#i think in an interview he said it was sometimes tough playing against them

[shandian-go]

Deft's story is amazing! Seeing his face crumple after hugging a crying Keria was heartbreaking, especially after that interview where Keria said that when DRX separated, they all promised to meet each other in a bigger stage...

It really was an incredible and emotional journey ;A; I first started cheering for him in 2016 during his EDG days and the fact that he had to defeat so many of his old teammates at every stage is a knife to the heart;;; Plus in the finals he had to face off against both his closest friend (Keria) and also his high school classmate slash the greatest player of all time (Faker) and the entire thing honestly felt like the plot of an anime come to life 🥺🥺

[avatar-anna]

i’ve been thinking about hockeyrry lately and then i see this…. now all i can think about is hockeyrry having an argument with yn and having to do promo after a game, when all he really wants to do is find his gf and make up with cuddles and kisses :(((

this turned out to be a lot longer and not the short/cute little blurb i initially planned. enjoy more shenanigans from hockey harry and skater reader!

Hockey player! Harry x Figure Skater! Reader

"So, Harry, what are your thoughts on the team's performance tonight?"

You watched the screen in front of you begrudgingly, sticking your spoon in your bowl of ice cream and eating it, perhaps a little too aggressively. But you didn't change the channel, not wanting to miss a moment of Harry on camera, no matter how much he drove you crazy sometimes.

The fight had been brief, but arguments were something you and Harry were rather good at, and this one was no different. Harry ended up leaving for his game in a huff as you rolled your eyes at his back, and even though you were more than slightly pissed off, you sat down to watch his game on TV anyway.

His team won, but barely. Harry's mind was clearly elsewhere—he took more penalties than necessary and even more checks against the boards, each slam of his body against the plexiglass making you tense up. He clearly had been in two places at once, and for that, you felt guilty. Your argument wasn't inconsequential, and you intended to finish it less intensely when he came home, but now that you'd simmered a bit you regretted fighting with Harry right before he left, as it clearly affected his performance on the ice tonight.

"Obviously, we didn't play our best," Harry said into the interviewer's microphone. "I'm certainly disappointed in myself. In more ways than one."

His poor eyes were tired, bags hanging beneath them, his nose red and irritated. And his voice was hoarse too, unlike the way it normally was when he first woke up in the morning. From that to his pale skin, you could've sworn Harry had gotten sick in the few hours he'd been gone.

"How do you unwind after a game that was tough both physically and mentally like tonight?"

Harry rubbed a tired hand over his entire face. He was polite, but you could tell a post-game interview was the last place he wanted to be. "Erm, just go home. Rest, meditate, I guess."

"Meditate? You meditate? Can you walk us through that process?"

"Uh..." You watched Harry visibly deflate on camera but stay where he was. With a sniffle, he continued. "There's not much to it. Just measured breathing, peace and quiet, and going to bed early."

"Well, we won't keep you from your post-game meditation, Harry. Just one last question!"

You watched the interview wrap up and the sports channel switch over to a broadcast of a different game. Waiting for him to come home, you began to prepare for bed. You set out Harry's softest sweats and favorite crew neck, put new essential oils in the diffuser by his bed, and a new box of tissues along with a steaming mug of tea. You were almost positive he was sick, and when Harry was sick...he became something of a little baby. But he was your baby to take care of, even if you had just been arguing a few hours ago.

A little while later, the lock clicked and the sound of shuffling feet echoed through the apartment. A cough and a sniffle followed, and you could already picture his curls flopping against Harry's forehead clumsily as he rubbed his hand against his nose, the green of his eyes bright against tired redness.

"Y/n?" he called. "I'm sorry about our fight earlier. I know we left things on a sour note, but can we press pause on it for now and pick it up on it in a few days? I'm not feeling—"

"It's fine, H," you said, appearing from your bedroom. Your eyes softened as you took in his rumpled suit, the jacket slung over his arm in a heap. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming down with something?"

Harry shrugged. "I didn't know I was. It was just a little throat scratch when I left here, and then—"

He stopped to cough, and you could see him wince as if it hurt his chest. Taking the jacket and duffle bag off his shoulder, you set it down and took his hand, squeezing it as the coughing fit ended. You pulled him down the hall toward your bedroom, ignoring his questions and protests until they stopped when you finally reached the threshold.

"What's all this?" Harry asked, hooded eyes sleepily scanning everything you'd set up.

"Change. Lie down. I'll bring dinner in a few minutes."

"For me?" he said, a little smirk stretching across his face. "You never cook."

"Don't get too excited, it's canned soup," you said, feeling flustered beneath his stare all of a sudden.

You did things for Harry, of course you did. Was it a bad thing that he seemed surprised that you wanted to take care of him? A few years ago, sure, but things were different now. It was only occasionally now that you found him irritating. He was only teasing you, and honestly, you would've done the same if the roles were reversed.

Leaving Harry to change, you got started on heating up his soup. He probably should've had something more substantial than soup from a can, but you hadn't completely ruled out him having the flu yet and wanted to air on the side of caution.

Once everything was set—hot soup, a cup of tea, and some medicine all arranged on a tray—you brought it to the bedroom and set it on Harry's lap. He smiled tiredly at you, mumbling his thanks before digging in. You watched him eat, unsure of what else you should do in the meantime. Harry had asked when he came home to press pause on the argument you'd had before his game, but now you didn't know what to say, argument or otherwise. You wondered if the silence between you and him was only awkward in your mind and not his, or if he was merely hiding his frustration from earlier with you while you doted on him. You didn't want to pick up where the two of you had left off before his game, but it didn't seem right to leave things unfinished, unresolved. Harry certainly didn't seem to notice or betray his own emotions as he sipped on his tea and sniffled between bites of his dinner.

"I'll get you some more blankets."

Before he could respond, you were off the bed, shuffling down the hallway toward the closet where the extra linens were kept.

You felt like you had to keep busy. You told Harry the argument was forgotten, but you couldn't help but feel as though there were words left unspoken between the two of you. And perhaps part of you felt guilty too. The argument started out as a heated discussion, but you let your temper get the best of you, so instead of getting to the bottom of things, you ended up yelling and taunting and refusing to listen. Harry hadn't been a saint in any of it either, you both had a competitive streak, and that extended to disagreements. But this was different. You were so caught up in your frustration you didn't even notice your boyfriend was sick.

Shaking your head, you grabbed the extra blankets and went back into the bedroom.

Not saying a word, you took the tray and set it on the nightstand on Harry's side of the bed. You wrapped him up with more blankets, piling them on until only his face peeked through. Harry grinned at you, his nose and cheeks rosy and eyes only slightly drooping from fatigue. You ignored him, making sure he was properly wrapped before pressing a hand to his forehead to check for fever.

"You're fussing," Harry said, his voice only slightly teasing. "You never fuss."

"Shut up," you muttered, turning around on your heel and taking the tray out of the room.

"Don't be long!" he called, and you could practically feel the grin as you walked away.

Harry was right, of course. You were fussing. Perhaps you were trying to make up for the things you said earlier, for picking a fight with him when you knew he had to leave for his game, though that had been precisely the problem.

Proud didn't even begin to cover how you felt regarding his career. Harry worked so hard, had come so far in such a short period. In what felt like a quick few years, he had become a superstar on the ice, taking the NHL by storm and absolutely dominating his competition. Harry deserved every bit of praise from reporters and journalists, every standing ovation from adoring fans, every interaction from young hockey players who looked up to him. No one deserved it more than Harry, but the bigger he became, the more famous he got, it seemed as though he had less and less time for you.

You knew that being in a relationship with him wouldn't be a walk in the park, you were familiar with the traveling and the long seasons and everything else that came with being in a semi-long distance relationship with an athlete. You and Harry had been together since college, you'd done it and survived it, but this...this was completely different.

The minor leagues were manageable. Harry had a busier schedule than he did in school, but the two of you made it work. When he made it to the NHL, you realized that busy didn't even begin to cover it. Press conferences before games, interviews after games, sponsorship deals, longer seasons, charity games, international tournaments—all of it was one big whirlwind that hit your relationship before you could blink. And you would've been able to withstand all of it if you could see him just a little bit more.

That had been the crux of your argument. You hadn't planned on fighting with Harry about it while he was on his way out to get to the arena, but he'd mentioned being home late to do a couple extra interviews, and you just couldn't hold it in anymore.

Returning to your bedroom, you started getting ready for bed. A freshly washed face, brushed teeth, and one of Harry's old university sweatshirts later, and you were sliding into your side, back facing Harry. You could feel him, feel the heat of all those blankets you'd wrapped around him. But you could feel the heavy weight of his stare too, as if he was wordlessly trying to get you to turn around.

"I'm sensing this is some form of punishment," he said. His voice didn't sound as scratchy as it had been when he came home, which you took as a good sign.

"What is?" you asked.

"You wrapping me like a burrito. I can't hold you like this."

You smiled, the image of him frowning down at the plethora of blankets you swaddled him in appearing in your mind.

"You were shivering."

"Was I? I can't recall," Harry said. "I feel like I'm in a furnace now, though."

"That's good. Your fever probably broke."

"You know, as much as I love talking to the back of your lovely head, I'd appreciate it a lot more if I could talk to your even lovelier face."

Taking your time, you rolled over, making sure he saw the amusement on your face. The grin on his own merely brightened, and you hoped he didn't notice you blush.

"Flattery won't get you out of those blankets, Styles," you finally said.

"No, but maybe it'll get you in them with me, soon-to-be-Styles."

Your hand went reflexively to your left hand to fiddle with your engagement ring. You hadn't had it long, but fiddling with it quickly became a habit you intended to keep. The proposal had been a surprise, but it felt right at the same time, as if without really needing to say it, you and Harry were both ready to take that next step. And you couldn't lie, Harry had done an immaculate job with the ring even though you'd never really mentioned what you might be interested in. It was emerald cut, a classic in your opinion, but a light green sapphire instead of a diamond in the middle. "I don't know, you mentioned something about blood diamonds a few months ago and thought you might appreciate something different," Harry had said by way of explanation.

You used to find it annoying—frustrating, even—how much Harry seemed to know you, but the night he proposed—at home after spending a whole afternoon together that he'd planned from start to finish—you thought he was nothing short of perfect.

"Are we okay?" you asked out of the blue, though not really. Thinking about the proposal, the wedding, made you realize that maybe you shouldn't go to bed with an unresolved argument with your fiance.

Harry sighed. "I hope so. I'm sorry. I should've realized how lonely you've been lately. I know this...lifestyle...isn't always the easiest to live with."

You shook your head. "I shouldn't have unloaded on you right before you left. I know how important it is to have a clear head before a game."

"You're important to me, Y/n," he said. Harry struggled for a moment as he tried to free an arm from his blanket cocoon, muttering to himself about your hidden talent for blanket wrapping. You let out a watery laugh as you watched him struggle, then helped him peel the blankets back until he was entirely free. Sitting up, Harry pulled you to him, his hand cupping your cheek. "Now, where were we?"

"Allegedly, I'm important to you," you said, the corner of your mouth tipping up.

"Glad you're in higher spirits," Harry murmured, his thumb grazing your cheekbone. His eyes flitted over your face as if he could read everything you weren't saying, and you were sure he did. He had a knack for that kind of thing. "I should know how much time I've been taking away from you. From us. I'm sorry."

"I know you don't have much control over your game schedule, but I just feel like never see you anymore. I just want—I just want more time with you, that's all. I'm sorry it came out the way it did."

Harry shook his head, used to your tendency to hold your feelings in until they barreled out of you. It was something you were working on, you were only thankful Harry stuck around long enough until you figured it out.

"I know you are. I'm glad you told me, though. Or yelled it at me."

Face flushing, you said, "Sorry. I'm...working on it."

"I know," Harry said, chuckling as he kissed your cheek. "But I don't mind. I love fighting with you."

"I'm so glad," you mumbled.

Laying Harry back down across the bed, you wrapped your arms around him. You kissed his cheek and his neck, his skin warm but not feverish. The skin of his cheek was soft against your lips, making you nuzzle your nose deeper into him. Your legs tangled with his as Harry nestled deeper into your arms. Easing up just a little, you leaned back enough to run a hand through his hair, making sure your nails scratched against his scalp the way he liked it.

"Mm. This is almost better than makeup sex," he murmured.

Leaning forward, you nipped at the shell of Harry's ear. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Hey. I said almost."

You chuckled quietly in his ear before placing another little kiss to his temple. Nudging him with his nose one more time, you said, "Maybe after the playoff season is over, we can go somewhere. Somewhere warm. Maybe even tropical. You can take some time off once the season is officially over, right?"

"I do love seeing you in a bikini—Ow! What? You want me to lie?" Harry said, crying out when you pinched his side.

"You're such a guy sometimes, I swear," you grumbled.

Harry's face split into a grin, and you could feel it as you kept nuzzling his cheek. "So I find my fiance attractive. Since when is that a crime?"

"Someone's feeling better all of a sudden." You began to untangle yourself from Harry, but he held you in place. When you tried to wriggle away from him, he held you in place, wrapping around you like moss on a limb until he had you pinned to the mattress.

"Don't act like you don't like it," he said. "Or that you don't think the same things about me."

"Aren't you sick? Go to sleep!" you said, trying not to smile as he began to kiss you all over just like you'd been doing to him.

"Admit it or you're not getting a vacation," he taunted, his kisses along your neck becoming longer, more languid.

Oh, I'll be getting my vacation, you thought. Whether you played into Harry's hands tonight or not, you knew you had him wrapped around your finger.

When Harry raised his head and his gaze finally met yours, you raised a single brow. "Oh, don't give me that look, princess. I don't scare that easily, you know that," he said, though when your brow arched just a little bit higher, he sighed and pressed one last kiss to your forehead. "Fine then. I guess I'll just have to live with the fact that I find you more attractive than you do me."

"Oh brother," you groaned as you leaned across Harry to turn the lamp on his nightstand off.

Harry's only response was a very pointed sniff into the dark, which made you roll your eyes.

It was quiet as the both of you settled down. It was clear Harry expended the little energy he had, as the sniffles and coughs came back a few minutes after you turned the lights off. Shuffling back over to him, you snuck a hand under his shirt and began running it gently up and down his back. Once again carding your other hand through his hair, you felt him relax a little.

You exhaled deeply, settling in close to Harry and cuddling into the warmth of his body. "Get some rest, H," you murmured, your hand still moving steadily along his back.

You stayed awake until Harry's breaths evened and slowed as he began to snore softly. Your own eyes began to droop, comforted by your fiance's closeness and the resolution you'd been seeking since he'd stormed out of the house earlier today.

It could be worse, you supposed. Of all the people in the world to argue with, you were happy Harry was the one. If this was the outcome every time—minus Harry's illness, of course—you couldn't help but look forward to the rest of your life with him.

[endiness]

okay, i have gone through probably 50+ s2 interviews of hc researching this so far and i have to say that at this point i really don't see how he wasn't deliberately trying to manipulate the fanbase and the media against the writers and the show to get them onto his side. (and also, like, a very specific, extremely toxic section of the fandom at that.) (it's the sexist incel gamerbros. i'm talking about them.)

"I wanted to represent as much of a book-accurate Geralt as possible and a lot of the fans did as well, and so I campaigned really hard to make sure that he was more verbose, he sounded more intellectual, his choice of words was more thought out and that his approach to Cirilla and everyone else wasn’t antagonistic. Because it initially came across as he was just grumpy all the time with everyone and everything and I really wanted to show this three-dimensional character […] It’s gonna be tough to do the stuff which is as brilliant as Sapkowski’s writing, but it’s something I’m always gonna campaign for and it’s hopefully fit into the vision of the show."

there are so many interviews (ie virtually every interview out of 50+ with the exception of maybe, like, 3) where hc says the exact same thing about how he just cares so much about book accuracy, specifically where geralt's characterization is concerned, and that he really started to push for a more book accurate geralt in s2 and wanted him to be more verbose and intelligent and show that he isn't just a one dimensional character who just grunts and says hmm all the time like in s1 — and at no point does he ever take any responsibility for how that was due to his acting choices in the first place because he would cut his lines.

he also just straight up lies about the situation because the writers originally wrote geralt as being more verbose and book accurate in s1 but then changed the way they were writing him due to the acting choices he made. and yet he acts like that was never the case and that geralt was never originally written that way and he pushes this idea that a book accurate geralt went against lauren's vision. even though, once again, that was the original vision and it only changed due to him.

and on the extremely rare occasion (i'm talking, like, maybe 2 con panels here) that he ever takes any kind of responsibility for his role in all of that, he still waffles about and tries to present this image that he wasn't really cutting that many lines and they weren't really that important anyway and it didn't really matter:

"I didn't even cut that much. Just little bits when someone says how they feel, I thought if Geralt says nothing, and maybe the well-known grunts or hmms and sometimes the occasional f-word, people can take from that what they will."

even though that can't be true as confirmed by joey:

"Henry likes to cut his lines, 'cause he's lazy. No, he literally just likes to cut them. He likes to do more up here [frames his face with his hands] and just with face and hmms and grunts. There's a lot of hmms, and so I often have to take a lot of his lines and turn it into a lot of my stuff so that the plot happens."

and even hc himself confirms this and what joey said in a s1 interview:

"All the grunts, I either added or I didn't say anything and just grunted instead. It was often up to the other actors to go, 'I think he's not gonna say anything now.'"

i also have to point out that hc directly links his push for a more book accurate geralt to reading comments on reddit as i think that's very relevant to what section of the fandom exactly that he's pandering to and why he's been so vocal about it while lying about the role he played in everything and what actually happened:

"I’m on all the Reddit forums. I’m reading all the reviews. I’m literally trying to get everyone’s information. Some of it is not useful, and other criticisms are incredibly useful. I take it all in, and I look forward to bringing it even closer and closer to Sapkowski’s writing. I think any of those criticisms, they often lie in things like I was saying—we don’t have the advantage of a long involved conversation or dialogue with Geralt, so they are criticisms which I think I was prepared for. So for me, it’s about seeing that, understanding it, and working out how I can do my job better within the framework provided, [how to] appease and make those people feel comfortable that I do actually understand this character—and love this character just as much as they do."

"As a source for information, it's really helpful for me to see what everyone's saying, what everyone's thinking, and to see how much my thinking falls in line with whichever side of that spectrum it is and whether I'm doing the wrong thing, for example, by campaigning hard for the book Geralt to exist or whether I'm doing the right thing."

and just another important thing to point out imo: virtually the only times hc ever takes any responsibility in any capacity whatsoever for his own role in the show not adhering to the books (which even then he barely does and it's still always with a lot of excuses), it's only ever at con panels — which are far less likely to get picked up by news outlets and seen by a broader audience — and not in formal interview settings. (except for, i think, one interview he gave early on when s2 first went on hiatus. but even then, it still has the same problems that the con panels have where he comes up with a lot of excuses that don't match what happened.)

then there's an interview hc gave where he went on about how he added some book dialogue into a scene and he made it out to be like it was some kind of rebellion against the writers and he didn't consult them as he was just going to do what he wanted, consequences be damned:

"I did not feel like having long discussion about whether I could add this bit somewhere. So I just did it, said the words in front of the camera, and was ready to face the consequences."

and meanwhile what actually happened was that lauren eventually let hc have free reign and rewrite a scene that he was unhappy with. which, y'know. kinda fucking weird to present what happened in the way he did.

and then there's him pushing this narrative that the female characters — namely yennefer and ciri — were given more depth and focus than geralt and the male characters as if that came at their expense and all of which is somehow due to lauren's women-centric vision of the show as if that's somehow opposed to how the books themselves are:

"On season two, I wanted to bring as much of 'Book' Geralt into the show that Lauren's vision and that the plot would allow. That's a tricky thing to do, because the plot, as Lauren has said, is very centred around bringing women into the centre of The Witcher."

"In Season 1, there wasn't really much of an opportunity for expansive dialogue which Geralt is known for — in the books, he's often known to monologue — because we had two original origin stories which were the center point of the show."

"Lauren’s vision was more of an ensemble piece than the first Witcher books. It’s driven a lot more by the characters of Yennefer and Cirilla."

"I wanted to make sure we really explored as much as showrunner's vision could allow. She has her own plan, so I’ve got to toe that line between book Geralt and Lauren’s vision."

"I wanted to try and bring as much of the book’s Geralt into Season 2 as possible, and as much as the vision, the plot and storylines would allow. The toughest part for me was finding that balance between the showrunners’ vision and my love for the books, and trying to bring that Geralt to the showrunners’ vision."

"It’s important for me to have the character be three-dimensional and it’s tricky to do, as I was saying earlier, because there’s a certain vision and there’s a certain set, storyline and plot. And so, it was about me trying to find Geralt’s place within that."

"There’s only so much space to provide the same character from the books within the showrunner’s vision. But, I did my best to provide a bit more of a three-dimensional character with a bit more emotionality."

"It's important to me that the men in the story are three dimensional as well."

like, first off — and not to continually reiterate this but — that's not true. in s1, geralt was originally written as being just as verbose and intellectual as he was in the books and that only changed due to hc cutting his lines and we know that joey often had to take his lines, too. so there was, in fact, always plenty of time for geralt to be book accurate and for yennefer and ciri to have their own focus. these things were never mutually exclusive and it's definitely some kinda take to imply otherwise.

secondly, while it is true that geralt is the main character of the short stories, ciri is the main character of the main series starting from blood of elves, the book that s2 adapted. and despite claims otherwise, her pov has always had the most focus — yes, even more than geralt (sans baptism of fire, obvs.) and it's not like ciri is the only female pov, either, or that there aren't other important female characters that make up the series. there's yennefer, triss, milva, philippa, fringilla, nimue, condwiramurs, kenna — and that's just off the top of my head. there are plenty more where that came from. women and their stories have always played a central role in the books. nothing about that goes against them or is unique to lauren's vision.

and just with boe in particular, like. triss's pov is either focused on more than geralt's or at least about as much as his depending on how you want to break things down. and with dandelion following very close behind them, too! like, ciri may be the main character of the main series and geralt may be the main character of the short stories and their povs are the most focused on overall, but the books are still very much an ensemble piece made up of a collage of many, many povs to paint a full picture of the universe. and, yeah, the women make up a huge part of that. so the show focusing on ciri and yennefer and the women — and, yes, the men as well because it does actually do that! — is um, still book accurate. so y'know, why the fuck is he presenting this idea that's somehow not the case.

in general, hc emphasizes in a lot of interviews how much he fought for "male characters to be three dimensional." which yeah, given the context of everything else, is some suspicious kinda phrasing because it gives this undertone that the show wasn't writing three dimensional male characters in the first place as opposed to the women and that it's only due to his efforts that anything changed.

also, i have to highlight this quote of him talking about the three dimensionality of men because ~curious that he omits women from the list of people real menTM can be loving and caring toward:

"I believe that real men are very sensitive. They are very capable of doing things which can be violent, if possible, or necessary. But at the same time, they are incredibly capable of love and caring amongst men and towards children and family and all sorts."

and then there's the way hc talks about changing things which comes across as so suspicious, too, imo. especially when there is every other cast member to compare him to. because the way the rest of the cast has talked about this is that they all very consistently say that the whole process is very collaborative and that lauren is very much willing to hear them out about their thoughts and concerns and that it really feels like a team effort and that everyone is working together. and meanwhile the vibes that hc gives off is either "me vs the world (ie the writers)" or "but there's nothing that i can really do to change anything and it's all on the writers~" either way, his attitude very much comes off like all bad decisions are the writers' fault but meanwhile any good decision was due to him and him alone (or maybe the rest of the cast, but definitely not the writers.) like, weird af to play it off that way especially since every other cast member didn't seem to have any problems and they all gave credit where credit was due ie to lauren and the writers.

in conclusion, it'd be one thing if hc had just taken the l and admitted that he is the one who fucked up geralt's characterization in s1 and so he sought to rectify that in s2. but yeah, he doesn't really do that. instead he lies over, like, 50 times to create this narrative of him pushing for book accuracy as if that's somehow in opposition to lauren and the writers and as if they didn't originally write geralt book accurately in the first place and as if he played no role in the lack of book accuracy at all. and then that there's also him pushing this subtle (or not so subtle) narrative about how the women were taking a more central role as opposed to the men and that's somehow unlike the books and something purely due to lauren's vision, too? even though women have always played a central role in the books to the point where ciri is the main character of the main series? and that he's directly linked this narrative he's pushing to reading comments on reddit? (and that he also has a history, since s1, of trying to cater to game stans?) yeah, i just don't see how this doesn't add up to him trying to manipulate the media and audience — especially the worst parts of the fanbase — against the writers and the show and onto his side.

(also just one last thing i'd like to note as i find it super weird that when hc was asked about giving freya any advice, he immediately shut down the notion that he would ever do anything like that and he would never offer her any unsolicited advice and he would only ever give her any if she came to him first. like, there are literally s1 and s2 interviews where freya talks about hc giving her advice. i mean, maybe she did come to him in the first place, idk. but the immediacy in which he shut down the idea that he would ever do anything like that as if offering someone younger than you advice and being a mentor to them is wrong… weird. sus, even. like, why are you scrambling to cover your ass for something that's not even bad and, also, why are you lying about it by omission in the very least.)

[pedripics]

PEDRI'S INTERVIEW WITH ESPN ahead of the game against Atlético de Madrid - Translation:

On securing a place in the round of 16 in the Champions League:

"Well, I'm very happy and very excited, the Porto match was like a final for us and well, we got through it. We've already changed our mindset and are thinking about La Liga, we have things to improve."

On Atlético de Madrid:

"Well, yes, I think that Atlético is a very tough team that sometimes they don't talk about much, but it's a team that works very well, that is doing things very, very well and they make it difficult for anyone."

On Diego Simone:

"I think that a coach who has been at a club for so many years has incredible merit, Simone has also done a lot for Atlético and well, I think he is one of the best coaches in the world."

On how to break down Atlético's line of defence with three centre-backs:

"Well, playing against a three-man defence is always complicated, even more complicated if it is Atlético de Madrid, but with a lot of ball movement, with a lot of space to come to receive and try to make the defenders doubt if you are coming to receive and try to make them doubt so that you don't get the ball."

On Rodrigo de Paul:

"I think he is a very complete player because, as you said, he can play in almost any position and I think that a player like him is key for the teams. He is a very important player for them and we will try to do our best."

On not playing in the Camp Nou:

"Well it is different. I think that in the Camp Nou there are a lot of people and so especially the atmosphere that there is in the Camp Nou is different. But well, we are lucky that the fans continue to support us at the Montjuïc and we have to play like it's our home because for now it is."

On running 13 km during the match against Porto:

"It was a game that I really ran a lot, it was an important game for the team and we had to win. Yes, well, I will do whatever it takes for the team."

On the physical aspect of the team:

"The team works a lot on the physical level. Some people say that Barcelona does not work on the physical aspect, but that is a lie. We work a lot. We try and run a lot more and for this game it was my turn."

On playing in the midfield with Frenkie and Gündogan:

"When you give the ball to Frenkie and Gündogan, it's very difficult for them to lose it. They bring a lot of dynamic and control to the game. Having these two players is a luxury. I have known Frenkie for longer and I really enjoy having Frenkie next to me on the pitch and I miss him a lot when he is gone. It's still a bit harder with Gündo because he has just come recently but he has immense quality."

[footballfanficwriter]

Questions

Summary: In which Jude is in an interview and asked about the reader

Time period: A few years after the world cup

"Welcome back to another episode of one on one, today we are joined by one of the world's greatest midfielders Jude Bellingham, Jude how are you" the interviewer asks

"I'm great man, how are you"

"Good thanks, now you have been to the world cup a few years ago and played against Kylian Mbappe can you please tell us what that was like"

"Uhm well I'll tell you one thing the man's got speed,a really amazing player, great talent but playing against him was something I kinda found hard to fathom and get it into my head, I mean we tried our best to hold on as long as possible and all that matters is that we tried our best"

"Ok I wanna ask a bit about your personal life if that's fine" the interviewer says

"No sure go ahead"

"Your Wife Y/N can you tell us a bit about her"

"Well y/n is my wife, she's the mother of my three lovely kids ,she is my best friend, the love of my life and I don't think I would still be here if it wasn't for her and my mom"

"That's sweet, can you tell us how you met your wife"

" uhm well we met at a red carpet event where she was her brother's plus one and we were placed next to one another so we just started having conversations and at the end of the night we exchanged numbers and after first becoming best friends, about a year later I confessed my feelings for her and she told me she felt the same and we dated for a few years then tied the knote"

"What's something that just makes you fall in love with her again"

"She has this weird laugh that freaks some people out but cause it sounds weird so when I hear her laugh it just reminds or takes me back to the times I would make her laugh before we were dating and I'd get the same reaction"

"What's one thing that just sometimes annoys you about her"

"Nothing she's perfect and I love her so much"

" I've never heard someone answer a question like that, I usually get 'the way she controls the household or how she wants everything presise'

"Well my wife's not like other wife's I mean yes she has her tendency of being a bit controlling, but once she realizes she doing it she immediately stops and asks us on our opinions of what we want to do"

"Who does the cooking and looking after the kids in the house"

" well it's the both of us ,sometimes we'll rotate like I'll do the cooking while she looks after the kids and vice versa, because I can't expect her to do all that by herself, it'll strain her physically and emotionally and I can't let that happen"

"Would you say that if your wife wasn't in your life that you'd have still made it"

"No, absolutely not, my wife has seen me at my lowest and my highest, she's always been there to help and pick me up when I was at my lowest and support me at my highest and same goes for her I saw her at her lowest and her highest and I'm really proud of the things she's achieved .

"And how's fatherhood treating you"

" Fatherhood has it moments when it tough and times when it's enjoyable, my kids they are growing up so fast you know, it feels like just yesterday I was holding them for the first time"

"Can you please share a moment that you shared with your children"

"There was this one time when I had gotten home late from practice and Leilani my 5year old daughter was still up playing with her toys, when I asked her why she was up she told me she was waiting for me to come back home cause she had something important to tell me or rather ask me"

"What did she wanna say"

"She said to me, Daddy I love you so much and I always will, because you will always have a special place in my heart, but I have a boyfriend and he's gonna be my husband cause we're getting married, I looked at her in shock because I wasn't expecting that, then I told her she had to break up with him and she started crying, so I told her she can have her boyfriend and she stopped crying, right before asking me to read her a story book and tuck her in, when I refused she started crying until I agreed"

"Well thank you so much Jude for joining us today I really enjoyed it"

"No problem mate and thank you too"

[formula1neverleft]

Il Predestinato - Charles Leclerc

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x female! reader 

Summary: Post Spanish GP

                 Charles doesn’t want pity. He just wants you. 

Warnings: smut, praise kink central, swearing

Some posts that *inspired* me: BASED ON THIS GIF AND THIS GIF ALONE (creds to biscottifosi) 

Song Recs: Cosmic Love by FLorence + the machine // Disconnect by Clean Bandit // I Never Learn by Lykke Li 

Author’s note: *dodges tomatoes* okay guys i know people are waiting on some of my other wip’s but this had to be done it was out of my control really. This is a work of fiction and not a reflection of the real people involved!! Not proofread. Feedback is very much appreciated!! Enjoy xx 

Words: 2k (short and sweet) 

Barcelona, Spain, May 22nd 2022

 Charles had long since learned that he couldn’t blame himself for an engine failure. 

To be fair, he couldn’t even blame the mechanics or the team as a whole. 

Over time, it became clear to him that every single person was putting their heart and soul into their work, and sometimes things don’t end up the way you had expected them. Sometimes, life just wasn’t fair. 

Despite knowing all this, he couldn’t help the hollow ache in his chest as he made his way back to his trailer after finishing his interviews. 

In passing one of the screens in the media penn, he caught a glimpse of Max gaining the lead, and Charles quickly redirected his gaze towards his own feet, hoping they could carry him to his destination faster so that he wouldn’t risk running into anyone else who would undoubtedly give him a sympathetic pat on the back, maybe even a “tough luck, mate” to accompany the gesture. 

Charles knew their intentions were good, but it was the last thing he needed at this very moment. 

He’d seen you too, right after he had gotten out of the car, giving him a comforting smile as you gave him the space and time to shake hands with the mechanics first. 

You knew him better than anyone else, and he silently thanked you by shooting a wink your way as you turned on your heels and disappeared from his view. 

Charles closed his eyes in appreciation of the cold air that washed over him when he entered his trailer, as he leaned his back on the closed door and basked in it for a short while. 

He had almost forgotten how hot he’d been in the car, and somehow even hotter during the interviews, having to voice his obvious disappointment time and time again while being asked the same questions way too many times. 

At this moment, he felt like he could breathe again for the first time since stepping into the car. 

When he opened his eyes again, you were there. Leaning against the doorframe that led to the small bedroom section of the trailer, wearing nothing more than one of Charles shirts that rested barely halfway down your thighs. 

 Yeah, you really did know him better than anyone else. 

 “You okay, baby?” you asked sincerely, unable to hide the worry that always formed whenever he had a tough race, whether it was his fault or not.  

 “No, i’m not okay” Charles said with a sigh as he pushed himself off the door and started closing the distance between the two of you. 

 “but I don’t want pity” he continued, now so close to you he could rest his forehead against yours. 

 “you know that’s not what I need right now” he concluded as he finally connected your lips together. He wastes no time, pushing you up against the wall, hands planted firmly on either side of your head.

 His tongue explored your mouth, passionately but not too much, never too much. Before he met you he had never considered himself an above average kisser, but you had always praised him for it, and now it was all Charles could think about when he kissed you. 

As you recoiled from him in desperate need of some air, he focused his attention on your neck, kissing and licking all your sweet spots as his hands drifted lower, playing with the hem of his shirt before trailing them upwards slowly. 

You tried your best to not get lost in how good he was making you feel, knowing that after the day he’d had, he needed you to talk to him. 

To tell him how good he was being. 

 “feels so good Charles, I love your mouth” you spoke as your hands made their way into his hair, pulling and stroking, leaving his hair even more messy than was already the case after wearing his helmet. A small noise of appreciation left his lips at your praise, and in response, he pulled you with him into the bedroom. The bed was barely big enough to fit one person, let alone two, but you knew a way or two to get around that problem. 

 “Sit down, baby” you put your hands on Charles shoulders and pushed down slightly, prompting him to sit down on the bed, facing you. 

You hands made quick work of getting him out of the race suit that was tied around his hips, fireproofs following soon after. You took the time to look at him, lips swollen and parted, his hair a mess, drops of sweat still visible on his temples. He looked beautiful, and desperate. 

 “You did so good today,” you continued as you eventually freed him from his boxers. He was already so hard, drops of pre-cum leaking onto the trail of hair that strailed from his belly button to his crotch. 

 “you did so good that I’m gonna suck your dick for you, but you knew that already when you got out of the car, didn’t you?” 

You could see the effects your words were having on him, his breathing getting even heavier, his lower lip clenched tightly between his teeth. Deciding to give him some much-needed relief, you get to work. Leaning your head slightly on his thigh, you give the side of his cock a few slow licks, focusing on one side and then the other. 

He was moaning now, a continuous stream of whimpers leaving his lips, his mouth falling open as his eyes screwed shut. 

Then you took him into your mouth fully, hands taking care of the part of him that you couldn’t fit into your mouth. Occasionally, you took him as deep as you could, hands holding onto his thighs as your head bobbed up and down. Charles’ hands found their way to your hair, getting it out of your face and into a make-shift ponytail as you doubled down on your efforts, a few barely intelligible “thank you’s”  coming from his lips. 

The noise that filled the room was absolutely filthy, a combination of your mouth and his moans, as you made a conscious effort to remember the sound for the next time you were alone and missing Charles. 

 Eventually, you leaned back and let him fall from your mouth, continuing your praise of you got up and started to undress yourself. 

 “Pole position and led the race, had all of the drivers behind you praying for your engine to give out, ‘cuz they know that’s the only way they were beating you” you said as you pulled the shirt over your head, leaving you just as naked as Charles was now. 

 “Lay down for me” 

 Charles immediately obeyed you, laying himself down on his back, not letting his eyes stray from you even for one second. 

 “Max is still out there trying his best to scramble some point now that you’re not there, while your here, about to fuck me so good, aren’t you?” 

Charles was barely able to mutter out a “yes, baby” as you settled on top of him, just enough room on the narrow bed to fit your knees on either side of him. 

 “He probably wishes he was here right now instead of in that car, but this is only for you, Charles” you said as you finally sank down onto his cock. He looked unreal, eyes watering from the pleasure and cheeks flushed red as his mouth momentarily formed a teasing smirk, knowing you were getting off on this just as much as he was, but it was quickly replaced with a low whine as you started to move. The moans that you both let out simultaneously were obscene, but you quickly found your rhythm and regained your composure enough to continue your praise.  

 “ next time, you’ll be on that podium again, and if it's not next time then it’ll be the time after that, because you were meant for this, baby, you know that right? What is it they called you again…Il predestinato?” 

As soon as the words left your lips, Charles dug his hand into the skin of your hips, his knuckles turning white in the process. 

 “Call me that again” he muttered as his hands helped guide you in your rhythm, transitioning into a slow grind, feeling him so deep inside you that it made your toes curl. 

You repeated the word a few more times, feeling him twitch inside you each time. 

Before you could continue however, you felt the beginning of your orgasm blossoming, and instinctively Charles removed one of his hands on your hips to place his thumb on your clit to help you get there, knowing the exact movement and amount of pressure that you liked. 

“fuck yes, please make me cum, Charles, yes-” you pleaded as you firmly grabbed hold of his wrist to keep him there. 

 “You look so pretty like this, mon amour. You’re making such pretty noises for me, am I making you feel that good, huh?” Charles suddenly switched it up and decided to praise you for a change, and all you could do was nod before your orgasm washed over you as you buried your face into Charles’ neck, riding out your high as you spasmed around him. 

All Charles needed to follow suit was you saying his name over and over again as you game, followed here and there by a lewd “so good, baby”, as he came too while holding you down firmly onto him. 

The only noise in the room was now your pants as you lay there in silence for a few minutes, basking in the post-sex haze. Both of you now sweaty, skin sticking to each other and his come dripping from you as you leaned forward slightly, his cock still half-hard when he pulled out of you. 

Charles closed his eyes as his fingers trailed lovingly up and down your spine, making goosebumps arise in their wake. 

 “You know you’re more than just the number of points on that championship board, right?” you said earnestly as you looked up at him. 

 “Yeah, I know” Charles answered, giving you a comforting smile and a kiss on your forehead 

“ As long as I have you, I can handle it. We can make it through anything, together” 

His words made tears prickle the corner of your eyes, but Charles was quick to follow up his sentimental comment with a joke. 

 “I will ask the team to DNF more frequently if it means that I get this kind of consolation prize,” you quickly responded by giving him a playful jab to the ribs. 

 “Ow!” he replied melodramatically, causing you both to break out in a fit of laughter. 

A few more minutes passed before you spoke up once more. 

 “Are you ready to go back out there? race is probably over by now” 

 “Just give me a few more minutes here, ma cherie” he replied as he closed his eyes, not ready to face the world outside of the trailer just yet. 

You didn’t have to be told twice, and laid your head down on his chest, hearing the steady beat of his heart underneath you. 

You could stay here forever if he wanted to

[kaihavoc]

Cloud 29

a/n: inspired by my new two favorite videos: this and this one

Lingering just outside the Chelsea locker room, I wait until I see the last person leave. Well, second to last. Christian passes me by with a toothy grin, telling me to “take good care” of my boyfriend tonight because he earned it. Laughing nervously, I just give him a polite wave, acting like he didn’t just give me that advice, and sneak inside the locker room. There’s only one person who hasn’t burst through the doors and come out to join the festivities. The superstar––the hero––of today’s match. Kai Havertz. 

I know Kai; he’s got to be swirling with composed excitement, taking his time to revel in this momentous occasion without the chaos of overexcited screams and cheers. I can just imagine his humble smile, those crinkles rippling across his cheeks, that endearing overbite he’s always been so insecure about. The mere thought of him puts a smile on my face. 

I only need to take a few steps when I see him. Considering he’s the only person left in the locker room, he wasn’t that hard to find. I pause in my tracks, absorbing the sight of him: sweaty, shirtless, head down with his back against the metal locker. I make no noise, but he must sense a presence because his head snaps up. Our eyes meet, and his face lights up as he bounds over to me, tackling me in a hug. He towers over me, but that doesn’t stop him from practically leaping into my arms. Yeah, as if I have the upper body strength to carry him. Sometimes I think he forgets I’m not as physically fit as his teammates.

I open my mouth, about to congratulate him, but the dullness in his blue eyes stops me. Something’s off. He’s happy to see me, that’s clear, but, otherwise, he’s not as ecstatic as I thought he would be. Why isn’t he? Not only did his team win the Champions League, but he scored the winning goal. His first goal of the Champions League, no less––he went out with a bang. He should be over the moon. 

“You look festive,” Kai comments, playfully tugging on one of my pigtails. I wanted to try something new, so I had tied my long hair into pigtails with two royal blue ribbons. Aside from that, I’m just in my typical outfit I wear whenever he plays a game: one of his old jerseys that he gave me when we first started dating and black leggings. I had considered spicing things up by painting Kai’s initials on my cheeks with blue face paint, but when I brought the idea up to him over dinner last week, he just said he knew a better method to brand me as his. I left it at that without inquiring further, even though I was curious by what, exactly, he had in mind. 

“You look… hot,” I gulp, my eyes traveling down his long, toned torso. No matter how many times I’ve seen him shirtless after a practice or a game, or in only a towel after a shower, I’ll never get tired of seeing him half-naked. Or fully naked, at that. 

“You look hot, too,” he murmurs into my hair, still embracing me tightly. “I just didn’t want to say that because I was trying to be gentlemanly.” Cupping my face with his large hands, he proceeds to kiss me, feverish and rough. He nips at my bottom lip and doesn’t even wait for me to open my mouth before invading it, battling my tongue with his. His ferocity gets my blood pumping and the pit of my stomach tingling, but it’s all wrong. I’m necessarily complaining, but this isn’t how he usually greets me. He typically welcomes me with a soft, delicate kiss before anything else. Is this because I haven’t congratulated him on his win yet? 

“I’m so proud of you, Kai. You and the guys really deserve this,” I say sincerely, but he pretends like he doesn’t hear me, going in for another attack on my mouth. To that, I shrink a little and he catches on, sighing as he takes a step back, his thick eyebrows furrowed together. I notice that the ribbons in my hair are loose, so I quickly readjust them as I try to read Kai’s expression. He still looks… dissatisfied. Maybe some ego boosting would do the trick? 

“Everyone’s raving about how you’re a tactical genius. How your skill and precision are unparalleled. How you’re on top and you haven’t even reached your peak yet,” I ramble, trying to recall every headline I’ve ever read in the news this past week. Oh, and also, you’ve got the cutest bum out of any football player in the history of football.  

“Not everyone,” he growls in a dark voice, messing up his curly brown locks by snatching them with his hand. His face twists with irritation. “Right after the game, a reporter came up to me and asked me if I thought I finally paid back my hefty price tag.” 

“And how did you respond?” I ask, curious. Usually he doesn’t get so riled up over post-game interviews, but perhaps his transfer fee is a touchy subject for him and he just never told me. In an attempt to calm him down a bit, I take his hand into mine and lead him to a section of the bench lined along the lockers. We sit so that we’re facing each other, and I weave my legs around his torso, nearly straddling him. But not quite.

“I think I said… ‘I don’t give a fuck of that. We just won the fucking Champions League’,” he says slowly, his nose scrunched up in concentration as he recalls his response.

I stifle a laugh. His cussing is not a regular occurrence, it’s not entirely uncommon either, but whenever he does curse, it catches me off guard. Maybe it has something to do with that pretty face of his, as if foul language shouldn’t be coming from it. “You’re right; you did just win the Champions League, so you shouldn’t be hard on yourself,” I say, lightly poking him in the bicep. He doesn’t seem to appreciate my stab at lighthearted reassurance, so I go for a different approach. Tough love. “Okay, fine. Chelsea may have paid a lot of money for you, but that’s because you’re worth it, Kai. You don’t have to prove your abilities to anyone––even though you already proved them tonight plus your whole career thus far. People are always going to have something negative to say, but you put in the work and it shows in every game. Don’t let anyone get to you, especially not a reporter; they’re just trying to get some dirt.” I’m not used to giving pep talks, so I’m not sure if I did it right.

I must’ve done something right because his frown is replaced with a slight smile. “Thank you, baby,” he says, pecking me on the cheek. One Kai’s best qualities is that not much gets to him; and if it does, it doesn’t take him long to get over it. Annoying interview question long forgotten, he traces patterns on my thigh and tells me, “The boys are going to a nightclub tonight to celebrate our win. Come with me.” To aid in his plea, he grabs both of my hands, squeezing them, his pale blue eyes gleaming with hope.

“A nightclub?” I repeat, making a sour face. “You know better than anyone that I don’t belong at a nightclub.” I want to suggest just a cozy night in, watching his favorite film of the Harry Potter series, Goblet of Fire, and cuddling, but I don’t want to take this celebratory night with his friends away from him.

“You belong with me, and it just so happens that tonight I’m being dragged to a nightclub,” he says. I don’t say anything, and his face falls, presumably because he recognizes his bid to get me to go is a lost cause.  

“You go,” I encourage, trying to sound upbeat as I pat his thigh. “Have your fun.”

“Really?” he asks. “Are you sure?” He gives me a dubious look, one eyebrow severely cocked. 

I squint at him quizzically. “Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He looks me dead in the eyes. “Babe. Let’s not forget what happened the last time I went out for drinks with the team for Timo’s birthday. I came back home with a ripped shirt because a bunch of girls pounced on us, and you wouldn’t talk to me for a whole week. You didn’t believe me.”

“That’s because it’s an unbelievable story,” I mumble.

“You accused me of hooking up with another girl,” he reminds me, his mesmerizing eyes narrowing at me, causing my cheeks to heat up and my skin to crawl with guilt. Now that he’s mentioned it, I do remember that incident. Vividly. It happened around the beginning of our relationship, when I still didn’t know how serious Kai was about me, about us. Regardless, I should’ve known that Kai would never be unfaithful to me. That’s simply not who he is. He has never once given me an inkling of a doubt of his loyalty. I blame my foolish allegation on my insecurity over our blossoming relationship, but I’m long past that… 

“You’re too friendly, Kai,” I sigh, ruffling his hair to make it seem more like a concern and less like an accusation. “It makes girls think they can have a chance with you.”

“Girls?” Kai scoffs, shaking his head in pure denial. How can someone so intelligent be such a dumb boy sometimes? “What girls? That happened one time, and it wasn’t only me who got jumped. The whole team did.” Like that makes the situation any better, Kai.

“I’m not dating the whole team! I’m dating you, and you’re only going to get bigger and I… I just want you all to myself,” I admit. My head falls, weighted by a vicious mix of embarrassment and shame. 

“Well, I know something that’s big that you can have all to yourself,” he says coyly, with a self-righteous smirk.

“I’m serious, Kai,” I say, frowning at him in return. “You’re young, talented, attractive. Girls are going to be lining up for you, and soon I’ll just be chopped liver.”

“Chopped liver?” he hoots, obviously unfamiliar with the expression. 

My frown deepens as I huff, “You’re going to forget all about me.”

“I think if anyone’s guilty of forgetting anything, it’s you. You’re already forgetting that I’m in love with you,” he coos, sliding closer to me, dusting my neck and collarbones with soft-lipped kisses.

“Get away from me. You’re all sweaty,” I complain––mostly so as to not give into his seduction techniques too easily––but it’s half-hearted.

“You’re about to be, too,” he growls, lifting me and dropping me on his lap. I can feel him harden underneath me, and I respond by rocking my body against his, inciting staggered, tense moans from the both of us at the same time. The sounds that come out of his mouth are music to my ears. With a hunger to hear more, I reach in between us, stroking his length through his thin shorts, loving how fully aroused he gets at my slight touch. His breathing quickens, but when I don’t hear anything from him, I look at him, witnessing his bottom lip in between his teeth, suppressing those sweet moans I so desperately want to hear him make. 

Suddenly, he’s tugging at my leggings; he’s so aggressive that I’m afraid he’s going to rip them. After he shimmies them off, I kick them to the side, and Kai’s eyes ravage the bottom half of my body. I’m thankful I had the good foresight to wear lace panties instead of my go-to granny panties, but at this point they’re drenched. They have been ever since I walked in and saw Kai; just one look at him does unspeakable things to me. His ability to reduce me to a mere puddle with just his eyes is unnerving. 

He removes my shirt and purses his lips when he sees that I’m not wearing a bra. My chest is ample-sized, but I can comfortably go without a bra––often doing just that––and it drives him mad. He says I shouldn’t go prancing around braless because I’ll be practically naked when ogling guys undress me with their eyes. I say that doesn’t make sense.

He yanks his shorts and boxers down in one swoop, and the heat between my legs intensifies. If his massive hands and long fingers were any indication of what he has to offer, the blanks fill themselves out––he’s glorious. I can’t help but gawk and admire him; Kai is perfect in every singular way. If I had no self-control, I’d lick every inch of his pale skin. I lower myself onto him and gasp with pleasure when just the tip enters me. Slowly, I bounce up and down on him, each time driving him deeper inside me until he fills me completely. My head rolls back as I continue the rhythmic movement, and I moan when he licks a stripe in the valley between my breasts. My fingers tangle themselves in his curly locks as he takes one of my nipples into his mouth, sucking on it while tinkering with the other between his fingertips.

“Oh, Kai,” I whine, feeling the intolerable pressure building up in my stomach.

“That’s it, baby,” Kai purrs against my chest as I tighten around him. “Say my name. Just like that.”

“K-Kai––” I cry, quivering against his body; my vision is blurry and I’ve lost function in my legs. Kai’s taken over, his fingers digging into my hips, thrusting into me, hitting my most sensitive spot time after time. I’m on the verge of seeing stars when it all stops. Before my brain can process what’s happening, I’m balancing on all fours on the bench as Kai positions himself behind me, his erection rubbing against me. With one thrust, he buries himself inside me, reaching around to rub my clit in a slow circular motion. I was not prepared for that. The combination of sensations is enough to drive me over the edge, but what drives me even crazier is the heat as he presses his firm chest up against my back.

“Who do you belong to?” he demands in my ear, humming. I tune him out, focusing on getting my fix and nothing more. I can barely get his name out, what makes him think I can have a coherent conversation? “I don’t like being ignored,” he warns sharply.

My arms and legs are shaky, and the only thing keeping me from crumbling to the floor are his hands, holding me steady as he rolls his hips. “You,” I finally breathe.

“Dunno who that is,” he drawls, and I could swear he’s purposely applying more pressure to his accent just to mock me.

“You. Kai,” I hiss and close my eyes to try to block him out, but that only heightens my senses to everything he’s doing to me.

“Kai who? There are many Kais,” he says matter-of-factly. His fingers slow down around my sensitive area, and I’m afraid he’s going to withhold euphoria from me.

“Kai––fucking––Havertz,” I half moan, half gasp as his fingers pick up their pace and he slams into me, the final push that sends me soaring into bliss. I never cuss unless I have a really good reason for it and lashing my frustration out on the infuriating tease that is Kai Havertz is a good enough reason for me. However, he makes up for his devilish nature by understanding every nook and cranny of my body. On cloud nine, I ride out the high to the fullest extent before my body goes fully limp. I suck in a breath when he pulls out, only to feel the warm liquid on my back coming in spurts.

“Fuck,” he moans, and I just wish I could watch him as he comes undone. I think it’s hot when he releases his load on me––I like it best when he does it on my chest. So I can marvel at him with his sweat-matted hair, throbbing Adam’s apple, and fluttering eyelids. He wipes my back with his/my jersey and pulls me into his lap. 

“The way you moan my name, I’ll never be able to forget you,” he sighs, nibbling on my neck.

“How romantic,” I tease. But really, I’d be content calling out only his name for the rest of my life. Kai fucking Havertz.

“C’mon, baby, let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, rising to his feet cheerfully. His fingers lace in mine as he starts for the shower stalls. My heart thumps wildly in my chest as my feet pad excitedly across the tile floor alongside him. Another great quality about Kai: his stamina is unmatched, on and off the football field.

*a/n: if you do by chance read this, I’d love to know what you think of it!

[funkymbtifiction]

Enneagram Centers

Sometimes if you're not sure of your core type, you need to consider the "centers" in order to figure out where your focus lies. (And... don't allow yourself to tritype yourself until you're 100% positive of your core. It will explain most of your behavior and coping mechanisms, so tritype isn't an excuse to mistype.)

Centers... there are three. Each one makes decisions differently and focuses on different things. Sometimes you can narrow down your type to the center, and from there, decide which of the three fits you best.

Centers: heart, head, gut.

They are exactly the way they sound.

Heart types make decisions from an emotional place, because their focus is on earning love. How are you seeing me? What image am I presenting to you? What do I want you to see? They are all about a conscious crafting of "self" in comparison to others. Others can see them as emotional, as needing approval, or as making decisions based on what others think of them. It's an image center. How do I feel about this? What does it lead me to do? (2 - find love, earn love. 3 - impress to earn approval. 4 - too broken for love, separate, must show my uniqueness to get love.)

Head types make decisions from a rational place, because their focus is on being secure. They think, think, think. Over-think. Analyze. Observe. Gotta think about that. Need time to mull it over. Their energy is all in their head. Nervous energy. Active energy. Thoughts. What I think, not what I feel. Buzzing. Busy mind. Converting everything to thinking about it. Distrusts their emotions. Emotions lead you wrong. Must be rational! (5 - detach, observe, don't participate. 6 - too many thoughts, unsure, find something to trust, hold onto it. 7 - stay busy to avoid anxiety, lots of thoughts, run with them all, don't want to feel stuck.)

Gut types make decisions from an instinctual place, through body energy. How things "hit" me. What I "sense" is right. How the world slams up against me, and the barriers I build against it. Putting up boundaries to protect myself. Are these boundaries stable? Knowing what to do. Or not knowing. I just know. It's an obvious choice. This is where I'm being lead. (1 - set firm boundaries, I know what's right and wrong. 8 - be a wall others slam into, expand to maintain control, things anger me and make me push back. 9 - the world seems to be taking me over, it's easy just to go along with it, pretend to agree and then do my own thing, avoid conflict.)

Another thing, which goes for mistyping in MBTI as well -- lots of people think they are X so they "act like X" -- but acting is pretending; it's not real. A fix or a core or a type is real when there's no acting involved; it's just what you naturally do, the air you breathe. For a 2 fixer, pretending to be separate, and broken, and craft an identity as a 4... that is hard work, tiring. For a 6 to pretend to be a 9, and stay calm, and not be full of thoughts and over-thinking, is impossible. It's draining. People start acting THE BEHAVIOR instead of looking deep into their motivations. "Oh, I will act like a 7!" You can't act like a 7 and be convincing, a 7 generates those behaviors through their thinking process. Identifiable behaviors are the result of mental energy. Heart processes are the result of emotional energy. And gut responses are instinctual, immediate, no thinking necessary, my body is reacting, sometimes before I can even think about it. ("I felt sick through my body before I even knew what was happening...")

Social variants are much the same, in that your dominant trait is where your attention goes immediately when you are asked a question or forced to come up with a conversation on the spot. It's rapid. Your dominant instinct absorbs most of your thoughts and focus and concern, even if you aren't aware of it.

Like the typing video I linked to the other day -- when asked questions, Megan Fox drew attention to sexual topics and encounters, because she views her past in an sx-dom way; she remembers school by the first boy she French kissed. When she wanted to interrupt her interviewer and pull him off a "boring topic," her brain said: admit you have a crush on him in a "there are only three guys I'd do" way. Again, sx. Her photos -- sx displays. Provocative clothing intended to elicit an sx reaction from others.

With variants, give yourself time and space to discover it. Your variant is probably more obvious to other people than yourself, because they see it's where your mind goes. You can't think your way through this, head types ;), you have to get an instinctual sense of things through comparisons. Think about the variants on their own, what they are about, what their focus is on, and then put them into the context of your core type and what that means.

If it's sp, look for sp's in the world around you. What's their focus on? Sp concerns. What does that mean? They focus on... my body, how I feel, what I can do, can my body withstand this? What's this look like? The guy you know who is an exercise master. The person neurotic about their health. The 2 who focuses on "health and home." (What does that look like? Well, he checks my tires, changes the oil, etc, for me without being asked! Mom makes lunches for us all, packs them, has them waiting by the door, and makes sure to take care of us at home!)

Socials? Inspiring others. Being the go-to person. Sharing what they know in a friendly manner. Focus on community, on inspiring, on being socially appropriate, on noticing when others AREN'T playing by the rules. What's that look like in person? The 1 who sets a moral example through their behavior and frowns on misbehavior. The 3 who wants to impress you with their inspirational journey. (Not their stuff, stuff is sp. Admire my new car? Sp 3!) The 5 who loves to share their expertise about ancient Egypt (their one thing). The likable 2 who runs a YouTube channel about "how to..."

Sexuals? Focus on sex. Heat. Attraction. Scent. Impact. Provocation. Am I turning you on or off? I want to find out, that's why I do it. People are either drawn to me or hate me. That's fine. Attracting them all isn't interesting to me. What's that look like in number terms? The sexy 2 who only "helps" their special person. The 6 who is protective of their mate, while also being anxious and suspicious and fearful of being left OR who goes to an extreme to become attractive in an expected way (the hot girl next door, the man who can protect you, the sensitive man, the tough girl). The 9 who molds themselves into another person and disappears into them (Bella).

It's an area of over-focus, neuroticism, a need you have to fill, whereas your second fix isn't that important. It's how you play, dabble, the stakes aren't as high, and your focus doesn't always go there first. I want this, don't always chase it. (Sx? Intense heat comes after social awareness or self-protection. Soc? Socially aware, but being an influencer comes after sx drive or "my health and home." Sp? Survival comes after public influence or awareness or sx pursuits.)

Being "blind" means... I rarely focus on this. It's not on my radar. Sp blind? Safety?? Survival? Eh, it'll all work out fine. :) Sx blind? Throwing myself recklessly after intense attraction, thirst traps, being super provocative, seems tasteless and risky. Soc-blind? Oblivious to how that statement made you feel about me, or judge me, unaware of how I dress or act being inappropriate to a situation.

[thevindicativevordan]

On Lois Lane

Figured it well past time I got to the matriarch of the Superfamily, especially since I already wrote about the other major "LL" in Superman's life.

Hardest part of writing about Lois is what more can be added that hasn't already been said? She's The Love Interest when it comes to female supporting characters, so iconic and successful that like Superman himself, she's inspired countless copycats: Iris West, Vicki Vale, the current video game version of MJ Watson, if your hero has a love interest who is a reporter, they're drawing on the archetype that Lois established. She was there from the very beginning, before there were Krypton, Smallville, the Kents, the Rogues, before Superman could even fly Lois was there.

And my God is she such a fantastic character in her own right.

Whereas Clark himself is pretty damn different if you compare and contrast his Golden Age incarnation with his modern incarnation, Golden Age Lois is pretty recognizable as Lois Lane. Feisty, independent, scornful of danger and of cowardice (especially in a "peer" like Clark), a bit in awe of Superman while also eager to press him for information about himself, willing to throw herself into danger if she can get that exclusive scoop. Her personality in the early comics is much more like her modern incarnation than the lovestruck wanna-be housewife she became in the Silver Age. Lois is one of the few characters who basically came into comics perfect from Day 1.

I love the Rucka idea that she somehow has everyone's number and can call up anyone from the lowliest criminal to the highest politicians. I like when writers show that she herself is able to wear a variety of disguises, something I'm sure she and Clark can bond over once he reveals his identity to her. And I love that she is basically waging a one-woman war against corruption and evil in Metropolis long before Superman shows up, something the Superman & Lois show highlighted.

It's easy to see why Clark would fall for her. Even putting aside that Lois is hot as hell, she's a great foil to him personality wise. They both are committed to rooting out social ills and taking the fight to crime and oppression wherever it rears it's head, from the Lexcorp boardroom, to the darkest underbelly of Metropolis. They both are kind and compassionate, but have explosive tempers if you piss them off. They both love to snark, although Lois has more bite whereas Clark is more deadpan.

The biggest contrast, and honestly the biggest turn on for Clark, is that Lois is free from doubt. Clark is constantly second-guessing himself, worrying about how others see him, worrying about whether he's making the right choices or if he's approaching his heroics/journalism the right way. Lois? Lois never second-guesses herself, never allows the doubts or opinions of others to affect her course in life. She knows her dad is disappointed and upset with her and she couldn't care less. She knows others think she's a bitch and that only amuses her. She's confident and self-reliant and those are attributes Clark wants desperately to posses himself. How could he not fall head over heels in love?

Why Lois would fall in love with Clark is a bit trickier. It's easy to see why she would love Superman, which is part of why Clark wants her to love the "whole" of him and not just the public persona. Superman is confident, Superman is powerful, Superman kicks ass, he's kind and intelligent, he's a huge celebrity, who wouldn't love him? Clark? Eh he's easy on the eyes but he doesn't really have much of a presence. That's how everyone else views Clark. Lois, I think, would start off viewing Clark as a dweeb who will be gone in a week, the big city too much for him. That he sticks around and toughs it out impresses her. That he manages to outscoop her multiple times infuriates and intrigues her. That he manages to live in Metropolis and see how rotten it can be beneath the shiny gilded exterior, yet doesn't lose his sense of optimism, his faith in other peoples inner goodness, his "naivety" so to speak? I think that's what would make her fall in love with him.

Lois is at heart a "cynical idealist" in my estimation. The cynical side is she's someone who will always fight for the truth, for justice, but I don't think she believes that peoples inherent goodness will win out in the end most of the time. She's seen how selfish people can be, how uncaring, and I think before Clark shows up there's a part of her that thinks she's just bashing her head against a wall trying to change things. The idealist part of her is that she will continue to bash her head against that wall of public indifference anyway. Lois will always fight even if nobody else will fight alongside her, she'll keep writing articles and investigating long after a lesser woman would give up, because it's the principles that matter damnit, even if only to her. That Clark is someone who will join her in that fight while still believing that the rest of the public can be swayed to join them is what I see as the reason why she finally gives him a chance, that optimism remaining in Clark is refreshing and uplifting to her. That he's also hot and can trade banter with her doesn't hurt his chances any.

Lois becoming a mom has been really interesting, even if I haven't always been wholly satisfied with how they've handled the relationship between her and Jon. I haven't seen enough of Lois traits in Jon to really buy him as her offspring, I hope that changes. While I'm not the biggest fan of Tom Taylor to put it mildly, I liked that he emphasized Lois' importance with regards to Jon becoming Superman in interview leading up to the first issue, and I hope we get lots of Lois/Jon interaction in Superman: Son of Kal-El that really flesh out their relationship. At the very least I want to see Jon get some of that Lois patented verbal bite to him.

One last thought with regards to Lois: how the hell was Tom King the first one to realize that Lois and Selina would immediately hit it off?

They're both so similar when you think about it: Brunettes who are willful and independent, who flaunt the rules to get what they want, who outright laugh when their male significant others try to order them around, yeah I totally can see the two of them becoming friends. I really hope that gets continued under someone else, since I don't think anyone other than King has really played with it, but I love the idea of Lois having a "gal pal" that's also caught up in the insanity of life with a superhero.

If not Selina I'd like to see Lois being shown to have a friendship with her copycats such as Vicki or Iris or the rest. Definitely with Cat (even though Cat Grant can drive her up the wall sometimes). More girls' nights out/double dates for Lois, that's all I'm saying.

[marshieee]

Could i request kuroo ushijima sakusa and msby bokuto when you come to their games but its a big game and you bring your kid(s) with you. (Maybe the kid(s) help bokuto with his emo mode or the kids help calm their dad down) idk i just thought this would be cute and fun for you to write

Also idk if you accept anons but if you do can i be midnight anon

Aahhhhh a father to children interaction i love that!❤️❤️ i still can’t believe I’m receiving request huhuhu😭❤️ OFCOURSE I ACCEPT ANONS! CHARACTER ANONS OR WHATEVER JUST COME TO ME!!!🥰 also this is gonna be their timeskip version so I’m gonna stick with kuroo’s timeskip profession if you don’t mind also i wanted to try to make this a little scenario just tell me if you want to make this as a hc. Sorry this took awhile.

When their kid(s) came to see them

Kuroo

“Man...”

Kuroo was watching schweiden alders game feeling nervous as he watch ushijima spikes the ball.

“Jeez he’s gonna break the ball at this point”

He was assigned to ask ushijima for a promotion video promoting a good sportsmanship and promoting the game just like what he did with hinata.

Normally he wouldn’t get this nervous but learning that ushijima is utsui takashi’s son changed his mood. Also knowing that ushijima would eventually become a professional volleyball player under Japan V. League soon.

“Like father like son huh”

Suddenly out of nowhere, even though the whole place was booming with cheers and claps he heard someone calling him.

“DADDY!!!”

He turned around and saw his ball of sunshine running towards him with you trailing behind.

“Baby!”

He kneels down and opened his arms waiting for his son to come to him. The toddler then dives into his fathers arms and started giggling, he stood up carrying his son.

“What brings you here buddy?”

“Mommy said she was going to watch a volleyball game and asked me if i wanna go”

“And you did”

“AND I DID”

As you finally reached them he gave you a cheeky smile, he kissed your cheeks since his son is there so kiss on the lips can wait.

“Hi kitten”

“Hello to you too kuroo-san”

“KUROO-SAN?”

You laughed but finally noticing his is kind of pale worried that he might be sick you gently cupped his face.

“Are you ok?”

He grabs your hand and give it a kiss, feeling that he is slowly calming down.

“Yeah”

But suddenly his son grabbed both of his cheeks and forcibly turned kuroo to face him.

“Y-Yes?”

“Daddy are you sick?”

“No buddy I’m fine”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure”

“Really?”

“Really”

“Okay”

“Hahaha...ok”

Still not convinced with his father’s word he gave kuroo a kiss on the cheeks and made up a little chant to make sure he’s ok.

“Thank you baby i feel a lot better now”

“What’s up with you anyways?”

“Well i was assigned to ask ushijima if he can make a promotion video with us”

“And? What’s wrong with that?”

“Recently i just discovered that ushijima is utsui takashi’s son”

“Wait really? The utsui takashi?”

“Yeah”

“Omygod”

“I know right?!”

Suddenly someone flung their arms around your shoulder, now that you noticed how close your face were with kuroo. The both of you looked at your son who is struggling to keep his arms around you since you’re a bit far, giggling you stepped closer, when he got comfortable, he took a deep breath and puts on a serious face.

“Who is utsui takashi?”

“Why is utsui takashi?”

“How is utsui takashi?”

You three fell silent for a good minute before bursting with laughter.

“Why are we even huddling anyways?”

You took your son out of kuroo’s arms and continued laughing with him. Kuroo watched both of his precious gems having fun, all smiles and that’s what he likes.

Ushijima

It was a big day today since it’s msby vs schweiden alders game.

He felt a excitement since he’s going to play against hinata shoyo again after those years. The fact that you told him you can’t come to his game today since you’re too busy and his daughter has a play date really saddens his mood. Boy just wants to flex sometimes you know.

Suddenly he heard a commotion outside their waiting room, he didn’t mind it at first but it gradually got a little louder so he decided to check it out. This man got confused over a commotion cause not only his teammates were there also the msby players were also there huddled in the middle of the hallway.

“What’s happening?”

They all turned around that made ushijima anxious because duh they were looking at him like he just killed someone then all of a sudden in the center of those giant players was a lovely little girl.

“PAPA!!!”

“Keiko?”

Fun fact: ushi named his daughter keiko that means “respected child”

Keiko runs up to her father and ushijima instantly scoops her up in his arms.

“Papa i’m here”

“But i thought keiko has a play date today?”

“Keiko said she wants to watch her papa play”

The boys gave way to you as you walked up to the both of them. Ushijima gave you a smile and pecks your lips.

“Hi mama”

“Hello honey”

Suddenly Kageyama appeared besides you and bowed.

“Hello y/n-san!”

“Oh my hello tobio-kun”

“TOBIO NII-CHAN!!”

“Hello keiko”

Hoshiumi then appeared behind ushijima and waved at little keiko.

“Hiii keiko-chan!”

“HOSHIUMI NII-CHAN!!”

“Hey keiko who do you think is the coolest?—“

“Papa!”

“No no not that—“

“But papa is the coolest for me”

“Besides your papa, me or hinata shoyo?”

Suddenly hinata pops out and caught keiko’s attention, ushijima had to hold her since she moved to the side to look at hinata. She stared at hinata making him nervous.

“SUNSHINE!!!”

They all got quiet when keiko shouted sunshine while giggling, hinata on the other hand was confused.

“Sunshine?”

“Shoyo nii-chan sunshine!”

Hinata blushed furiously after receiving a compliment from keiko, hoshiumi did not know what’s happening so he asked ushijima if he can carry keiko.

“Sure just be careful”

“I will i will”

Then they started to surround keiko again asking who’s the coolest to who’s the tallest and who’s the best etc. etc.

Ushijima watched as her baby girl was getting along with his teammates and other teams as well. You looked at ushijima who has a soft look, nudging him to the side.

“It looks like keiko is popular huh~”

“Yeah”

“Ah I wonder if she’s also popular at her daycare~”

Ushijima turned to look at you with a confused expression.

“Because if she is there’s probably a boy who likes her—“

“No”

“But what if when she goes home and told us about—“

“No”

“Aww keiko will have a prince—“

Ushijima grabbed both of your cheeks and kissed your nose, but he still looks frustrated after you put those thoughts in his head.

“Y/N no”

“Owkie~”

Sakusa

Today is a big day for the japan V league, the gymnasium was packed with fans and supporters for each team. You could see a lot of flags here and there, there’s also a huge group of people who would cheer for their teams.

A lot of camera has been clicking and taping since then. Fortunately for you, you got a good seat in front thanks for the sources you had, your little girl who’s sitting besides you is very excited to watch the game.

She begged you to have her face painted with a japan flag which you unfortunately did because you can’t say no to her sometimes, you gave her a fan with the japan’s team on it so she could wave it around and to fan herself of course.

The game has started and you cheered with your daughter, shouting and jumping whenever the japan team scores a point. Soon the game ended and it was the win of the japan team. You felt someone tug your shirt looking down you saw your daughter who was ready to go.

“Mommy let’s go! Let’s go!”

“Alright baby calm down we’re going”

You held her hands as you two walk towards the court, thankfully you two wore a pass around your neck or else.

When you arrived at the court a lot of people were there, paparazzi, reporters, few important peoples and all. You were trying to spot your husband among the crowd but your daughter found him first, she lets go of your hand and came dashing to wherever she found her father.

“AH BABY! WAIT!”

“DADDY!!”

Sakusa was having an interview with a reporter that time so he didn’t notice a little girl running towards him, when she got to where her daddy was she immediately hugged him.

The reporter was confused and panicking since a little girl suddenly interrupted their interview, they were glancing back and forgot to sakusa to the little girl when all of a sudden sakusa smiled and lifted her up.

“Where were we again?”

“Oh..um right uh, y-your thoughts about the game”

“Ah yes, they were a tough opponent that’s given it was really hard to go pass through their defense so it was nice when aran broke their defenses with one hard spike, overall it was a good game everyone did their best so that’s what matters”

“Right one last question um do you know this little girl?”

Sakusa looked at the ball of sunshine in his arms and smiled at her.

“Do you want to introduce yourself?”

The nodded enthusiastically at her father,

“Go on”

“Hello! My name is sakusa hayami! Nice to meet you!”

Fun fact:Sakusa named his daughter hayami which means “rare beauty”

The reporter was surprised and looked at sakusa who was smiling.

“She’s my daughter”

“Oh! Hello hayami-san nice to meet you too how old are you?”

“I’m...”

Hayami slowly extended her fingers and showed them,

“I’m five years old!”

“Wow! Anything you want to say abou your father?”

“Daddy?”

Sakusa then whispered to her.

“What do you want to say about daddy”

“MY DADDY IS AWESOME! HE’S SO STRONG WHEN HE POW THE BALL THEN WHEN THE BALL GO WHOOSH! THEN THEY CAN’T CATCH IT!”

She flings her arms in the air while explaining making the reporter giggle at her cuteness, sakusa then noticed you walking towards them, he gave you a smile and gestures you to come over.

“And here...”

He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you closer to him.

“...is my lovely wife y/n”

You bow down and the reporter bow down also, they look at the three of you and smiled.

“What a lovely family”

“It is”

Sakusa turned to look at you and kissed you on your forehead.

“It is a lovely family”

Suddenly someone shouted at the background causing all of you to turn around.

“HAYAMI-CHAN!”

“UNCLE BOKUTO!”

“HI HAYAMI-CHAN!”

“UNCLE TSUMU”

Sakusa turned to look at the reporter with a frustrated face.

“It’s a lovely family not until they come around”

“Ah hahaha...”

When the interview ended hayami played with her uncles, sakusa held your hand.

“Did you enjoyed the game?”

“Yeah i did, Hayami also enjoyed the game”

“Really?”

“Yes really i had to stop her from shouting to much or she’ll hurt her throat”

“Hahahaha...i see”

He placed a soft kiss on your hand, you looked at him.

“Thank you”

“You’re welcome~”

Bokuto

You wanted to surprise bokuto so you didn’t tell him that you’ll be watching his game today all he knows is you’ll be at your friend’s house since they needed you with something and the kids were scheduled with a play date.

He didn’t mind of course but it’s still sad that his babies wouldn’t be there to watch him play but when you told him that you’ll be watching at the television he said that he’ll do his best.

Now that you’re here at the noisy gymnasium full of spectators who supports their favorite teams, other brought their own banner some joined a cheering team. The whole gymnasium was full of tension and excitement that infected both of your children as they were jumping and shouting that you have to sometimes cover their mouth or else they’ll hurt themselves.

“GOOOO DADDY!!!!”

“GO GO MSBY!!!”

Bokuto didn’t know that you three were there all he knows is to focus on the game and win. Since the whole area was full of cheer it’ll be hard for bokuto to hear his kids cheering for him.

As the game went on the msby team isn’t doing well they were five points behind and they needed to catch up or the numbers will pile up. You can tell your husband is getting frustrated since his spikes keeps getting blocked, unlike before he knows how to calm down and act rationally but the frustration is still there if this continues he will lose his focus.

You have to do something, you were thinking of ways to help your husband and then suddenly your kids started shouting even more.

“DADDY YOU CAN DO THIS!!!”

“DADDYYYY!!!!”

You guessed that they sensed that their daddy is having a tough time, then it came to you, it’s kind of dumb to bring this with you but you thought that you might need or someone might need it and it looks like you did. Tapping the shoulders of the shouting children they then looked at you.

“Kasuga, haruki...”

You named your little girl kasuga which means “spring day” while bokuto named his young man haruki which means “shining sun”

You gave them a thumbs up as they looked at you with a confused expression.

“...leave it to mommy”

You grabbed your bag and looked for the thing that you brought, you immediately pulled it out of the bag.

“What’s that?”

“It’s a megaphone”

Yes, you did brought a megaphone without any reason you just shoved it down and brought it.

“Mega-phone?”

“Uh huh you can talk here and it’ll make your voice suuuuper loud and I’m sure daddy will hear it!”

They were excited to use it since they know that their daddy will finally hear them, you started to turn on the megaphone and handed the it to them.

“You two hold it very still”

Haruki lets his sister hold the upper part of handle while he holds the lower part of it. You made sure that it was on and loud and clear.

“Ok now you two go in front right, there in the railings mommy will be right beside you”

You don’t want other people burts their damn eardrums when the twins shouts. They slowly and carefully walked down the stairs holding on the megaphone on their hands. When you arrived at the bottom, the twins looked at you as you gave them your signal.

“Ok on the count of three...one...two...three!”

They took a deep breath and cheered.

“DADDYYYYYY DO YOUR BESTTTT!! YOU CAN DO THISSSS!!! GOOO FIGHTTTTT!!!”

If it’s just one of them it wouldn’t really attract a lot of people but since there’s two of them I’m sure there’s a lot of people who’s looking at the three of you. You blushed a little but didn’t stop the twins since you’re a supportive mother and wife.

Bokuto heard their screams, at first he thought he was hallucinating but when hinata turned around and started to wave at them.

“KASUGA-CHAN! HARUKI-CHAN!!”

“Kasuga...haruki...”

He finally turned around and saw his two bundle of joy waving at him and right beside them was you who looks flustered but still waving at him. He felt all of his frustrations fading away by just looking at the three of you all smiles for him, so he raised both of his arms and smiled.

“HEY HEY HEY!!!”

The twins immediately handed you the megaphone and copied their father’s actions.

“HEY HEY HEY!!!” “HEY HEY HEY!!!”

Bokuto turned to look at you, you blowed him a kiss to which he blows you one back. Feeling a lot better he tapped both sakusa and hinata’s back.

“LET’S WIN THIS!”

Bonus:

Atsumu watched bokuto’s with his lovely family and felt extremely jealous on how the two of you blowing kisses to each other.

“How come bokuto has two cute children and a beautiful wife”

Grumbling at himself he turned to look for a camera who’s recording live on television but since there’s a alot he just shouted.

“SAMU IF I WIN THIS YA BETTER GIVE ME A FREE ONIGIRI YA JERK!”

Fortunately that was caught on cam and fortunately for him too osamu was watching live on his phone.

“THEN WIN YA DUMBASS!!!!”

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

Wed 24 Feb ‘21

It’s around the world with Liam Payne day again!! Today in his weekly FIFA and music podcast, he and cohost Jaydee Dyer interview a couple of Dutch guys; goalkeeper Marc ter Stegen and musician Lukas Graham, who know each other, as did last week’s guests, which is cute. Liam and Lukas trade stories about starting singing professionally as children (Liam-- “I had a crush on the choir teacher”), fame at early ages (Liam-- “It can be tough, it can be massively overwhelming” and “the weirdest gig I ever did was for 110,000 people and I don’t think I even noticed it was that many people because I was so stressed out by what the hell was going on at the time”) and being young dads which Liam is ready to chime in about at length, but there’s also a long segment of talk about weddings in which the other guys talk about their weddings (2 of them) and being engaged and looking forward to having a wedding (1 of them) and Liam contributes only “well I’m not married!” and, again, “I’m not married!”. Huh, well okay! Plus this highlight-- Lukas being like, no I think as a famous person it’s easy to be open and honest, its harder if you lie cause then you have to keep track of what you said and you mess up. Liam: “oh, that’s what I’m doing wrong!!”

Lukas comments on how Marc is always playing to crowds where “half the crowd is against you” and he and Liam never have to deal with that and Liam is like welll actually… “I’ve been heckled in foreign languages,” he says, “I didn’t really tour for the last couple of years... I’ve kinda just been doing different corporate gigs and different festivals. Sometimes when you turn up to places there’s a lot of angry young men there who don’t like me very much. I once turned up at this one gig… and the guy was like DJ-ing before me and I knew that my set was half quicker songs, some slow songs and whatever else... and I’m like oh my god can this guy get off the stage quickly because the more he pumps them up the more anticlimactic the middle of my set is gonna be. And it must have been a crowd where I just didn’t really see it coming and it’s like, the crowd was like 90% male. So I got on the stage... and they started heckle me in a foreign language so I thought, well, this one is just for me.“ Poor Liam! Good times overall though, and I feel like Liam is kind of hitting his stride and getting more comfortable being on that side of the interview process which is neat and also I appreciate that they’ve changed the format to have snippets of the songs they’re talking about (each week the footie players pick songs of their lives and talk about them) in the podcast.

Everyone else is laying low and being MIA but I just saw an ad for a conversation between Bruce Springsteen and Barack Obama, so we do know one thing Niall is up to at least, being super excited about that!

[staywritten]

Studio Time│Bang Chan

Studio Time│Bang Chan

Synopsis: Your boyfriend is producing your groups comeback and you learn the downside of dating a perfectionist. 

Genre: one shot, angst-ish? Happy ending, idol!Chan, idol!reader, fluff with more fluff at the end.

Word Count: 2108

I wrote this fic like 5yrs ago for a different artist lol But I re-read it recently and still really liked it so I re-vamped it for SKZ. Especially after that episode of Weekly Idol when the members said Chan was sweet to them but he was really serious when he was making music, so I figured this was the perfect fit. 

When your label announced that your comeback album will be produced by Chan you weren’t really sure what to think. You prided yourself on keeping your careers separate, but on the other hand he was an amazingly talented producer and it wasn’t often that he produced for idol girl groups. 

At this point of his career he was expanding outside of doing work for just Stray Kids. It was an opportunity at which both parties benefited. He could grow his portfolio in a way that wasn’t possible when just producing for Stray Kids and he was an up and coming name in the industry.

You two didn’t date publicly but your members and management were aware of the relationship, so some of the pressure was lifted. You didn’t have to pretend like you didn’t know each other. 

Walking into the JYP building, you led your members to Chan’s signature studio. Despite coming to his studio pretty regularly, it was a little nerve racking coming to it for work. You felt just as nervous as you did when meeting a new producer. “Are you excited to work with Channie? How lucky are we! What kind of producer is he?” Your youngest member chimed, hooking her arm with you. 

You nodded laughing, giving her hand a little pat. “I guess we are pretty lucky.” Not many producers would be open to input, but since your members had a close relationship with your boyfriend you figured the atmosphere would be lighter. “I’m not sure how he is as a producer honestly. He’s never let me see him work before. Like I’ve seen him make beats, but never recording.”

As you all walked into his studio you smiled seeing him sitting with Han on the couch. “Wally!” you chimed giving the bright green wall a little pat. 

“What about me?” Chan pouted. 

“What about you?” you teased, giving him a wink. 

You did your group greeting and bowed, laughing at how silly it felt. Normally that would be saved for broadcast and fan meetings but it was a force of habit as a leader.

“Awww cute!” Chan chuckled before formally introducing himself just to cover the formalities. It wasn’t often you got to see your boyfriend while working, but you also had to keep in mind that you still had to work.

Chan walked over to you, pulling you into a hug. You wrapped your arms around his neck, smiling brightly. “I missed you” he grinned. You did your best to ignore the aweing from your other members and Han. His nose brushed down the bridge of yours. 

“I saw you this morning” you played with the hair at his nape.

“I know, I missed you this afternoon” he laughed, pecking your lips, lingering just a moment too long.

You giggled, melting into his arms. “Aww, you’re being really cute today” you whispered, pulling back to look at him. “Don’t look at me like that” a smile tugged at your lips, as you gently grazed your nails against his scalp. “We have work yo do”

“Mmmm” he sighed into your touch. “I’m just excited to make this song. I worked so hard on it, it’s perfect for you” he smiled. “I made it just for you”

“I can’t wait” you chimed, pulling away from him. He whined letting you step back, a cute pout on his lips.

“Awww you guys are cute, it’s kinda gross” Han pretended to choke back a gag before laughing and grabbing his bag. “I gotta head to an interview, so I’ll catch you guys later.”

After the formalities, he played the demo track for you. Your members loved it. It was fun, playful and it had a bit of an edge to it. You couldn’t wait to record it. That was one of the plus sides about working with your boyfriend. You were actually very vocal at home about the direction you wanted to go in with your group.

This would be your first track of the new year, and all of your members were officially adults now. You wanted something teasing, and mature, yet still youthful and in true Chan fashion, he nailed it. 

All that was left now was to record it.

One by one your members did their lines, recording their parts in manageable segments. Chan was very caring with them, almost holding their hand through the process. “Minah, try singing it like this.” he coached her through it, reiterating her part, and changing the articulation toward the end. 

She was your youngest, and still wasn’t completely confident in her own voice yet so she was a lot to handle. She did her best to follow directions, but sometimes things were just out of her vocal range and when that happened Chan adjust accordingly. He coached her to give her the confidence that was needed to reach the note. Once she adjusted he clapped and gave her a thumbs up. “Very good, that was perfect! One more time, from the top.” In the end he changed up her part to best suit her voice and she had a cleaner take. 

You were proud seeing him so kind. You couldn’t help but watch him with the brightest warmth in your eyes. Your group were like your baby sisters and he was being so good to them. 

Unfortunately Minah wasn’t the most difficult take of the day, but he worked with each one of them carefully. In their defense it was a difficult song to sing. It was a very dynamic with lots of changes, not only was this a genre change from your groups usual music it pushed your vocalist and rappers to step up.  

Soon enough it was your turn to record. 

Although you couldn't really call it recording. 

Chan wasted no time in stopping you every few words. Perhaps you were spoiled with how doting and sweet he was with your members. Because it seemed that he had no intentions of treating you in such a manner.

“Babe, can you do it seriously?”

“No- Again that sounds horrible”

“Do it again”

“Again, from the top.”

“Again”

“It’d be nice if I had a single sample I could use.”

“If you can’t do it, perhaps we should have someone else do it?”

“This is kind of embarrassing”

Was this even the same person? You understood constructive criticism. Constructive is what he was with your members. This was just being mean. You slipped off your headphones and glared at him when he stopped you again. That time you were in the middle of another take. It would have been nice to get a single line out with his opinion.

You hated that you wanted to cry.

You had to deal with some pretty tough critics. Producers, songwriters, choreographers, your CEO. Making an album was a high stress process with a lot of hands on deck. It was your job, so naturally it wasn’t going to go smoothly. Especially when everyone had different creative views, but this was the worst recording you’ve ever dealt with in the entirety of your music career. 

You just hated being yelled at. 

He knew that better than anyone. All those nights, you would come home from work and he’d have to console you after you’d been scolded. Chan knew that yelling immediately shut you down. You bit back your tears, wanting to hold it together for your members. You could see them struggling from behind the glass. It looked like they wanted to say something, at least tell Chan to ease up, but you shook your head and took a deep breath.

Normally you would avoid confrontation and just sing it the way the producer wanted, but you just couldn’t do it. Because what Chan wanted, wasn’t you.

You finally set the headphones on the rack inside before walking out. “Where are you going?” he frowned watching you take your backpack. “We don’t have anything for your part. We need to start from the beginning”

You shrugged. “Give my part to Jieun, she’ll do it better”

Jieun gasped before reaching out to you, shaking her head profusely. “What? But Unnie-”

“It’s fine” you gave her a small smile, trying to calm her. “I’ll call the company directly and tell them I can’t participate in the recording”

“But it’s our comeback track! You can’t not have a part in it” Minah grabbed your hand. She looked back at Chan “Tell her to stay.” Seeing the hesitation in his eyes she frowned more “Chan tell-”

“That’s enough.” you gave her head a small pat. “I’ll be fine. I just need to get out of here. I’ll check in on you later.” you looked to your second in command “Jieun you’re in charge.”

Chan rolled his eyes before crossing his arms over his chest. “So you’re just leaving? Do you always quit like this? Is that the way you lead?”

You froze, hearing his words. 

Was he trying to hurt you? What could you have possibly done? He was fine earlier. You gripped your fist, your body shaking before leaving the room with your head held high. You knew when someone was trying to get a rise out of you, and you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction.

On your way through the lobby you ran into Han. He smiled initially seeing you, but as you wiped away your tears he frowned. “Hey…”  His gentle voice pulled you out of your thoughts. It was too gentle. Almost sympathetic. You looked up, scrambling to bring a smile on your face. That signature idol smile you gave to the cameras. “You don’t have to do that…” he gave your shoulder a small pat. “Do you wanna get some coffee?”

You sat across from Han at the cafe across the street. He didn't push you to speak. He just gave you a moment to sort out your feelings, let you take your time and figure out what to say.

He sipped on his drink. “Chan-Hyung was being a jerk huh?”

It wasn’t really a question. There was a certain understanding in his voice. You looked up at him, your eyes narrowing. “Is he always like that?”

He chuckled. “Sometimes. Chan is a perfectionist. Always was. Always will be. There are times when our group has come to blows because Chan can just be a little too much when criticizing. Threatening to remove Changbin-Hyung’s part from the song, getting frustrated in vocal ranges…real harsh criticisms...things like that. I don’t even think he’s aware of when he’s doing it.” he sighed. “Like when we record it just seems like the stress finally gets to him.”

Your shoulders slumped. “But he was really nice to my members…Absolutely sweet to them…he was only mean to me. Not that I would want him to yell at my girls-I’d literally kill him. But…” you sighed staring into your coffee. “Why was he being so mean…”

“He was probably being extra careful with your members…”

“What do you mean?”

“When we were recording our collaborative stage with Niziu, Chan was really nice to them. Doting, constructive, an angel. But that day was hell on us. It’s like he had pent up frustrations and just couldn’t hold it in any longer. I swear Minho-Hyung almost quit that day.”

“What type of bullshit excuse is that?”

He shrugged. “No excuse. Just how it is…Like he can only be himself with people that he knows will forgive him. He can be an ass sometimes, but he sure does put out amazing songs.”

“But at what cost?” you sighed, taking a sip of your coffee.

Later that night Chan came home, sheepishly poking his head inside to see you sitting on the couch. His eyes widened as he entered. “You’re still here?” his voice a little more surprised than he’d like to let on. A lingering bit of reliefe to his tone.

You sighed turning the page of your book “I was going to leave your ass. But I figured we should at least talk. Despite what you make think of me. I’m not a quitter” you set your book down before crossing your arms. “So talk.”

“Look, I’m sorry about earlier. It’s just-” he groaned, raking his hand through his curly hair. “The track wasn’t going where I wanted to. It was getting away from me…The only way I’d like the track was for your part to be exactly what I envisioned...for you to bring everything back”

It made sense he did give you the biggest part of the song. The chorus, and bridge were the most memorable of his demo and he gave them to you. He even had you sing the demo for the company to pitch the idea. At the time you thought it was sweet, you had no idea the burden it’d be. 

It was obvious this song was made to be a solo for you.

“Your members did their best, but they just didn’t have the vocal range to do the song the way I envisioned it… So I made adjustments and compromises...” he sighed heavily. “And more adjustments...and more compromises...” he rubbed his temples. “Especially because if they can’t sing it at recording they wouldn’t be able to perform it on stage. So one change became another….” he sighed heavily, slumping into the chair. “I loved the song so much because it’s what I knew you wanted to release… But they just couldn’t...and…”

“I don’t think we can work together Chan…” you frowned. “You’re my boyfriend, and an amazing producer…but you can’t be both. In order for us to be happy with the track, and in order for me to be happy with our relationship we can’t work together.”

“We can still make it work. Let’s try again tomorrow.” he looked so hopeful. “I promise I won’t yell, and I-”

“You don’t understand Chan. You made me hate you.” your voice small, as you looked down. 

He sank down into himself. His shoulders slumping, hurt etched on his delicate features. Never in his lifetime would he have thought you’d say that. “You…You hated me?”

“I did…for a little bit…You made me hate myself…You made me feel like an inadequate leader, you made me question myself.” you hugged your knees. “I can’t feel like that ever again. I’m responsible for six other girls who look up to me. It’s so easy to get ransacked in this industry, to be pushed and pulled into concepts. They need to believe in me. I need to believe in me and my ability, but with you… I couldn’t. So for my sake…Let’s drop the project.”

He closed his eyes before nodding. “Alright…” He hated that he made you feel that way. He never intended it on getting that bad. He just panicked when he listened to the track, and you were the last person to record. You were supposed to be the saving grace of it. He wasn’t going to release something he didn’t at least like. Once again his overly perfectionist ways almost cost him something he wasn’t willing to lose. “I am sorry…” he whispered.

Producing was one of his greatest joys in the world, and singing was yours. There was just something so utterly heartbreaking knowing that you could never share your passions together. “I know…I’m sorry too.”

He bundled you in his arms, letting you lay your head on his chest. He pressed a kiss on top of your head. “I have one more compromise”

“You don’t give up do you?” you felt your lips tugging to a smile. “What’s your compromise lover boy?”

“What about I talk to your company into giving you this song for a solo for later this year? And you, me and Jisung write up a new song for your group comeback?”

“There’s no time”

He chuckled. “If anyone can write a song in crunch mode it’s Han Jisung” he smoothed down your hair. “I think with your help we can write something that’s mroe ideal for your girls”

“But a solo-”

“Baby I wrote that song for you.” he closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against yours. “That song was yours...And I need you to have it. You said your company was planning a solo debut anyway... so sing this.” 

“Chan I love you so much...But I can’t record an album with you”

His beautiful brown eyes gazed into you. “I offered you a compromise, offer me one too”

You pouted. “Fine, since you’re in the mood to make a deal. I’ll take your solo song only if I record with Jisung, and Changbin.”

“Deal” You smiled gently scratching his scalp, and placing a kiss at the base of his throat. “Mmmm...” a groan echoed from his throat. “I’m so sorry about today Baby”

“It’s fine” you relaxed into his touch as he traced patterns into your skin absently. You grinned. “It’s nice to know that you’re not perfect”

He chuckled, throwing his head back. “I never claimed to be perfect”

“Oh yeah?” You sat back, crawling onto his lap. A smile on your lips as you gazed into his eyes. “Mr. Perfect hair” you played with the hair on his nape. “Perfect smile” you placed a kiss on his lips. “Perfect dimples” your thumb brushing against his dimple. “Perfect voice” you pressed a kiss on his adam’s apple. “You are perfect in a million different ways.” you giggled “You’re just not meant t be my producer”

“I can live with loving you in a million other ways.” he stood up, lifting you in his arms and carrying you into the bedroom, your laughs echoing and filling the house.

End.

Hey Friends! I hope you enjoyed that. It was nice revisiting an old fic and breathing some new life into it. If you liked it let me know <3 

I’m sorry my Felix scenario is taking so long... I’ve rewritten it like 8 times and I’m getting a bit overwhelmed I’m gonna try and revisit it when my mind is clearer. I’ve been starting at the screen for far too long. 

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[st-louis]

what is it about goalies that leads to the "goalies are weird" thing? do weird personalities lend themselves to the job? are they actually that weird? does it have something to do with the unpredictability of the position? (take this in whatever direction you want really--you seem to know a lot about this kind of thing so i'm interested in reading your thoughts!)

okay, so i think a lot of factors are actually at play here. consider the following:

hockey players, as a whole, are a really superstitious group of people. even forwards have a lot of weird lil rituals and habits that they do to make themselves feel better about the game (see the guys who always have to be the last one off the ice at warmups and the games they play with each other to make that happen). this goes doubly so for goalies it seems (i will do a little list of some goalie superstitions i really like).

when you’re a forward, you’re one of three guys on the ice doing the same thing for your team at any given time. when you’re a defenseman, you’re one of two guys on the ice doing the same thing for your team at any given time. when you’re a goalie, you’re the only one. and the other guys on the team get line changes, but when you’re the goalie? it’s just you, for 60 min a night.

consider this: it’s just you, for 60 min a night, and (at least in the nhl) playing in front of like 15,000 to 25,000 people.

when you screw up as a forward, a defenseman is hopefully there to cover up your screwup. if the defenseman screws up, the goalie is hopefully there to cover up the screwup. if the goalie screws up? the goal light goes off and those same 25,000 people see a point against their team that you appear to be solely responsible for.

every night you play, 6′+ tall 200 lb men are firing vulcanized rubber disks at your head and body anywhere from 75 mph to 100+ mph a shot. you’re catching those disks in your hands, blocking them with your helmet, or using your body to do it. sometimes you’re doing a split. sometimes you’re just throwing yourself at them. these same giant men are occasionally crashing into you at high speeds while you’re a relatively stationary target.

so like... just by nature of the position, you can gather that playing goal is like: a very heavy mental responsibility. it’s the position that i think is most visibly responsible for the team’s losses, and you can see how fans of a team and the press will absolutely tear into goalies during rough streaks (rip to most philadelphia goaltenders). and to get to the nhl level i think you also have to be a pretty strict perfectionist and very hard on yourself, so the mental toll you put on yourself for those losses has gotta be pretty tough to deal with. listen to almost any interview with goalies and they will talk about how hard it is to cope with very bad games, although they all have different ways of coping. carter hart meditates and does a lot of mindfulness exercises and tries to focus on only the moment that he’s responsible for right then; elvis merlizkins has said that while he used to get down on himself for losses he simply does not have the time to do that in the nhl.

i think this quote from kevin constantine, a former goalie and current head coach (he coached the silvertips for a while and is currently working in korea) is a really good summary about whether it’s nature or nurture that goalies are weird:

"When I grew up the saying was, 'Go to the playground and find the weirdest kid and that kid can probably be your goalie, because goalies are weird,'" Constantine said. "And then as I went through being a goalie, observing the goalies, being part of the fraternity, I don't think it's that at all. I think we take very normal athletes and we make them a goalie, and the process of doing that makes you weird. It makes you different."

"You don't get to come back to the bench and talk about how things are going [in the game]. You're just isolated and that willing(ness) to go in harm's way and the isolation you play with, I think if you do that repetitively you become a bit of a strange duck. So yeah, goalies are a little weird."

[x]

it’s a really tough position to play. there’s a reason that goalies like carter hart (i.e., coming into the league at like 20 years old and having very solid professional seasons without much of a regression) are rare and that goalies like jordan binnington (coming into the league at approximately 25 years old and still calder eligible, having some regressions) are more common. beyond the inherent athleticism required in having to do splits and lunge and catch, you gotta be aware of where a tiny puck is amidst a shitload of chaos going on in front of you/screening you/ guys jabbing at you. you have to be aware of what’s going on at all times, even if it’s not in your zone. even if you’re not actively playing, you always have to be on. for 60 min a night, wearing a shitload of heavy pads. (have to take shit, per that last reblog? tough luck.)

there is something to be said about the isolation. you have your backup and your goalie coach, but it’s not the same as the camaraderie the forwards or the defensemen have. you’re one of like two guys on the team that can do what you do and it probably seems slightly magical to the rest of the team.

i also think it’s like very much a mental game (both the stress and what you have to do to prepare). i’ve read a lot about the training that goalies do in addition to their own ice work and it’s frankly pretty bonkers. like carter has an entire visual training/eye tracking program on his ipad and a lot of them do some kind of program like this or talk to a coach especially for that aspect of the game; similarly, a lot of goalies specifically talk to sports psychologists to manage the stress of a game-to-game.

you probably have to be a pretty odd duck, ballsy sort of person to be like “yeah i wanna be the last line of defense for my team” in the first place (or a younger brother because tbh out of many nhl brother pairings it seems like the goalie is always the younger one and got forced into doing it as a child) but that the process of learning how to deal with the ins and outs of the position also makes you a little bonkers.

and if you want evidence of “are goalies weird?” please watch literally any video of ilya bryzgalov talking about like....... anything. some of them are more visibly weird than others (again, see ilya bryzgalov and “the universe is so humongous big” and “is just game, why you have to be mad?”) but most of them are like. pretty weird in more quiet ways. again, literally any interview with or about carter hart (my favorite was him getting made fun of as a small child for constantly going around telling people he wanted to be better than carey price...)

anyway here are a few goalie superstitions/habits that i particularly like although most of them are older (if you have any more modern anecdotes feel free to share):

patrick roy liked to talk to the goal posts because they were “his friends,” he would also refuse to actually step on any of the lines

glenn hall would make himself throw up before every because he felt he played better if he was physically ill beforehand

eddie belfour would lose his shit if a teammate touched his equipment pregame (like threaten to kill them lose his shit)

pelle lindbergh wore the same orange t-shirt for each game and refused to wash or sew it if it was torn and he’d only drink the same drink with two ice cubes from a specific trainer from the right hand during intermissions

ron hextall was the one who really started the banging the posts with his stick thing

ron tugnutt had this whole routine, like figure eight in the crease, abrupt turn into a crouch, 20 feet from crease....... like it goes on. there was probably like ten steps to his whole Thing

a lot of goalies will not even talk to reporters about their superstitions because they’re so superstitious about them

there was one goalie whose name i can’t remember who used to dye his hair blond before games

there are a bunch of goalies who can’t stand having the opposing team put pucks in the net during warmups to the point where they will push the nets out of the crease and turn them over to prevent it from happening.

anyway in summary: while some odd characters may gravitate towards the position, even if you’re not a weirdo when you start, you’ll probably be a weirdo by the time you finish. it’s a tough position to play and it’s a lot of stress and responsibility. how people cope with that emerges in varying ways, some of them Odd.

(thank you for asking this question i LOVE to talk about goalies and i tried to explore some of this in my fic writing but it’s nice to talk about it on main too).

[andawaywego]

🥺 bartender Jamie hitting on customer Dani and random guy hitting on Dani but failing

this got away from me, but as requested! i hope you like it. 

..

“I haven’t seen you around here before.”

Dani winces at the words, at the gravelly touch the man’s voice has. Like metal scraping against concrete. It makes her shiver. “That’s a good one,” she tells him and he looks pleased with himself for exactly two more seconds before she adds, “Definitely never heard it before.”

He blinks, but then pushes on, undeterred by her response. “Let me buy you a drink.”

Not a question. Dani resists the urge to roll her eyes.

“Thanks,” she says, “but I’ve got one.” She shakes the straw of her daiquiri for emphasis.

“The next one then,” he offers.

He’s got a stupid, handsome face. Dani wonders how easily he’s been able to slide through life with a face like that—how many girls he’s been able to talk into his bed with those dimples. She’s not drunk—even if she desperately wants to be—but she kind of wants to ask him what his success rate with this kind of thing normally is.

The plan had been to just get in, get a drink, and get out. Another round of disappointing and humiliating job interviews has left her with a dull pounding in the back of her head, and she’d only wanted to add a nice numbness to it before going back to her room at the hostel to lick her wounds.

But then her new acquaintance had come over less than a minute after the pretty bartender gave Dani her drink and now he won’t leave.

Apparently, the man takes her silence as agreement and he looks over at the bartender and lifts his hand—almost like he’s talking to a dog or something, which—

More points added to his general douchery.

“Can I get one more for—” He trails off, throwing a look back at Dani.

“Priscilla,” she says, rattling off the first fake name that comes to mind.

Fortunately, he buys it.

“For Priscilla,” he finishes.

The woman at the bar—whose name tag reads JAMIE—quirks an eyebrow at him, then glances at Dani. She’s a slight thing; curly brown hair and pale skin. Pink lips that Dani sort of wants to tug at with her teeth.

But that’s the alcohol talking.

When she first sat down, Jamie had given her a once-over. Not quite like she was sizing Dani up, but more like she was...appreciating the view. It was...interesting, to say the least, and she’d been planning on striking up a conversation before they were interrupted.

“Priscilla, yeah?” Jamie asks, and she gives Dani an amused look.

Dani’s stomach twists a little in excitement. “That’s my name,” she says.

“Pretty. You sure you’d like another?” Her eyes dart over to the man and Dani has the distinct impression that she’s being asked something else entirely.

Whether or not she’s actually interested in this guy.

She shrugs. “Only if he’s paying.”

Jamie almost looks impressed at this. “Coming right up, then.”

As she flits around the bar, making Dani’s drink and slapping another beer in front of her companion, the man turns his interest back to Dani.

“What brings you to London, Priscilla?” he asks, voice oozing arrogance. He must think he’s already won her over.

Dani thinks for a moment. “I’m in a band,” she decides. “We’re doing a tour.”

The man flicks his eyebrows up in surprise. “Is that so?”

“Yep.”

She pops the ‘p’ a little too loud and takes a long pull from her drink, nearly giving herself a brain freeze.

“What kind of music do you play?”

“Polka.”

“Polka?”

“That’s what I said.”

He frowns. “Anything of yours I might know?”

Dani’s busy trying to come up with the most ridiculous thing yet when another voice chimes in.

“You’ve never heard of The Polka Dots?”

It’s Jamie, frowning like the man’s ignorance is an affront to God.

The man looks between the two of them in surprise. “The...The Polka Dots?” he asks.

Dani smiles. “That’s us,” she says.

Jamie nods. She finishes the final touches of Dani’s drink and sets it in front of her. “Her and about three beefy types.” She mimes some kind of “tough guy” attitude and Dani has to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

“All of whom I’m dating,” she adds.

It’s kind of surprising that the man hasn’t just high-tailed it out of the bar yet. The game they’re playing isn’t subtle, and Dani would like to think that—were she in the same unfortunate position he is—she would know when to take a hint.

“Is that so?” he asks, and it takes Dani a moment to realize the reason why he hasn’t left:

He actually believes her.

Which is just—

Wow.

“They’re actually supposed to be meeting me here soon,” she says, fingers crossed a little on her lap.

And, there it is. That’s the ticket.

In an awkward rush, the man tosses a few bills on the bar top and says something along the lines of, “There’s a...meeting I forgot I had,” before rushing out of the bar. Dani watches him go and then turns to Jamie triumphantly.

“I can’t believe he bought that,” she says.

Jamie whistles through her teeth. “Well, it takes all sorts.” She throws a smile at Dani and then starts cleaning up after the guy.

Dani watches her in silence, tracing the lines of her face with her eyes. “Thanks,” she says once Jamie is near enough again. “For your help.”

“Don’t mention it.” She waves Dani’s appreciation off. “Can’t say it wasn’t fun to watch him scurry out of here with his tail between his legs like that.”

Some of her hair has fallen into her face, a few brown curls bobbing in front of her eyes as she moves. Dani has the sudden urge to reach out and touch it, curl it around her finger as she leans in to—

There’s a buzz in her veins that’s making her chest feel less tight by the moment, and, later, she’ll blame what she says next on that feeling.

“Hey, are you…” Her broken sentence catches Jamie’s attention and then Dani feels trapped beneath the heat of her gaze. She flounders for a moment, but then manages to say, “Would you wanna get a drink sometime?”

She doesn’t realize how that sounds until Jamie is making a face.

“Not here,” she clarifies hurriedly. “Somewhere else.” Still no response, so she keeps going. “Not even a drink, if you don’t want. We could get...dinner...or something.”

In the quiet that follows, she sort of feels like an idiot, but then she notices that Jamie’s eyes are looking her up and down again. Checking her out, maybe. Dani flushes and forces herself to maintain eye contact.

“Priscilla,” Jamie says in this shocked tone and Dani laughs. “Are you asking me out?”

“Dani,” she corrects, thrusting out a hand for Jamie to shake. “And, yes.”

Her hand is really soft, her grip loose and easy as she squeezes Dani’s fingers before pulling away. “You flirt,” she admonishes, her tone nothing but flattered amusement.

“Is that a yes?”

Two men sitting at the far end of the bar call for her, and Jamie acknowledges them, holding up a finger for them to wait a moment. She turns back to Dani.

“I get off at six,” she says, and then she leans down close enough that Dani can see the flecks of light brown in her irises. Her hands tremble at the proximity and Jamie must know the effect she’s having because she looks all-too-pleased with herself. “Maybe we can have that drink at my flat.”

Jesus.

Dani blinks a few times, rapidly. “Do you often ask girls back to your apartment before the first date?” she asks, a little amazed at her luck.

Pulling back a little, Jamie shrugs. “Only the girls that are going to fall in love with me.”

“Are you always this confident?” Her heart sort of feels like it’s going to burst. It’s strange that the exact quality that annoyed her so much in the man from before is the exact thing that’s no making her feel like a teenager all over again.

Jamie laughs, a sound just as stunning as the rest of her. “Never,” she admits and Dani knows she’s telling the truth.

Just as she’s about to saunter off to help other customers, Dani reaches out and wraps her fingers loosely around Jamie’s wrist, holding her still. “Six o’clock?” she asks and Jamie grins.

“Looking forward to it,” she says and the wink she gives Dani is almost enough to have her falling already.

..

[hockeynoses]

Allergic Interview - Fic

Hockey RPF (no pairing, Brad March*nd)

1k words. Snz fic. I can’t believe I’m posting this on tumblr, but here we go! For non-fetish people coming across this, maybe don’t read it if it’s not your thing. It’s fairly tame, though.

Summary: Marchy has to do an interview during the game intermission. The interviewer is wearing perfume that irritates his nose.

The buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the first period. They were up by one goal, and playing pretty well, although he needed to be careful about taking anymore stupid penalties. Marchand headed back down the tunnel with the rest of his teammates. He knew he was scheduled for an interview during the break, and right on time, the Bruins’ PR assistant grabbed him.

“Hey Marchy, Claire with ESPN is ready for you in the hallway,” the assistant said, gesturing towards the opposite doors before rushing off.

“Alright, thanks.” Brad grabbed a towel, wiping the sweat off his face as best he could. He wiped his nose as well; the combination of the cold ice and the exertion always got his nose running. Then he headed out into the hallway, still in his gear.

Claire was easy to spot. She was wearing a navy suit and holding a microphone, a camera guy standing at the ready behind her. He was fairly certain he’d interviewed with her before, but it was a while ago at this point.

“Hey, Brad,” she greeted him. “You ready?”

“Yep, fire away.” He came to stand next to her against the wall while the camera guy got them into frame.

“How do you think the game is going so far?” she asked, rapid-fire. She was holding the microphone for him and he could smell the perfume she had clearly applied heavily on her wrist.

“I think we’re doing pretty well. I mean, we’ve just gotta play our game out there and keep it simple. Keep cycling the puck and stay focused. We’ve got a good group of guys out there and I think we’re feeling good,” he said, giving his generic answer. He didn’t know why they had to do these interviews during the games. It wasn’t like he could tell them anything they didn’t already know. Nothing that couldn’t wait until the post-game presser.

Her perfume was too strong, and the longer he stood there the more it bothered him. He started to feel a slight itch in his nostrils. He quickly rubbed the tip of his aquiline nose with the back of his hand to try and stop it in its tracks. It didn’t help very much. His nose was starting to run again too, and he sniffed to try and keep it under control.

“You took that penalty for cross-checking in the first period, how does that effect your mindset for the rest of the game?” Again, the microphone was in his face, bringing with it another wave of perfume. He was finding it harder to focus on her questions, the itch making its way into his sinuses and causing his eyes to water.

“Yeah, you know, you wanna play hard and-” he paused to rub his nose again, swiping underneath with his fingers. “Sometimes the emotion…heh…gets the best- Ha’nxgt!” He stifled, fingers pinching his nostrils together. His nose was probably starting to get red now. Letting out a breath, he said, “’Scuse me. Sometimes the emotion gets the best of you.”

“Bless you! And what’s-” He cut her off with a muffled ha-ESSHHH! that he was able to aim into his elbow just in time. He straightened up, blinking and dazed.

“Sorry, I’b nod sure what’s setting be off.” He sniffed again. The persistent itch was only getting stronger. He knew if he didn’t escape soon he’d be useless in the second period. The guys already chirped him enough about his giant nose; he didn’t need to have a fit on the ice, or in a damn in-game interview on national television, for that matter.

“Oh! Um…” she seemed unsure whether or not she should continue, eyeing him with concern. “What’s…the best strategy for the next two periods?” She held the mic back towards him again.

“Uh, We….we jusdt have to trusdt the pro-aah- the process. Stay dis- ha-RRESSHHoo! Disciplined. They’re playing tough, they’re playing physical and- h-hold on-”  He pulled the front of his jersey up to cover his face and let loose with an embarrassingly loud “hhh’ETSCHH! Ha-ITTSHH! Huh-huh-RRESSHH-ughh. Oh by god.” He tried to wipe his nose as discreetly as possible as he set his jersey back into place. “Jesus, sorry.” He shook his head a bit, trying to finish this with as much dignity as he could. “They’re ndot giving up a ton. We just have to-AETCHhh” another aimed into his elbow. “We have to compete at a high level and get pucks to the- ha-EETSSH! To the ndet.”

“Wow, bless you again!” She managed through her shock. Taking pity on him, she dismissed him with an, “Alright, thanks Brad. I’ll let you go!”

“Thagks,” he said, finally turning away and making his escape. He headed down the hallway towards the restrooms, releasing a violent Ha-AEETCHHH! into his cupped hands. “Fugk me-eeeehh-Heh-TSSSHHoo!” He made it to the bathroom, cramming into a stall in his large gear, and unrolled a ton of toilet paper to use in lieu of tissues. Finally burying his nose into it and giving a loud, crackling blow. “Ugh, Jesus.” He just breathed for a moment, then gathered a fresh bunch of TP and blew his nose again, interrupted mid-blow by an iiiSSH-hah…heh-IISHH! into the abused bunch of tissue. He wiped his nose, now glowing red and impossible to miss. Why did she have to wear that perfume today? He had to be back on the ice in ten minutes!

After a few minutes of him trying to get his nose under control, he heard the bathroom door open.

“Hey Marchy?” he heard the echoing voice. It was Bergy, thank god. He didn’t want anyone else to see him like this.

“Yeah mand, I’b ind here,” he answered, voice sounding pathetic to his own ears.

“You good?” asked Patrice. “I heard the ESPN lady say you had to run off.”

“I’b good. It’s just by aaaETTCCHH! by allergies.” He blew his nose again. “I thingk it was her perfube.”

“Damn…you gonna be good to play?”

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a binute. I think it’s- ha-ISSHH! slowing down.”

“Okay, I’ll see you out there.” Brad heard the door close. He gave one last blow, hoping to clear everything out before heading to the sink to splash some water on his face. Once he was back out on the ice, there would be fucking cameras everywhere. His nose was definitely red, but his face didn’t look too flushed. Either way, he didn’t have much of a choice. It would be more noticeable if he didn’t go out with the others. After one last glance in the mirror, he steeled himself and headed out to join the team, hoping for the best.

[soulmate-game]

Part 1

After the Discovery, things didn’t change as much as everyone thought they might. “Everyone” being just Marinette, of course.

She got a lecture from Lois about worrying her, and then a joke from the older woman about no longer having another non-hero in the house to team up with.

“Wait, Dad,” Jon spoke up after that comment from his mom, bobbing up and down on his heels. Both him and Clark had long since changed out of their costumes, which didn’t take long considering both of them having super speed. “Does this mean Mari can meet Damian? And is she going to join a hero team—“

“I already have a team, Jon,” Marinette interrupted, soft but firm at the same time. Two months was more than long enough to know that Jon could talk forever if he was allowed to. “Chat Noir, Viperion, Bunnyx, and Ryuuko are all Miraculous users like me,” she had already sat down and explained the bare basics of her abilities and the Paris situation. Lois had known better than to scold her, no matter how gentle the scolding was, before Marinette had a chance to say anything.

Clark blinked, looking between both of his kids. And yes, Marinette was well and truly one of his kids already. He couldn’t hold back a soft chuckle. “She can meet Damian when school starts back up again, Jon. We don’t want to rush anything,” he started out by telling his son. Marinette was still very jittery. Two months was nowhere near enough time to recover from the trauma of watching your parents die, after all.

(In fact, Clark thought, for some people not even a lifetime was long enough. Batman briefly came to mind as an example.)

The girl still had nightmares almost daily, and panic attacks that resulted in brief spans of mutism at least once a week. Those, at least, had severely decreased in frequency, but it was clear that she was far from ready to meet very many new people. Especially people like Damian Wayne, who was hard enough for someone in perfect mental health to handle even on a good day.

“And Marinette,” Clark switched over to his pseudo-daughter. “If you have that many teammates, surely they would understand that you need a break,” when Marinette didn’t meet his eyes, Clark felt dread build up in his stomach. “Marinette, they know about your parents, right?”

The girl fidgeted. Clark closed his eyes.

“Nobody knows my identity,” She admitted after a tense silence. “I know everyone else’s, even though I only found out Chat’s by accident. But they don’t know mine, and I can’t ask them to give me time off anyway.”

“Why not, honey?” Lois asked as gently as she could, picking up on the beginning signs of Marinette closing herself off. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything any of them could do to stop it. Marinette refused to meet any of their eyes, and even before she spoke her new family knew that they wouldn’t get anything else meaningful out of her about the Paris situation, at least for the day.

“They need me.”

Clark and Jon traded a look. That statement felt a bit too familiar for them. It was something they heard from a lot of heroes who tried to justify overworking themselves. It was something both of them had said before.

But they let the topic rest for the night. Pushing Marinette wouldn’t do any good for anybody.

—*—*—*—*—*

A week passed. Lois and Clark were sitting on the couch watching TV when Lois caught her husband’s eyes darting up to the ceiling. Sighing, she turned the volume down a few notches.

“Did she leave for Paris again?” She asked even though she already knew the answer. Clark nodded grimly.

“Yesterday she didn’t get back in until almost four in the morning,” he admitted, running a hand over his face. “And now, it’s already eleven and she’s just now heading out. I know she doesn’t want me or Jon going to Paris because of Hawkmoth’s magic, but…” he trailed off with his mouth set in a deep frown. Lois could only sigh and lean against his arm comfortingly.

“I know,” she breathed quietly.

“She can’t keep working herself to the bone like this, Lois. Sometimes she’ll head right over to Paris after a nightmare, like she needs to remind herself of something, but she always comes back in less than an hour in that case. But this— when she leaves to fight HawkMoth or patrol Paris before ever going to sleep in the first place— it’s like she’s trying to avoid the nightmares by overworking herself too much to even dream.”

“I know,” Lois rubbed a hand on Clark’s back in gentle circles.

“It reminds me of Batman sometimes,” Clark said, his voice filled with uncharacteristic defeat. “Marinette doesn’t get violent like Bruce, but… never sleeping, throwing herself into heroism, she even refers to Ladybug as if they are different people, Lois. I can’t always help Bruce since he’s a grown adult and more than capable of shutting me out when he wants to, but Marinette is our kid now. I’m just not sure how to help her.”

Lois took a deep breath. “Well, she’s not Bruce so you can’t just bait her into a spar to sort out her feelings,” she mused with faint humor. “But how about we start with sending Jon to Paris the next time you guys hear her leave? The sooner we figure out exactly what the situation and her relationship with her team is like, then maybe the sooner we can find some answers.”

Clark nodded, and looked back up to the ceiling. “I know you heard that, Jon. Don’t get in the way, and come back if Marinette finds you and tells you to. We don’t want her to think we don’t trust her.”

A beat passed, and Clark rolled his eyes fondly.

“Don’t forget to go to bed as soon as she gets back, Jon. I don’t want to deal with two overly exhausted children.”

A thump.

“I’m sixteen!” Jon yelled back, clearly for Lois’s benefit as his mom let out a short burst of laughter.

—*—*—*—*—*

“Ladybug!”

“Look, it’s Ladybug!” “Woo! Go ladybug!” “Could you beat this guy extra fast, Ladybug? I’m late for a meeting!”

People in the streets were shouting in French happily, pointing up at their resident spotted heroine. Some people groused at her in mild or fond annoyance, asking her to beat the Akuma-of-the-day a bit faster for various reasons or jokingly calling her a slow poke. Most people just got pictures or videos on their phones of her as best as they could, watching her swing by in awe and admiration.

It was familiar. Too, too familiar, and Jon made sure to get it all on camera. His parents would want to see this. The pair of contacts he was wearing, a gift from Red Robin, translated everything that was being said for him into helpful little English subtitles.

And there was his sister. Marinette had been tough to pin down, and this was Jon’s third time trying to follow her in Paris. The first time, the day after that late night discussion between his parents, ended in less than five minutes. Marinette caught him and sent him home firmly, which was followed by a heart-to-heart with all four of them when she got home.

She still refused to tell them anything more than the basics about Paris’s situation. For some reason, she seemed extremely reluctant to talk about it. She had no problem comparing experiences and hero jokes with him and his dad, but the moment they tried to talk about Paris-specifics, Marinette clammed up.

It was the second of Jon’s attempts to follow Marinette, just a week after the first, that brought up a possible reason. Because Jon had watched a civilian that he hadn’t been able to get to in time get pinned under a thrown car and killed—only for Ladybug’s powers to reverse all the damage and bring the man back to life.

Jon had raced back home right after that, not even giving Marinette the chance to see him. After relaying what had happened to his parents, they all agreed to one last tail. The pieces were already falling together, and none of them liked the picture they were painting. They wanted to confront Marinette as soon as possible. So here he was, another week later.

Jon kept recording throughout the fight, watching as Marinette clearly led her team. There was no mistaking that all her teammates respected her and treated her word as law. Even Chat Noir, who was Ladybug’s deputy, always referred to Ladybug’s opinion before issuing any orders. Civilians didn’t always flee the scene, taking their time as they tried to record the fight. And when the Akuma was beaten and only Ladybug made a move to catch the corrupted butterfly, the final pieces clicked into place. Jon managed to stay still long enough to catch the crowd of fans running forward, trying to mob Ladybug with pleas for autographs or statements or interviews, before he left. Ladybug’s team had acted as a buffer between her and the crowd anyway, so Jon was able to leave with a clear conscience.

When he walked into his house, already changed back into normal clothes, he waved his phone with a serious look on his face as both his parents waited anxiously.

“Yeah. This is pretty bad,” Jon warned them as he hooked his phone up to his laptop, and played the footage for them.

—*—*—*—*—*

When Marinette got home, it was to a clear intervention. Nervously detransforming, she looked to Tikki and back to her new family. The Kwami, who had previously just been explained away as the source of her powers, gently nudged the girl forward. She knew her holder needed this.

Clark and Lois gently explained why they asked Jon to follow her, explaining that they were all concerned about how badly she was overworking herself.

“You’re getting only three hours of sleep, and that’s on the days that you wake up with nightmares,” Clark’s

voice was quiet, begging her to listen. “Every other day, you teleport to what I can only hope is Paris every time, and you don’t come back for hours. Even if you spend that whole time fighting Akumas, you still only get an hour’s worth of sleep maximum when you get back. Sometimes you don’t even sleep at all until you collapse of exhaustion,” he leaned forward over the table, worry etched in every line on his face. “Marinette, we’re worried. We wanted Jon to see what the situation in Paris was like, because we thought that maybe it would explain why you seem to care about it more than your health. We didn’t know if it was just you needing to keep busy, or something else.”

“And you’re gone during the day too,” Lois added. “And we get that. HawkMoth attacks whenever he feels like, and we all understand if you have to disappear at odd times to fight his Akumas. But this is more than that, isn’t it?”

Marinette’s hands were clenched into fists, and tears were starting to bubble up in her eyes, but she didn’t say anything. Jon slowly approached her, waiting for her small nod before laying one of his larger hands over her fists and gently prying them open before she hurt herself. He kept his hands there, holding hers for both of their comfort.

“I took a video, today,” he admitted gently. “Dad already erased it from the laptop and my phone, don’t worry. But they— we all— needed to see it. The way Paris treats you, Marinette—“

“It’s like how Metropolis used to treat Superman. How they sometimes still do,” Lois interrupted, trying to get Marinette to meet her eyes. “We all thought that Superman showing up was the end of our problems. That as soon as he showed up, the villain or criminal or whatever that was causing us problems was done for. That he could save everyone,” Lois’s eyes grew melancholy. “But we had to learn the hard way that he’s not invincible, no matter how much he might seem like he is. We had to learn the hard way that nobody, no matter how strong or how many powers they have, can save everyone. The kind of trust we had in him before is toxic, Marinette. It’s toxic to us, because we stop being as careful as we should be if we think he’s always going to catch us. And it’s toxic to him, too.”

“How?” Marinette asked, her voice impossibly tiny and her eyes glittering with unshed tears as she darted her eyes between them. “They need someone to believe in. They— I make them feel safe. I— isn’t that good?”

“You feel like it’s your job to be there no matter what, right?” Clark asked, meeting her gaze with a warm, but firm one of his own. “That you have to do whatever it takes to win every battle, no matter what it costs you, because they believe you will. You start feeling like everyone you don’t save is your fault. And that’s not okay,” he stood up and Jon slowly backed away, allowing their father to kneel by Marinette and clasp one of her shoulders. “It always hurts. You might never forget the faces of the people you can’t save, but it isn’t your fault. You told me and Jon that you don’t blame us for what happened to your parents, that it’s stupid to blame the hero for something that wouldn’t have happened if the villain didn’t attack in the first place,” his grip tightened slightly, trying to offer comfort when Marinette tended at the mention of her parents. “If you don’t blame us, even though we were the ones in costume and fighting that day, then you need to stop blaming yourself too.”

The tears finally overflowed, salty water trickling down Marinette’s cheeks and sloppy sobs ripping themselves from her throat even as she threw herself into Clark’s chest. He hugged her tightly, letting her cry.

“B-b-But,” Marinette stuttered in between hiccuping sobs. “My powers reverse damage, m-my powers bring people back,” she sniffed, burying her face deeper into Clark’s chest. “I wanted t-to help. I-I was. S-s-So close to tr-transforming and fighting with y-you, but I didn’t. I d-didn’t, so I c-couldn’t bring them b-back. I should have been tr-transformed, th-that way they would be—“

“Shh,” Clark whispered gently, rocking her in his arms. “It’s not your fault. Metropolis wasn’t your city. You were protecting your identity, and that was the right choice.”

“But—!”

“No, Marinette,” Clark interrupted, holding her just a little tighter as she continued to tremble and sob. “If you had transformed, someone would have figured it out. A French class comes to Metropolis, and one of their students mysteriously disappears at the same time that a French hero shows up in America for the first time? Maybe you could have brought them back, but none of you would have been safe. Our villains, the villains of Metropolis, of the League, they would have suddenly known about you and might have researched Paris. Maybe HawkMoth would have gained a new ally, or maybe a villain would attack you just because you’re a new hero to target,” Clark sighed, rubbing his hand gently over Marinette’s back as her sobs quieted into a few hiccups and sniffles. She was listening. That was a good sign. “So yes, maybe you would have been able to save them that once, but you could also have opened up a new can of worms that you might not have been able to handle. Things could have gotten worse, and Jon and I wouldn’t have even known to help you. You would have continued to shoulder everything on your own, but you don’t have to. You did your best, and your parent’s deaths aren’t your fault. And you have Jon and I now, and your team even if they don’t know who you are. You can rely on us a little. If you keep going on like this, though, you’re going to kill yourself Marinette,” this time his grip tightened for a whole different reason and Clark buried his face in Marinette’s loose hair. Even after only almost three months, the thought of losing her made him breathless. She was his daughter, even if not by blood, and he couldn’t stand the thought of her hurting herself like this.

“Please, Mari,” That was Jon, who had knelt down by their side and joined the hug. “Let us help you. I promise we’re not incompetent heroes.”

Marinette’s laugh was watery, and hysteric. She accepted a tissue from Lois, who was suddenly sitting down only a foot away from the three’s group hug. After a good nose-blow, Marinette took a deep breath.

“Maybe now’s a good time to give them a proper explanation, Marinette,” Tikki said as she floated down to land on her wielder’s head, giving her the best hug she could. Marinette gave another wet chuckle.

“Yeah, I agree,” she took a deep breath. “But it’s a long story.”

“Not a problem,” Lois assured the girl as she forced herself up and stretched her arms out. “I’ll get the extra pillows and blankets. We can relax on the floor and have story time, and then binge watch movies and have a sleepover in the living room. Clark, could you be a dear and move the couch out of the way?”

—*—*—*—*—*

“You have a rule against killing, dear,” Lois whispered groggily from where she was laying against Clark’s side. Marinette was sprawled in between him and Jon, safely in their cuddle-cocoon. Both of their kids were deep asleep. Clark grunted.

“Yeah, but he put so much responsibility on kids, Lo. Kids,” he whispered back, turning his head to try and lessen the chance of waking up Jon. “And he didn’t offer them any support for almost a year, made them figure out the whole hero thing and their powers on their own,” the clearing of a tiny throat made Clark stifle a snort. “With their Kwami,” he whispered, quietly appeasing the eavesdropping Tikki who was laying on Marinette’s chest pretending to sleep. “But a god isn’t exactly a replacement for an actual hero mentor, you know,” he shot at her, making the tiny goddess shrug in acquiescence. “And making her Guardian— he basically threw all his responsibilities onto kids, and ran away. And now Marinette has to heal from all the unrealistic expectations she gave herself. So forgive me if I’m entertaining a few more violent daydreams than usual.”

Lois patted his arm and kissed his cheek. “I’m sure they will be just as violent and gratifying to imagine in the morning. Go to sleep, Smallville.”

—*—*—*—*—*

It was another two and a half weeks before Marinette met Damian Wayne for the first time. She looked from the fellow teenager in a perfectly-pressed uniform and then over to her brother with a raised eyebrow.

“Does he fly in on a helicopter every day?” She asked him incredulously, making Jon grin and nod. She looked back over at Damian, who was clearly annoyed at her for speaking about him when he was right there. “I will never understand rich people.”

Damian scoffed, rolling his eyes. “And I will never understand simpletons. Kent, who is your friend?” He practically spat the last word, making the inner bully-detector in Marinette go off. Her interactions with Chloe and Lila kicked in, and sparked her old habits. Marinette flashed a bright smile, stepping in front of Jon before he could say a word and holding out her hand to Damian. Clark, who was talking to Bruce nearby, out his hand over his mouth to hide a snort. Bruce raised his eyebrows, paying close attention to the interaction now.

“Hi! I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Clark and Lois took me in a few months ago, and they said I’m already family. That means that I’m Jon’s sister now, which means that it’s my job to keep him away from bad influences. My hobbies include annoying bullies and not being a welcome mat. How are you?”

Damian blinked once. Twice, and then took her hand and shook it firmly even as a smirk spread itself over his lips.

“Damian Wayne,” he replied easily. “And I apologize for assuming you were a simpleton. I think we can tolerate each other just fine.”

As Marinette and Damian kept trading sarcastic quips with one another that got steadily less passive-aggressive as time went on (with Jon watching in dismay as somehow Marinette seemed to get along? With Damian? And they were scheming? This couldn’t end well.), Clark and Bruce watched the kids walk into their school building.

A moment of silence stretched, before Bruce finally caved and asked; “Took her in?”

Clark grinned slightly, knowing Bruce never would have been able to resist sating his curiosity over the new girl in his care.

“Lois and I practically adopted her. Technically her paternal grandmother has custody and only gave her to us to take care of while she recovers from her grief in a different country, but that’s only because trying to adopt her without being French citizens would have been almost impossible.”

“Grief?” Bruce’s eyebrows pulled down, and Clark’s smile grew somber.

“Remember the attack in late May, back in Metropolis? The one that actually had the first fatalities in months?” Bruce’s face went slack in realization, followed closely by his eyes snapping to the school’s doors. Clark nodded. “Looks like your penchant for adopting black-haired, blue-eyed orphans is contagious. She was scraping the skin off her hands and giving herself burns trying to dig them out of the rubble. When Jon and I realized that they were both of her parents, I had Lois look into her to make sure she had family to take care of her,” Clark sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “The options were a grandmother who never stops traveling or a great uncle she barely knows who only speaks Mandarin when she doesn’t. So we pulled a few strings, and now she’s a Kent in all but name.”

“I hope Damian can avoid saying the wrong thing for at least a day before I talk to him later,” Bruce said with a sigh as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. “At least she seems to have won his respect pretty quickly.”

Clark laughed. “Oh yeah, she tends to do that. No offense or anything Bruce, but I think it’s a good thing we were the ones that adopted her before you got the chance,” he turned and smiled at his old friend. “You wouldn’t be able to handle Marinette. She’s closer to a Super than a Bat.”

—*—*—*—*—*

@fantasiame @thestressmademedoit @amayakans @resignedcatservant @too0bsessedformyowngood @chocolatecatstheron

Part 3

This. Was. Supposed. To be. Fluffy. Damn it. But oh well, natural story progression calls for more hurt and comfort I guess? Maybe one part left in this story I think.