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t-lostinworlds · 2 years ago

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Competitively Stupid | Steve Harrington

》 PAIRING: steve harrington x female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: rivals-ish (since childhood) to lovers, some angst; fluff

》 SUMMARY: It was stupid, jumping off a cliff just to prove that you were better than Steve fucking Harrington. But you were competitive. You were not losing to him. But you know what was stupider? For it to take a near-death situation for you both to confess what you truly feel for each other.

》 WARNINGS: canon divergent (everyone is alive & well & happy thanks), pet names (sweetheart, baby), shitty parents (on both sides), competitiveness on all accounts, r is basically a counterpart of steve during high school (cheerleading captain, queen of hawkins high, swim team captain, etc.), peer pressure-ish, some stupid decisions & stupider actions, very irresponsible cliff jumping (which doesn't end well), drowning, CPR, injuries, an emotional moment™, love confessions, and a happy, sappy ending.

》 WORD COUNT: 5.3k+

A/N: hi! okay, well, it's been a while since i posted a steve fic so i'm kinda nervous ngl. also, not me making it a habit to include swimmer!steve in all my fics from here on out. this was meant to be short & sweet to dust off the cobwebs but lol. super random. i saw a video of someone cliff-jumping & boom, the idea was born. also, not me using the first aid training i learned in college.

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ STEVE H. MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

This was stupid.

Absolutely idiotic.

You genuinely have no idea why you were even doing this in the first place.

"There's no way you can do it."

Right.

That's why.

The taunting voice of Steve fucking Harrington was the reason why you were standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down at a thirty-foot drop into the dark ocean.

This was supposed to be a relaxing trip with your new found family.

"You know you don't have to listen to him, right?" Robin sighed, so completely over the fact that her two best friends who never got along no matter what she tried, somehow came to an agreement to not listen to her right now.

Not that you could blame her.

You and Steve had been rivals ever since you were kids.

It was what you had always known.

What with narcissistic parents who used their children as pawns to one up each other, you had been conditioned to see him as an enemy from the second you step foot into their home.

Your family was invited into the Harrington residence for dinner as a way of welcoming you to the neighborhood. You recently just moved in, so you didn't know anyone else yet. When you heard that the next-door neighbor had a son who was your age, you had been really excited to gain a new friend.

All that changed when your dad sat you down an hour before, prepping you about how the Harringtons were a respected family in the town, and that you needed to show them you weren't any less than them, if not show them you were better. He drilled it in your brain to be on your best behavior, to be the best and the perfect daughter.

It only got worse when you finally sat down at that dinner table.

The comparisons were endless.

"See, my daughter here is a wonderful gymnast, quite amazing for someone her age."

"How wonderful. Steven here has swimming lessons every weekend. His coach said he might end up in the Olympic team once he's of age."

"Splendid. How about his academics? I'm sure he can take inspiration from my daughter's exemplary grades."

"He's the top of his class. Maybe if they study together, your daughter would be able to catch up in time."

It was harsh, pitting two seven-year-olds against each other—impressionable kids who only wanted to make their mom and dad proud.

But neither your parents nor his truly gave a shit. All they cared about was becoming the best family in the street, if not the whole town.

The sad thing was, those dinners became a regular thing, held alternately between your house and his.

It always looked like a preparation for battle whenever your mom would pull out the finest china in her collection along with the cookbook she only ever used for special occasions.

It was in the guise of cordiality when it was, in fact, an excuse to show off, to make a competition out of everything, a moment to compare who did what best. Those dinners were like monthly scoreboards, tallying up the respective families' recent achievements—and that included yours and Steve's.

Nobody was surprised that the competitiveness stuck with you both.

And it only got worse during high school.

Whether that was something as mundane as winning the popularity contest when running different circles—even going as far as getting crowned the King and Queen of Hawkins High—down to academics and extracurriculars.

Captain of the basketball team. Captain of the cheerleading squad. Prom Queen. Prom King. MVP of the season. Brightest student of the year. Beer pong Queen. Kegstand King. Best summer camp counselor. Lifeguard of the month and it went on and on and on and on.

When he got co-captain for the men's swim team, you rubbed it in his face that you were the captain of the women's team. When you got second place at the science fair, he made sure to rub his first place medal right in your face. When you became president of the student council, you ordered him around to do extra work whenever the basketball team was required to help with community service.

It was a constant back and forth.

There was always a competition between you and Steve Harrington.

And sure, since you graduated, it became subdued. But it was still very much there. Vying on who was the coolest babysitter in your band of ragtags, even fighting to have the title of Robin Buckley's ultimate best friend.

This thing between you and Steve was deeply rooted. So there really wasn't much Robin could do apart from getting in between your frequent squabbles before you started actually killing each other.

In Robin's words, something drastic had to happen for you both to finally wake up and see that this rivalry between you both wasn't what it seemed to be on the surface.

You had no idea what she was even implying.

Now, on a little getaway on the nearest beach you could drive to, the competition started with a race on who could get there first. It wasn't even fair seeing that you weren't the one driving.

The group had split into two, some were in Eddie's van—along with everyone's belongings since he had ample space in the back—while the others were in Steve's Beemer. Since you and Steve couldn't be in the same room together without an argument ensuing, it was a unanimous decision to have you two separated. Nobody wanted to deal with that for hours on the road.

Not that you could blame them, either.

And sure, it was the kids who suggested the race, but with Steve's smug smirk and that arrogant wink he threw once you got into Eddie's passenger seat, you knew it was game on between you too.

Yet despite the metal head being a fast—albeit slightly reckless—driver, he somehow took his sweet goddamn time getting to your destination.

Only when your group arrived at the beach last, did he say something about Steve threatening him to be extra careful with driving because there's important cargo in his van—whatever the hell that meant.

You lost to Steve on that one, but you would argue it was rigged from the start.

The next was a supposed friendly bout on who could build the biggest sandcastle that didn't topple over after a few minutes.

It was boys versus girls with you and him being team leaders. The girls won, obviously and El never used her powers. It was fair and square since the other team mostly argued over everything they could think of and had no teamwork at all. You made sure to point that out to Steve as you watched their sandcastle crumble into ruins.

Another one was beach volleyball. Same leaders as before, but you get to pick the members of your teams this time. Steve made it his mission to pick the tallest of the bunch. Still, it wasn't the advantage he thought it was because it ended up being one point too close.

Your team would've won if Steve wasn't such a dramatic asshole.

It was truly an accident. When you spiked that ball, you were not aiming for his face. He simply thought it was a good idea to catch the ball with it. Besides, he was distracted, flirting with some random girl in a bikini who was passing by, right in the middle of the game.

How was it your fault that he wasn't paying attention?

He made sure to oversell his injury after that, curled up on the sand as the girl fussed over him. But you saw that smirk on his face. You would've hit him again—definitely not by accident this time—if you weren't busy arguing with Robin about the point deduction. She said it was only fair since you hit the ball when she hadn't blown her imaginary whistle yet.

You decided to let it go when Steve commented on you being a whiny sore loser.

Unfortunately, the competition was ending with who could make jumping off a cliff and into the ocean look the coolest—adults only, despite the groans of protest from the mischievous bunch.

Eddie offered to stay behind and watch the rascals. When teased, he simply said he didn't want to test Death today.

His comment didn't help your nerves.

Robin said she was only coming purely as a voice of reason. She'd been saying nonstop how it was a horribly stupid idea, that there really was no need to be doing this in the first place.

But Steve wasn't backing down, so you weren't going to either.

So once again, it was only you and him.

As it always had been.

He volunteered to go first, throwing in a comment about rushing back up the cliff's edge before you could take your turn because he wanted a front-row seat for when you'd chicken out.

It only made you want to do it more.

His dive was smooth, almost flawless, you admit. He even showed off with a little flip near the end. It didn't take long for him to swim back to the shore, either. His years of training as a swimmer were obviously paying off.

But you trained just as much if not more than he had.

The only difference was, adrenaline didn't fuel you as much as it did Steve. So instead of getting all powered up looking down at a cliff's edge like he was, you were terrified.

But who wouldn’t get scared looking down at harsh waves crashing against sharp and jagged rocks? There was no margin for error here because one wrong slip and you'd be dead.

Still, if Steve could do it, you could do it better.

You weren't about to lose to his stupid ass.

"I'm not listening to him," you argued back, taking in a shaky breath as you took a step.

"He's doing reverse psychology!" she squeaked. "So you doing it is still listening to him!"

"I'm fine, Robs, I can do it," you mumbled, a slight questioning lilt at the end of your sentence.

"Look, sweetheart, it's okay to admit defeat," Steve said, cocky voice with an even cockier smile as he crossed his toned arms against his bare chest. His hair was still damp, quick to climb back up so he could get his front-row seat as he promised.

But you weren't chickening out.

Never.

"I mean, it wouldn't be the first time you lost to me so, it shouldn't sting as much."

You ignored him.

Instead, you took another step, the tips of your toes now hanging over the edge.

You can do this. Wipe that smug smirk off his face. You got this.

"Listen, you don't have to do—"

"Shut it, Harrington," you growled.

With a deep breath, you closed your eyes, counting from three, two, one…

You jumped.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

This was stupid.

Absolutely idiotic.

He shouldn't have pressured you like that.

The jump wasn't deadly, per se, but it also wasn't exactly deemed the safest, especially if you weren't an expert in any sort of way.

And he didn't want to say it out loud because if he did, he knew it would only push you to do it more just to prove him wrong.

But Steve could see how scared you were.

He was already dropping the act, voice laced with concern as he started telling you that he wasn't worth all of this, that he was stupid and that you were always going to be better than him.

But, obviously, you didn't listen.

You simply jumped.

You and your stupidly competitive ass.

"Damn it," he cursed under his breath, rushing to the edge of the cliff, tensely watching your falling figure disappear into the water with a splash.

"You two are complete idiots."

"Shut up," Steve gritted, never looking away from the water. Yet any annoyance was quickly overpowered by sheer worry as he scanned the deep blue for anything.

There was no sign of you.

"Like seriously! It's like I'm the only one with a brain cell here!"

"Come on, come on, come on," Steve mumbled, completely ignoring Robin when you still hadn't emerged to the surface. "Come on, Y/N, don't scare me like this."

"Uh, Steve?" Robin asked after a moment, carefully looking over the cliff before shooting him a worried glance. "You look anxious and you being anxious is making me nervous."

"She hasn't come up," he grumbled, glancing at his watch.

It was nearing a minute.

"Maybe you didn't see her?"

"I haven't taken my eyes off the water, Buckley," he gritted, too harsh and uncalled for since Robin didn't do anything wrong.

But he was panicking.

A minute and thirty seconds.

"Come on, sweetheart, you can do it. You're an amazing swimmer," he whispered encouragingly, hoping some sort of magic would let you hear him underwater all while saying it aloud for his own sanity.

Two minutes.

You could never hold your breath any longer than that.

Steve knew because he always won that competition.

And that was in a calm pool.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he cursed, gearing up to dive after you. "I don't think she's coming up!"

"Okay! Okay," Robin rushed, panicking. "Maybe she's already on the shore. We should go down now and see—"

Steve didn't listen.

He jumped right after you.

The biting cold was awakening.

Still, it was the absolute fear of losing you that was keeping him alert.

He ignored the sting of the salty ocean water in his eyes as he frantically searched for you, his heart beating hard and fast, struggling for oxygen all while fearing for your safety.

Steve didn't know which came first, relief or dread when finally found you, aimlessly floating and unconscious under the deep blue.

He swam to you as fast he could, securely hooking his arm under your shoulder and dragging you up to the surface.

Steve always knew that adrenaline can give you a random boost of strength when needed. He simply didn't expect that to be proven true when he was carrying your unresponsive body in his arms as he brought you to the shore.

He gently placed you on your back on the sand, cupping your face as he checked for any injuries.

You were so cold.

"Hey, hey, wake up," he begged, grabbing your shoulders to try and shake you awake.

Nothing.

"You didn't have to make the jump, you idiot. Why do you always want to prove me wrong," he scolded with no ounce of anger, only worry. He started tapping your cheek frantically. "Come on, wake up!"

Still no response.

"Dammit, Y/N, why'd you have to be so fucking stubborn," he scolded, his voice shaking in fear, his chest tightening as he pressed two fingers against your pulse point.

His own heart stopped when he couldn't feel yours.

And you weren't breathing.

Steve tried to keep himself calm. If he panicked now, he wouldn't be able to give you the aid that you direly need.

"Come on, Harrington. You know what to do. You trained for this," he mumbled to himself, getting into the proper position to give you CPR.

He gently cupped your forehead with his left hand, his other two fingers under your chin as he tilted your head up.

"You're going to be okay," he whispered, pinching your nose before slotting his lips against yours.

Breathing into your mouth, one, two, he watched your chest rise as it filled up with air, only for it to settle back down without coming back up again. He quickly kneeled straighter, locking his fingers together and placing the heel of his left hand in the middle of your chest, pushing down with enough pressure to try and get your heart to start again.

"One, two, three, four, come on, sweetheart, breathe for me," he mumbled, easily finding the right rhythm, his first aid training as a lifeguard coming back to him like it was second nature.

Still, he never wanted to use this skill in a real-life situation, much less use it on you.

It was the longest thirty counts in his life.

Check for a pulse. Check for breathing.

Still nothing.

"Goddammit, Y/N, come on!" he growled, blinking back the tears as he pressed his mouth against yours again.

Two rescue breaths.

Thirty chest compressions.

Steve repeated the cycle over and over. His eyes were stinging with unshed tears, his knees were burning as the rough sand dug deeper into his skin, and his arms were starting to get sore, tiredness slowly covering his aching muscles.

But he'd rather die first than give up on you now.

"Steve—"

"Call for help, Robin!" he ordered, not taking his eyes off you for even a second. When he didn't hear any movement, he yelled, "Don't just stand there! Go!"

He was going to apologize for being an asshole later. For now, he needed you to fucking breathe.

"Come on, come on, please," he begged, leaning back down to give you two more rescue breaths. "Breathe for me, baby, please."

Thirty chest compressions.

"Trying to prove me wrong when I've always been wrong, you idiot."

Five, six, seven—

"Sweetheart, come on," he choked back a sob. "Who's going to call me out when I'm being stupid, huh? You know Robin can't do it alone."

Twelve, thirteen, fourteen—

"And you're really going to leave me alone to watch our kids?"

Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two—

"Y/N, baby, please, I can't live without you," he whimpered.

Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thir—

Steve felt his breath leave his lungs when you finally gasped for air.

He quickly turned you to your side, rubbing your back as you choked out all the ocean water that got into your system.

"There you go, you're okay," he whispered, whether to reassure you or himself, he didn't even know anymore. All he was focused on was making sure you were going to be okay.

"S-Stevie?" you coughed out the nickname that was only ever used by you.

It was the equivalent to his nickname for you—sweetheart.

Names that started out to annoy each other but the more often it was used as time passed, it only managed to grow into an endearment that held something warm underneath it. You both were quick to realize that the nicknames you had for each other weren't out of spite anymore.

Neither of you simply addressed it.

"Steady, sweetheart, I'm right here," he reassured, hurriedly getting into your line of sight to stop you from trying to turn around to face him. He gently cupped your cheek, offering you a soft smile when your gaze found him. "I'm not going anywhere."

You nodded as best as you could, your eyes clinging onto his brown ones only for them to screw shut when a shiver ran through your whole body.

"C-Cold," you stammered.

"I know, I know, come here," he said softly, guiding you to sit up before quickly settling behind you. He gently pulled you closer between his legs, his chest pressed against your back as he blanketed his body over yours, rubbing your arms to keep you as warm as possible.

You turned to face him slightly, burying your face into his neck only for you to wince at the slight movement. He quickly tried to steady you again, checking over you twice to look for any visible injury. But he couldn't find any.

"Tell me what hurts," he asked, pressing his lips against your cold forehead as he fully wrapped his arms around you.

"A-Ankle," you whimpered in pain, your grip on his waist tightening and God he hated that sound so much.

You must've rolled it when you jumped, and having landed on it when you reached the water, it definitely made it worse.

"It's okay, you're okay," he murmured, littering kisses against the side of your head to try and keep your mind off it. "Robin already called for help, they should be on their way, alright?"

You gave him a small nod, inching even closer to him, seeking as much warmth from him as possible. Your cold breath was tickling his skin but he didn’t care. Hell, you could be breathing fucking ice and he still wouldn’t give a shit.

As long as you were breathing.

"I need you to stay awake for me, okay?"

"I-I'll try," you whispered.

"First to fall asleep is the biggest loser," he mumbled, squeezing you slightly when he felt your eyes flutter close. "And you wouldn't want me to win this, babe, because I'll be a little shit about it."

"Not f-fair," you choked out a laugh.

"It's plenty fair," Steve chuckled tearfully, ignoring the sudden wetness on his cheeks. He hugged you tighter instead. "So stay awake or you'll lose to me. Again."

"Right there! They're right over there!"

Steve had never been so grateful to hear Robin's voice.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"So are you finally going to tell her?"

"Tell her what?" Steve questioned back, unable to take his eyes off of you, soundly sleeping in a hospital bed with your foot now wrapped in a cast.

The doctor had already checked everything and thankfully, there weren't any further injuries apart from your twisted ankle.

Now, all you needed was to rest and recover.

"That you've been in love with her this whole time."

Steve sighed, squeezing your hand before turning to look at his best friend.

"I'm not in love with her, Robs."

"Right," she scoffed, raising a knowing brow. "Because jumping off a cliff with zero hesitation so you could save her is totally normal behavior for someone you claim you hate."

"I never said I hated her," he argued, and it was true. He couldn't think of a single moment where he hated you.

"Yeah, well, you two definitely don't act like you like each other."

"Does she annoy and frustrate the shit out of me? Yes. But I never hated her," he admitted.

Steve didn't know what it was exactly, maybe it was his tiredness muddling his brain, maybe it was from everything that happened in the last couple of hours finally catching up to him, or maybe it was the overwhelming need to confess everything into the open before it was too late—and it almost had been. Either way, he found himself suddenly spewing out all the things that he always just kept to himself.

"She's also been the most constant person in my life, you know? Hell, we basically grew up together. I can't just not care about her," he continued, memories flooding his system before he could even stop it. "She's been so ingrained in my life, her and the cute dresses she wore at those stupid dinners our parents always dragged us to. Her and her stupid competitions whenever our babysitters would bring us to the park together. Her and that stupid dance she always did whenever she won at anything even if it was my expense—she always does this cute little wiggle whenever she won, and that never left her even as we got older," Steve chuckled at the thought.

"And fuck, don't even get me started with how similar our parents are. She's the only one who will always get me when it comes to that," he continued. "And yeah, we compete a lot, but there was no hatred between us. Maybe at the start but all that went away when we learned that whatever our parents were feeding us was bullshit—that they were bullshit.

"And fine, did I sometimes get so annoyed whenever she got a new boyfriend? Yeah. But only because she always had this bad habit of dating fucking assholes. I don't know where she got those dickheads from but every time I see a glimpse of her crying by her window at night I swear to fucking God I would've killed every single one of those assholes if she asked," he gritted, slumping down in his seat with a sigh.

"She deserves to be treated right, you know? She's already experiencing so much shit at home, she doesn't need any more of that anywhere else. Sure, she irritates me to no end but that doesn't mean she's not a sweet girl who always cried whenever some random pet commercial came on the TV during the holidays. Does her competitiveness drive me up the wall? Absolutely. But that doesn't mean I don't feel so fucking proud of her whenever she wins another medal or achieves another milestone. And yeah, I wonder about how she's doing, if she's taking care of herself, if she's getting enough sleep between her work and classes. But that's only because I worry, you know?

"And maybe I do think about her a lot but that doesn't mean I'm in love with…"

Steve blinked.

Well fuck.

"Wow," Robin marveled. "You're stupider than I thought."

"He hit his head as a kid, cut him some slack."

Steve paled at the sound of your voice, swiftly turning red at the thought that you probably heard all the things he said.

He turned to face you, groaning in annoyance when he saw the smug smile on your lips. "You've been awake this whole time?"

"I'll leave you two love birds alone," Robin sang, quickly slipping out of the hospital room and closing the door behind her.

"How much of that did you hear?" Steve asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Enough to say you're stupid," you hummed.

He rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat with crossed arms. "I'm not the one who jumped off the cliff and almost died just to prove a fucking point."

"Yeah, well, I guess we're both stupid then," you snorted.

He shrugged. "I guess we are."

"Jesus, you don't have to act so tense. I mean, you've already given me a mouth-to-mouth, we've practically made out already," you scoffed playfully. "I honestly thought I'd die first before swapping spit with you yet here we are."

It was your attempt at alleviating the tension, to throw in a funny quip. But with everything still so fresh in his mind, Steve simply couldn't take it well.

"Don't fucking joke about that will you?" he snapped, rubbing a frustrated hand over his face.

The silence that followed only made the tension worse.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

Steve immediately felt bad.

"No, no, no. You didn't do anything wrong, don't apologize," he sighed, meeting your eyes with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped. It's just—"

He stopped himself, chewing on his bottom as he looked everywhere but at you when he felt the tears well up again.

"Will you come here?"

Steve took a calming breath and did as you asked, moving his chair closer but didn't attempt anything else than that.

"Stevie," you called when he still wouldn't look at you.

Harshly wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, he lifted his head. You smiled at him sweetly, wiggling your fingers to get him to come even closer.

"You scared me back there," he croaked, taking your hand with a squeeze.

"I didn't mean to," you softly said, remorseful and apologetic even though you didn't have to be.

"I know," he murmured, pressing your warm palm against his cheek as he shot you a glare. "Just don't do that again."

"Promise," you giggled, stroking his cheek with your thumb.

Steve leaned closer into your touch. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, thanks to you," you hummed, brows furrowing in thought. "When Marcus got that black eye, you said it was because he was playing dirty on one of your games." You tilted your head knowingly. "That wasn't true, wasn't it?"

Steve shrugged. "He hurt you."

"It was a small bruise on the arm, Steve," you reasoned.

"He shouldn't be giving you a fucking bruise in the first place," he growled, the memory bringing back the same anger he felt when he first saw that bruise. The soft tapping of your finger against his cheek calmed him down. "Sorry."

"Did you lose on purpose to get him expelled?"

"What? No!" he scoffed, offended, rolling his eyes when you giggled. "I tried so fucking hard to win that fight, you know, for you."

"You've always been protective of me," you hummed, taking his hand and interlacing your fingers together.

"Don't think I didn't know it was you who dyed that poor girl's hair green that one year in middle school summer camp," he retaliated.

It was a sharp and piercing scream that woke up the whole camp that morning. Everyone rushed out of bed to see what was going on only to find a girl who once was blonde was now sporting bright green hair in the middle of the crowd, crying her eyes out.

Steve would've thought it was only some silly prank if he didn't know who the girl was. But he did. Because the day before he tried to ask her to be his girlfriend, only for her to turn him down in the most embarrassing and humiliating way possible.

It wasn't difficult for him to find out who the culprit was since he immediately noticed how you kept hiding your hands in your pockets for the next few days after the incident.

The counselors quickly found out that the little menace—whoever she was—decided to use permanent dye on the poor girl's hair instead of something washable.

Your green palms colored you oh so guilty.

"She called you pathetic and gross in front of everyone!" you argued, pouting. "You looked like you were about to cry and I hated it."

Steve's heart warmed at that, a smile on his face despite rolling his eyes. "I wasn't about to cry."

"Yeah well," you shrugged, eyes trained on your intertwined fingers, your thumb playing with his. "I'm the only one who's supposed to be mean to you."

"Hmm," he agreed, bringing the back of your hand to his lips. "I guess we've always been there for each other, huh?"

"I guess so," you giggled, cupping his cheek and tugging him closer.

He stood up from his seat, following your lead until he was pressing his forehead against yours.

"Thank you for saving my life, Steve," you whispered, eyes turning glossy as so many emotions covered your irises, the weight of what almost happened catching up with you.

"You don't have to thank me for that," he said sincerely, brushing the tip of his nose against yours. "I'd do it over and over again in a heartbeat."

You nodded, sniffling, "Still, thank you."

Steve wasn't able to argue some more when you all but kissed him.

The first time Steve felt your mouth on his was a horrible experience considering he was trying to keep you alive.

Now, everything was the complete opposite.

A kiss that was careful but sweet, a hint of nervousness and excitement all the same, completely unhurried yet burning with passion as his lips molded against yours.

But still, it felt like that first gasp of air—a finally.

"I'm in love with you, too, by the way," you murmured as you pulled away, your warm breath tickling his lips.

"Thanks for clarifying," he chuckled, eyes laced with adoration, unable to stop his smile from growing wider, warmer. "I couldn't figure that out from the kiss."

"I mean, you are kinda stupid," you teased.

"We're on that same boat, sweetheart," he chuckled. "I'm sure Robin would remind us about that every single day now."

"Unfortunately," you groaned playfully. "God, she gets annoying when she's right."

"Tell me about it," he hummed, brushing his lips against yours, moving away when you chased it.

You whined.

Steve didn't hesitate to dive back in.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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837 notes · View notes

shveris · 11 months ago

Text

my jjk headcanons, part 3

tumblr pls give me more colors

part 1

part 2

part 4

satoru’s favorite color can only be seen with the six eyes. he’s tried explaining it to his peers multiple times but it just left him frustrated and everyone else very confused like “wdym you can see different colour spectrums????”

modern!au sukuna calls the number on missing animal posters, imitates the noise of the animal that’s missing and then hangs up (he does the same with missing children ones, too, if he’s feeling particularly unhinged)

modern!au yuuji has a letterboxd account and his reviews are the funniest shit you’ll ever read

he does the same with steam game reviews, too, and at some point dragged megumi and nobara into his shenanigans as well

first year suguru said “eat the rich” and satoru asked “why do you wanna eat me????” (shoko cried tears of laughter). this is how suguru found out satoru’s a nepo baby

adult satoru brings nanami cds and vinyls from emo/alt/rock bands as souvenirs whenever he has missions abroad. nanami keeps telling him to stop but the first thing he does when he arrives home is listen to them

nanami is also who megumi got his taste of music from since nanami babysat the fushiguro siblings some times when they were younger

cult leader suguru calls shoko whenever he gets a serious injury and asks her to come over and heal it (she gets there as fast as she can)

quitting smoking was very rough on shoko but babysitting the fushiguro siblings and studying for her medical license was a great distraction

modern!au choso doesn’t have the tattoo/mark over the bridge of his nose, instead it’s just a huge scar he got as a kid during some accident

megumi likes listening to rain sounds while falling asleep

satoru’s a little (read: huge) nerd. his bookshelves are filled with lectures and studies about physics and math theories, documentations of all kinds of natural sciences, he keeps up to date with everything in the field and even peeked into biographies of big science people

despite satoru and suguru being very cat-coded, shoko is actually more of a dog person (how does she put up with them? we’ll never know)

nobara regularly uses megumi and yuuji to test out her new nail polishes. she’d wipe it off for them after but at some point neither of them cared anymore so the boys just run around with colourful nails some times

when we see sukuna eat popcorn and drink soda during his fight with mahoraga, it’s because he saw yuuji eat/drink all those things while he was in satoru’s basement. he got curious and wanted to try himself but we saw how that ended

an addition to the hc above, sukuna also has forgotten the flavours and textures of all kinds of foods. modern era foods would really mess with his taste buds because heian period food wasn’t particularly known to be as flavourful as it is today + they didn’t really use oil back then. sukuna would certainly be insanely overwhelmed if given a modern meal

this is not really a headcanon but also not canon because gege never specified it: only cursed spirits can see sukuna’s tattoos. there’s several indications in both manga and anime that humans & shamans alike cannot see the tattoos (correct me if i’m wrong) but in season 2 jogo’s inner monologue proves that he can see them. i’d like to think it must be because he’s a cursed spirit, which means all cursed spirits (or high ranked ones) are able to see the marks

when satoru held yuuji in that basement for two months, yuuji taught him how to cook because “sensei, you’re an adult. how do you not know how to make tamagoyaki??? we can’t order takeout twice a day!” (yes yuuji, he can, he’s gojo fucking satoru, he has a black card and swims in money)

yuuji is good at every sports, even the ones he’s never played before

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belit0 · 20 days ago

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Hiiii i’ve been brainrotting since I found your blog, love love love hs yan Obito. I would love if you wrote something about being in a toxic relationship w/ him, but instead of a shy innocent y/n maybe she’s toxic in her own ways? Like they’re both absolutely fucked in the head but they just can’t get away from the addictive ups and downs, or maybe they don’t even want to.

insane (Y/N) is one hell of a thing

They didn’t belong together.

Everyone said it.

Friends.

Teachers.

Even her mom muttered it under her breath when she saw Obito waiting outside in his black hoodie and bruised knuckles, leaning against his car.

But they didn’t care.

They never had.

(Y/N) and Obito were the kind of couple people watched from a distance, not because it was cute, but because it was dangerous.

One week they were inseparable, skipping school to make out behind the gym or hotboxing in his car with the windows up, and the next week she was shoving him against his locker and calling him a psycho loud enough for half the school to hear.

He was obsessed.

So was she.

And that was the problem.

Obito had never met someone who could keep up with the way his head spun: violent, messy, possessive thoughts he didn’t know how to hold back.

But (Y/N) didn’t flinch when he got scary.

She didn’t walk on eggshells.

She fucking stomped on them barefoot, stared him in the eyes, and dared him to crack first.

She’d pull his hoodie strings and whisper shit like, -If you’re gonna lose your mind, do it over me. Otherwise, don’t waste my time.-

And he did. Every fucking time.

They didn’t live together.

They didn’t sneak out to spend the night.

Their homes were war zones, and school was the only neutral ground, if you could call it that.

But even there, they were chaos.

The kind that made teachers stop mid-lecture when they walked in late, eyes bloodshot, her lipstick smudged across Obito’s jaw, and his hands stuffed in his pockets like he hadn’t just been pressed against her behind the vending machines.

Fights happened weekly.

She blocked his number.

He made burner accounts.

She flirted with guys in front of him.

He broke some sophomore’s nose in the locker room over it.

She didn’t apologize.

He didn’t either.

But no matter how bad it got, no matter how loud the screaming matches in the parking lot, how many desks got kicked, how many messages went ignored for days, they always came back.

Always.

Because the highs were unreal.

Late-night phone calls where neither of them spoke, just listened to the other breathe. His hand up her skirt behind the bleachers, kissing her like he wanted to sink his teeth into her throat.

Her voice in his ear at parties saying shit like, -You’ll never love anyone else, and you know it.-

And he did. He knew.

Because it wasn’t even love anymore.

It was addiction. And it was mutual.

They weren’t looking for peace.

They didn’t want soft.

They wanted to feel everything, all at once, until it left them shaking.

When she cried, she screamed.

When he got jealous, he got violent.

When she laughed, usually at him, and he’d take it because at least she was looking his way.

At least he still had her attention.

That was enough. That was everything.

They'd hook up in bathrooms during third period.

Go hours without speaking, then blow up each other’s phones until someone snapped.

Her friends said she deserved better. His cousins told him she was poison.

And maybe they were right.

But Obito liked the taste of it.

And she liked the way he burned.

He’d never tell her he loved her. She’d never say it first.

That kind of vulnerability would destroy them faster than any fight ever could. But they knew. In the way they held eye contact too long after screaming. In the way her voice shook when she said his name. In the way he never touched anyone else, no matter how many times she tried to make him jealous.

It wasn’t love.

It was war.

And neither of them planned on surrendering.

#naruto shippuden #naruto #naruto imagines #uchiha clan #uchiha obito #obito uchiha #obito #uchiha obito x reader #obito uchiha x reader #obito x reader #HS AU

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luciemggio · 23 days ago

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The Secretary

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Original Female Character (Val’s Secretary)

Setting: Thunderbolts* HQ, post-The Falcon and the Winter Soldier

Pairing: Thunderbolts* Bucky Barnes x freader

Warnings: mention of cancer, mention of death, fluff

Bucky Barnes didn’t like being handled. And working under Valentina Allegra de Fontaine felt a lot like being on a short leash held by a woman who liked to yank it just to prove she could.

So when she introduced her new secretary with a smug little smirk—“Everyone, meet Y/N. She’ll be keeping you all from missing your mandatory check-ins and imploding with testosterone”—Bucky had prepared himself to dislike her.

Y/N was nothing like what he expected. She was precise, organized, patient, and frustratingly kind. She made a habit of remembering everyone’s favorite coffee orders, slipped mints into their combat packs because “stress gives you bad breath,” and had a surprisingly dark sense of humor that made even Ghost laugh once.

But she didn’t take shit, either. When Walker snapped at her during a debrief, Y/N cut him off with a calm, “You can either yell at me or finish your report. I don’t multitask tantrums.”

He’d complied. Begrudgingly. Respectfully.

Y/N earned her place not by muscle or manipulation, but by showing up—every day, prepared, collected, unshaken by the chaos around her. They were trained killers, most of them, carrying enough baggage to sink a fleet. She held her own with a smile, a pen, and a folder full of accountability.

It started small. A glance. A shared joke. A moment of stillness in a world of motion.

Bucky didn’t know what made him stop by her desk the first time after hours. Maybe it was the light still glowing from her office. Maybe it was the way she always looked up when he passed, as if she was expecting him. Or maybe he was just looking for excuses.

“You know,” he said, leaning on the doorframe, “you don’t have to stay late every night.”

She looked up from her screen, a pencil tucked behind one ear. “Neither do you.”

He smiled despite himself. “Touché.”

She leaned back, stretching her arms overhead. “You ever think we’re the only normal ones here?”

Bucky barked a laugh. “I’ve killed people with my bare hands, Y/N.”

“And I schedule their dental appointments,” she replied dryly. “We’re both monsters in our own way.”

They grew closer in increments.

A lunch shared in the break room. A conversation about music—her playlist was full of vinyl-era blues and Motown. A quiet moment during a mission prep where he adjusted the scarf around her neck, the brush of his fingers lingering longer than it should have.

Yelena was the first to tease him about it.

“You like her,” she said one day, without looking up from cleaning her knife. “You get soft around her. Like a pudding.”

“I don’t get soft,” he grumbled.

“You do,” she said, then smirked. “It’s cute. You look less haunted.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but he didn’t deny it.

He knew things were changing.

One night, during a routine recon debrief, Bucky found Y/N alone in the comms room. She was curled up on a chair, hair messy, fingers wrapped around a half-empty mug.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

She nodded, then hesitated. “Just tired. My brother used to call around this time. He passed away last year. Cancer.”

Bucky crossed the room without thinking, sitting beside her. “I didn’t know.”

“I don’t talk about it much.”

They sat in silence. Not the awkward kind. The kind that holds weight. When she leaned her head on his shoulder, he didn’t move.

“I don’t sleep much,” he said finally. “Too many dreams.”

“Yeah,” she murmured. “Me too.”

It changed after that.

He found himself watching her more. Listening harder when she spoke. Noticing the little things—how she always wore perfume that reminded him of wildflowers, how her fingers drummed nervously when she was reading something tense, how she always offered comfort without expecting it back.

And when she touched his arm after a rough mission—just a hand, steady, grounding—something cracked in him.

He wanted her. But more than that, he trusted her. That was rarer. And scarier.

One night, after a mission that went sideways and left Bucky bruised and silent, she found him in the training room.

“I brought soup,” she said, holding up a container. “It’s chicken. Homemade.”

He looked at her, tired and raw. “You cook?”

“I do a lot of things,” she said softly. “And you haven’t eaten.”

He took the soup. Sat beside her on the mat. Ate in silence.

When he finished, she smiled a little. “See? Pudding.”

He stared at her. Then reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her breath hitched.

“Y/N.”

She looked up at him, eyes wide and heart hammering in her chest

“I think I’m falling for you.”

She didn’t laugh. Didn’t look away. Just whispered, “Then fall.”

And he did. God only knows how bad he fell for her and how she fell for him too.

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #james bucky buchanan barnes #marvel #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x you #thunderbolts #bucky barnes love

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thatdarkfanficstuff · 10 months ago

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Flutter - Chapter One

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Mafia AU. Characters may act darker than you are used to. There will be adult content in later chapters. Steve is unhappily married at the start so there is cheating but not on Reader.

18+ Only.

Steve Rogers preferred to have meetings in the comfort of his home. On his own territory where there was no question who was in charge. But Stark’s boy had been causing issues at one of Steve’s clubs and he needed to make certain it wasn’t the beginning of a power play. Tony Stark was one of the few in the city that could cause real problems for Steve if he so chose.

So this meeting was taking place on “neutral” territory. An exclusive restaurant with private rooms and respect for its patrons’ privacy. If it was owned by one of Rogers’ shell companies, well, no one needed to know that.

The glow of the candle on the table flickered as Steve finished his meal and leaned back in his chair. His eyes scanned the faces of his companions as they too finished eating. Bucky Barnes sat to his right as always. His best friend since childhood and the only person he trusted without question. They had always been there for one another and Steve saw no reason that would ever change. Sam Wilson was on Steve’s left. He was a newer addition to the family but had proven himself more than reliable.

Across from him, Tony Stark lounged with an easy grace that belied the tension in the room. He sipped at his drink as his dark eyes studied Steve. It wasn’t often they found themselves at odds and neither man liked it. Stark much preferred drinks in Steve’s office than an awkward meal followed by thinly veiled threats. Bruce Banner sat to Tony’s left. He looked more like an accountant than an enforcer but he was one of the most feared men in the city. He was ruthless when it came to protecting Stark and his family. Clint Barton filled the last chair. As usual the man appeared completely at ease. Steve was fairly certain Barton would have a smile on his face and a quip on his tongue in the middle of a slaughter.

“Let’s just cut to the chase, shall we?” Tony began, his voice smooth and strong like aged whiskey. “I have no intention of going against you. I’m not interested in being king. I just want to run my business as I always have. Let me tinker with my toys, let the cash flow and keep the streets just clean enough that the cops stay out of our hair.”

Steve’s gaze lingered on Tony, assessing the truth of his words. They’d operated in this city side-by-side for years. He didn’t see why it should stop now. He trusted Stark. But Peter, Peter was another matter entirely. Steve knew very little about him beyond the fact Tony had adopted him as a teenager. And he was smart, just like Stark. The boy was getting older, nothing said he couldn’t be getting power hungry as he aged.

Steve leaned forward and tapped his fingers on the table. “I like to think I can trust you, Tony. We’ve worked together for a long time. But you’re not the one causing issues. I need a guarantee that this is over. You can promise me anything you want but we both know you can’t control Peter.”

Tony pursed his lips but nodded in agreement. He could try to rein Peter in but there was no guarantee he’d be cooperative. “What do you need from me, Rogers? I don’t want a war but I’m not going to hand my empire over just because my kid stirred up trouble in one of your clubs.”

Bucky snorted a humorless laugh. “Stirred up some trouble? He put two of our men in the hospital. Nearly killed one of them.”

Steve held up a hand to cut off the rant. He rubbed a hand across his mouth and sighed. “I’m not going to pretend what he did was okay but it’s the fact that he claimed to be putting them in their place when he did it that is the real issue here. I can’t have him running around on a power trip, Tony. We both know what that sort of shit leads to.”

Tony rubbed at his forehead before raking his hand through his hair. “What can we do to get back to where we were? What would make you trust us again?”

“An engagement,” Steve said. The surprise of everyone in the room was obvious though they all tried to hide it. It was an unusual move but it would bring the Starks back under his control and might rid him of the irritation of his stepson at the same time. It would make Roman someone else’s problem.

“I’m flattered, but I’m already married,” Tony finally said.

Steve’s lips twitched. “Your daughter, my stepson Roman.” He leaned back and gave a lazy grin. “Everyone knows family is everything to the Starks. So we become family. Peter won’t want to embarrass his sister, he’ll behave and I won’t question your loyalties.”

Tony’s tongue darted out to lick his lips. “An engagement.”

“Family’s important,” Bucky said. “Imagine what ours could do together.”

Tony nodded slowly as he considered his options.

“Pepper won’t like it,” Bruce muttered.

“Pepper will like us having peace with Rogers,” Tony corrected absently as his mind calculated all the possible outcomes, weighed the pros against the cons. Morgan was young yet. He could push the marriage off until she was twenty. Maybe Roman would get himself killed in the meantime. He had a tendency to piss people off. This could work.

“Alright,” Tony murmured. “I agree.”

Steve’s lips curled up ever so slightly in the mere shadow of a smile. “Then we have an understanding.” He leaned forward slightly, the movement minor but deliberate. He held out his hand waiting for Tony to take it, to seal this agreement in the old way. Now it was all contracts and paperwork, but this family started in a time when a man’s word was law and a handshake was as good as a signature.

When Tony didn’t immediately take it, Steve arched a brow and said his name. “Tony.” There was a question in his tone, wondering if his old friend meant to keep to his word or betray it already.

Tony hesitated a moment more as his dark eyes ran over Steve. He was either questioning whether he should actually enter the arrangement or if Pepper was going to kill him for doing so. Morgan was the princess of the family. Which was why she was the perfect inducement for Peter to behave.

Finally, they clasped hands and Tony gave the ghost of a smile. “You’ve got an agreement, Rogers. Guess this makes us family.”

Bucky huffed a humorless laugh. “Make sure to point that out to your son.”

Tony’s jaw tightened. “I’ll make it clear as crystal.”

Steve leaned back and placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder with more force than necessary. “Tony doesn’t need a lecture, Buck. He knows what’s at stake.”

Their business concluded, they rose to their feet in unison. Chairs scraped across the floor as they headed for the door. They exited out the back and stepped out into the quiet of the night. With one last nod goodbye they separated to their own vehicles to head to their own parts of the city.

***

Steve stepped into his house with a sigh. His gaze immediately found his stepson Roman where he sprawled sideways in a chair, one foot on the floor and the other leg draped over the arm carelessly. He was playing some sort of videogame and ignored Steve’s presence completely.

“Roman.” The name was not a greeting but a summons. A call for attention which Roman ignored as usual. “We need to talk. Now.”

When he still didn’t respond, Steve crossed the room and pushed the power button on the console.

Roman’s head snapped up. “What the fuck are you doing? I was playing that.”

“No shit. I guess you should have paid attention when I told you we needed to talk.” Steve smacked Roman’s foot that was hanging in the air. “Sit up when I talk to you.”

The boy did as instructed, though the resentment was obvious in every movement. Steve resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I had a meeting with Stark tonight. We came to an agreement. You’re now engaged to his daughter. Congratulations.”

Roman shot up from the chair as if it were on fire. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m not marrying that bitch. You’re out of your damn mind.”

“Watch the tone,” Steve snapped. “Don’t forget who you’re talking to.”

“And I suppose I’m just supposed to give up the club and the women, for what? A ring and a lifetime of catering to daddy’s little princess?”

“If you know what’s good for you, you will. You know Stark won’t stand for any disrespect. You won’t have to marry right away. Get it out of your system now.”

“What’s going on down here?” Sharon’s grating voice drifted down the stairs in front of her.

Steve glanced over and flicked his eyes over the ridiculous robe she was wearing, a pale blue satin number with fake feathers at the neck and cuffs.

“Mommy, Steve engaged me to Stark’s daughter.” The whine had a headache blossoming behind Steve’s eyes. For fuck’s sake. The kid was twenty-two not ten.

Her eyes snapped to her husband. “You can’t just make decisions like this for him. You’re not his father.”

Steve took a step forward. “Can’t I?”

Roman’s backbone was apparently restored with the presence of his mother. “No, you can’t. You don’t own me.”

The corner of Steve’s lips flicked up in amusement. “It’s cute, really, how you think you have a choice.” He brushed imaginary lint from his shoulder then slid his hands into his pockets. “You both live lavishly because I allow it. Your comfort is due solely to my generosity.”

Sharon swallowed and lifted her chin to stare him down. “If you think you can bully us into—”

“You both,” he said, cutting her off, “enjoy a life others can only dream of. My terms are simple. Comply or forfeit everything.”

He paused to give his words a chance to sink in. “Think it over. The clock is ticking and my patience is in short supply.”

Roman’s gaze dropped first, defeat coloring his features. Sharon followed suit, her defiance crumbling in the face of the reality Steve laid bare. Everything they had, they owed to him.

Steve’s gaze flicked between them. “Good. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #mafia au #avengers mafia au #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #series: flutter

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ongreenergrasses · 7 days ago

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🔥

I keep seeing stuff drift past on my dash talking about “holding characters accountable” for whatever they’ve done and honestly that’s some of the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard. characters are not real people. they do not need to be held accountable because they have not done anything that harms real people. this is because they are not real. it’s a symptom of a punitive approach to the world and it gets even weirder when it’s applied to people who don’t actually exist. You can try and hold real people accountable all you want, but a) that’s often a losing game because if they’re not willing to take accountability for their actions, you can’t force them to, b) approaching harmful behavior with the attitude of someone has to grovel and repent to be forgiven as opposed to helping them take steps to make actionable and lasting change and right wrongs in the process is just a very punitive approach that doesn’t lead to lasting improvement, and c) neither of the two points above matter for fictional characters because they are not real. you don’t have to hold them accountable because they have not harmed anyone.

anyway I 💜 fictional characters’ wrongs

send a 🔥

#ask and you shall receive #ragana62 #unpopular opinions #this keeps showing up and ik it’s a symptom of a broader punitive based culture but I’m like. why are you talking about holding a fake 19 #year old responsible for a fake act. you guys can’t even focus that energy on someone like jkr give me a break

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brynnterpretations · 6 months ago

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Who in the losers club do the bowers gang hate the most?

The Bowers Gang & Their Least Favorite Losers Club Members ☻

Belch Huggins

Belch doesn’t hate any of the Losers Club, but he has a least favorite: Richie. Richie just hurts his fucking feelings, man. Once, Richie had an entire comedy set among his friends about Belch’s personal hygiene and looks, and Belch legit didn’t want to go to school the next day. Despite all the bullying he does, and should be held accountable for, Belch is a sensitive guy. He doesn’t take it out on him like Henry does — throughout the bullying, he’s always just acted as the muscle holding them back or giving remarks or nasty looks — but he certainly takes note of it.

Henry Bowers

Henry hates all the Losers Club, but the ones he hates the most are Richie and Ben. As we know, Henry has power issues, and the fact that neither of them seem to fully register his reign over Derry’s youngins — even though they are both scared of him — would drive him up the wall. For Richie, his constant jokes (and one impersonation of him that led to Richie showing up to school with a black eye the next day) would get to Henry. He beats the ever-loving shit out of Richie, and yet he can make light of the situation, making Henry seem—and, though he’d never admit it, feel—like a joke. On the other hand, Ben, who shakes in his boots when Bowers is around, still never stops putting up a fight — remember that Kissing Bridge scene? Henry would view it as an insult; Ben’s an out-of-shape thirteen-year-old, yet still thinks he can worm or fight his way out of Henry’s grasp and bullying? This would infuriate Henry, and make him target him more. (I was originally going to say Mike, but while he’s not fully under Pennywise’s spell, Henry doesn’t really see him around often enough to have the same emotions that he has towards Richie and Ben).

Patrick Hockstetter

Patrick is the one who’s not really likely to hate any of them in particular, but if he had more interactions with her once she joined the Losers, it would be Beverly. Beverly has always been extremely level-headed in conflicts, and, unlike Bill and Stan, wouldn’t show the same level of fear, therefore making her “boring” in Patrick’s eyes — the worst sin to Patrick. Let’s face it: compared to her father, all of them are small, even pathetic evils to her. I could see Patrick resorting to an escalating series of violence, each more vicious than the former, to get a reaction out of her.

Victor Criss

Victor is the only one that doesn’t have any feelings of hatred or least favorite; he views them all the same when he bullies them. He actually likes the lot of them, but he feels trapped into the Bowers Gang, and doesn’t do anything to help or support them besides trying to calm Henry down once he’s alone, or occasionally telling them what wings of the school to avoid. Despite that good nature, though, it is still important to remember he’s complicit; he once held Eddie through the entirety of a bullying session until Eddie was bursting into tears. He might feel some fleeting feelings of dislike — once, when Richie was at the movies without knowing Victor was behind him, he was talking while eating the entire movie, and Victor damn near catapulted him into the sun — but no hatred like Henry or continuing dislike like Belch.

#bowers gang #asks #headcanon request #belch huggins #henry bowers #patrick hockstetter #victor criss #it (2017)

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sopaprimordialy · 6 months ago

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I've been thinking about how Luther could have fit so easily into the Disney Renaissance villains again.

He and the Rogues really make me remember what we lost by getting rid of simple villains.

Luther can either be a product of his environment if we go by the original movie / video game or he can be a symptom of the general bigotry that exists in the world.

I feel like if he were created specifically today they're probably would have made him way too complex like some sort of direct parallel to Cyrus or something and we would have lost so much what makes him so interesting.

He can be genuinely terrifying but can also be very comedic depending on how you look at them or even downright pathetic given he may or may not be the son of Victor and is imitating with his father probably does to his own loved ones.

I like the idea of Luther being the embodiment of "suffering doesn't create good people, it creates suffering", in the sense of: I don't think it's *possible for someone to end up that fucked up without some trauma. Like, why would he even be in gang life he lived in a totally stable, loving and caring household?

(*I mean I don't have the needed knowledge to even begin a discussion about people being born "evil" as their nature X being a product of their environment so let's just say its highly unlikely)

The way he says the line "life is pain" makes me believe that he did go through something. The way he is disconnected from everything around him and sees himself as this pain-bringer entity that won't ever face the consequences of his own acts (and, when he does, he just kinda regresses to being a whiny little kid) could be a response to being neglected, isolated. Neglected in a way that he would never be punished for whatever, but neither loved or cared.

I can almost see in my mind he going fucking berserk throughout his entire childhood and teenage years, like, terrorizing other kids at school being the worse kind of bully to ever exist and never being held accountable for that. And I can see he doing that for attention. Eventually, the attention he would get from being a jerk TM wouldn't be enough, and he would start doing more hardcore stuff, progressively more criminal, and boom, gang gang gang.

And then the general bigotry of the world comes to scene, because if he's being neglected and his family* (talking abt that later) isn't educating him, "the streets" will, will them not? At least, that's what my mom always told me. But this "street educational system" aka the police seems to work faaaar better on anyone that isn't, like, a white cisgender male. He has so much less to fear, honestly, it's comical.

Luther is both of those things and at the same time he's also this caricature of a villain that keeps laughing maniacally and saying shit like "yes indeed wanna see 'em bleed get the mop mop mop" and the whole watch the word burn and chaos take over thing. Weirdly enough, this is one of the best ways I've seen this kind of problem being represented; it should be considered pathetic to be hateful about things like race, gender, sexuality... bigotry *is* pathetic, and I like the fact that a character that generally represents how society treats (or, at least, wishes to treat) minorities is portrayed as such.

(This section is dedicated to talking about his hypothetical family)

So. Families.

The first social structure we meet as soon as we're born. Your family has the duty to keep you safe, nourished, loved, and basically teach you how to be a decent human being, at least ideally.

But what if this structure is, let's say, fucked up? Trauma inducing, ain't it? Then everything goes down the drain: the protection, the love, the teachings, the function human being... that's part of what I see in Luther.

In the possibility of Victor being Luther's father, I imagine him being pretty emotionally absent, maybe even physically, considering he would be out to work a lot. Still, Luther would look up to him a lot, it's his father, after all. Maybe if he does everything right, he can get his attention! If we consider he's talking to Victor in that phone call, it fits!

(Further context for why I think that: I found in the movie wiki that Patrick, the actor for both og Luther and Victor, once said that he's talking to a character called "The Boss". Apparently, he kinda just made that shit up and it became canon since no other explanation was given. In the same part of the wiki, I found this commentary that he must look up to that person considering the unique way they interact with them then and in other instances in the game)

Ok now it's 4 am. I need to finish this thing before going to sleep so I'm sorry if this last part is rushed or incomprehensible I don't wven know how I'm still awake

Victor also seems to be very aggressive, and I doubt he keeps it only to harassing young women at work and throwing them under trains (*sob*). He would of course behave like that at home too, I totally agree with you that, in great measure, the way he acts with his crew is basically him imitating how Victor would act with his family.

It's funny and tragic for me to imagine that the way he treats Cropsy — both the passive aggressiveness he shows in the musical and the physical assaults he does in other medias — being just a mirror of how Victor would treat his wife.

I think it was you that talked about Luther's parents being divorced at some point (but I could be wrokg cause I'm super sleepy rn) and dude I agree so fucking much with that. I think they would be the kind of couple that takes way too long to get divorced (esp considering the time period we're talking about) and that just leaves more and more trauma on their children's heads.

Imagine Luther's whole villain's past being like "my dad be rude and violent :( my parents divorced :( now I kill oppressed ppl's leadership:("

*read it in a whinny lil voice

He doesn't need a complex "Cyrus' parallel that went wrong" past to work and this simplicity is beautiful, but if he was written nowadays it would happen 100%

#sopa talks #warriors musical #warriors album #luther warriors #realized I forgot to yap about Cropsy.#but mu vision is getting blurry I better get some sleep #I'll leave it to another dy

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itsclydebitches · 1 year ago

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This has got to be one of the most frustrating screenshots in RWBY.

Fans can deny it as much as they like that Qrow was not responsible for Clover's death but this screenshot proves that he did. Tyrian may have struck Clover through the heart, but Qrow was the one who allowed it to happen by fighting him and whittling his Aura levels down to dangerous levels before breaking it. AND there was literally no reason for Qrow to strike him, Clover had Tyrian restrained, the literal serial killer was ready to be taken back into custody and instead of stopping the fight and surrendering...he decides the best course of action is to attack the man restraining the serial killer. Okay. The worst part is Clover's death changes nothing, whether he lives or dies doesn't change the fact that Qrow still gets arrested and taken to James.

The concept of responsibility in the canon is so hopelessly skewed. Personally, I consider characters at least partially responsible for an outcome if their action meets three criteria:

Did this action directly allow for the outcome to occur, even if it wasn't the final step? e.g. Qrow breaking Clover's aura = Clover is now vulnerable to death via Tyrian. No punch = new outcome (Clover not dying then)

Did the character have agency in this moment? i.e. they're not mind controlled, not threatened into taking an action they otherwise wouldn't consider, not manipulated or lead astray by false information, etc.

Was the character aware that this action could lead to a horrific outcome? Are they reliably informed of the risks? e.g. Qrow ABSOLUTELY understands the dangers of breaking someone's aura, in the middle of the tundra, while a long-established serial killer is attempting to murder them

Now, note that when I say "responsible" I mean in the sense of, "You should be held accountable for this" rather than the equally literal and ethically simpler, "You just did the thing." I'm just plain old responsible if I knock a vase over like, "Yeah, regardless of this being a total accident I am the one who knocked it over. No one else did that. I'm the responsible party, but in a chill, very forgivable way." I'm accountable-responsible if I willingly throw a ball across the room, knowing full well it might hit something, but not really giving a shit for stupid, OOC reasons.

The show tries to play Qrow's choice off as just generic-responsible (when it's not irrationally blaming Ironwood), but he's accountable-responsible. He made a choice of his own free will, understanding better than most (as a huntsman and someone who has faced Tyrian before) the danger that choice presented to his friend, and that choice directly provided the means of Clover's death. Qrow didn't murder Clover, but he sure as hell was an accomplice.

And RWBY is full of these moments that, like with Qrow, the story ignores or forgives a character because the action in question is taken by one of the heroes. The above criteria is why I hold Ruby largely responsible for them ending up in the Ever After (you made a series of informed demands that directly lead to this outcome), or why I hold Jaune responsible for Penny's death (you made the choice to end her life without persuasive evidence that she couldn't be saved), even though both obviously have villains taking that final step: Salem is the one actually attacking Remnant, Cinder is the one who stabs Penny. Yet neither character has to grapple with their choices; the story glosses over them by introducing a new emotional focus that makes us feel for the character instead, not their victim(s): Ruby doesn't have to own up to her actions as leader because she jumps straight to crying over how hard it is to be leader; Jaune doesn't have to own up to Penny's death because he jumps straight to being traumatized by a lifetime of Ever After isolation. As a side-note, this is very similar to one of my biggest issues with Bakugo from MHA: too often the story has him engage in horrific behavior, immediately introduces something Bad in his life - he's kidnapped, injured, upset that All Might doesn't love him best - and saving/comforting him becomes the new focus, bypassing accountability. Or, fans read the Bad Thing as divine punishment for previous actions... despite there being no connection between the two and thus no growth. Meanwhile, in parallel world, Ruby helps doom Remnant but it's fine because she's upset about something and all the story cares about is showing Any Emotional Reaction, not one that will demonstrate that the character a) understands how their actions lead to this outcome, b) understands why that's an issue, and c) strives to change their behavior in the future.

RWBY also plays the Dramatic Emotional Card. Like, you know that person who when you correct them about something they become SO over-the-top upset about their mistake that you wind up comforting them rather than allowing them to sit with the correction? Yeah. There's no space to let Qrow sit with his responsibility because the show is too busy having him rail against Ironwood, or stare his Super Depressed stare at Clover's badge. The cue to the audience is, "He's so upset! Feel for him!!" not "Damn, he fucked up... how's he gonna grow from this?"

Then to round things off the responsible hero is always narratively forgiven. Qrow stops the bomb with an unprecedented spout of good luck: Clover from beyond the grave helping him in his time of need (not literally most likely, but in a thematic sense). Ruby returns to a world with her image painted in alleyways as a martyr: Remnant overlooking all the ways she helped cause their predicament and, again, positioning her solely as the injured party, rather than a victim and a perpetrator (which, frankly, makes Ruby more boring!). You're not supposed to hold them responsible, but if you do don't worry, here's a "hopeful" scene that explicitly says blaming them is a mistake.

#rwde #rwby #mymetas

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fridaynightfuneral · 8 months ago

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i take it back i just don’t like milton and i don’t like how the fandom encourages his behaviour. someone made a bad point going “you can’t be mad at kermit because she let you stay with him” which is not a point on its own but one if a larger scale to compare how milton does not do anything for kermit out of genuine kindness and love and respect but because she’s obsessive people pleaser and he responded with “ok so because i let him live with me i can’t be mad at him ever?” and someone in the comments claimed kermit ABUSED MILTON. i know this is fiction but holy shit. how can you look at their interactions and the story and how milton is denying he hurt (saying a tree did it) kermit when no matter how you spin it he DID. and still think kermit was abusive, neither of them are abusive they’re just not good friends to each other but milton has a victim complex and kermit doesn’t know how to pick up on peoples non verbal cues (which she should work on by learning to actually ask people if things are ok but after a certain point just letting things happen to you and lying that you’re okay about it doesn’t make you a victim in that case) and milton needs to be held accountable for his own actions instead of you all ENABLING him and villainising kermit.

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maybejj · 2 months ago

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You had to know I was coming for my babies! Fractured Ties step to the front PLEASE😭

This may be a little one tree hill heavy, but I’m just a girl 😭😂

I know the boys are separate because of their father-fueled situations, but I was wondering if you think their fathers and their parenting styles/choices for the boys mirror Dan or Keith in their different approaches? Like I can only assume that Ward is more of a Dan, but is Luke in this story bearing more of a Keith resemblance or do you see parallels between him and another character?? I could see season 2/3 Deb vibes, but maybe thats just me???

You know I LOVE Rafe and Readers relationship in this story (very Lucas and Haley coded), so I wonder if you were going for their vibe of the best friends/sibling type relationship or if you weren’t always planning for them to be like that?

(Also just a little tidbit because I can’t help it: Reader and Rafe are actually starting to remind me of Brooke/Haleys relationship as the series goes on. Like those two RODE for each other, even when they know that the other was in the wrong, and I think it makes me love them even more😭 Like when Haley left, Brooke was the ONLY person who was on her side when she came back, but she still held her accountable. I see that in Rafe and Reader where he tries to be there for her, and I think that is what is going to make him finding out she is talking to JJ hurt worse. Like yes he is the Lucas type in this story, so it will be because it’s his brother, but also THATS his best friend??? He doesn’t seem to keep things from her, so I know it’s going to HURT)

I know how it all started out, but do you think that JJ would have ever pursued her outside of being Rafes best friend if he and Rafe had never lost their relationship? Or do you think their lives would have been completely different?

This is so long omg I live and breathe this story forgive me 😭😂

so sorry for the wait! back to answering questions 😍

1. as far as luke and ward go, i kinda kept their same characters as in the show. luke is still a piece of shit and so is ward. so i feel like they both mirror dan if i had to pick someone. like luke still beat the crap out of jj growing up, ward still manipulates rafe whenever he gets the chance. the only difference in this story is that jj lives with the pogues and completely cut all ties with luke. they’re in their 20’s in this story so he’s an adult and i think jj mentioned his friends help him see how shitty his dad was and that’s how he had the strength to get away from luke. rafe is still in contact with his dad but jj has nothing to do with luke but they both mirror dan personality wise. unfortunately neither of the boys were lucky enough to have a keith in their life ☹️ once their mom passed away, they lost the one good person they had 😭

2. rafe and readers relationship is so important to me omg he’s like the big brother she never had and someone that protects her from her mom and basically just helps guide her through life. i always wanted them to have a best friend/sibling relationship bc we all know readers mom is the biggest bitch of them all 😬 so our poor girl needed some kind of support system. plus i just loved the idea of rafe, reader, and sarah all being best friends and then when sarah went to be with the pogues, rafe & reader were left behind to deal with the aftermath and they had to be there for each other. i think i’ve shown a little bit of how hurt reader was when sarah left but we will see more. sometimes i think reader has the same thoughts/mentality as peyton bc she feels like everyone leaves her or she’s not good enough- her mom, sarah leaving, and other stuff i can’t say just yet lol

3. rafe finding out about jj and reader is going to hurt so bad. like i don’t think you’re ready for that 😭 we’ve still got a ways to go bc ive got to build some other stuff up but when rafe finds out? ohhhhhh man. my heart already hurts.

4. oh i loved this question! as much as i would like to say he would, i don’t think so. their mother was very down to earth, kind, and loved everyone so she taught her boys that as well. had she lived longer the boys would’ve been a lot different than they are now. but their mom probably would have stayed away from the kook lifestyle (there’s some stuff we still don’t know about their mom and how life was before she died so i can’t give away too much but she wanted a simple life, not the rich life ward so desperately wanted to build) and had both of the boys in just normal public school, no kook academy or private schools so rafe would’ve been very different and wouldnt have been around the kooks as much. and readers mom has always had money. it runs in their family and then she built her own business and she despises the pogues so they wouldn’t have ran into each other. however, in my story sarah and rafe have a different mom. i imagine ward just had a fling in between charlotte and rose and that’s how sarah came along so sarah for sure would’ve been in all the kook schools and sarah and reader probably still would have been friends so there’s a tiny possibility that jj would have seen reader around. so it’s kind of a complicated answer 😂 i’m so sorry this is so long lol but i hope i answered these questions well enough 🫶🏻

#ashley asks⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚#fractured ties: |jj maybank smau|#papercranesandinkstains asks ✨#jj maybank #jj maybank x kook!reader

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anxious-witch · 2 years ago

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Also ANOTHER prompt because I'm unwell

Jance fic inspired by "What happens after we die?" dialogue in Midnight Mass

Robin you are killing me, oh my god. That's beautiful ajd heartwrenching. I love it.

Okay so I know this is tehnically not your first but the second prompt but I was having a lot of feelings about jance today so. Here it is. Very loosly inspired but I still hope you like it.

CW for mentions of death and religious musing in general

Jan really wasn't planning on ending up in Nace's apartment today. When he tugged him into the alley for a kiss, he wasn't planning on it turning into a makeout.

He definitely wasn't planning on a heavy rain, either. It just happened.

Nace's apartment was close and since neither of thek had an umbrella...well. Jan wasn't particularly keen on getting soaked to the bone.

So that's how he ended up on Nace's couch, sipping tea. Nace made him strip out of his wet shirt and threw firstly a towel and then a blanket at him. Usually, Jan would snap that he didn't need babying, but things between them felt more fragile lately.

What was meant to be a simply friends eith benefits-if they could have even been called friends at that point-was quickly turning into something else. And Jan didn't know how to behave towards him.

They didn't talk about it. Neither wanted to break the precarious balance their whole...thing was leaning on.

Jan stared out of the window, at the pouring rain. It didn't seem like it would stop anytime soon.

Nace sat on the opposite end of the couch. He sipped his own tea, but his eyes were fixated on Jan.

"Can I ask you something?"

His voice was quiet, almost hesitant. Jan didn't like the sound of that.

"Sure. What's up?"

"What do you think happens after we die?"

Jan stared at him. Was this some sort of joke? He out the cup down on the coffee table a bit too hard.

"I didn't mean-I know you don't believe in God or anything like that. I'm just...curious, I suppose. What do you think happens?"

He mulled it over for a moment. Nace looked genuine in his question, and he never tried to impose his views on Jan before.

He supposed that if there was ever a way to test if he ever would, now would be a perfect opportunity. So Jan answered honestly.

"I can't say I know what happens. I don't think anyone knows. I'd even say you are bullshitting if you say you know what happens for sure."

He gave Nace a pointed stare, waiting for him to disagree. When he stayed silent, he continued.

"What we know from science is that medical death happens first. The heart stops, you stop breathing, all that. And few minutes later, your brain dies too. But before it does, it releases a bunch of chemicals used for dreaming. So we dream the way we never had before."

Nace watched him intently and Jan, who usually always held his gaze, looked away. Beliefs weren't something he liked to talk about. In his mind, he had this one life to do what he wanted and be the best version of himself he could. That was it. No one held you accountable after.

"But what happens after?"

He shrugged.

"I suppose that depends what you believe in."

Jan looked over to him. Nace's brows furrowed.

"But what di you believe in? What happens when you die?"

Jan sighed, drumming his fingers against the couch.

"I think perhaps I stay at those five minutes forever. Living my life through memories and hopes and dreams. Sleeping. My body simply goes on decaying. Becoming...part of something bigger. Part of the earth. Just like it was before."

Nace's gaze turned soft, and his mouth fell open a bit, in what Jan could only describe as wonder. He looked like he was about to say something wonderful that would shatter their little balance.

So, Jan did one thing he could think of to cut him off.

"What do you think happens?"

And-shit. He wasn't planning on asking that. He could see shock flicker over Nace's face, too. They both knew Jan didn't give too fucks about God or Heaven and Hell.

He almost takes it back. But the way Nace thoughtfully chewed on his bottom lip, trying to form his thoughts in words changed his mind.

"Speaking for when I die...I think there is a light. You float up and you are surrounded by love, even before you see anything else. Just, that feeling you used to have as a kid, y'know? Of simply feeling loved."

Jan swallowed. He supposed that didn't sound too bad. He nodded.

Nace trailed his eyes to the window. There was a faint sound of the rain in the background. Other that that, silence.

"Then you look at you see everyone you ever lost. Everyone you ever loved. They are there and they are whole and healthy and just...they love you. There is a sense of belonging. True belonging. That's what I think true Heaven is."

He bit his lip as he met Jan's gaze.

"I know you don't...see it that way, but I find it easier to believe than in just...nothing. In dreams."

Jan wasn't sure what made him reach out and touch Nace's face. There was no real reason. He just wanted to comfort him.

"I just thought it'd be peaceful. Dreaming. And then nothingness. Relief. Being useful for other things that don't come with the burder of consciousness."

Nace turned his head and kissed Jan's palm. Jan's heart skipped a beat. No matter how suspecious he was and how much he tried to push his feelings away, Mace kept surprising him.

"I suppose not all dreams are bad," Nace whispered.

Jan kissed him, just so he wouldn't say anything else. Nace melted under his touch and pulled him closer. He was so trusting. He gave in so easily.

He pushed and Nace let him lay him down on his back. Even when Jan pulled away and sat back on his thighs, he didn't even try to get up. He simply lazily reached for him.

"Do you think there is Heaven for people like us?"

The question caught him by surprise. He tensed, waiting for a cliché, "God forgives everything", answer. But Nace didn't answer immediately. He took Jan's hand in his and played with his fingers for a moment.

"I don't know. I hope so. I don't see how feeling like thos could be wrong. But if there isn't, well. I hope I dream of that there is one."

I hope I dream of you, the thought came to Jan, passing through his mind before he could stop it. He leaned in, almost close enough for a kiss, so his lips brushed against Nace's when he spoke.

"In this specific case, I suppose I can agree."

Then he kissed him again and for a moment, he was sure there was a Heaven. Right in that moment in time, cocooned in Nace's living room. If he could take that one memory for whatever happened after, well. He'd be okay.

After that, he thought of nothing at all.

#jance #asks #jan peteh #nace jordan #joker out #my writing

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