil.

fox mulder was the only one who had stayed on your good side all day, which is surprising, given your partner was typically the casual aggressor of your everyday life- what with his constant nagging and ridiculous speculations about every crime you investigated. he never once changed his attitude, let alone change the color shirt he wore to work every day. yet it seemed this time he was off the hook, because the case you’d both been assigned was dragging like no other.

it was your fifth day in the desolate yellow countryside of a rural town you so lovingly renamed as bumblefuck, virginia; all you possessed was an immaterial, mulder-esque lead that couldn’t be pinned down (as your fellow agent was torn between shapeshifter and werewolf). on top of that were ten dead bodies, no evidence, and a motel room with broken air conditioning, complete with a leaky sink. you were sick to death of the heat, and the town, and the local policemen who seemed to have but two executive functions: hit on you or ignore your assertions. for a stagnant fifth day, you’d experienced more frustration than ever- the cops have begun to give up on catching a suspect, fox was investigating muddy footprints all afternoon like the freak he is, and you were stuck to sit in the closet-sized archives room at the local library where teenagers and nagging townspeople came in to ogle the “fbi lady”… jesus, no wonder your head hurts.

fox came by every so often to check on you that afternoon. once with a cup of coffee, once with half of a sandwich he’d thoughtfully taken a bite out of to piss you off, and again with dirt all over his face and a wild story about how he caught a glimpse of his x file mid-attack. if you weren’t used to his personality by now it might’ve made things worse, but in a way his teasing and subtle acts of service were the only soothing memories you had to reflect on. he was a moment of consistency between the endless chaotic installments of the afternoon.

at the end of the day, you were mentally exhausted, hungry for the other half of that sandwich fox ate, and in need of the shitty motel bed; at the very least some peace and quiet, just for one night. but it seemed your partner wouldn’t let you have it.

you’d had about an hour to yourself before fox materialized in your motel room. after a shower that quickly ran cold, you slipped into a sweatshirt, a threadbare set of sleep shorts that were a bit tight for your pudgy legs, and two flimsy socks that didn’t match because you hadn’t packed for a trip this long. you’d tried watching the television, but the antennae were spotty no matter how you arranged them. the air conditioning machine clanked and whistled nonstop, and hiding under your pillows didn’t dull the racket. the best part was when you tried to light the little bedside yankee candle and the lighter ran out of fluid- but not before it sparked and burned your thumb. you’d finally begun to decompress when a familiar knock sounded from outside. summoning a forcibly loud groan- so your tall visitor heard exactly how you felt- you clambered off the creaking bed and towards the door, which revealed his trademark smug smile.

“good evening, watson!”

“what do you want?” you sighed, closing your eyes.

you felt his hand push your shoulder to the side, and the man squeezed past you into the room. you scoffed and said, “oh, please, make yourself at home!”

“i will, thank you,” fox teased. “i came to check on you.”

“because?”

“well, you’ve been a wreck all day! didn’t laugh at one of my jokes. you nearly bit the sheriff's head off tonight when we checked in at the station before leaving… i just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“oh? well, you know what? no, mulder, i’m not okay. we’ve been stranded out in the middle of nowhere for a week with no leads and no progress and the food here sucks and i haven’t had a single good night’s sleep and all my socks are dirty!” you ranted, pacing in front of the half-open door like a lunatic.

fox grinned as if he knew something you didn’t and turned from you, heading towards the tiny bathroom tucked in the corner of the room. you slammed the front door shut and followed him, snapping, “what, you come in asking how i feel and just walk away? explain to me how that makes any sense, mulder!”

the agent leaned against the bathroom sink, hands laid curiously on the lip of the counter. he dutifully watched the little crystal droplets that fell rhythmically down the ceramic bowl. the air surrounding him felt charged, like if you stepped too close, you’d get shocked; almost as if his thoughts were electrifying the oxygen.

he frustrated you beyond belief sometimes. the man stood in your bathroom like his day was going perfectly fine. a gray t-shirt clung to his lean arms, hugging the curves of his biceps like it was tailored for him alone; his sweatpants were black and littered with lint from the hairy couch in his apartment, and they hung low on his hips, peeping the waistband of his black boxers like a well-known secret. his hair was pointing every which way in its tawny misdirection, and he had the nerve to inspect your sink, and lick his lips like he had all the time in the world to enjoy the southern sticks and lupine mysteries, all while you had to scour newspapers and sleep in ten minute increments to survive.

“mulder, what the hell are you doing?”

“your sink is leaking.”

“yeah, i know, sherlock.”

“did you ask them to fix it?”

“mulder, i will not hesitate to kick you out.”

“jeez, somebody’s worked up.”

the man pivoted on his feet, facing you with a newfound sense of purpose. you were prepared to object his statement, but were silenced by his hands finding your hips. he was so quick to slide you up onto the counter that you forgot your rebuttal- in fact, in his rush to relocate you, you’d forgotten to think entirely. he had your thighs pinned to the cold, white countertop, and parted so he could press his tummy to the spot where your legs met. his shirt rode up in the moment, and you could feel the warmth of his bare skin against the fabric of your shorts.

fox’s hands felt rough. you stared at them, at the sheer size, and recollected all the little stolen glances of those fingers sifting through his filing cabinets, or analyzing your field notes, or polishing his gun. countless vivid reminders of the strength of them as they pulled you back from bullets and unexpected staircases flashed before your eyes. how often you longed for them, you couldn’t say, but it was clear to you now as those same hands held you down that you had taken a serious liking to them.

it took you a while, but you managed to mutter, “what are you doing?”

fox could only smile wider and say, “you need to relax, don’t you?”

“what does that-”

“why don’t you let me help you?”

you swallowed thickly, feeling a bubbling heat rise in your belly. his calloused palms rode up your legs, finding room for his thumbs to begin drawing soft, sweeping circles against your hip bones. your brain clouded so fast you forgot to answer.

“i’ve never seen you so aggravated before… like, by every little thing. i mean, i know you get annoyed, but these past couple days have been so rough for you, haven’t they? just can’t calm down, can you? you look so tired, so tense. i can feel all the tension you’re keeping right… here,” he consoled, letting up on your hips to press a hand to your lower abdomen. when you sucked in a nervous breath, the man pressed a little harder, and you twitched beneath him. “i can fix that for you, if you want. show you how to relax a little.”

“y-you’re not even supposed to be in here,” you wheezed, “agents… agents aren’t supposed to consort in the same room, mulder, remember?”

“awh, come on, don’t start following the rules on me now! don’t you wanna feel better, honey?”

fox spoke like every word was a secret, leaning in close to your ear. the scruff of his five o’clock shadow brushed against your fresh face, eliciting a spidery chill down your spine.

“what’s gotten into you, mulder?”

“i asked you a question, sweetheart.”

you panicked, swallowing air like it was water. these kinds of questions felt new coming from him. anxiously, you let out a shaky breath and nodded, hoping that was enough. you couldn’t handle much else.

“is that a yes?”

“...mhm.”

“can you say yes for me?”

fuck. “yes.”

“good girl. it’ll help, i promise.”

it seemed he couldn’t be going any slower than he was just then, gingerly removing his hands from your waist and biting his lower lip like the reincarnate of a dream you’d entertained too many times before. you watched with a spinning head as his long, spindly fingers hooked under the waistband of your shorts. his pale eyes twinkled at you, sage steeped in milk, as he asked, “can i?” in that lilting voice he uses only when the room is begging for quiet. when you eagerly nodded, he chuckled, “lift up for me a little, okay?”

you followed orders and pressed your shaky hands to the tile, raising your hips so he had room to slide your shorts down. his face melted at the sight of you underneath.

night after night, he’d fantasized about those doe eyes of yours watching him free you up like this, but he never imagined he’d get the chance. until this afternoon, when he resolved to create the chance. through all these years working beside you, he’s only grown to admire you more. you were cunning, you were gentle with kids, you were smarter than he ever could be (even if you disagreed.) but you were also tired. you lived alone, you slept alone, you never asked for help and you declined every offer. fox hated to see you facilitate your own frustration. and this past week has only exacerbated his need to fix it- watching you so angry, so pent up, so in need of attention- he couldn't bear to let you suffer any longer. it seems he’s been lucky, too, because you sat quietly, patiently, all so that he could take care of you. grateful for the opportunity, fox didn’t want to waste any more time.

with those dreamy fingertips grazing your underwear, fox was the spitting image of boyish charm. he admired the worn black and grey striped fabric covering what was left of you, thinking aloud, “had these for a while, huh?”

“since i was in college,” you muttered, “everything i wore was dark back then.”

“nothing’s changed. you’re very punk rock,” he winked.

you didn’t know you were capable of laughing in your current state, but it came bubbling up in a nervous overflow. he watched your lips curl, and the way you threw your head back like you couldn’t stop yourself. you felt embarrassed to be so swayed by his stupid humor, but you had no choice. not when he had you wrapped around his finger like this.

“you’re a dork.”

“you like it, though,” he reassured.

you watched the man hesitate, eyes darting down to your lips; you closed your eyes, hoping it would nudge him in the right direction, and you were right. fox had to crane his neck down a bit- because even with you on the counter, he was still taller- but he made himself level, and he pressed his lips to yours so gently you almost didn’t feel him there. what announced him was the taste of him, actually; stale coffee on his tongue, and what you deduced to be the black-label chapstick, the kind that tasted like medicine. you toppled into him like you were falling off a cliff, clinging to the hem of his shirt in longing.

fox seemed to like how you hung on him. it made him feel risky. his hands meandered across your tummy, pushing up under your sweatshirt and roaming the soft skin of your back. he caught your bottom lip between his teeth and tugged softly, and when you opened your eyes in surprise, he nudged your nose like a kitten and let it go. he was good at taking control like this, at making your nerves ebb and flow to his pace. you were so entranced in the way his lips meshed with yours that when his dominant hand found its way to your hips again, you mewled in anticipation.

“you sound a lot prettier when you’re not arguing with me,” fox joked. you met him with a soft sound from the back of your throat, and his eyebrows furrowed in amusement. “can barely speak, can you?”

“mm-mm,” you answered, trying to trap his lips again, but he pulled away.

his eyes shifted shade, and you were now seeing yourself reflected in much darker irises. your back shivered against the mirror on the wall. he broke eye contact and let it linger on your legs, his palms swiping over the skin with intention. swiftly, he bent over and began pressing kisses to your inner thighs. you let out a strangled whine, which made him shudder.

“you want me to get to it, hm?”

“please, f… mulder,” you whispered, blushing like a fool.

the man rose again to lock you in a soft kiss, one so much more loving than the others that it let butterflies loose in your chest. interrupting their fluttering, he prodded, “what was that?”

it was out of you before you had a chance to weigh the outcomes. “please, fox.”

having teased long enough, fox dropped to his knees and pushed your panties aside. his mouth was so slick from all the time it spent on yours that it was dangerously warm as it pressed against your heat. you let out a lewd string of moans as his tongue trailed a long, torturous stripe between your folds, taking his sweet time getting to the top. he felt you throbbing, all the blood in your body pulsing like a heartbeat for him. his lips, just a bit swollen, peppered a few gentle kisses to the skin before surrounding your bud and starting to suck.

you squeezed your eyes shut so hard it nearly brought your headache back. fox grunted between your hips, the pads of his fingers pressing hard into your bones. you softened for his tongue as it swirled inside your pussy, tracing shapes to drive you insane. your hands burrowed into his cropped cut and tugged in desperation, which he liked so much it practically made him growl; the sound bounced between your walls, sending a sensation into your stomach that made your legs tremble. he felt so good inside you like this, lapping like a puppy at your water; you bucked against his big nose, craving the friction, and he responded with relentless thirst for you.

“fuck!” you whined, “fox- agh,”

coming up for a gulp of air, you caught a glimpse of his slick chin as it glinted in the yellow light. “feels good?”

“shit,” you panted, “yes, obviously… more,”

“more, huh?” fox licked his lips with hungry eyes. “i’m gonna need you to say please, baby.”

“jesus, fox, please! pretty please, baby, please just keep going,”

“fuck, don’t call me names…” the man swooned at the broken cry in your voice, resolving to give you whatever you needed until the day you die. now wasn’t the time for confession, though, so he filed that away for later. “pretty please. god, you’re good.”

you nearly choked as he pushed two fingers into you, curling them in a rough come-hither motion. he bombarded you with himself, sucking hard on your clit and fucking his fingers into the swelling spot inside you, making you lurch against his touch like an animal. with your head thrown back against the motel mirror and pretty mouth gasping for him, he realized that his dreams could never do this moment justice. the sugary, tangy taste you left on his tongue, your soft skin that smelled like shower suffocating him, the way his name rolled off your tongue- you were the real fucking deal, not some half-assed daydream that got him off at night. you were beautiful, and for not being a praying man, being on his knees before you felt right. who was he to stand eye to eye with you, when down here where you were perched above him like an angel, he had so much more room to worship you?

“fuck, i- oh, i’m…” you whimpered, grinding against his face with fervor.

“let it go, honey, come on,” he cooed, “i’ll take care of you.”

“b-but i- i’ve never- oh my god!”

the agent watched you battle with yourself, all the while writhing on the countertop, so he carefully brought his thumb to your clit and picked up the pace. he rose to you again, using his free arm to slither around the base of your back and pull your body flush against his. you bunched his shirt in your fists helplessly and hid your face in his shoulder. it took all his strength not to collapse right then and there, but he kept moving for you, and you rocked against his palm like you were made for it. when he realized you were going to need a little more help, he gave it to you.

you were stressed, after all, and sometimes somebody’s just got to talk you through it, right?

“never had it this good before, hm? nobody’s ever made you cum, sweetheart? you poor thing,” fox twitted, clicking his tongue. “you work so hard. my smart girl, so good at her job, so independent… you deserve to be taken care of, to feel good, baby. to let go of all that stress,”

you struggled to think straight as his gruff voice battled the ringing in your ears. his palm pressed against your back with so much care, like if he moved it you’d shatter into a million pieces. it was all so much, to have your partner with you like this; to hear him breathing beside you, to feel his fingers in a place you’d never thought they’d be. he saw the gears turning in your head still, and he wanted to shut your brain off for good. and god, did he. fox coaxed it right out of you like it was his job.

“come on, good girl, you can do it,” he whispered. “cum for me, honey, i know you can. show me you can.”

for every moment of danger you found yourself stuck in, fox was there to protect you. when you got reprimanded by a director, he was there to hold your hand behind the safety of the desk. when you were late and needed a cover, he was prepared with a detailed story. you’d forgotten a raincoat a comical number of times, so many in fact that he began keeping a spare in his office for you to borrow. fox was always there, waiting to help you, to guide you, and if it was fucked up (so far as to call it freudian) then so be it- you needed it from him. you needed his safety, his warmth, the strength of his arms around you. his reassurance.

and to hear him care for you like this, too, to pull on your strings and unravel you like a tired tapestry… god, nothing ever felt so good.

fox’s eyes rolled back as you twitched on his fingers, moaning his name like a prayer into the stuffy bathroom air. your hands struggled to find a place to stay as they combed through his hair frantically, tugging and trembling; it was like you’d never been touched before in your life. you had, but very few times, and it was just like he said- nobody had done it right. but he had. it felt like his hands were crafted to please you. they knew exactly where to touch, how fast, how gentle, how deep. the man figured you out instantly, which was as exciting as it was terrifying. you’ve never felt so out of it in your entire life.

you panted wildly, and fox gave soft kisses to your hair while you tried to regain your composure. but you couldn’t. you couldn’t get a grasp on anything. the world was floating in limbo around you, all inconstant; the countertop felt as foreign to you as flying did. but even in your daze, you craved more- the second he stopped, you needed him to start again. you could barely speak, but he heard your mumblings: “m…more, more, f… foxie,”

that nickname gave him goosebumps. slowly, he said, “baby, i don’t have anything with me for that,”

“don’t care. please.” you begged. there was no way he could say no to you, not when your pretty, cloudy eyes looked up at him how they did.

“okay, baby, okay.”

fox gave no warning, but nothing would have prepared you anyway- you instinctively opened your hips wider just to make enough room for him. he pushed all the way in, letting himself bottom out; the man let out a moan so guttural that you clenched around him in reflex. you were lucky enough to see him make that pretty ‘o’ face, and that might’ve been enough for you, honestly, but it wasn’t for him. he needed you, and he needed you fast.

his thrusts were no match for all the grinding you could do. he snapped back and forth like a whip, hips rolling so hard that it felt like he was digging inside you deeper each time. you dragged your nails down his back, trying to find something to hold onto, but his moans in your ear as he hid his face in your neck were so distracting you kept having to start over.

“jesus, baby, you’re so tight for me,” he grumbled, “feels so good, you’re doing so good… fuck, my good girl.”

his praise made every nerve in your body short-circuit. it didn’t matter how he moved, you couldn’t stop babbling. he tugged your hips forward a little more, making you slump against the mirror, and you clutched the countertop for dear life.

“can’t use your words, huh, baby? look at you, smartest analyst in the fbi and you can barely speak, all because of me,” he tormented. the man pressed his right hand against your tummy again, just like he had before, and he growled with lust. he seized your hand and pressed it flat beneath his in the same spot, and he fucked you harder, forcing it down until you felt his thrusting beneath your palm. you never thought you’d feel anything like this, not with your soft stomach, but he was making it possible.

“you feel that, pretty? feel me inside you, filling you up? you’re mine now. all mine.”

you had no control. you whined, “foxie,” jerking your hips against his cock in a craze.

“god, that’s right, that’s my girl.” he smiled.

“s-so… a-agh, please!”

“mm, i know, baby, keep going,”

you had no more words left, you’d used them all. fox had figured out how to take away all your stress, yet in the process, he took your whole mind with it. now you were just his, a thing to be kissed, a fleshy body for him to praise. for a control freak, you loved being the one under another’s control for once.

you scratched at fox’s shoulders, a mindless drop of drool dribbling from the corner of your mouth. you felt his cock as it swelled against your slick walls, and how it poked against your insides, and if that weren’t enough, he moved his hand to your clit again and resumed rubbing those blissful circles into it. you could only sit there and grind against his touch, muttering strings of curses and unintelligible sounds.

“agh, baby, you’re so pretty like this,” his moans were growing harsh, turning into whines. “all fucked out, mm, so pretty for me,”

his hips started snapping erratically, and your back arched against the increasing speed. his teeth met your shoulder and he bit softly, grumbling, “i’m so close,”

in what felt like a cry but came out as a strangled whimper, you warned, “m’gonna… agh…”

fox watched your face screw up in pleasure, and it pushed him right over the edge. your body collapsed as you let go, and he rushed to hold you to him and keep you upright. all the way in your gut, where your hand once rested, you felt him pooling all over, thick and warm. his thumb swirled you slowly, working you through it so you didn’t get too shocked. he was stationary for a while, unable to move from the overstimulation; but when he did, he watched the stuff bubble out of you, though only just a bit. his throat closing up at the sight. he gathered some of it on his fingers and raised them to your lips, and you licked them sweetly. his stomach churned as you gazed down at his hand with foggy eyes, somehow still lustful after all he’d done to tire you out.

“good job, baby, you were so good for me,” he crooned, leaving sloppy, tired kisses all over your neck. “someone’s gotta take care of you, don’t they?”

you just murmured little hums, and he loved every second of it.

“you hear me, pretty girl? nobody takes better care of you than me, you got it? who takes good care of you?”

“foxie,” you admitted in your mindless bliss.

“that’s right, baby, foxie does. you’re all mine, honey,” he gushed. “not so stressed anymore, are you?”

“mm-mm.”

“are you okay? take a deep breath for me.”

you tried to speak, but the words weren’t forming. you couldn’t string anything together. all you could do was make quiet noises and mutter his name. “mmph… foxie,”

“here, come here, honey.”

fox tucked his hands beneath your thighs, and after instructing you to wrap your arms around his neck nice and tight, he carried you from the croaking bathroom sink to the motel bed, where he took extra care in laying you down comfortably. he climbed on top of you and adjusted your shirt, smoothing the fabric over your plush tummy and drawing a dopey smile from you.

“stuck in your head, hm?” fox asked.

he’d read up on this type of thing before- subspaces. typically common in BDSM practices, but not exclusively. there was a study conducted that detailed the experience theoretically as a headspace induced by rushes of endorphins, causing the receiver to fall into a trance-like state. he remembered reading how when someone is in a subspace their ability to communicate can be impaired and so can their judgment. it was also suggested that asking grounding questions may help coax people out of them (don’t ask how he found such a study.) so being the guy he is, he took everything very slowly from there, and followed the science.

“can you hear me, sweetheart?”

“mm.”

“good. what’s my name?”

your stomach fluttered at the question, and warmth pooled between your hips at the softness with which he asked, but your brain was two steps behind. it took you a minute to answer, and you could only do it with your eyes closed. “foxie,” you muttered.

“good girl, good job. that’s right,” he rewarded you with a kiss to the collarbone. beneath his breath he muttered, “fuck, if that isn’t cute.”

he could see you were somewhere else. all of your behavior was so needy. you might’ve thought you were a headcase before, but he’s no stranger to id impulses either; he saw how you pushed into his palms, how you refused to let go of his shirt, and he just wanted to help you through it. he wanted to make sure you felt safe.

“baby, can you open your eyes for me? can you let me see your pretty eyes?”

you peeked through one and saw his handsome face staring back at you, that toothy grin blooming flowers in your chest. slowly you opened the other, and even though the world was swirling, you managed to keep them open.

“you’re doing so good, thank you, baby,” he chuckled. “now, i’m gonna put your shorts back on, okay?”

“m’kay.”

you took a deep breath. he watched your chest rise and fall, and your cheeks burn even redder than he thought possible. your hand held his wrist tightly, tight enough that he prayed your nails would leave little moon-shaped marks behind. you shook your head and tried to wipe away the fuzzy feeling.

“what’s my name again?” he asked, noticing how hard you were trying to focus. he tapped on your hip so you’d know to lift them, and he wriggled your shorts back on, admiring how they hugged the skin.

“f-fox.”

“good. what’s my job?”

“you’re… a profiler,” you volleyed, feeling a little more grounded with each passing second.

“good girl. and where are we, honey?”

you squinted at him and smiled, “bumblefuck, virginia.”

when fox laughed, it felt like all the angels rung their bells. something about seeing his face light up and whatever was plaguing him, whatever he was in danger of, just wash away in the moment was nothing short of enlightenment. you wished he’d laugh more, so you could see divine intervention on the regular.

“coming back to me, hm?”

“yeah,” you giggled.

fox leaned down and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “i’m trying not to let my ego explode right now, you know,” he smirked, “i never thought you wanted me so bad.”

you blushed, hiding behind your hands. “i… oh, god.”

“no, no, it was cute! really. you… you don’t know how badly i’ve wanted to do that.” he promised.

“i’ve never felt-” you paused, wondering if it was worth saying. yet, if he could bring you back to earth after fucking you stupid, what secrets could you hide from him? “i’ve never felt like this about anyone before.”

“who, me?” fox laughed.

“mhm. it’s just… agh. you. it’s only you, fox. embarrassingly so.”

it was his turn to blush then. fox leaned down to catch you in one more kiss, and you felt his hand search the bedsheets for yours so he could tangle your fingers with his own. he didn’t want to break away, so he said it right into your mouth, pausing for air: “god- i have- loved- you for- so long.”

fox couldn’t help but feel proud of himself as he laid down between your legs, resting his head on your warm belly like it was a pillow. you instinctively took to his hair, playing with the chocolatey tufts and wishing he’d never move. he fit so perfectly right there, and now you couldn’t ever let him go. you didn’t want to.

with one last kiss to your hip, fox grinned. “told you i could help.”

#spooky mulder #x files #fox mulder #smut #smut and fluff #fox mulder smut #x files smut #fox mulder x reader #agent mulder #fox mulder x you #praise k!nk #soft d0m #Spotify

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dballzposting · 2 months

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There's really no plainer way to put it but that Goku's love language is fighting.

As in, that's how he communicates, that's how he expresses himself, that's how he comes to understand, that's how he bonds; the pattern of empassioned push-into and push-back. The resistance and deflection, the purposeful direction, the pinpoint strikes.

It's really not a tug-and-pull yin-and-yang dance between two people, as much as it is that each party is BOTH yin and yang. They enter with their own completed prerogatives, and they have a physical argument to test their stance. Each party has their choice of tactic, their own rhythm of when to roll aside and when to spin and strike back and when to dig their heels in and block.

It's because he's a Saiyan and also because of his upbringing. He grew up with the rhythm of the wilderness, where everything is self-defending and self-righteous; and where everything communicates through subtle fights, those inter-organismic interactions, all utilizing the basic moves of offense, defense, or avoidance.

Different animals utilize different techniques, habits, forces of nature; they fall in different niches in the environment. The rabbit does not want to be preyed on, but if he is caught, he is able to accept this inevitability of present reality with grace; the tiger does not want to be caught, and if he is, he'll size you up and make sure you're worth it before rolling over.

It's driven by instinct and biology, but from Goku's budding perspective, it was no different from how warriors learn and adapt and have the volition to utilize different techniques.

The only other person he knew was his Grandfather, who was one of the best martial artists on Earth at the time, and thus: Goku's early bonding behaviors were ruled by the training he did with his grandpa. This also informed his general understanding of the world at large.

Once Goku started on his epic swag adventure and met new people, he had the capacity to love them all, and he continues to fight for them. But the way he loves his friends is maybe not what people have in their head when they think of deep bonding. He loves them, in a sturdy and firm way, in a "of course I do" way, as upfront and practical as any other observation of the natural world.

It's not deep, raw, or passionate; it's not vulnerable, it's not sustaining, it's not supporting; it's not messy or emotional, it's not blood-red or heart-pink ... Goku just stands with a perfectly straight spine, perfectly secure, and he loves his friends, that's all there is to it! He has fun with them, he enjoys their company, he worries for their well-being ... And he will easily go years and years without ever seeing them. When he does see them, he just picks up where they left off like no time had passed at all.

My point is that Goku doesn't NEED his friends, he does not need to see them or to be with them or to feel their support. You know how humans are social animals and need to interact with others in order to stay healthy and functioning; and you know how Goku isn't a human!

He's a Saiyan, so it's by nature, but it also very much has to do with his lived isolation during his formative years. His roots of stability are in boundless nature, the art of fighting, and confidence in his own body; not in the presence of a community.

When he DOES bond deep with people, as in connect on an intimate level, it's in the context of fighting. That's how he understands them and makes himself understood! Through the language of technique, through the specific combinations of offense, defense, and avoidance.

He routinely makes friends with people whom he originally fights as an opposing party, such as the case with Yamucha, Tenshinhan, Yajirobe, Vegeta ... And he makes a habit out of mercy and requesting teamwork with everyone he fights.

He doesn't take fight to be only an aggressive thing, and he takes to friendly sparring or methodical training really well - thinking very fondly of Master Roshi, Master Korin, Popo, King Kai - and having a DELIGHTFUL time with Krillin when they trained close in their younger days.

Of course, fighting CAN be a purely angry, aggressive thing. But he's always ready to let it Not Be, too. Except in the cases of righteous, seething anger (his battles with the biggest bads who have done much to hurt his friends, planet, and order of the universe), Goku loves it when an opponent wants to hang around and fight again.

It's like how predator animals play with each other by tussling for fun. It's not just when in the pursuit of food do those animals utilize predator behaviors, but it's ALL the time, because they have been endowed by nature to be Of A Certain Make & Model because it helps them to survive, and it's just who they are always. They notice certain things, make certain things out to be important, they are intrigued by certain things, they like to move in certain ways - it's everything about all of them that puts them in their ecological niche.

EXAMPLE: Think about how cats are wired to recognize the visual pattern of a snake and to respond quickly, and that's why they sometimes swat at bananas. Or how they hiss, a behavior that emulates the sound of a snake, but they don't know that, they just get angry and hiss. Or how their eyes and brain are designed to notice and follow Movement, and they find this A.) Important and B.) Intriguing; they often orient toward it. This intrigue is selected for because the movement could be food, but, to the lived experience of the animal, it's also just fun. Cats will play with inanimate objects and rodents all the same.

For comparison, non-predatory birds are wired to find importance in things like color and size and shape when it comes to finding food - and they AVOID movement, taking flight away from rather than orienting toward it like the cat.

Another detail about predatory animals: when hunting, they require the element of resistance to stimulate their predatory instincts. This has the advantage of steering the animal away from already-dead-and-possibly-contaminated prey, and toward still-alive-and-delicious prey. This is why the freeze response works in deterring predators; because when the prey isn't moving and fighting back, the predator doesn't feel stimulated enough to hunt. Who knows what animals feel, but the lived experience may be a sort of disgust or repulsion; a definitive avoidance.

At any rate, cats find a lack of movement and a lack of resistance Boring, which is why your cat loves to chase the string toy you just yanked away from her, and why she gets bored when you stop.

My ultimate point is that that's what Goku is like, as a Saiyan, as a mountain boy, as himself.

It's no surprise that his ONLY goal in life is fight. So it's not bizarre to think that through this is how he comprehends and connects with others.

Since this is the case: I honestly think, that on some level, he has loved every opponent he has ever faced. Even Freeza, who introduced him to the purest and most earnest form of righteous rage - Goku hated him more than he had ever hated anybody; but I think that he still loved him as the living, fighting being he was. It's an undercurrent of love that comes with the territory whenever Goku fights, whenever his body gets to move and express himself in that way; and that LOVE I think is the source of his strength. Fighting for anger or other corrosive emotions dirty your soul in the long-term. Goku loves to fight, and has loved deeply every opponent, even if only at the most basic and required level - but he loved, and he loves, and that's why he's the greatest. It's an expansive, nurturing, positive force that he brings into the world.

He loved his grandfather. He loves Roshi and Krillin and all the rest. He loves his sons, and he bonds with them when he trains them, because it's through this that he comes to understand their deepest ways; and he's honored to do so, and he's proud of them beyond measure.

Chichi has long since been out of the ring, but I think that the most vivid memories that Goku has of her are when she is yanking on his ear or slapping him for his ignorance. Like how the cat attaches importance to patterns of movement, Goku attaches importance to such physical engagement; and he retains those impressions for longer.

What he has with Vegeta is the realest shit right down to their bones and shared Saiyan physiology, and it's imperative that they continue to fight each other for forever.

So I guess my point is that if you want to bond with Goku: you'll have to come at him a bit, and offer meaningful contact, and when he comes at you, never roll over like a possum - actively resist, dodge, and strike back.

#dballz posting

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twig-tea · 3 months

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Communication styles, mirroring, and new relationship growing pains in Cooking Crush

In Cooking Crush ep7 we get a lot of really cute moments and really wonderful plot arcs that fly in the face of BL tropes (Nobly ghosting your crush because you think their life is better without you? Breaking up rather than simply agreeing to take time apart to focus or be in different places? Not clarifying your feelings? Making assumptions about your partner's physical comfort levels? Ten said not today, Satan!).

And! We also got a lot of more subtle goodness that I want to take a second to highlight around the feeling out of their relationship that happens between Ten and Prem in this episode. They each try out ways of showing affection, and of communicating, and it sometimes lands and sometimes doesn't, and they also take turns trying out one another's methods on each other! They slowly start to use more of each other's styles, and they get better and better at understanding one another as a result. I'm mildly obsessed, so let's break it down.

First, after Ten blocks Prem from leaving (communicating that he needs an explanation--first with his actions and then with words), we get Prem trying out the cute nuzzle-y apology in the grocery store, and then going in for a peck kiss (and Ten meeting him immediately and then getting flustered, loved this!). This was such a good moment because Prem uses the kiss in place of words, to indicate his feelings (he says "do you know now? you're not the only one" but doesn't specify he's talking about his feelings). This theme comes back in the episode later.

[gif by @gunsatthaphan; full set here]

At the cafe, Ten lies about having eaten and then not having eaten to appease Prem, and Prem immediately noticing and pinching him about it--this white lie for Prem's peace of mind clearly did not land well.

And then Ten tries to make up with him by mirroring the way Prem did to him in the grocery store (the cute nuzzling). And this seems to land better; Prem eventually gets flustered but tells him it was cute. And then Ten goes to get Prem food, because feeding one another is already an established-effective form of communication for them. Ten comes back and makes a really cheesy pun about sweet food/soulmates and it does not land and he sits a bit ashamedly back down.

[Ignore the two caption formatting styles, that was me being too lazy to go back to WeTV but wanting more screenshots so getting them from YouTube.]

He tries physical touch again instead, by reaching out with his foot. And again, it doesn't land, Prem confusedly asks him what he's doing. And then Prem accidentally (?) reciprocates--awkwardly because he doesn't really get it. And so Ten explains that this was supposed to be a signal that they should kiss some more. He decides to use words, and this works! Prem nods and goes with him to make out against some very unstable bookshelves lol

Ten asks Prem if he wants to continue--using words because that's what has worked best so far--and Prem gives him the green light nod again.

And so they try again, and again get interrupted, and Ten gives up. But this time Prem uses Ten's method--words--to ask if he wants to continue, and Ten gives him the green-light nod back! Again, they continue to mirror one another's styles of communication when they see it works.

[Both this and the previous gif above done by @tenprems, with full gifset of this exchange and the mirrored nods available here]

This next tiny moment was cut from the YouTube version, but in the car, Prem gives Ten another one of the now-established-as-effective green light nods before jumping into his lap lol Loved these continuous check-ins and establishing of mutual interest!

Back in the cafe after giving up on making out--and how much do I love the frustration about not just being able to kiss all the time, and not having a good place to go because they both live with their families, this was so relatable--Ten says his feelings outright (this is the Ten way) and tries cuddling in again, because Prem said he thought it was cute before, and Prem responds positively by verbally saying he feels the same, which gets Ten to pop back up in excitement because this is the first time Prem has said aloud he has feelings!

I love this moment that follows because it establishes just how differently the two of them think about communication. Ten, until now, was unsure about Prem's feelings because Prem never said them aloud. Now that he has, Ten takes that as a signal to ask if they can move to the talking/hitting-on stage. Prem looks at him like he's ridiculous, because they just made out in three separate locations lol and points out that obviously they're already past that stage. To Prem, his actions should have been clear enough to communicate enough of his feelings to Ten. Again, like in the grocery store, Prem thinks actions are explicit and clear, while Ten finds them ambiguous and wants clear and explicit words. And as they continue testing and mirroring communication methods on these dates, Prem starts to use more words and Ten uses more actions, and they understand one another better.

[gif by @gunsatthaphan full set here]

Later in the episode, Prem brings Ten food, because as mentioned this is an established as effective communication method for them. He overhears the fight with Ten and his father, and leaves, because that conversation underscored his worst fears about his relationship with Ten--that he'd make Ten's life worse by being in it. Prem defaults back to his usual methods of communication--avoidance and action--and Ten holds him back and uses his words to describe his feelings. And Prem goes back to meeting him halfway and responds with words! He explains exactly how he feels to Ten.

And in response, Ten goes for action to comfort Prem--he knows this speaks to Prem more by this point.

And then he goes back to words and explains his plan to Prem to stay apart for now so that they can be together in future. Later, Prem runs into Ten at the cafe, and goes to touch him--again, action being his primary language of communication. He goes to leave and Ten asks him to stay, and explains with words that he'll be out of town for the mid-semester break. He asks Prem for a lunchbox for the trip--again, asking for their tried-and-true food in order to get reassurance of Prem's feelings for while they're apart. And Prem, in response, uses his words to confirm that he knows he's in Ten's heart. He then asks Ten for physical affection in return ("recharge my battery").

I love this moment in particular because it does three things:

Establishes that Prem is more interested in Ten's love than his money

Combines their communication styles by both being physical and verbal since Prem explained verbally that this hug was important to him

Confirms in Prem's style (non-verbal communication) that he's still open to physical affection even given their slightly ambiguous status.

And Ten immediately acknolwedges receipt of this message by kissing Prem--again using Prem's preferred communication method and mirroring his actions in the grocery store at the start of the episode--and then following it up with a verbal explanation (because he's Ten).

In the final scene of the episode, Prem brings Ten the food as promised, but explains he also included a written note with the food (more explicit communication!). And Ten responds to that by offering a hug. Every time one of them tries to meet the other halfway, the other does too, and it gives me LIFE.

Prem pulls away, and Ten checks in verbally, but Prem doesn't run off like usual. He stays to explain, because he's learned now that Ten needs that verbal reassurance around what's going on with him. And Ten responds physically, by wiping away Prem's tears.

He then tries this cheesy thing with the glasses as a metaphor, and it does not land, Prem is too practical.

[gif by @gunsatthaphan, full set here]

But he does make another metaphor about seeing only him--again, meeting Ten halfway. And then he tries to make a joke about how he, Prem, would flirt around while Ten is away, and again it does not land lol. He immediately backtracks and instead makes a cheesy pun, mirroring the one that Ten made in the cafe that did not land at all for Prem, and for Ten it clearly lands, he looks quietly really charmed by this. I loved this so much, there's something extra sweet about someone who hates puns making a pun for you because they know you love them.

And then Prem says explicitly and clearly in words, "I promise I will wait for you".

Ten starts his journey and opens the lunchbox, and reads the note from Prem. Unlike the previous (often partially failed) attempts that Prem has made to communicate his feelings through food without explaining what he was trying to say (I'm thinking of when he made that lunchbox full of things that turned out to be food Ten doesn't like, or when he made all of Ten's favourite foods and brought it to school pretending it was leftovers but the fact that Ten had read Prem's deleted text message made Ten understand that it was actually for him), this time Prem has explained with words exactly what he was trying to express with his choice in food.

These forays into feeling out one another's communication styles, styles of humour, finding one another's hard lines (don't lie to make me feel better; don't joke about cheating on me) and just getting a sense of what works and what the other needs, this is bread and butter early relationship stuff, and the show is quietly depicting it so well. I had such a great time watching Ten and Prem not just fall in love, but learn how to effectively be in a relationship with each other this episode!

Huge thanks to the giffers @gunsatthaphan and @tenprems being fast enough to make gifs that I could include in this meta! If anyone gifs any of these other scenes I described, especially the battery recharge and Ten popping up excitedly hearing Prem use his words, please tag me!~

#cooking crush the series #cooking crush #bl meta #typed so that i could stop thinking it

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princesssarisa · 4 months

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One of the most fascinating pieces of movie analysis I've ever read is J.B. Kaufman's thesis of the "two different Snow Whites" in Disney's Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.

He writes about this in both of his two books on the making of the movie, The Fairest One of All and its companion piece Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs: The Art and Creation. His argument is that Snow White's two leading animators, Hamilton Luske and Grim Natwick, each gave Snow White a slightly different personality when they drew her. A close look at the movie, and knowledge of who animated which moments, reveals subtle differences in Snow White's expressions and body language. Luske, her head animator who handled the majority of her scenes, portrayed her as a more purely innocent, childlike character, while Natwick, the creator of Betty Boop, gave her a little more maturity, sophistication, and sauciness.

You can see the difference, for example, when comparing her girlish interactions with the animals in "With a Smile and a Song" and "Whistle While You Work" (animated by Luske) to her flirtatious smiling at the Prince from the balcony, or her "mothering" of the dwarfs as she examines their dirty hands (animated by Natwick). Or her responses to Grumpy in the scene before the Washing Song: as she asks "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" she looks at him with a devilish grin (Natwick), but then when he sticks out his tongue at her, she reacts with the most wide-eyed, girlish shock (Luske).

Now, I don't know if these two men really held different views of Snow White's character, or if it just worked out that Luske drew Snow White's more innocent scenes while Natwick was assigned her more grown-up moments. But either way, Kaufman argues that this "tension," the movie's constant push-and-pull between "Snow White as a wide-eyed innocent girl" and "Snow White as a self-assured young woman," makes her an especially interesting Disney Princess. I tend to agree, especially because, miraculously, there's no sense of inconsistency in her character. She comes across as a young girl on the verge of womanhood, who naturally can still be naïve and childlike in some ways, but more grown-up and clever in others.

This thesis makes me wonder if certain "tensions" in other movies are the result of different viewpoints within the creative team.

For example, in Beauty and the Beast.

Linda Woolverton has often talked about her feminist goals in writing Belle's character, which sometimes clashed with her collaborators' visions of Belle as a more traditional fairy tale heroine. It just might have been those clashing viewpoints that created the dichotomy in Belle that I personally think makes her interesting. On the one hand, she's a strong-willed misfit rebel, partly inspired by Jo March in Little Women and by Katharine Hepburn's screwball comedy heroines, who longs for adventure, isn't looking for romance until she unexpectedly finds it, stands up to men (and beasts) who abuse their power, and refuses to let anyone dominate her. On the other hand, she's a sensitive dreamer with delicate beauty and balletic grace, who wears pretty, ladylike dresses, adores fairy tales and love stories, and is sweet, nurturing, and almost motherly to her friends and loved ones. Yet somehow these two sides of her character co-exist with no sense of inconsistency between them.

There's also the dichotomy between the two different views of the Beast that the movie seems to present at once. On the one hand, there's the Beast as an unseemly brute, who's beastly form is both a just punishment for his flawed character and an outward symbol of it, and who needs to be "tamed" into proper "human" behavior, culminating in his physically turning human again. On the other hand, there's the Beast as a suffering, self-loathing outcast, unfairly hated, feared, and dehumanized, whose plight under the spell can easily be read as an AIDS allegory, and who needs to be accepted and loved as he is. I suspect that this also stems from different goals and viewpoints in the creative team. (For example, Howard Ashman's clash with the directors over whether the Prince should be a child or a man in the prologue – the former would have made him more "tragic" but the latter makes his punishment more "fair.")

I'd like to read an analysis of these "tensions" similar to Kaufman's analysis of the "two different Snow Whites."

#disney #snow white and the seven dwarfs #snow white #j.b. kaufman #beauty and the beast #belle #the beast #animated film #analysis #characterization #dichotomy

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heartsoji · 1 year

Text

comforting you after getting a little insecure about your relationship

suna, bokuto, sakusa x reader (separate)

notes on sakusa's: he's aged up and his volleyball schedule is based off of an elite volleyball club schedule, so if his canonical schedule is different im sorryyy

warnings: reader insecurities, platonic hugs and cuddles w/ friends

notes: the one bolded word is the nickname for the character that reader uses :)

a/n: WOWOWOW omi getting 10 hrs of sleep i could never it's 1am rn

s. rintaro & clinginess (reader goes to a diff school)

-you were clingy.

-and you knew that very well.

-however, you never felt bad about your clinginess. rin was big on physical touch, too.

-it wasn't until one of your friends pointed it out that you felt a teensy teensy bit of insecurity.

you engulfed your two friends in a big hug. "morning!"

the two looked at you and laughed. (not in a mean way) "morning, y/n-chan."

you walked between them with your arms around them and talked. you loved moments like these; just talking, enjoying each other's presences, and getting some love in the form of platonic touch. you loved these friends deeply, and you enjoyed every moment that you had with them. you also always wanted to feel loved as well as make them feel loved, and physical touch = your love language. not to mention, you got to hear all the gossip like this. it was great.

then, at some point, one of your friends pointed something out. "y/n-chan, do you have attachment issues?"

you were very taken aback. "what?"

"yeah, she probably does. she always needs to be between us or something. definitely sounds like attachment issues." your other friend added teasingly.

you just laughed and said, "lowkey yeah i guess." and continued the conversation.

although the comment was half-joking and you had brushed it off, it was enough to start overthinking any touch that you had with anyone.

where you'd usually give your friend a quick pinch to the sides to greet and scare her, you instead screamed "BOO!"

you immediately backed off when you realized you gave one of your friends a hug out of instinct and habit, not wanting to come off as clingy.

you opted to sit on the other side of the table when you were studying in the library with your friend, worried that she might think it was weird how you wanted to platonically cuddle while studying.

though these were subtle changes, you really started to get into your head.

when you met up with rin after school, you opted for a "hi rin!" instead of a "RIIIIIIN!" and a big running hug. he noticed this change, but said nothing.

when he tried to grab your hand to walk together, you held his loosely, which was different from your usual pulsing grip. you liked to give his hand squeezes. you didn't know why, but it was just reassuring to you. but you didn't do it. didn't wanna come off as clingy or too attached or anything.

when you watched a movie together, you sat next to him instead of cuddling with him.

when you started crying during the movie, you held his hand instead of engulfing him in a huge hug.

rin took note of all of it.

he wasn't sure if it was significant enough to mention, but something about this situation had a weird vibe to it, so he brought it up as casually as possible.

"you've been less touchy today." rin mentioned as you two walked home.

you froze. he noticed?

"i-i guess so?" casual. keep it casual.

he picked up on the uncertainty in your voice straight away. "what's wrong?"

"nothing!" you tried your best to sound cheerful.

he raised an eyebrow at you.

"w-well, it's just that my friend mentioned that im kinda always on your arm and asked if i had attachment issues or something. i didn't like let it get in my head or anything, but i just kinda noticed that she's sorta right. thought id try giving you some space, you know?" you rambled. as you let it all out, tears formed in your eyes. oh gosh. he would definitely think that you were overreacting. you tried hiding your face so that he wouldn't see them, but it was too late.

rin wasted no time in engulfing you in the biggest hug and pressing kisses all over your neck.

you could feel your cheeks heating up.

"don't stop.. being all clingy and touchy and stuff. its cute and i love it."

he took a deep breath. he never was very good at talking about emotions. "i love.. everything about you. including your attachment issues."

to anyone else, nothing about rin's expression when he said that was weird. it was the same deadpan expression that he always wore. the stoic, cold, distant one.

but you knew him well. in his eyes, you saw a tenderness and love that he could only look at you with. the tenderness and love that meant "i mean it." no filter, no bs, no false comfort. the truth.

there's no doubt in your mind. you're not thinking about how he's just saying that, or how he finds this little conversation annoying and insignificant. all you're thinking about is how lucky you are to be with someone like rin. you hug him back as a few tears of relief and love fall. with a smile and tears in your eyes, you reply.

"same here."

b. koutaro & another girl

-your relationship with bokkun was pretty new

-you had been friends for maybe 4 months or so before you two started dating for a month now, but you had an instant connection and became good friends very quickly.

-however, you had always felt that because you hadn't even know bokkun for half a year yet, there were a lot of things that you didn't know about him.

his friends, tendencies and habits, etc.

-you were never shy around him because of that, though. it was hard to be with his personality.

-you accepted that there were a lot of things that you didn't know about bokkun, but you loved him and he loved you, so you constantly reassured yourself that you would always continue to get to know him.

-but one day, you felt yourself getting pretty worked up about something.

"bokkun!" you exclaimed as you ran up to him. it was finally time to have lunch, so you were excited to eat together and talk.

you stopped. talking to him beside him was a girl with long, jet black hair and big amber eyes. she had long, thick eyelashes and full, plump lips. her milky white skin didn't have a single blemish. she had a small, v-shaped face and a nice ass. to sum it up, she was possibly the prettiest girl you had ever seen.

who is she and why is she talking to bokkun? wait. no no no. don't overthink it. she's probably just a classmate or something. no need to worry about it. you thought to yourself.

but then, she placed her hand on his bicep and gave him a cute smile. you could read her lips. "bokuto-san, this is very impressive! you must work very hard at volleyball!" or something. seriously, who is that?

when she did that, bokkun didn't shove her off. he just kept talking as if nothing unusual was going on. as if a girl that wasn't his girlfriend wasn't clinging onto his beefy biceps.

you felt tears well up in your eyes. he wasn't even shoving her off. did he not care about you?

you wiped your tears and walked up to him.

"bokuto." you said coldly. you were seriously hurt. how could he do this to you? you really thought that this relationship would go somewhere.

at the use of his normal last name, his hair drooped. were you mad? what did he do?

"what did i-" he began.

"can we talk?" you interrupted, glaring at the girl before pulling him away.

you led him to a quiet area in the courtyard where you wouldn't cause a big fuss.

"bokuto." you started sharply. "who the hell was that girl?"

his hair drooped even further. you were definitely mad. why, though? "a.. classmate? her name's takahiro. uh.. takahiro mika. we're.. working on a group project together. he answered nervously. the air was thick with tension and he didn't like it one bit.

"do you realize," you began, "that that CLASSMATE of yours was flirting with you? she literally grabbed your BICEP MUSCLES, bo. and you didn't even tell her to let go! you just kept talking as if that was normal! you have a girlfriend! me! do i not matter to you?" you exclaimed. you were talking pretty quickly, and you could barely understand yourself, but you didn't care. you were pissed.

"huh?" bokkun said, confusion and a slight bit of happiness due to the return of a nickname lacing his tone. "she was just commenting on my hard work for volleyball, though?"

it took him another few seconds to think about what you had said. he now understood that maybe you didn't want him touching other girls, which was perfectly normal and understandable! he would avoid that in the future.

that was when his brain finally caught up. you were talking so quickly that it took him a second to catch up. did you really just ask if you didn't matter to him? of course you did! you're the freaking love of his life, after all! (leave it to bokuto to get carried away with the whole "life" thing.)

"woah woah woah!" he screamed.

you jumped. what was with the sudden surge of emotion.

he grabbed you in his arms, picked you up in the air, and twirled you around before peppering kisses all over your face.

"of! *kiss* course! *kiss* you! *kiss* matter! *kiss* to! *kiss* me!" he cried.

he stared at you dead in the eye. "don't even think about that. i love you so, so much. i'm sorry if what happened made you uncomfortable. i'll make sure to try to pick up on when she might be flirting with me. i love you so much, ok? never forget that. ok? i LOVE YOU. i love you, l/n y/n."

you giggled. you got all worked up over him just being a guy who's concerningly dense. he didn't even realize that she was flirting, and thought that she was just being friendly.

"sorry for getting so mad. i love you too." you said, still in his arms.

"nonsense! i'm sorry for making you feel bad. this won't happen again! i promise!"

you sighed in contentment. bokuto koutaro was a man that you honestly hadn't known for very long. but what did that matter? you loved him, and he loved you. he's dense, stupid, idiotic, and friendly to a fault. but that's just part of what makes him so cute and special. because he's also loving, caring, loyal, affectionate, and the sweetest gentleman you've ever met.

even if the two of you hit some bumps on the road, you know that you'll be able to fix it somehow, as long as you're together.

s. kiyoomi & time for two

-you knew going into this relationship with professional athlete sakusa kiyoomi would mean that he would have to dedicate a lot of time to volleyball. you understood that, and were supportive! you were proud of him for pursuing his passion, and the muscle he gained from it was a nice bonus.

-even with his demanding schedule, omi always made time for the two of you. even though he wasn't the best at expressing his emotions, he worked towards being more affectionate and spending quality time with you.

-in fact, every friday, the two of you would wash up in the shower, get all cozy and ready for bed, then settle on the couch for some cuddling and a movie. neither of you loved extreme outdoorsy dates, so you two were more than happy to do this. it was chill and relaxing, and it was the highlight of your week. you two usually ending up falling asleep on the couch, snuggled in each others arms.

-but even though he worked so hard to make time for you, it didn't always work out.

he was late.

omi was supposed to be home 45 minutes ago, but he still wasn't home. he wasn't responding to any of your calls or texts either, and you were starting to get worried. his dinner was getting cold.

you wait another 15 minutes. he still isn't home and its been an hour.

you wait an additional 10 minutes.

then 10 minutes turn to 20, and 20 into 30.

and a whole 2 hours later, he still isn't home.

finally, 2 hours and 46 minutes after he was supposed to be home, the front door opens.

"hey y/n.." he groans, obviously very exhausted. "im so sorry that im so late. we have a really big tournament this weekend so they're going extra hard on us."

"that's ok, omi." you reply. you know that his volleyball career is very important, and you don't want to get in the way of that. "have some dinner! you must be hungry."

"thanks, babe."

you were hoping to sit and talk for awhile, but omi finished as fast as he could and practically sprinted upstairs to shower. he needed at least 10 hours of sleep for his practice tomorrow.

you went to bed touch-starved and a bit lonely.

the next day, you were hoping to talk with omi about your day and also about his. you hadn't gotten to talk much last night, so you were really hoping for a chance to catch up.

however, he came home late once again, and went to bed early once again.

you knew that omi was trying his best to get home and that he didn't feel good about leaving you alone, but he couldn't help it sometimes. this upcoming tournament would be one of the most important ones in a 5-month span, so he needed to go the extra mile. you understood this. you always had. you needed to be extra supportive in times like these, in fact. still, it would be hard for you when the same pattern repeated over the course of wednesday and thursday.

on friday, you were having the worst day possible.

your boss was in a terrible mood today and fired one of your closer co-workers, a different co-worker dumped half of his work on you with little warning, you burnt your hand making dinner, and you were having a huge fight with one of your best friends.

all you wanted was one of your omi-y/n-shower-movie-cuddle sessions. you were exhausted and quite frankly on the verge of tears.

however, omi did not come home on time. he came home 3 hours later than he was supposed to and you were about to cry about it.

when he finally burst through the door, tired but guilty about the situation, you just gave him a huge hug.

he was startled by the suddenness of it, but he embraced you back.

and then he asked you the worst question you can ever hear when you're trying your best not to cry.

"hey, is everything ok?"

you burst into tears immediately. the frustration, exhaustion, anger, annoyance, and loneliness you had been experiencing this past week all flooded out and onto omi's shirt. you didn't answer, merely crying and squeezing him close.

he was alarmed, to say the least.

he tried his best not to panic, but you could feel his heartbeat pounding faster.

"can we.. cuddle and talk it out?" he asked. he knew that you needed someone to talk to, and he also knew that you felt most comfortable when cuddling. he figured this was probably the best way to make you feel safe and seen.

you nodded, tears still flowing. he then picked you up and walked over to the couch and sat the two of you down.

"so.. uh, what's wrong, love?" he asked. he really, really, really didn't wanna make you uncomfortable and prod when you didn't want to tell him, but he was also concerned for you.

"i just.." you started, "i don't know! i know that your job is super demanding and im so proud to be dating a literal pro athlete! but i don't know, sometimes im just sad that we can't spend more time together. and i had such a bad day at work today and i was honestly really looking forward to our special friday shower-movie-cuddle session because after such a hard, draining, day, it would've been just what i needed! and you've been coming home so late and not talking to me that i just feel like.. i don't even know! and the worst part is that i know that you're doing your best and that it's hard for you to get us time with your schedule! i know you're trying your hardest! and it just makes me feel like a horrible person to feel these things when you're trying your best and im just like.. invalidating your hard work or something! and it's just like, are we ok?" you ranted, more tears falling with every word spoken. you hadn't meant to let it all out like that. your intention was to gently talk about what was going on, or not even have this discussion. omi was probably bored and annoyed, too. this was the worst.

however, omi was in fact not bored and annoyed. he patiently listened to your rant, paying attention to each word that fell off your tongue. when he was sure you were done, he pulled you in tight.

"i'm so, so sorry love." he said gently, holding you close. "i should've made more time for you. it's not your fault at all, so don't even think about that. it's my fault for coming home so late and spending so little time with you."

he grabbed your face and looked you in your red, bloodshot, teary eyes. "i love you. a lot. i don't really know what im doing when it comes to relationship-y type stuff, but one thing i do know is this. i. love. you. so so much."

"so.." you started, "shower-movie-cuddle?"

he chuckled. he had to get to bed and get 10 hours of sleep, but he would have to make do. "lets go." he swooped you up to carry you to the shower.

yeah. you thought to yourself, cuddled up in his arms. we're ok.

𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒, 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃

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ssuperficialspacecadett · 1 year

Text

Roll Call

Chapter Two of the Through the Scope series | Chapter Three

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4K

TW: (Very) subtle hint at SA in readers past, gym member being creepy

Chapter Overview: Today is your first day at Brass Knuckles Boxing Gym. Benny has a surprise for you after your shift.

Notes: Hey everyone ! Still no set posting schedule, but I managed to get this one done this week. I have a pretty packed week coming up so I can't make any promises as to when chapter three will come out. thanks for dealing with me (': happy reading <3

*no use of y/n & female presenting reader*

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Your alarm clock makes its presence known bright and early this morning. Normally getting up for work on a Monday isn’t anything that you would be overly excited about, but today is your first day working at Brass Knuckles. It’s also your first day getting back into a stable work and life routine. Which is something you have been craving since you moved. You feel like a nervous child the morning of a school field trip. The good kind of nervousness that buzzes around inside your body and lingers.

After hopping out of the shower, you head into your bedroom. You see your phone lying haphazardly on your bed and think about texting Benny to ask what you should wear today. He didn’t strike you as the kind of guy to enforce a dress code at work, but you also didn’t want to look out of place. Oh fuck it. He didn’t say anything negative about the jeans and t-shirt that you were wearing while you toured the gym. Might as well just wear something in the same vein as that to play it safe.

You slip into your clothes and wander back into the bathroom with your phone in hand. The bags under your eyes are a physical testament to all the stress you have been and are under currently. Maybe some light makeup you say to yourself. It’s not as if you had any intention of trying to find a boyfriend here much to Robbie’s dismay. You just didn’t want anyone to think that Benny hired a walking corpse to greet the guests. You check the time on your phone and realize that you need to leave right about now to make it to the gym by 7:30 A.M.. Benny had texted you over the weekend asking you to come in half an hour early so he could give you the rundown of what you need to be taking care of on a regular day to day basis. Your shoes get thrown on and you grab your tote bag as you run out the door to your car.

Thankfully Brass Knuckles is only a 15-20 minute drive from your apartment. You pull into the parking lot and turn your car off before taking out your phone. You text your dad to remind him that your new job starts today so you will be coming by to see him after 8:00 P.M. Monday-Saturday. When he quickly texts back you’re a bit surprised. You would think retirement meant sleeping in.

Dad: Have a good day, Sweet Pea! Make some friends. Remember to hit them in the throat and in the balls.”

You smile and heart the message on your phone. This is your dads not so subtle way of reminding you where men are the most sensitive. Since according to him, you were walking into the lion's den by working here. As you climb out of the car your smile drops. Maybe if you would have remembered his advice when you were 19, things would have ended differently.

“Are you ready?!”

There was only one voice you knew that had the capability to be that loud this early in the morning. You look up quickly to see Benny waving and holding the gym door open for you.

“Morning, Benny! Yes, I think I am.” You say slipping past him to get inside.

“That’s what I like to hear outta my employees!”

You set your tote bag down on the desk and take a deep breath in. It still reeks, but less so now that the smell has had time to dissipate between closing and opening shifts. Benny comes up behind you and pats your shoulder encouragingly as he walks behind the desk.

“Come on, let me show you how everythin’ is setup.”

Benny has you sit in the chair so you can get a feel for things while he teaches you how to operate the scheduling system. He shows you how to login to the program under your profile and then how to access each individual client once you’re inside. You notice that he set your profile picture to the selfie you sent the other night. It seems to be a pretty straight forward program, you note. You are able to see, create, and control Benny’s one on one training appointments up to three months in advance. He gets excited when you figure out, on your own, that you can color code clients. You’re pretty sure that he didn’t know how to do that before, but he looked so happy that you didn’t have the heart to say anything.

Once the two of you cover all of the bases for the scheduling program he moves on to the ‘easier’ tasks, as he calls them, that you are incharge of. He shows you how to scan membership cards with the scan gun on the desk and how to register new members when they ask. He shows you how to sell and print out tickets for the Friday fights. You feel him pull your chair away from the desk and see a small black, mini fridge underneath it.

“This is where we keep the complimentary water for the guests. Just make sure to keep this stocked throughout the day. If it ever gets low we have cases in the laundry room.”

He checks the time on his phone while he scoots you and your chair back into the correct position.

“Last thing you need to worry about is unlocking the door at 8:00 A.M.. As for me and my tasks? I help train people, obviously, look over finances, and take care of the music.”

“You have time to queue up songs?”

“I make time to queue up songs.”

You were grateful for his help this morning. And even more grateful that he did it in a way that didn’t come across as condescending or like he was babying you. You got the feeling that he really did trust you with the work you were assigned even after only just meeting you.

“You’re gonna do great today! Feel free to make the desk your own too.”

“Thanks, Benny.”

You walk with him from out behind the desk and lean against the brick wall as he heads into his office.

“Oh,” he calls back to you before disappearing into the small room. “The guys are going to swing by around closing time. They wanted to see who they were drinking too the other night. I might have also talked you up to them.”

After he drops that bomb, Benny walks out of sight. You have no idea what to do with this information. Benny talked so highly of them the other day, so it makes you nervous that he wants you to meet them. Yet, the more you think about it the more you warm to the idea. He must feel like he found a friend in you the same way you did in him. You walk around the desk and head to the front door to unlock it. Cars have already begun to pull into the once empty lot signaling that your day has started whether you're ready for it or not.

The first few hours of your shift crawl by at a snail’s pace. Two or three guests come in an hour. Each one of them mindlessly handing you their membership card to scan before they enter the gym. This gives you plenty of time to play around and really get to know the inner workings of the scheduling program. You want to make sure that there isn’t anything you aren’t prepared for. Benny, bless his heart, checks in with you just before 12:00 P.M..

“A lot of people come in here to burn off some steam durin’ their lunch breaks. It will be pretty packed for the next hour-hour and a half, but then it will go back to how it was this mornin’.”

God is he right. An endless stream of new faces begin coming at you soon after the clock strikes noon. Some of them don’t say anything, some of them offer you a polite greeting, and some of them take it upon themselves to welcome you in their own special way.

“You’re new, huh? I could show you a move or two in the ring if you want.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow if you promise me that you will be too.”

You just smile sweetly and scan their card with a simple ‘enjoy your visit’ to help move the lingerers along. The rush dies down a couple hours later, again just like Benny said it would. Honestly, you are a little bit sad that it's over. Time went by much quicker in those few hours and you finally felt useful.

When shopping for furniture online in between helping guests check in got boring, you look for tasks you can take care of that venture past the desk. During your initial tour of the gym, you remember seeing a dirty clothes basket that was designated for towels. You figure that this late in the day it should be full enough to do a load of laundry.

You walk inside the gym, weaving out of guests' way, and collect the used towels. It’s not too heavy so you carry it to the laundry room and dump all of the contents into the washer. You use the detergent that's on the shelf and close the machine's lid. Benny must have seen you walk in here because he walks up next to you as you press the ‘start’ button.

“It’s a stubborn ‘ole son of a bitch so you gotta show it a little bit of extra love to get it goin’.”

You jump slightly when he rams the side of his foot into the washer. Unsurprisingly, it comes to life after he does this. For the third time today, Benny is once again correct. You look around the small room as the washer hums and see a photo hanging on the wall. It shows Benny arm in arm with three men you have never seen before.

“Are these your friends?” You point to the picture and ask Benny.

“Yup!” You can hear the pride in his voice as he says this. “That one on the right is Will, my older brother. The handsome devil next to him is yours truly. Then there’s Pope-”

“Pope?”

“Yeah, his name is technically Santiago, but we all call him Pope. It was his call sign when we served together and it just kinda stuck. We all have one, well I technically don’t, but I’d like to think mine is Brass Knuckles. It fits well with Will’s since his call sign is Ironhead.”

“That’s really sweet.”

“I like to think so.” he says bashfully. “ And last but not least…the one on the left is Catfish or Frankie.”

You nod along to what Benny is saying, but you would be lying if you said you were listening anymore. Your attention stays on the man in the left of the photo: Frankie. You could tell he hadn’t had a haircut in a while when the photo was taken. His thick, brown curls came up to lick the sides of the ‘Standard Heating Oil’ cap he wore. He had a full mustache that looked as if it was mocking the patchiness of his beard. You didn’t mind it. You thought it made him look more approachable. One of the most handsome noses you had ever seen sat atop his mustache. It was deeply sloped and came to a soft curve at the end. He’s laughing in the photo which makes the skin around his eyes wrinkle in an endearing way.

“You comin’ or what?”

Unbeknownst to you, Benny had walked out of the laundry room while you were still captivated by the photograph on the wall. Or more specifically one of the men in the photograph.

“Shit, my bad.”

Reluctantly you pull yourself away and walk back to the front desk with him. Your timing couldn’t have been more perfect either because his 4:00 P.M. appointment walks through the door right as you two arrive. Thankfully, Benny is so wrapped up in talking with the other man that he doesn’t notice how quiet you have gone. While your body may have left the laundry room, your mind is still very much there. You check him in and hand both men a water bottle before they head back for their workout.

You sit restlessly in your chair as you watch the hands on the clock above the door chase one another. No one has come in since Benny’s last appointment, but you know that will change soon. It’s almost 5:00 P.M. which means the after work rush is on the horizon. You hear Benny faintly as he talks to his client and you find yourself wondering what goes on in his sessions. It feels safe to abandon your post for a few seconds so you stand up and peek your head around the brick wall. Benny has dawned some gloves with pads attached to the palms of them.

“You got it, man! Right in the center! Yeah, just like that, great job!”

He carries on with his encouraging words as the man across from him continues to make contact with the padded gloves. You hear him tell the man to hit harder and in a more controlled manner. When he does this, Benny showers him with praise. It warms your heart to see him in action. You can really tell that this isn’t just a job for him. This is his whole life.

The doorbell rings out and you look behind you to greet the client.

“Oh don’t turn around my account, darlin’. I was admiring the view.”

He wasn’t a very tall man, but what he lacked in height he made up for in misplaced confidence. He was attractive in an average sort of way. The kind of way that wouldn’t make you do a double take on the street if you saw him. However, you could give credit where credit was due. He had great hair. It was thick and raven in color and combed in an almost meticulous way.

“Welcome to Brass Knuckles. How can I help you today, sir?” you say, biting back your new found annoyance.

“I have a 5:00 P.M. appointment with Miller. I decided to come in early to warm up and I’m happy that I did. What’s your name?”

You ignore his inquiry about your name and take a seat in your chair. When you check the schedule you see his name, Ed Brunson, under the 5 o’clock spot.

“Ed? Let me get you checked in. Benny will be with you once he finishes with his 4 o’clock.”

“You can call me Eddie, darlin’.”

“Want me to put it in your file or what?” Now unable to hide your disdain.

“Oh you're spunky. I like that.”

Benny jogs up to the front drenched in sweat. You take advantage of his current state and ignore Brunson to grab him a water bottle.

“Brunson, you’re on time,” He takes a gulp of water. “That’s a first.”

You watch as Benny cautiously looks between you and Brunson as he polishes off the refreshing drink.

“I was just trying to get acquainted with your new receptionist here.”

“New receptionist, this is Brunson. Brunson, this is my new receptionist. Now y’all are acquainted.” His tone is flat as he says this.

You have to pretend to do something on your computer so you don’t snort at Benny’s ‘in depth’ introduction of you.

“I don’t get to know her name, Miller?”

“Did you come here to practice runnin’ your mouth or to practice throwin’ your fists?”

Brunson chuckles lightly and holds his hands up in defeat. You dare to glance up at the two men and see a weird tension in between them. Another guest walks in so Brunson takes it as his queue to head back into the gym. Benny stays up there with you as you scan the new guests card.

“What was all that about?” you question when the two of you are alone again.

“I don’t fuckin’ like that guy. I’ve been itchin’ for a reason to ban him from this place. Did he- did he say anything to you before I got here?”

“Just regular run of the mill meathead shit I suppose.”

“Are you sure?” He presses.

“I’m fine, Benny, really.”

“But you’ll let me know?”

“Yes, I’ll let you know. I’m a big girl though. I can handle myself. Now you better get back there, you wouldn’t want to keep that peach of a man waiting.”

He laughs, but seems a bit wary of your answer. You wave at him as he walks into what you’re sure will be a very strange session. Before you forget, you make sure to color code Brunson’s name in a bright shade of red.

***

You’re grateful when 7:30 P.M. finally rolls around. You think you could classify your first day here as a success. It may have droned on at times, but you had Benny to keep you company which made all the difference in the world. As you put the last of your things in your tote bag you make a mental note to bring some stuff from home to jazz up your desk. After all, Benny did say that you could make the desk your own. Maybe a cute potted plant in that corner, a new pen jar up there, an air freshener right here? You’re mapping it all out in your head when you see a tired looking white pickup truck pull into the almost empty lot. Three men get out and start heading in your direction. They aren’t dressed for a workout-? Oh fuck they’re Benny’s friends.

The closer they get to the door, the more easily you are able to identify them based on the photo in the laundry room. You don’t know why you have a knot in your stomach all of a sudden. You feel completely crazy for being so jittery over their approaching presence. The man Benny referred to as ‘Pope’ walks in first, followed by Will and then Frankie. You stand, a bit awkwardly, when they approach the front desk.

“Well you must be the reason my wallet is a lot lighter than it usually is.” Pope theorizes as he leans his forearms on the desk. He’s got a playful grin plastered on his salt and peppered face when he speaks to you.

“Guilty,” you confess. “You must be Pope or Santiago. I’m not really sure which one I’m allowed to call you.”

“You can call me whichever one you’d like. Did Benny give you an exposé on all of us?”

“Kissing and telling wouldn’t be a good way to end my first day, don't ‘cha think?”

Will laughs heartily as he steps up to greet you next. “William Miller,” you shake the hand he offers you. “I hope Benny wasn’t too much to handle today.”

“Actually he was really helpful, but I’m getting the sense that's not always the case with him.”

All three men shake their heads in confirmation with your statement. Last to approach you is Frankie. You feel your heartbeat quicken as you realize he is much more handsome in person. His eyes also look considerably sadder than they were in the picture.

“And you must be Frankie-”

“Hey boys!”

Benny comes barreling out from behind the brick wall and greets each man with a bear hug. You smile when you see the love each of them has for one other. It’s really nice to see a group of men express that so readily. When Benny makes his way to Frankie the two of you make eye contact. Something about those deep brown eyes on you makes your ears hot and you have to look away.

“So whaddya think?” Benny says to you when he finally lets Frankie go.

“The picture Benny has in the laundry room doesn’t do y’all justice.”

“Well I could say the same thing about you.” Pope quips.

Your jaw hangs open and you turn your attention to Benny. “So thats why you asked for a fucking photo the other night! You little shit!”

“No! No! You saw that I set it as your login picture! It was Frankie’s idea anyhow!”

“You!?” you snap your head towards Frankie who looks like he has just seen a ghost.

“Don’t you fucking pin that on me, Benny! I just told you how to ask for it in a non creepy way! Pope was the one who originally wanted it!”

“Pope!” you whine in his direction.

“Okay. Okay. The buck stops here. You caught me. I got curious and couldn’t help myself.”

“And I guess you were just along for the ride then, huh, Will?”

“That’s usually how it goes.” He shrugs innocently.

Benny continues talking with his friends while you log out of the computer and shut it down for the night. As you do this, you can’t help but feel like there are eyes on you. You keep your own gaze on the computer and listen in. You hear Benny so it can’t be him. Pope just made a snide comment so it isn’t him either. There Will goes laughing up a storm at what Pope just said. The only one it could be is…

“Are you going to be joining us at the bar tonight?” Pope queries.

“I’m flattered, really, but I have a previous engagement.”

“You’re breaking my heart.”

“Lay off, Pope.” Will gives him a playful shove. “Well the invitation doesn’t expire, so maybe when you’re free next?”

“Thanks guys. I’ll keep that in mind for sure. It was really nice to meet y’all!”

Everyone says their goodbyes as Will, Frankie, and Pope head out the door towards The Barrel. You swear you see Frankie turn around one last time before he gets bathed in the darkness of the night. Then it’s just you and Benny again. The way it started.

“So? How was your first day?”

He happily walks across the parking lot with you to your car after insisting that you shouldn’t go alone. You take a deep breath of the humid night air and feel it clearing out your lungs.

“Besides the intense and constant smell of male body odor it wasn’t half bad.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“No, I’m dead serious. We have got to do something about that.”

He waits patiently for you to get in your car and crank the engine on. You look up at him before you drive away, but you see him motioning for you to roll your window down.

“Yeah?”

He rests his forearms where your window disappeared into your car. “I’m glad you want to stick around. I’m even more glad you got along with my friends. We’re kind of a fucked up bunch. But I swear we are cool once you get to know us.”

You smile sadly at him as you pull out of the parking lot. He follows behind your car as you exit the lot and get into the street. Then he crosses over to the bar on his own. You watch him in your rearview mirror until you can no longer tell the difference between him and the shadows. Part of you wants to turn around, join them at their table, and see where the night takes you. It would be so freeing. It would be exactly what you need. Unfortunately, your better judgment takes over and you punch your dads address into your GPS. Maybe you will award yourself that luxury another night. You pull out your phone and press on your dads contact before your silly, little heart tips the scale inside your brain in its favor.

“Hey, are you still awake?”

“Well I answered the phone didn’t I?” he says sarcastically.

“Touché, dad. I’m headed your way right now.”

“Did you make any friends today?”

You feel a coy smile play across your lips before you speak. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I did actually.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

#francisco morales #frankie morales #catfish #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #benny miller #will miller #ironhead #santiago garcia #pope #through the scope #read on a03

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how-do-i-delete-this-acc · 1 year

Text

comforting you after getting a little insecure about your relationship

suna, bokuto, sakusa x reader (separate)

notes on sakusa's: he's aged up and his volleyball schedule is based off of an elite volleyball club schedule, so if his canonical schedule is different im sorryyy

warnings: reader insecurities, platonic hugs and cuddles w/ friends

notes: the one bolded word is the nickname for the character that reader uses :)

a/n: WOWOWOW omi getting 10 hrs of sleep i could never it's 1am rn