#pretty sure these are in order from most to least recent | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cloveroctobers · 2 months

Text

HOW THEY DEAL WITH DISRESPECTFUL NEIGHBORS — MULTI [Summer Preferences]

A/N: thanks for voting on my poll, which I already knew who was going to win that but I still wanted to do a preference anyway since I never got around to writing what I originally wanted for my other characters on my summer prompt list rip to that idea! I’m writing in the order of which was voted from most to least highest minus one character.

WARNINGS: language, violence is sometimes the answer 🤭 + FC changed for Mikey due to recent news unfortunately, *GIF DOES NOT BELONG TO ME, not here to argue with anyone that feels different and you’re always welcome to keep imagining JB or simply do not engage with this.

<- read my previous summer anthology prompt here.

࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪

~ARMANDO~

He doesn’t take disrespect lightly.

The both of you lived just fine in your condo out in Miami, although Armando preferred the privacy more than anything he just kept this to the back of his mind that he was going to provide for your dream house together. Having your four year old daughter, Isaura only gave him more drive to get out of here.

The neighbors that lived on the floor directly above you, were all wide smiles and friendly making it their special job to try and introduce themselves to whoever they caught. They found you three at the pool one Sunday evening before dinner. Armando immediately felt they were weird telling you later that night in bed beside you, “they look like they eat people.”

“Armando!” You scolded as you slipped a bonnet on a half sleep Isaura, “they do but maybe they’re just the over friendly type.”

Armando sucked his teeth as he reached around you to snatch the sleepy toddler into his chest, “niña, can you say oblivious? tell mama that’s exactly what she is.”

Isaura just shifted her head looking away from the both of you.

“See, even your own daughter doesn’t want to listen to your mess. Give me my baby back so I can put her down,” you waved your fingers while Armando swings his legs to the edge of the bed.

He shifts the tiny girl against him and shakes his head, “nah, I got it. Got to make sure the fucken weirdos aren’t hiding in her room since you don’t want to believe me.”

“Hey, watch your mouth!” You lecture while Armando rolls his eyes, peeking down to see if Isaura even budged at his foul language before you continued, “I don’t know what goes in your mind sometimes,” you sigh with a shake of your head as Armando makes his way to the door, “…now you know I’m going to be up half the night checking on her.”

“Don’t worry about it, daddy’s gonna take the daybed just in case.”

Frowning you respond, “So you’re just going to abandon me?”

Armando snorts, “there’s enough of me to go around but if you wanna stay hold up in here by yourself, when we have the hills have eyes lurking from the floor above, that’s on you.”

“Bastard.” You muttered just as Armando was about to shut the door.

“What was that, mami?”

“I said I’m getting my neck pillow.” You answered as Armando laughs to himself, leaving the door open just a crack before carrying on down the hallway.

Armando would peep the disrespect more than you would but mostly on separate occasions. First it started with the husband constantly taking Armando’s assigned parking spot with one of his many cars, he would always turn up right when Armando had to circle around to take someone else’s, and when he was face to face with the husband’s false apologies and story about how he had to keep his monster truck locked away in storage thirty minutes away from the building, yet he always decided to take it out when Armando worked late nights…which was pretty convenient if you asked Armando.

Then you would tell Armando how the wife would make…interesting comments about how many more kids you two planned to have. “Hopefully a soccer team with your good looks!” She would laugh as she gripped your wrist. She would also ask: How you two managed to have free time with a four year old and if she was receiving enough attention between the two of you? That last question was off putting because why was this woman worrying about your child? Then if you listened closely enough, around the time it was time for Isaura’s nap or bedtime, whether Mike, Marcus and his family, or your best friend or family were watching her while the both of you were at work, the couple would decide to either start salsa lessons (according to the wife, Amy) which ended up turning into salsa lessons with no clothes directly on the floor, the husband winked at Armando who was not the least bit impressed.

“I think it’s common courtesy that you two learn to keep it down for not only us who have a child…who also has a routine but for your other neighbors as well. I’m sure there’s plenty of classes out in town you two can get into outside of this building.” You hinted to them.

“Oh sorry! I told Kit we were being too loud, see honey?!” She weakly slaps the wannabe WWE star against his buff chest, “We’ll definitely keep everyone more in mind this time, again sorry about that.” Amy apologizes.

“A man has needs though, am I right?” Kit would laugh, clapping his hand down on Armando’s shoulder who peeked at it, wondering why this man was so comfortable touching him.

Armando sniffed, “and you need to have some respect is all that we’re saying. Along with removing your hand from me.”

“Hey now! No need for the animosity, we’re all friends here neighbor!” Kit says as he applies a little more pressure on his hold of Armando’s shoulder but that only causes Armando to darken his stare.

Even Armando knew that statement was fake. Next thing he knows, when he’s heading out to work the morning after, he’s got a broken side mirror on the driver’s side and a large scratch on the passenger door with Kit’s car—that’s usually parked to the right of Armando’s—already gone for the day. Armando doesn’t take long to assess the situation, jaw tight as he looks around the garage for where exactly the cameras are. He would be hacking those as soon as he clocked in and didn’t give a damn who had something to say about it. He ended up calling you on the way to work, thanks to him phoning Dorn to carpool—him and Kelly had a disagreement so she drove to work on her own—to tell you exactly what happened since it was one of those days where you clocked in earlier than he did.

“I’ll try and keep him from doing something stupid.” Dorn calls out to you from the driver’s side.

You whisper as you stepped out briefly from working with a client as an aesthetician, “would you? I know it’ll be hard—

“I’m right here.” Armando reminded, “I’m done dealing with their creepy asses, Kit better hope I don’t see him when I get home tonight because his ass might turn up missing.”

You didn’t even argue because once Armando had something made up in his mind, it was hard for him to ever see another perspective. Also you didn’t doubt that Kit had something to do with it.

The last straw was when Kit and Amy’s German shepherd nipped towards Isaura’s face, when you had a minor confrontation with Amy, who you ran into while out shopping. She tried to sweep over the fact that she admitted to wishing that it was Armando on top of her instead of her actual husband and that it wasn’t a big deal because Kit was doing the same with you. Not only did she fix her mouth to say that, she also said she thought about what a kid would look like with her looks and Armando’s. “There’s nothing wrong with daydreaming.”

She said and it felt like she had spit in your face at how wicked her smile was on her overfilled lips. Again she was too close in your space but once Isaura ripped a cry so loud below along with the sounds of snarling from Amy’s dog, you didn’t hesitate to pull your child up into your arms and to kick at the dog.

“What’s wrong with you?!” Amy yelled pulling on her pet’s leash, “He’s just an animal!”

“An animal who tried to bite my kid’s face off! You’re lucky my foot didn’t connect but next time my fist won’t miss yours.”

“Are you threatening me?!”

“It’s not a threat, It’s a promise.” You concluded, “Stay away from my family if you know what’s good for you.”

“Excuse me? What does that mean?” Amy kept a tight hold on the leash now, “These are the things Kit and I get for being good neighbors?!”

You stopped in your tracks as you turned to give Amy one last look while you cradled a scared Isaura to your chest, “it means exactly what you think it means. Y’all keep saying your good neighbors but is that in the building with us or in your sick delusions? I’m warning you Amy, back the fuck off or you’ll really be sorry.”

Amy sticks her nose up in the air, “my uncle is the best lawyer in the city. If you’re thinking about harming my family then I’ll sue both of you so hard that little Laura will have no choice but to have a new family. Kit and I have been trying for months for a little one and Laura is the cutest thing.”

Laughing you found it hilarious that Amy thought she could continue to try you with her mind games. She really didn’t know who she was fucking with.

“I can guarantee that your uncle doesn’t have shit on my man. Also my father-in-law is a pretty good detective and he’s already heard about you two, just waiting for the word. The difference between you and I, is that I love only one man. And sweetie, it’s no competition when I’ve already won. Now you enjoy the rest of your day…before it expires.” It was your turn to send her a sickeningly charming smile as you spun back on your heels.

Leaving her like a gapping fish, you make your way back to your car, strapping Issy in with another caress to her face, quadruple checking that the dog didn’t do anything to her face and handing Issy one of her toys to cuddle with on the way back home. As you started your engine, you immediately called Armando through the car’s Bluetooth before pulling off from the curb.

It’s game night when there’s a knock on the door. Since Armando is helping Issy with the game piece on the game board, you push off the couch to get the door.

“Oh hi!” You greet, which makes Armando also move to get to his feet.

“We’re your new neighbors on the floor above who just moved in and we wanted to say thanks for the blueberry crumble and bottle of wine you sent our way, you really didn’t have to do that! We just thought it would be the kind thing to find the time to come down and introduce ourselves.” The woman speaks first with her hand held out.

You grasp her hand with a warm smile as you say, “mostly everyone is to themselves here but we got…pretty close with our old neighbors and my boyfriend, Armando and I thought we’d keep the tradition going.”

Armando gives a short wave at the two new faces as he stands beside you now, “hello,” he addresses the two while he bounces a giggly Issy on his hip.

“Aw, she’s so precious! Isn’t she, Steven?” The girl at the door elbows the guy beside her.

You take in her expression carefully, “do you two have any kids?”

She jabbed a thumb at the taller man, “Oh I’ll leave that all to my brother here.”

“I don’t have any…at least no one’s ever told me anything.” He nonchalantly shrugged while he looked off in thought up from his phone, while his sister rolls her eyes at him.

Armando snickers, which makes you quirk up a brow at him.

“Do you guys know where the other tenants moved off to? The agent says it was pretty abrupt but we got a steal on most of their furniture.” The young girl chats.

Armando speaks up, “heard they really wanted to explore more of Europe…guess Miami living inspired them to see what else the world has to offer.”

“Sweet,” Steven nods, “that would be a dream.”

“That is what they say life is,” Armando adds as he sends a quick wink to you while you lightly shake your head at him. He then slips an arm around your waist appearing as a Kodak moment to the siblings outside the door, “but welcome to the neighborhood you two, I’ve got a feelin’ you’ll be good neighbors.”

In short: he eliminates the problem.

~RIO~

He had been away on a business trip when he gets back home earlier than expected. He likes to do this sometimes, liking to surprise you with his pop-in’s—take that how you will. What he wasn’t expecting was his ex sitting in the sitting room with you, the two of you chatting to the right of the home from the foyer over a bottle of tequila.

“…so the hell are you gonna tell lollipop king?”

“Girl, who?”

“You know his name, Christopher!”

You laugh followed by a groan, “he’ll find out sooner than later since old man Stewart and him are practically golfing buddies who act like they don’t gossip.”

Rio used that moment to clear his throat from his leaned position against the doorway. He didn’t like how your guard was down as he just lingered there, you slouched on the couch and Rhea balled up in one of the living chairs but that was another conversation. He needed to know just what you were hiding from him and now.

“Tell me what, mama?” Rio rasped, hands clasped in front of him.

Rhea’s mouth formed into an O-shape, getting ready to collect her things but Rio cuts his eyes at the short haired woman too, “nah, you don’t gotta leave on my account.”

“Believe me I’m not,” Rhea sassed as she collected her square glass and the almost empty bottle, “I’m going to check on our son while you guys—debrief.”

You gasped, “this involves you too, you know?!”

“I don’t live here!”

“Could have fooled me.” Rio adds as Rhea makes her way by him, bumping her shoulder with his.

Rio just snorts as the woman heads across the hall towards the side entrance of the kitchen. When he sets his eyes back on you, he watched as you used one of your hands to pinch in between your brows as you pulled your bottom lip into your mouth. The buzzed haired man then plops down beside you, lolling his head to meet your gaze but you just quickly down the rest of your drink.

“What’s going on?” Rio questions.

You exhale, “oh nothing much, it’s good to see you though!”

“You’re tipsy on a Wednesday afternoon and not on wine…something’s up?” Rio analyzed you pretty quick, which was to be expected.

Exhaling you close your eyes, thinking if maybe you just dozed off then Rio would leave you alone and Rhea would sneak out with Marcus out the back. You knew that was a slim chance since that boy loved his father a lot and would want to see him before heading back home with his mom.

Your eyes were widened as Rio gripped your bandaged hand, making you wince as he did so. You were hoping that he wouldn’t notice but you couldn’t be that much of a fool, not when it came to your husband.

“I’m going to ask only one more time before I start looking for answers myself, so tell me what happened?” Rio quizzes one last time.

Sighing you meet Rio’s eyes as you tell him, “Polly’s mother is visiting and she started shit with Marcus while he was outside playing in the front yard. I was bringing the plants from the garage up front when this all happened but Stewart saw it happening from his window and came out before I got up front. I handled it, she got HOA involved, and now apparently there’s a meeting on Saturday morning.”

The shift in Rio was instant as he sat up, still holding your hand in his lap, “she don’t even live here and she thinks she can say something to the kid? Did she do this to your hand? Give me the details, mama.”

And so you did. You told him how Marcus was running around out front keeping himself entertained while you were dragging the outdoor plants that you thought would look nice in the backyard up front from the garage. It took some time for you to pick up on the yelling, making the palm of your hand get impaled by one of agave leaves that you tossed to the ground at the familiar rebuttal of Marcus’ voice. Your instincts kicked in even if your hand bled like crazy and hurt like hell, you didn’t take kindly to strangers screaming at kids.

You were once an elementary school teacher before becoming a housewife to Rio. There was always a certain way that you needed to speak to people, especially kids and you weren’t having it with Polly’s mother who always visited in the summer. Polly was cool, even her mother-in-law was tolerable (although she was a yapper) but you just didn’t understand how someone like Polly had a mother as nasty as this Karen who was drilling into Marcus who she didn’t even know. In her mind she believed that Marcus specifically shouldn’t be playing around the sidewalk, that it was against the “rules” of this community that she wasn’t sure Marcus even belonged to and should be playing in a different area instead.

You guys had a fence but Marcus said that he hit the ball too far and it ended up on the sidewalk so that’s the only reason he came around the fence. You didn’t care what the reason was, he knew not to play near the street of the gated community but you trusted his word regardless and old man Stewart confirmed this with a nod of his head. He had the both of your back’s and you guys spent the holidays every so often at each other’s houses.

“It got ugly, babe. Told her to keep her finger out my face and to not ever speak to my kid like that again. She tried to chest bump my back so I turned around and shoved her on her ass. She’s lucky I didn’t smack the shit out her wal-mart Glenn Close looking ass. Which was enough ammo for her to call HOA but we’ve got cameras just as much as Polly’s got her ring camera so I’m not worried. I just didn’t want Marcus to deal with that bullshit.”

Rio ends up smiling at you and you widen your eyes at him. “I’m glad you find this amusing.”

“Oh it’s not—I’m just proud of you.”

“For not going to jail?”

Rio tilts his head to the side, “The verdicts probably still out on that one, knowing the kind of woman she is.”

“You’re right.”

“I’ll have to talk to Polly.” Rio decided as he caressed your fingertips.

“She’s already sent mountains of texts, she’s with us and says she’ll work on talking to her demon—I mean mother.” You can’t fight against the liquor but even still, you said what you said.

Rio nods, “you don’t even got to worry about the rest. I got us.”

“…do I want to know?”

“Nah,” Rio shrugged as he used his other hand to caress your face, “just continue being the best thing that happened to me. I know I don’t have to thank you but I want to, for looking at Marcus as your own.”

You laugh, “he’s a great kid, part of you, which makes me love you guys even more so of course I will—without question.”

Rio pulls you by the chin to his lips, which you’ve been missing all week and when he lets you slip your tongue into his mouth, he pulls back with a grin. “Later mama, I got to make sure you two are good first.”

“Huh?” Your eyes fluttered open as Rio holds your own hand up in front of your face to prove his point, “that’s just a scratch.”

“Our girl will be the judge of that.” Rio tells, “Can’t believe you didn’t try and sneak her over here.”

“Thought she was on business with you guys.”

“We got more than one medic, mama. I kept the best here with y’all.”

“How kind.”

“I’m a kind guy.”

“I don’t think the dust bag will think so when you’re finished spooking her.”

Rio doesn’t fight his grin but replies, “Who says I’m gonna do it? I got people for that but the message will be real clear.”

“Rio—

He shushes you as he pecks your lips once more, making you lean your forehead against his, happy that he’s home before he’s sending out a code to your number one medic girl to stop by the house ASAP.

the both of you break away as the thudding of steps decended down the steps, revealing Marcus who called out Rio’s name, who he needed further reassurance from.

“Hey bud,” Rio starts as he embraces the young boy before knocking their fist together, “you good?”

He slowly nods but Rio knows he’s not, although he had a feeling Marcus held his own. It usually took a lot to bring it out of him to defend himself but Rio would see for himself once he looked at the footage tonight.

“You know what? Let’s go play outside while the ladies finish up.” Rio gets to his feet and the slight panic in Marcus’ face is evident, making your heart break while Rhea tightens the folding of her arms.

Rio squeezed Marcus’ shoulder, “hey, when you’re with me you remember you’re the king of your own castle, aight? Nobody can tell you nothing, move how you wanna move and own it. This is your neighborhood too, you understand?”

“…yes dad.”

“Alright? I got goalie.”

Rio sends a firm look to you two ladies before he heads outside with Marcus right beside him.

He attentively analyzed the situation before deciding what else needs to be done. One thing you could never do was go against the family he built and that was always serious to him. Anybody that messed with his family, immediately became his target and if it had to be a part time neighbor from across the street?

So be it.

They’ll learn soon enough.

They always do.

~LUCA~

“Babe! You’re not gonna believe this.” Luca calls out to you as he slams the front entrance door from down below shut, before making his way upstairs.

You can always tell when Luca’s home because he has a tendency to be heavy handed, always slamming the door that it tends to shake the house. It’s not something he purposely does, majority of the time he doesn’t even notice but it is a thing and even your neighbors in the townhouse to the left of you mockingly mentioned it.

They were assholes anyway and should be the last ones to talk about noise. Having loud company over every other day and some type of event at their home every other weekend, also crowding up the streets, without inviting you guys on multiple occasions. There were eight specific units on this street that were all grouped and managed underneath the same property and you would think they would also include you two. The both of you quickly learned that Chicago was much different than Copenhagen.

And what Luca remembered.

“I wouldn’t take it to heart and give it some time, yeah? Otherwise? They can piss right off!” Luca’s older sister that he’s reconnected with while being back in the states tells you two, laughing lightly as she’s helping you two unpack weeks ago.

You wouldn’t have if you didn’t decide to be neighborly, bringing them their mail when it accidentally got mixed in with yours, waving at them in passing as you chatted with the other residents, and then actually going over to introduce yourselves with a platter. It was all fraudulent and they just didn’t want to be bothered with you two, Luca gradually started to forget about it after finding a new position at one of the top three upscale restaurants in the city until you would bring it up. And of course he listened to anything that bothered you.

Their music was too loud for hours at a time sometimes until two in the morning on a week night, Luca would calmly address the situation to the guy of the household when he would get a hold of him on his way in from running around the city in sweats and a hoodie—yes in the middle of a scorching August, the both of you always had early mornings with you being a medical assistant down at the hospital and with Luca always having to do prep. You didn’t have the patience to stick around for the guy and his significant other never came to the door when you both knew she was home probably hungover.

Luca was friendly in his approach about it and at first, the athlete told Luca that they were just celebrating as much as they could before he was back on the road to get in the box yet he couldn’t help but to throw in a jab, “They do have these things called single family homes. Maybe you two should consider that.” In the end he said they’d try to keep it down. That still rubbed you the wrong way when Luca slipped up and told you that part.

Which only meant turning the music up even louder that the house rattled on their end. If their garbage was over filled, they would dump some of it into yours attracting raccoons but would then claim it had to be one of the other neighbors—you two had a ring cam, it wasn’t. The last straw was the fiancée drunkly pissing right in the path of your garage, which you stepped in the next morning when you were running late to work.

Humming you turn your attention from the street view of the balcony to Luca who stood in the doorway. You sat comfortably in the outdoor chair, paperback turned over on the table as you finished sipping at your fruit water.

“Hey baby,” you greet with a smile, relaxed and bare faced on your day off in the summer light as you held your face up for Luca to place a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth before he sat in the chair across from you.

Luca stretched his arms across the table as he greeted you back, “hello darling…you’re not gonna believe this!” He continues.

“What? That you suddenly caved and like Chicago dogs now?” You quizzed, folding your own arms as you leaned against the table, ready to listen.

Luca chuckles, “not likely, babe. Guess I won’t ever fit into their standards, yeah?”

“I think the world will still turn.”

“I think so too,” Luca agrees with a small smirk, “listen to this. I went to the bakery, the one Marcus is working part-time at now because of the whole thing with Carmy’s uncle—just to check on him you know? Guess who was also in there?”

You raise your brows after finding it sweet that Luca made it his mission to check in on Marcus. The two hit it off when Marcus trained underneath him for a couple of weeks back then and he’s been over to the flat a few times along with Sydney. Luca didn’t give you much time to guess since he was so adamant about telling you about his day. Usually when something was on Luca’s mind, his words went haywire out of excitement—depending what it was of course.

“Ryan!”

You blinked at the news of your boyfriend running into your problematic next door neighbor in slight confusion, “okay…a little surprised he likes baked goods since he gives the impression that he drinks egg yolks and eats raw meat for fun.”

It was Luca’s turn to furrow his naturally arched brows, “I’m not quite sure how you’ve gotten that idea and you might want to cut back on your time watching Santa Clarita Diet. It might help.”

You snort as you wave your fingers along for the now buzzed blond to continue. It wouldn’t be the first show that you watched where Luca passed judgment on. He is definitely the one to ask a thousand questions while you’re trying to watch something.

“Ryan told me, Leah was rushed to the hospital yesterday morning.” Luca informs you, “Want to know what for?”

Sitting back against the chair, you keep your arms crossed and fight the urge to roll your eyes, “…not particularly, no.”

Luca bites down on his bottom lip trying to hold it in but doesn’t, “she crapped out a parasite.”

Your mouth drops open, “You’re lying.”

“Honest to flavor town.” Luca does the praying motion before pointing to the sky and you knew it was serious business if he mentioned Guy Fieri.

Clasping a hand against your mouth you try to hide your snickers but Luca picks up on the fact that you found this a little too amusing.

“…what have you done?” He points an accusatory finger at you.

Lifting your shoulders, your lips twist around in laughter and you dared peeked back at Luca who was awaiting your answer. You wouldn’t leave him in the dark much longer, “fine! I sent a cleanse her way after all that day drinking and with my medical knowledge…I thought I’d give a helping hand.”

“Which means what?” Luca pressed, sitting back as well as he listened to you.

“I may have or may not have used the papayas that Grace left here before she went back to Texas when we went to that farmer’s market,” you slowly admit of your time with your old friend who came to visit with her baby girl Charlie, informing your boyfriend of the slight clues, “we both know I’m allergic and I didn’t want them to go to waste. So I made our lovely neighbors some papaya cereal with the seeds, put it up real nice in a jar for them to enjoy. Left it by their door and watched Ryan bring the bait in.”

Luca exhales, “you’re actually starting to scare me.”

“Remember that old nutritionist who’s heavily spiritual I told you about that we always end up seeing once a month at the hospital?” You ask while Luca nods his head, “she experienced the same thing partygirlLeah99 did but her’s was intentional.”

The bomb that you dropped had Luca clenching his eyes shut, “what you’re telling me is…you basically gave our neighbor some form of a laxative?”

“Just removed the toxins and clearly Leah has some. How many parasites was it?”

Luca shook his head, “no, no, no. We’re not just going to skip over the chaotic evil you’ve just done.”

You tilted your head to the side, “I think it was more lawful evil…maybe even good. She pissed on our property, Luca! And Ryan’s a dick.”

Luca holds his forehead now stressed, “Yeah and he can K.O. us if he really wanted to if he ever found out! He’s a professional boxer—

“I don’t care! Lessons need to be taught and he’s out of here in the fall anyway so that’s one less problem we have to deal with.” You shrug as you reach for your water again but Luca snatched it back.

He sighs, “we talked about this…you can’t just go and take matters into your own hands without discussing it with me first. I said I would talk to them about the peeing situation—

“You tried talking to them before! They don’t care about us, and sure they don’t owe us anything but I worked really hard on that charcuterie board, then they excluded us constantly and probably will do it again once Halloween comes around—

“So that’s what this is about? You’re worried about Halloween?” Luca questions, knowing it was one of your favorite Halloween parties.

“How dare they throw a summerween party when I’m the number one queen of the spooks!” You childishly turn your head to peek out into Chicago’s scenery from your first balcony.

Luca sips at your water now and exaggerates as he lets out an, “ah! That’s refreshing but I don’t know what to say about my girlfriend being upset over some people that we don’t even know well enough to care about their perceptions of us, if they even have any.”

Both of your professions caused you to be around all sorts of people, especially some downright mean ones but you both persevered. Luca would always take it as a learning curve, whereas you tended to take things more personal majority of the time. Yes you were the type to cry when angry, go ahead and sue your sensitive heart! Luca was only a little older than you and slightly better at communicating—when he wasn’t a nervous wreck—but you on the other hand tended to proceed with action rather than words or a conversation like Luca.

“Don’t say anything to me, just love me, choose me,” you playfully recite while Luca scoffs, “and wish those bitches an early happy Halloween, specifically from me to them. What she won’t know what hurt her.” You wink while Luca runs a hand over his buzzed summer look in shock.

“Well it actually did,” Luca frowns with his hands held out although you’re still unphased, “and doesn’t this count as assault?”

There goes the panic everybody!

You knew a good lawyer that shared the same blood as Luca (if it ever came to that) you weren’t worried and maybe you were chaotic evil after all? Depends who you ask.

Pouting you say, “Did she die?”

“No!”

“Then everybody wins!” You clap as you push back from the table, “So…What’s for dinner?”

“Not fucking papayas that’s for sure.” Luca states while you laugh, beginning to collect your things to bring back inside.

Luca sits outside for a moment longer, you briefly kiss his lips, him shaking his head at you afterwards once more as he whacks your backside before you head in to search the fridge, and he stares out into the city just wondering what else this place will bring.

Hopefully better understanding of being neighbors in the states!

MIKEY

“The hell happened to you?” Mikey asks, sneaking up behind you in your kitchen.

Which wasn’t unfamiliar for him to do but you did let out a yelp as you stood by your coffee and tea counter. You turned to your old friend, who scanned his eyes all over your filth covered clothes.

“My neighbor Lorraine is mad that I called her son out for being a pervert. Then she tried to argue that my dog is barking at all times of the night so I don’t have the right to speak on her son!” You paced the floor.

Mikey crosses his arms, “well she isn’t too bright because that thing in there is far from a dog,” he starts while you give him the side eye for talking shit about your Maine coon, “and what’s this about a pervert?”

You sigh, “..her son is just this college dropout who’s apparently into astronomy and thinks I don’t catch him with his telescope set out on the front sidewalk, right where the living room window is, as if he’s gone camping with my body being the view!”

It wouldn’t be Mikey’s first time catching you streaking around the house either—that was your fault for giving him a key—but this random kid? He had a problem with.

Mikey rubs at his facial hair, “Was he the one that did this to you?”

You huff, “that little bitch ran as soon as mommy Lorraine thought it would be nice to dump her trash on me out in the courtyard.”

There was always something going on in your courtyard out back, whether it was random cookouts even in the winter!, residents fighting over which outdoor seating technically belonged to them (it didn’t belong to anyone, everybody at the condo had access to it), to Lorraine overpopulating the backyard with her garden and horrible smelling manure, and fires being started by the little kids for fun, Mikey can never say it’s a dull moment on Sunnyside Ave.

“…and what did you do?” Mikey questioned, his lips twisting at the corners, knowing he wasn’t the best influence, especially if the shoe was on the other foot.

Which you knew, hanging out with him, Richie, and even Michelle always had the potential go left very quickly.

“There’s onion juice or some shit in my eye,” you start using your wrist to wipe at your red eye before saying, “and if I somehow end up blind before I get in to my eye doctor this year…it’s a wrap for her.”

“So you’re going in for the silent kill?” Michael summarizes, “that leaves the creeper to me then, is he home? I’d love to have a talk with ‘em!”

He points towards the back door which leads out to the courtyard. You leap forward, latching onto Michael’s wrist, “which I’m sure you’ll get your chance but I see you bought something for me?”

Michael rolls his eyes as he glanced back at the counter that contained a bag, “you’re real observant aren’t ya?”

“I’m also hungry but I need to get this stench off me first.” You slap your hands beside your thighs.

He jokingly steps forward to take a whiff towards you, “…I wasn’t going to say anything but whew!”

“Shut up, Mikey!” You shove him back but he just laughs.

Mikey pinches a piece of your hair on your way by, pulling something from it, “looks like she got you good with some shallot skin and soil if you ask me! But I got a nice Cubano waiting for ya when you get out.”

Your mouth watered at the mention of your favorite sandwich Mikey always brought over to you every other Tuesday, “can’t wait for that baby to bring me the biggest serotonin.”

Mikey grins at you.

When you drag your eyes back to meet his you ask, “so how was your day, bub? Good?”

“Yeah! I think it’s going to be alright.”

You hold your hand out, “tell me about it?”

He takes your hand as you lead him to the bathroom. He sits on the toilet as you quickly get into your skincare, terrified of skin mites thanks to some shit Sugar sent to a group chat between you, her, and Michelle. Michael doesn’t mind watching you do your routine, falling into quiet chatter before you strip out of your clothes.

He tries not to let his stare linger but he always thought you were a goddess, even with your clothes on. The comfortability between you two was strong, that at times it felt like there was nothing to ever be afraid of, especially when it came to showing your most vulnerable selves to each other. It’s not long before he’s joining you behind the shower liner, helping each other clean away whatever the day held before you’re embracing each other, arms tucked underneath each others as your now loud conversation fights against the pressure from the shower head.

He tells you all about the possible new hire, her name being Tina and how he feels like she’ll be the one to keep Chicagoland on their toes and in shape. He’s got that spark in his eye when he talks about her, finding a connection and in hopes that she will turn up when she’s ready but he has no doubt that she will.

“Maybe you can call her for backup if you ever come face to face with string bean nose Lorraine.” Mikey jokes over the water.

You scoff, “if the garbage can actually hit me, Lorraine just might need to tap Tina in for her to get me off her ass!”

Mikey chuckles, leaning forward to place a kiss on your forehead before you tuck your head underneath his chin. If you could’ve, you would have held onto him for eternity.

But…that’s not the way life played out in later episodes.

When Tuesday’s hit, sometimes it still feels like he’s here around your condo trying to scare the shit out of your cat, when he’s the one who’s actually terrified of him. And when you catch yourself staring at Lorraine’s nose a little too long during your small morning chats before you’re both leaving for work—that’s right—you two are now cordial enough to have civilized conversations, and yes you had Michael Berzatto to thank for that.

For constantly seeing the best in everybody, even crazy gardening neighbors who loved composting and believing their son could do no wrong.

Who only knows what Mikey’s conversation with that kid was like. You had a feeling that Richie knew, there was a slim chance that Richie was his ride along when you were off at work or someplace else but Richie would always be Mikey’s keeper.

And you were fine with that, as long as you never saw a telescope again.

ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ࣪

SUMMER ‘24 PROMPTS FIN. (For now!)

#Armando Aretas #Armando aretas x reader #jacob scipio #bad boys for life #bad boys ride or die #preferences #summer writing #queued #Rio good girls #good girls nbc #Rio x reader #manny montana #Luca the bear #Luca the bear x reader #will poulter #Michael Mikey berzatto #Mikey berzatto #Mikey berzatto x reader

345 notes · View notes

throneofsapphics · 3 months

Text

finding you again, part two

Azriel x f!Reader

summary: after he ended your relationship, you didn’t expect Azriel to pop into your life again - and you’re not happy about it

warnings: violence, injuries, war

a/n: if anyone wants to be added to the taglist, please let me know!

series masterlist

Azriel barely remembered making it to the healing tent.

It must’ve been a hallucination, surely you wouldn’t have healed him. You’d call for someone else to do it.

“Stay safe spymaster,” you’d said with that wicked smirk on your face, “and do it far away from me, won’t you?”

He’d let you get the last word in. Maybe because it pleased you, maybe because he was too caught up staring at you.

Still, the features he’d tried to memorize those months ago loomed over him, pretty eyes glimmering with worry.

“Come on, Azriel,” you half-snarled. “I’ll be pissed if you don’t make it.”

“You have horrible bedside manner,” the words rasped from his throat.

“Get some water,” he didn’t know who you called, but he both heard and felt the pure relief in your voice. Next thing, you were tipping his chin, fingers cold against his skin, cool water sliding down his throat.

“He’ll be fine,” you said, withdrawing as quickly as possible. Azriel’s vision was still swarming, but Cassian helped him sit. He caught sight of your back, ducking under the tent flap, back out towards the carnage.

Madja was busy, and you hadn’t hesitated when your High Lord’s voice slipped into your mind, ordering you to a specific tent. Your stomach had dropped when you saw him. Not because of the gore, because it was Azriel, knocking on death's door hovering right on the brink of an unconsciousness that would put him in a coma. Perhaps not your neatest work, but he would survive.

Rhysand was probably aware of your shared history, and it made you even more surprised he let you near him.

You shook the thought of him, of the Inner Circle, from your mind and faced the hoards of injured and dying again, scanning for the most critically injured. There was plenty of work to do.

Pace yourself, you remembered Madja’s teachings on battlefield healing, and your own experience. Ration your magic, use only what’s necessary. They’ll survive a scar.

Time had no meaning as you worked, hours passed with countless patients, the sun fell and rose, and you could barely stand on your own two feet.

“Take a rest,” a familiar voice, and a hand squeezing your shoulder.

You shook it off. “There’s more to do.”

“You can’t help anyone if you pass out,” he said mildly.

Pivoting to face him, your face tightened. “And people will die if I can’t help them.”

If you had more energy, you would’ve squirmed under his scrutiny. “At least eat something.”

“Fine,” you spit out, and headed to the tent the healers stayed in, on the outskirts of camp, hoping he wouldn’t follow.

He had, of course, as you emerged with an apple between your teeth, a few strips of dried meat in a recently cleaned hand, he was standing outside. Somehow, the area was regretfully empty.

“I don’t need a minder,” you told him. “Go rest.”

“Hypocritical.”

“You’ll ruin my hard work.”

His eyes flashed. Amusement or ire, you reminded yourself not to care, reminded yourself again as he left without a look back. He was getting in your head again. If you survived this war, if your world survived it, you’d flee far far away.

It was dark, he should be sleeping, but instead he slid through the shadows, searching through the camp for … for you. His shadows told him everything, but he felt the need to set his eyes on you, like if he looked away for too long you’d disappear.

“You can’t stay?” you asked. His eyes scanned you, white sheet barely covering the top of your breasts, the slight look of disappointment on his face. Azriel needed to be up early, and he knew if he spent another minute here, he’d be late and have too many questions to answer.

Instead, he kissed your forehead, “another time,” he promised, unsure if he could actually keep it, and slipped out the door.

The memory came to him out of nowhere, the desire to go back and change that moment strong and unexpected. He forced it from his mind, there was no going back, and you’d made that perfectly clear.

As soon as he’d caught a glimpse of you, he retreated to make an effort to get some sleep - it’s what you’d want him to do.

You moved with the armies, went where you were ordered, healed whoever needed healing, and most of all - kept your head down.

Maybe a few days, maybe a week had passed, but when Azriel appeared, one hand pulling the tent flap back, you didn’t have the energy to rebuke him.

An exhausted wave of your hand, you let him in, and turned to pile over the notes in front of you. Letters bent and blended, and the heavy blinks to try and return them to legible words failed.

Footsteps, loud enough to make sure you were aware of his position, slowing as they reached. Twisting barely over your shoulder, his thumb pressed against your chin, turning you forwards, to gaze at his shadow cast against the tent wall - now encompassing your own.

Featherlight brushes against the skin of your neck, goosebumps down your spine, rough thumbs run circles in all of your trigger points. Decades ago, he’d done this nearly every time you met, always without asking, and somehow still knew all of the right places.

A low moan escaped slightly parted lips as he dug into where your shoulder and neck met. The fingers paused, but gods the exhaustion must’ve been truly driving you out of your mind, because you covered his hand with your own, encouraging him to resume.

A low chuckle, and he did.

The next hours were something of a fever dream. Your bed was hardly large enough for two - especially for a pair of wings, but you managed to lay side by side, both fully clothed. Occasionally, his hand would bump into yours, and vice versa.

The only noise inside the tent was your steady breaths, the two of you finding solace in the silence of each other's company. In that silence, you convinced yourself it was a dream, or a ridiculous hallucination.

But, when you woke in the morning - alone, the usual tightness in your neck was missing, and familiar hints of cedar and night chilled mist filled the space. You were well aware he owed you nothing, but waking alone, not even a note, left you feeling used - you scoffed at the word - he’d given you a massage after all, if anything you were the one using him.

Whatever game he was playing with you, you wanted no part of it. Even if it wasn’t a game, even if he was just searching for some comfort during the chaos, it wasn’t you. He could find another source. The night only tightened your resolve to stay away from him.

You were not called to heal him, nor any other members of the Inner Circle, again - to your relief. Just once, you saw him in passing, and averted your gaze, melted into the crowd before you could be noticed.

The war ended, and you heard the stories of sacrifice, of the loss and gain of life, and thanked the mother with each one, but all you had eyes for was the rows and rows of males and females in varying shades of misery front of you.

“Madja,” you called just loud enough to catch the healer's attention. She held up her hand in acknowledgement. The moments dragged as you watched her movements, the careful and measured expenditure of her magic, the efficient bandaging and applying of herbs.

As soon as she’d finished, she met your eyes. As always, her gaze stripped you bare and you wondered what she saw, before deciding you didn’t want to know. Her chin jerked towards the water basin, and you dutifully followed. You’d received her summons just minutes ago.

“Back by the border,” she started - the location of the last battle, you noted, “there’s a medical camp in need of a seasoned healer. Although we can hardly spare you,” she sighed, “they asked and their need, believe it or not, is equal if not greater than ours.”

“The ratio?” You asked, steeling yourself.

“About fifty,” she gave you a look that said she didn’t envy you.

“Then I better get going,” your mouth curved at the corners. After all, there was nothing keeping you here.

You were fresh off a few hours of mandated rest and a good meal, and knew you had enough energy to winnow and get to work as soon as you arrived. It took mere minutes to pack the few things you brought, to tuck whatever supplies Madja could spare into a pocket space. You didn’t give yourself time to evaluate the weight that left your chest as you departed.

When the chaos and politics surrounding the final battle ebbed, he looked for you. His shadows searched every inch of the blood soaked ground, tent, hidden crevice, but you were gone. Swallowing pride, he asked Madja, who only said you were dispatched elsewhere, and fixed him with a quizzing look. His eyes cool and face an unreadable mask of stone, he let his shoulders rise and drop slightly.

“I only wish to thank her.”

Madja huffed, head shaking and turned away. It didn’t matter whether or not the healer believed his half-truth.

Azriel had spared what time he could for you, and banished you to a back corner of his mind, tucked away with the other memories that ached an old part of him. Shadow cooling his neck, a slow exhale, and he focused back to the present, back on his priorities. He needed to keep you where you belonged, in his past.

taglist: @mellowarcadefun @acourtofbatboydreams @sheblogs @macimads @sirens-and-moonflowers @tele86 @kalulakunundrum @anxious-study @mika-no-sekai-blog @judig92 @randomperson1234sblog @fightmedraco @caraaaaugh @thelov3lybookworm @tothestarsandwhateverend @fxckmiup @scatteredstardustt @tooweirdtolive-toorareto-die @redcap3girl @boygeniuses10 @anuttellaa @aunicornmademedoit @inloveallthetime @florencemtrash @juniperberriesaries @azriels-shadowsinger @mybestfriendmademe @prettylittlewrites @bubybubsters @emryb @blessthepizzaman

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #acotar x reader #acotar fic #azriel x you #azriel acotar

306 notes · View notes

steddieasitgoes · 3 months

Text

he can't sit with us (or maybe he can?)

written for @steddie-week Day 4 prompt: Trade Rating: T | wc: 2651 | no cw thank you to @stevethehairington and @thefreakandthehair for beta-ing this one for me!! Read on ao3

Eddie is amped up.

Lunch has always been his favorite part of the school day, but today is going to be an especially good one. Not because of his lunch — he forgot to grab the sandwich he made last night so he wouldn’t forget, and he’s been out of lunch credit for weeks now, so he’s shit out of luck on that front — but because today’s the day he unleashes his latest rant on the hivemind that is the Hawkins High student body.

It’s taken him weeks to work out everything he wants to say about the giant mall they’re building a few blocks from Main Street that everyone and their workaholic fathers are excited about. The one that led to the demolishment of Hawkins' second-best trailer park — Forest Hills being the best, obviously. He even asked Wayne’s advice on what he should say since his uncle has way more experience going against The Man™ and The Man’s™ People.

He’s pretty proud of what he’s come up with. Sure, it’s a typical Munson rant that goes on a personal tangent in the middle about how Sam Goody and Tape World are probably going to put Jet’s Jams out of music. And okay, yeah, Jet’s Jams is the fucking worst most of the time and only ever has the top 40s bullshit in stock, but at least Eddie has some pull with good ole’ Jet and can bargain with the dude to order a metal record or two every once in a while. You think Sam Goody is going to take his advice? Not a chance in hell!

But then he’ll get back on track and get into the educational stuff that Wayne talked to him about. At least, that’s the plan; all he has to do is stick to the bullet point list he scribbled out in Ms. O’Donnell’s class thirty minutes ago, ignoring whatever the fuck she was going on about at the front of the room.

It’s going to be great. Definitely one of his best lunchtime soapbox speeches. Hell, maybe this will be the one to actually wake some of his peers up. Capitalism is the real devil here. Not him.

He’s bouncing with adrenaline and nerves as he saunters into the crowded cafeteria, ready for his moment, ready for—

What the hell?

Eddie stops midstride when he spots Gareth and Jeff waving at him from a table in the middle of the room. Again, what the hell? That’s not their table. Not even fucking close.

Eddie doesn’t believe in the social hierarchy of high school cliques, but he does respect the lunch table distribution system Hawkins’ operates under. And he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that tables in the middle are destined for the so-called elite. Not his Dungeons & Dragons club and the other lost sheep stragglers he’s accumulated over his extended high school career.

They’re supposed to be sitting at a table on the outskirts of the room. The one by the windows, with the art kids to his right and the drama kids to his left. The weirdo, outcast corner.

And yet, there they are in the middle of the room at a table usually occupied by the so-called elites and anyone else they’ve deemed worthy of their company.

“This isn’t our table,” Eddie says, slamming his hands down with enough force to knock Gareth’s brown paper bag over, taking his unopened Dr. Pepper can with it.

Gareth scowls, righting the can. “Now I see why you’re a super senior. Of course, it’s not our fucking table!”

Eddie intertwines his fingers before pillowing his chin against them. “Okay then, Gareth the Great, tell me why we are sitting here.”

“Our table is occupied,” Jeff supplies.

“Occupied? Everyone knows that’s our table! Is this person new? Have they recently had a lobotomy?”

This time, it’s Freak who speaks up. “No. He knows. He probably just doesn’t give a shit. A table’s a table or whatever.”

Or whatever? Fat chance. A table hasn’t ever been just a table in the hellscape that is Hawkins High. Still, Eddie can’t help but be curious. There aren’t many people who would willingly sit at a new table this late into the school year. It’s a ballsy move.

He figures it’s a scorned drama kid or drumline member — there’s always drama in those groups; someone is always fucking someone they shouldn’t be, horny assholes. But when he turns to get a glance at this intruder, it’s not a butthurt outcast taking up court at the table, but rather Hawkins' very own Fallen King, Steve Harrington.

For the third time, what the hell?

“Did you tell him it’s our table?”

“No! He’s Steve Harrington! I don’t think he’ll appreciate a couple of nerds telling him to move.”

“And we value our lives too much to mess with upperclassmen,” Gareth says, mumbling something about learning his lesson the last time he tried something stupid like that.

Eddie rolls his eyes before scoffing loud enough to startle the nearby table of cheerleaders. He wiggles his fingers in an innocent wave before focusing his attention back on his friends.

“Please, Steve is all bark and no bite. And he hasn’t been Steve Harrington in a while.” Eddie raises his voice several octaves, batting his eyelashes as he says Steve’s name. “Now he’s just Steve Harrington,” he says, shrugging his shoulders with a nonchalance he never would have expected to use for someone of Steve’s former status. “He’s just some guy whose girlfriend dumped him for an artsy loner.”

“It doesn’t matter, man! You don’t mess with people like Harrington,” Jeff says, shaking his head. “I’m sure it’s just like a one-time thing or something. It’s not like any of his friends are sitting with him. Maybe he’s just fighting with them.”

Jeff has a point. Steve is alone. Sitting at the table all be himself, poking disinterestedly at an apple sauce cup. He’s not cowering or trying to make himself smaller like most people would do if they were stuck eating lunch alone, but he’s not making a show of it either. He’s just there. Minding his own business, staring out the windows Eddie has spent all five years of his high school career looking out off.

“Those sounds like quitting words, Jefferson,” Eddie taunts, turning his attention back to the group. He makes a show of looking each and every Hellfire member in the eyes when he speaks again. “Are we quitters?”

The entire table groans, a few shake their heads. Gareth, always the brave one, throws a chip at Eddie’s head that he manages to catch in his mouth. And people say he’s not athletic!

“Since we’re not quitters, what should we do about this unlawful infiltration?”

“I don’t know if it's an infiltration,” Freak says. “We just like traded tables without a verbal agreement.”

“That’s worse than a seize!”

“I don’t know, man. You’re the one that’s all fired up about it. Why don’t you go over there and ask Harrington to give it back to us.”

“You know what,” Eddie says, pushing off the table until he’s standing. “I will.”

With the same gravitas he entered the cafeteria with, Eddie saunters over to Steve. The sooner he gets this table thing handled, the sooner he can get on with his lunchtime diatribe — see Mr. Vance, I do listen in English class, old bat.

Eddie’s not a quiet walker by any means — he’s had enough pillows thrown at his head from Wayne for the way he stomps around the trailer in the mornings — but he manages to sneak up on Steve. Maybe it’s because his eyes are trained on a squirrel running up a tree in the distance, mumbling encouragements as the poor thing struggles to make it up.

Huh, Harrington’s a squirrel fan? Who knew?

Eddie’s watch chirps, a reminder that there are only ten minutes left of lunch. Jesus H. Christ! He’ll have to do an abridged version of his speech now, but it should still be enough to get his point across. That is if he manages to get Steve to trade tables with them without a fight.

“Fancy seeing you here, Steve,” Eddie says, loud enough to startle Steve out of the squirrel watching. “What brings you to my humble abode?”

Steve glances up at him with a look of disinterest he seems to have perfected in his fall from grace. And honestly, as much as Eddie hates to admit it and would never say it out loud unless he was being waterboarded or some shit, this new version of Steve really works for him.

“Your humble what?” Steve asks, dropping his disinterest to look up confused instead.

His brows pull together, scrunching up his forehead in a way that should be unflattering but is honestly sort of endearing. And his head is tilted to the side like a confused animal — something Eddie has a lot of experience with, given his unofficial status as a trailer park animal rescuer. Eddie’s so lost in studying Steve’s confusion that he forgets to actually respond, which like, is new territory for Eddie. He’s never one not to talk.

“Look, man, I don’t know what you want, but could you just spit it out so I can go back to enjoying my lunch?”

Eddie’s personality returns to his body in an instant. “Enjoying your lunch, you say?” He takes a second to glance at Steve’s lunch tray. A measly bite has been taken out of the cardboard the school passes off as pizza. The side of congealed mac and cheese sits untouch and his apple sauce cup is open but still perfectly intact. “Doesn’t look like you ate at all, Steve.”

“Seriously, Munson, what do you want?”

Eddie tsks and yanks the seat next to Steve away from the table before not-so-gracefully falling into it. He kicks his feet up on the table a moment later, the toe of his boot knocking against the carton of milk he’s willing to bet Steve also hasn’t touched. Though he can’t really blame him for that one. Milk is not a lunchtime beverage, and no amount of dairy propaganda is ever going to change that.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, Harrington, this is my table.”

“I didn’t know the cafeteria had assigned seats.”

“Bullshit, you didn’t,” Eddie growls, throwing his hands up in the air. The move forces him to lose his balance, chair wobbling on two legs under him, threatening to give out and dump him on his ass. Definitely not the lunchtime show he was hoping to give today. But before he meets his demise, Steve extends his hand, steadying the chair long enough for Eddie to drop his feet and reclaim his balance. “Thanks.”

Steve grunts in response and goes back to staring out the window.

Fucking squirrel.

“Look, Steve,” Eddie says, getting straight to the point this time. “I don’t know why you decided to switch tables today or why you decided my table was the one you suddenly wanted, but can we please just switch back?”

“I’m good here.”

He tears his eyes away from the window for long enough to glance at his former table, where Gareth and Jeff are using straws as lightsabers without a care in the world. Steve snorts, and Eddie stiffens; he really, really doesn’t want to have to fight anyone today, but if Steve’s willing to be a dick about his friends in front of his face, well, fight, he will. But then Steve’s face softens, and he shakes his head in amusement.

“Looks like your friends are good where they’re at, too. Though the lightsaber skills could use some work,” Steve teases. “Are we good then?”

“No, we’re not good!” Eddie shouts, trying his best to keep his brain on task. We’re here to get our table back, not ponder why Steve Harrington suddenly has a soft spot for nerds because what? “That’s your table, man, and this is ours. You’re going to upset the fragile balance of this place.”

“Shouldn’t you be thanking me or something? I thought upsetting the balance was your life goal.”

How dare Steve Harrington read him like that.

Since his dramatics haven’t worked, Eddie opts for the truth this time. “I have no interest in sitting in the middle of the damn cafeteria where everyone can see me and my friends just to cause a little societal unrest.”

“And I have no interest in being forced to sit in the middle so everyone can stare at me while judging me and my mistakes.”

Oh.

The truth shouldn’t be all that shocking. Anyone who has eyes has witnessed Steve’s fall from King too well; Eddie’s not sure there is a word for what Steve is now. He’s not a pariah or an outcast, not smart enough to be a nerd, and the rumor is he quit basketball, so he’s not a jock. He’s just… lost?

Steve groans, running a hand over his face for a second before his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose. “Can we pretend I didn’t say that?”

“Uh, sure?”

“Look, Eddie, I’m not going to trade tables with you, but if this one means that much to you, I don’t mind sharing.”

“I thought you said you don’t want people staring at you?”

“I don’t.”

“Okay, well, sitting with the Freaks of Hawkins is definitely going to get people staring and talking, and honestly, you might even have to dodge a punch or two just for being in our vicinity.”

“I’ll survive.”

For the first time in his life, Eddie has no idea what to say. On one hand the idea of sharing a table is so preposterous he’s convinced he might be dreaming right now. But after a quick pinch to confirm that he is awake, he goes back to weighing his options. Sharing a table with Steve isn’t ideal, but sitting in the middle of the fucking cafeteria is a death sentence. He might be able to hold his own with the upper echelon of Hawkins High, but his ragtag group of friends isn’t so scrappy.

And then there’s the lost sheep of it all.

Eddie’s spent most of his high school career looking after lonely high schoolers. Whisking them under his wing, giving them a safe space to eat lunch or a club to hang out at after school to avoid having to walk back home alone. He thought he’d become somewhat of an expert at it, but it seems Steve Harrington has managed to slip through his cracks.

Eddie would be the world’s biggest hypocrite if he didn’t at least try with Steve. It’s not like he has to join Hellfire or anything. All he’s really asking for his a spot at their lunch table.

“I have one condition.”

“Of course you do,” Steve says, rolling his eyes.

“Actually, I have two.” Steve chuckles and motions for Eddie to get on with it already. “One, you can’t make fun of anything that happens at the table. We’re weird. You know it, we know it. We’re allowed to tease each other about it. You are not.”

“I wouldn’t do that. Not anymore.”

Eddie nods. “And two, you have to give me your dessert every day.”

“Every day?” Steve balks. “You can have my applesauce and pudding cups, but I’m not giving you Friday’s chocolate cake.”

“Guess you’re going to have to go back to sitting at the fishbowl table then.”

Eddie watches as Steve considers this for a moment before his shoulders heave the world’s biggest sigh. “Fine.”

Without warning, Eddie pushes away from the table, the legs of the chair screeching against the linoleum. His lips twitch at the corners, pulling into a genuine smile as he stands and offers Steve his hand. “Welcome to the Freak table, Steve.”

#steddieweek2024 #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #steve harrington/eddie munson #steddie week #stranger things #stranger things fic #dani writes #gareth #jeff #freak #corroded coffin

283 notes · View notes

artemistorm · 2 months

Text

Here is my late rambling analysis of the new LU update:

I love Wind's face and posture. He's just like "Challenge accepted!" Hyrule and Wild my beloveds <3

A lot of people saw this sequence and went "oh no something bad is going to happen to Epona!" but I took it to mean that Epona doesn't want to go in the dungeon and that Twilight knows that Epona will be just fine hanging out outside (tasty snack time ehehehe).

I can't put my finger on exactly what's changed about the coloring but WOW it is popping. So vibrant. I love it. Made my eyes happy.

Also I love it when Jojo draws the gang in lines like this. It makes me think that she's doing it for fun (just like when you draw your OCs in lineups a million times cuz it makes you happy), that she still loves and takes great pride in showing off her blorbos.

Also, Wild is taller than Legend (and Hyrule) >:)

I love that he spelled this out to the others. Makes so much sense. In Lord of the Rings terms, most of the other Links are like Frodo and Sam running around to secretly bring the ring to Mordor, while Warriors is like Aragorn who straight up charged the Black Gates of Mordor with an army.

It's so funny how all the other heroes automatically assumed that Warriors' Hyrule had dungeons and that he just didn't bother to go through them. XD

So this implies that A) that comic where Wild and Hyrule met the wallmaster happened recently and B) it was sometime when Wars wasn't there with them, which makes me think that the wallmaster comic happened at the same time as this comic:

And then there's this:

I can't remember where I read it but I seem to remember Jojo saying that Legend was the most likely to prank others and this is an example of that. This is a characterization that surprised me at first (I would have expected Wind or Hyrule to be more of a prankster) but if you think about Who Legend Is, it actually makes a lot of sense.

I was trying to figure out which game this skulltula is from and my conclusion is that I think it is most similar to skulltulas from OOT 3D / MM 3D. I wonder if that means that they are in or near Time's time. Either that or this is a case of monsters getting mixed up between Hyrules like we saw in the Threatening Shadows story arc.

Time is clearly very wound up still over what happened to Twilight. While all the other heroes have seemed to pretty much bounced back after that harrowing incident and are caught up in youthful optimism and the excitement of a new dungeon, Time hasn't forgotten and he wants to make sure the heroes don't forget the seriousness of their situation and their enemy. Just because the Shadow was defeated once doesn't mean that they can do it again so easily (not that it was easy before).

My writer brain immediately interpreted this as foreshadowing that they aren't going to even make it to the central chamber before the group gets involuntarily broken up (trap doors my beloved mwahaha). Of course that may not end up being the case, they may make it the central chamber without incident.

I figure that ideally the group will split into 3 groups of 3, each group having at least one older Link (Time, Wars, Twi, Sky) and one younger Link (Four, Legend Hyrule, Wild, Wind). How much you wanna bet that Time wants Twi with him in order to keep an eye on him/protect him?

Anyways, that's all I got. Bye!

#linked universe #Linked Universe: Entrance #analysis post #new update spoilers #lu

104 notes · View notes

venusandsaturnsrings · 4 months

Note

The school year finally ended... I hate college SO much :( but I am alive!! I beg for some crumbs of thoughts on Sunday... -chubby darling anon who is very much alive and finally got a mitsuri scale figure <3

putting all of my other fics, blurbs, and asks on PAUSE for this!! congrats!! no more school foorrr… 3ish months!! after dropping out of uni, i’ve been finally considering going back myself for phlebotomy!! canadas health situation is lack lustre rn and the course is less than one year + paid practicum + immediate job placement which is kinda sweet… CONGRATS ON THE FIGURE TOO!! i recently (like a month and a half ago) procured the hatsune miku jirai kei subculture fashion figure and i cannot stress how pretty she is <3 sits on my pc right now bc my shelves are full… ANYWAYS… love you!!

includes: silly sunday hcs, potential story spoilers, maybe ooc im still feeling him out, praise, degradation, riding crops, his hands…, and gender neutral reader!!

very poignantly the hopeless romantic type. he’s always functioned as a ‘singularity’ of sorts and over the years developed a certain fondness of it, even if it hurts. it’s worth noting he vividly reminds me of the line ‘i miss the comfort in being sad,’ from nirvanas ‘Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge on Seattle.’ he’s the type of partner to always be stuck in that self-absorbed martyr mindset a little bit.

pragmatic to a fault. Sunday is deeply a skeptic, take his departure from the harmony in favour of the order, as an example. it’s cool because it means you’ll never have to worry about any technicalities but it also means he has a hard time letting go of control or being spontaneous.

very into more subtle romantic gestures and an absolute gentleman. you’ll have flowers at your door at least once a week and he makes sure to take all of your preferences into consideration when planning dates (he will be the one planning). keeps his hand on your lower back most of the time, the waist is far too scandalous!!

not a big texter. he prefers speaking face to face and will call if he can’t come see you. that said, he’ll make sure to like or respond to all of the silly pictures and messages you send, even if it’s a dry ‘haha’ or just a heart. occasionally, you’ll find that he’s sent you a letter, ask about and he’ll shrug and say he simply wanted something more heartfelt if he’s to communicate written. he’s got a special stamp to seal the ones he sends you.

grabs your phone when you go to show him something. no explanation i just feel it in my bones.

although he’s no singer, he’s still a classically trained musician. i imagine he was taught the violin but went on to learn his preferred instrument, the harp, himself. he’s a bit shy about playing so rather than asking, just wait until he thinks it’s late and you’re not around to hear; he’s got quite the set of fingers.

…speaking of fingers, my bread and butter, he’s beyond skilled with playing you. while he enjoys getting down to business, getting to leisurely spread you open and thrum against all your nerves gets him going. could spend hours having you laid out, in his lap, on the floor, wherever, just gently coaxing you open, wet, and pliant for himself.

off of that, he likes you best worn down to soft edges and weak desperation. getting to play the saviour, making you come undone, has him stiff in his pants.

lots of sweet praise and subtle degradation. things like, “you want to be good for me, don’t you my sweet?,” or, “now, now, don’t get greedy on me. be patient, silly thing, and i’ll appease all of your foolish whims,” annddd, “come now, you’ve been so well for me, angel, don’t ruin that with any useless whines.”

he’s not one for being too harsh against you but push the right buttons and you’ll get a ‘dumb’ or ‘stupid’ here and there. Sunday doesn’t curse but he knows his way around how to make you feel inferior and looked down upon.

he likes the power play of staying fully and pristinely clothed while your completely nude, save for maybe a pretty collar he’s got you belled with. if you’re real trouble, say maybe a no good criminal causing problems on Penacony and once arrested you’re at his disposal and oh so pretty, he’ll find a nice muzzle to fix you with.

strikes, no pun intended, me as the type to have an affinity for riding crops over anything else for punishments. you’ll get the same sugarcoated degradation while he comments on how you’re not even good enough to be so close to his gloved hand that he just must use the crop!! (he likes the pretty bruises it leaves).

#cw: degradation #cw: riding crops #sunday x reader #sunday x you #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #chit chats #chubby darling anon my beloved!#i think he’s a real slime ball #but… very interesting i fear #i like how… stiff?? purposeful?? assertive?? he is #very much a mixed bag of marbles and i like that!!#kisses u btw

115 notes · View notes

demigodpolls · 21 days

Note

Why do you think Frank gets so little attention from the fandom at large?

although I don't fault anyone individually for not having interest in a given character, I do think it's pretty sad that not much mind is paid to frank. it's not the best metric to measure things by, but on AO3, frank has the fewest fanfics of the prophecy 7 by a pretty wide margin.

there's no point in comparing him to the likes of percy, annabeth, and nico, who have existed for way longer, but the lost hero trio have well over 10k works for all three individually, while hazel has 8.7k (her popularity is surely bolstered by her relation to nico, the second most popular pjo character on ao3) and frank has about 7k. interestingly, will solace has over 15k fics--and that of course has to do with the popularity of solangelo (the second most popular pjo ship on ao3, as you see above), but considering how recently tsats came out (and how little material/information about him existed before that), I still think that number is pretty remarkable.

with all of this in mind, here are some of the reasons why I think frank doesn't get a ton of attention from the fandom below the cut.

- part of it probably has to do with shipping. while frazel is a well-accepted canon ship, I don't think it actually garners a ton of real interest. when a pairing is very popular, its individual parties will inevitably share that popularity; i.e., will solace, as observed previously. furthermore, frank doesn't really have any popular non-canon ships. online fandoms heavily favor mlm pairings over any other kind of pairing (this is just a very neutral, well-observed fact, so I hope no one is bothered by this acknowledgement), but if a male character is not popularly shipped with other men, they tend to fall to the wayside. to be honest, I think it's a little surprising that frank/leo doesn't get more favor; maybe it's because people just don't like to acknowledge the love triangle they were in, but the enemies-to-lovers material that people usually enjoy is right there, you know? jason/leo is fairly popular on tumblr at least, but no one really ships its SoN counterpart percy/frank either, which is interesting.

- part of it probably has to do with the fact that, compared to others, frank does not appear to be a very angsty character. fandoms tend to prefer characters who have tragic backstories and/or highly-animated personalities, and while frank undeniably has his individual struggles, they probably seem quite small compared to the bulk of the principal cast. for reasons like this, a lot of people will likely tell you that they don't find frank (or his powers) very interesting, and prefer to devote their attention to other characters.

- part of it probably has to do with frank (in my opinion) being neglected by HoO books. I wish he had gotten to do so much more! but of the things that he did do, I don't think many people consider them to be very memorable.

- I think there's also no point in ignoring the fact that frank is a chubby POC, and well, these types just aren't often so beloved by fandoms. that his only popular ship is with another POC probably doesn't help matters, to be honest...! it's just a well-documented phenomenon that, unless they're anime characters, POC characters and POC x POC ships tend to be much less popular in online fandoms than their white counterparts (i.e., 2010s star wars comes to mind). of all 10 percy jackson POV characters on ao3 (I'm including will in this figure and excluding apollo, who I consider an outlier), piper, leo, hazel, frank, and reyna make up the bottom 5 in that order in terms of popularity. this page is a great resource for more data on race, queerness, gender, etc on ao3. (unrelated - fascinatingly, percabeth is the 8th most popular m/f ship on ao3 of all time, and jiper is 96th!)

that's just my two cents as to why I think frank doesn't get a ton of attention. I hope no one is upset by my observations, I mean all of them in a pretty neutral, analytical way. to anyone else reading this, here is a reminder that character hate and ship hate is not tolerated on this blog. if you post unkind things, your comments will be deleted and your account will be blocked. we don't need to bash other characters or ships in order to uplift others. save it for your own blogs, please!

thank you for asking and engaging with this blog!

-demigodpolls

#ooc #frank zhang #percy jackon and the olympians #frazel #valzhang #solangelo #percabeth #jiper #tagging these in case people want to avoid all mentions of these ships #valgrace

69 notes · View notes

sp-by-april · 2 months

Text

Ask and you shall receive. Kenny is a little more of a soft dom, I think it works really well! 💖

This is the winner of the most recent poll! 💖

Dom!Kyle, Dom!Kenny x Reader

[Read on Ao3!] [Kyle Master List] [Kenny Master List]

When Kyle and Kenny took me up to the cabin, I knew some kinky shit was gonna go down, but I wasn’t prepared for what ended up happening.

There was only one bedroom, which was fine. We’ve shared plenty of beds. The power was out due to the heavy snowfall in the isolated mountains. It was annoying, but luckily there was a stash of candles and Kyle got the flame roaring in the fireplace.

I was grateful for the fire because they quickly had me naked and kneeling on the huge furry rug in the living room. My knees were open, squared up with my shoulders, and my hands were tied behind my back with a thick rope. Kenny knelt behind me and Kyle stood in front of me. I was glad we were all naked this time. The last time it was just me, and it felt extra degrading.

I was lost in my own world, staring at Kyle's cock while thinking about how thick he was, how sticky he looked, and how badly I wanted him in my mouth.

“I heard you were flirting with Clyde yesterday,” Kenny put his hands on my shoulders, “Is that true?”

“We were–” I blinked in confusion. How’d they find out about that? “It was innocent,”

Kyle smirked as he stroked his cock inches away from my face, “I think we need to teach her a lesson,”

One of Kenny’s hands ran down my back and squeezed my ass.

“...A lesson?” I asked hesitantly as I felt Kenny’s fingers tracing my wet slit.

Kyle’s free hand grabbed a fistful of my hair, “You’re ours,”

He rubbed the leaking tip of his cock on my lips until my mouth opened wide enough to fit him and he went all the way straight to the back of my throat.

I moaned onto him while Kenny’s fingers pushed inside of me, and the vibrations caused Kyle to pull on my hair as he started to fuck my face.

Kenny kissed the top of my spine as his fingers found my sweet spot, “Be a good girl. Don’t hold back. You know what will happen if you do,”

He was right. Kenny gives me orders, Kyle enforces them. I knew the drill, but the punishments could vary based on how he was feeling at the moment.

I looked up at Kyle, trying to gauge his mood. The drive up there was hectic and he was pretty pissed off until the moment he turned off the car.

He looked down at me and smirked as he thrust hard into the back of my throat, “Don’t give me that worried look. That'll just make me get rougher,”

I whined onto Kyle's cock as he abused my throat and I think I heard him chuckle as he pulled on my hair.

Just then, Kenny increased the pressure and the pleasure. I moaned loudly and completely involuntarily.

Kyle groaned and his head lolled back; I felt glad that I was at least making him feel good.

Kenny felt amazing. He knew my body so well, that I never stood a chance. The way he was rubbing me felt so heavenly and pleasurable compared to how Kyle was fucking the back of my throat.

My muscles started to tense and Kenny could tell what was happening by the way my body felt and moved.

“Are you gonna come for us?” He kissed my ear and I realized he was stroking himself behind me as he firmly massaged the plush little spot inside of me, pushing me into my first orgasm.

Kyle thrust hard into the back of my throat just as my climax hit me. I moaned shamelessly onto him, knowing no one was around for miles. It was just me and them.

My eyes rolled back, and he didn’t ease up on my mouth, opting to hold my hair tighter. My soft walls fastened up around Kenny’s fingers and he bit my earlobe then tugged on it. As the pleasure in my body washed over me, I was glad I was already on my knees, because if I was standing, I’m sure they would’ve buckled.

“You make such a good pet,” Kenny groaned in my ear.

Kyle withdrew from my mouth and pulled hard on my hair until I held his gaze again, “She’s not even a pet, she’s a toy,”

His free hand reached for a nearby candle and I started to worry a little as he held it over me. I tried to turn and look back at Kenny as if he might help me, but he was busy sucking my slick off his fingers. He didn’t give a fuck. Kyle pulled hard on my hair for trying to look away from him.

“You know, the thing about toys is…” He tipped the candle and poured the hot wax on my shoulder, “Sometimes they get broken,”

Kyle’s cock twitched watching as I whined and winced while the hot wax ran over my shoulder and down my back.

I pulled in a deep breath as the pain receded. It wasn’t that bad. Kenny’s hand was back between my legs, rubbing along my slit, purposefully spreading my arousal.

Kyle tipped the candle over me again before setting it back down. I sucked in a sharp, uneven breath through my clenched teeth as the hot wax coated my skin.

Kenny kissed the back of my neck as he rubbed the leaking tip of his cock against my slit.

He held onto my hips and kissed the space behind my ear, “Get ready. We’re really gonna put you through it tonight,”

He pulled me back and I gasped as I sank onto him. I moaned as he guided my hip movements. He always hit my sweet spot so well, but in this position, it was fucking luscious. He grabbed the rope around my hands and yanked on it, slamming me into him harder. Once he knew I had the rhythm he wanted down, his hands moved around to my breasts as I fucked myself with his dick.

I was preoccupied with not coming too fast, just in case it would disappoint Kyle, that I hardly even noticed him down on his knees in front of me.

Kenny had palmed my breasts, massaged, and played with them, but now he had new plans. He grabbed them and pulled my back against his chest. I whimpered as our bodies crushed my arms,

One of Kenny’s hands dropped and lifted one of my legs. I started to worry again as he presented my pussy, currently stuffed with Kenny's dick, to Kyle.

Kyle looked enamored with the sacred spot between my legs as he rubbed the head of his swollen cock against my clit and my worry increased tenfold.

“What are you doing?” I asked weakly.

The corner of his mouth curled up as he made eye contact, “I’m gonna show you that no one can fuck you like us,”

He pushed hard and the head of his cock forced its way inside me.

I gasped sharply and a loud whine spilled from my lips. I’d never been stretched out like that before.

“It won’t, I can’t– It hurts,” I glanced at Kyle, hoping I wasn’t looking as pathetic as I felt.

He pushed more until he was about halfway inside of me, “It’s okay if it hurts. You're soft and tight. It should hurt,”

Kenny’s breath hit my ear, “You better start moving again,”

I tried to rock my hips, but God, I was full of both of them for the first time and as much as it hurt, it was also staring to feel kind of delicious.

”I don’t– I can’t move,” I whimpered.

Kyle grabbed my shoulders, “Don’t worry, we’ll fuck the thought of any other guys right out of you,”

Kenny thrust up into me slowly and deliberately while Kyle was a lot more reckless. It felt like every muscle in my body ceased to work. I leaned helplessly against Kenny as I felt their cocks moving inside of me.

I whimpered, whined, and fuck, I moaned so fucking loud it had to have escaped the confines of the cabin.

After a particularly loud moan escaped from my mouth, Kyle slid his palm under my chin and grabbed my face.

His fingertips dug into my soft cheeks, “You should see yourself. You already look like you’ve been fucked stupid and you haven’t even come again yet,”

Then Kyle’s hand dropped down between us and started massaging my clit. He had no qualms about forcing me into an orgasm.

My muscles tensed and my eyes slammed shut as every bit of pleasure that had been building in my body overflowed and Kyle increased the pressure as it crashed over me like a tidal wave.

My silky, soft walls closed with my eyes and gripped them tightly. I was surprised by how loudly they were both groaning as they continued to fuck me together.

I tried to move but my muscles were so weak and the feeling of having both of them inside was too overwhelming.

I heard Kenny’s voice in my ear, “Fuck, you’re gonna make me come too soon,”

I panted like some kind of bitch in heat as my climax began to pass. Kyle pulled his hand from my clit and grabbed my shoulder and his hand clenched onto me. I had bruises the next day where his fingertips dug into my skin. When I told him about it, he just said “Good,” and kissed me.

Kyle started pounding into me harder while Kenny moaned deafeningly against my ear. I was in a daze but I’m pretty sure I felt him lick my neck up to my hairline while his free hand was really going to town on my breast. He alternated between caressing, squeezing, and pinching my soft nipple. He got rougher and less deliberate with the way he touched me; I knew he really was close to coming.

Kyle grabbed my face again, "Look at me,”

I made eye contact with him as he continued slamming into me remorselessly. My face felt hot and I knew my eyes were close to watering, his gaze was so fucking intense. I almost felt like I was on the edge of coming again.

“We’re fucking claiming you,” His fingers dug deeper into the tender flesh of my cheeks.

Kenny nipped eagerly at my ear, “We’re gonna flood your pussy with cum,”

“...What?” I was shocked.

They’d never come inside of me before. They always pulled out, and very early when we were first all fucking around they’d sometimes even use condoms.

I tried to turn and look at Kenny again, but Kyle kept me in his grip. He leaned down to kiss me and as I tried to meet his lips he stopped short.

His eyes scanned mine briefly and he smirked millimeters from my lips, “That means you belong to us,”

He kissed me hard, pushing his tongue into my mouth and I’m ashamed to say… I came instantly. Intensely. Intoxicatingly.

My head lolled back onto Kenny’s shoulder and my back arched as my entire body seized up. Apparently, the feeling of my back-arching orgasm was too much for them. Kenny told me later that the feeling inside of me was intense and powerful, he'd never felt anything like it. Ironic, because I felt truly powerless at the time.

The third orgasm was the most intense. My toes curled and of course, I could feel myself tighten all around them, gripping them possessively. My eyes rolled back as I saw stars and a trembling, whining moan escaped my lips.

Kenny’s hips bucked up into me suddenly and I felt a thick pain. A loud, shuddering groan poured into my ear and I could feel him pump every jet of his hot, wet seed into me.

Kyle’s orgasm was a little more controlled, but not by much.

He bit my bottom lip and growled deep into my mouth as his hips jerked into me and his thick, pulsing cock erupted in intense, sticky spurts.

When Kenny finally untied me and we all collapsed on the furry rug, I was once again grateful for the warmth of the fire. Kyle left slow, soft kisses all over my face while he held me. I’m pretty sure Kenny was asleep with his head on my shoulder, and his arm was draped over me too.

Everything between my thighs was sticky and wet.

I sighed contently.

Kyle was right.

I was theirs.

82 notes · View notes

darkcircles4lyfe · 8 months

Text

Behind the locked door

In honor of Izuku’s mask disintegrating into rubble, I think it’s finally time for me to really dig deep into his character. I’ve been keeping this one in my back pocket for a while. Amid all the talk about Izuku’s fading narration, the “control your heart” subplot, I’ve been trying to find the words to articulate how I know exactly where this is going, at least on a certain level. Most recently, I read this meta from pika who brings up how the word “control” alone can be misconstrued (by us). And then I thought about how a while back I made a similar point, although I said Izuku was the one who got it wrong. At that time, I was holding back a huge piece of evidence because it was external to the story and I wasn’t sure it would be received well. As a result, my argument fell a little flat. Well, now—after 411, right before leaks for 412—it might be my last chance to play this card.

So about that external evidence. I struggle to bring it up because it’s gonna sound an awful lot like I’m projecting onto Izuku if I don’t do it justice. But… I look at the way his storyline has been going lately and I see a pattern emerging that I’m very familiar with. Fortunately, I don’t have to dump a bunch of personal junk on you in order to illustrate this pattern, because a certain personality typing system already has it all figured out: the Enneagram.

Now, hang on. I’m not one to put people in boxes. My trans ass? I managed to get a different result every time I retook the P0ttermore quiz. MBTI, zodiacs—not my thing. But the Enneagram comes the closest I’ve ever seen to covering all the bases and revealing actually meaningful insight, at least for myself. On top of that, I find it extremely useful for fleshing out fictional characters, hence this post will be taking advantage of that.

For those who aren’t familiar with it, here’s a quick overview: The Enneagram consists of 9 individual personality types, each arranged carefully in a sequential, circular manner. They are also simply named 1 through 9. While this might seem kinda basic, there is actually a surprising amount of nuance and fluidity involved. Typing is done largely through personal introspection (you don’t really have to take a test). Adjacent numbers share some core themes with each other, and according to a web of arrows between them, one type can take on either positive or negative traits associated with other types depending on how emotionally ‘healthy’ they are, causing a lengthy spectrum of different ways each type can manifest. That part gets kinda complicated to explain here, so for more info, the Enneagram Institute website is a decent place to start. I also highly recommend the Enneagram album by Sleeping At Last (and if you really want to dedicate some time, the accompanying podcast) to really get inside the heads of the types on a deeper level.

My interest in applying the Enneagram to Izuku comes from observing how differently one can interpret his character based on whether you read him as a 2 or a 9. And even though no one uses this language to talk about him, the distinction accounts for a bunch of different rifts in the fandom: whether you appreciate bkdk’s relationship, whether you can acknowledge Izuku’s flaws and weaknesses, the severity of his vigilante/rogue phase, and most importantly the gravity of his concealed heart, his rage, and what it all means—what he needs in order to grow and triumph.

Discussion of Enneagram types in the fandom is pretty scarce, but where it exists, I have only seen him labeled as a 2. Type 9 and type 2 can be similar at a glance in a lot of ways (actually, 9s can be mistaken for any type because they are like all of them combined). It’s easy to see Izuku as a 2 because he is the helping hero archetype. He puts others’ needs above his own and he is always ready and eager to help. If you listen to Sleeping At Last’s song for 2, you’ll notice that it’s all about care and noble sacrifice with the underlying theme of neglecting or even harming oneself: “I just want to build you up, until your good as new, and maybe one day I will get around to fixing myself too.” Sounds pretty obvious, right? Well, here’s the thing. You really get to know what your type is by how it hits you where it hurts, so I like to focus on each type’s basic fear and basic desire, first and foremost, as a tell. A 2′s basic fear is of being worthless and unloved. Consequently, their most basic desire is to be loved. And 2s have been taught through their negative experiences that love is conditional, something they have to earn from others. They need to be needed. So let’s say you think Izuku is a 2. This means you consider his heroic, self-sacrificing tendencies to be a result of his growing up quirkless and being told he is worthless and powerless because of it. Through this lens, he is trying to prove himself to the world by being useful. Along these lines, you may also assume he is trying to prove himself to Katsuki. Taking this train of thought even further, you may interpret Izuku’s relationship with Katsuki as an obsession of his, where he is either blind to Katsuki’s more negative traits in favor of gaining his love and praise, or else bitterly determined to prove him wrong. This is how a 2 might behave in an unhealthy relationship with an 8, which, yes, I do think Katsuki is an 8. That’s a tangent for another time, though.

But does Izuku ever “need to be needed?” It’s worth noting that while 2s’ search for validation might seem insincere, it is actually motivated by a deep, heartbreaking insecurity. They think they don’t even deserve love unless they are useful to someone, so they do everything they can to be worthy. Does Izuku show signs of this motivation?

If I stop to think about it, I can’t exactly see this in Izuku’s character. Yeah, his dream is to be a hero, and in his childhood, he was denied that dream. However I think we need to take a step back from that for a second if we want to dig deep. I mean, a lot of the other characters also behave heroically, act selflessly, and strive to help. Does that mean all of them are 2s as well? Of course not. So let’s instead turn to observe how Izuku acts with his loved ones, friends, and peers in other/adjacent contexts:

Inko: He is committed to protecting his mother from fearing for his safety. He wants to be good enough to not cause her to worry, rather than good enough to make her proud or make her love him. Idk about his father but at this point I think it’s safe to assume he is deeply unimportant.

All Might: I would describe their relationship as one of mutual responsibility. Izuku feels a responsibility to uphold All Might’s legacy, All Might feels a responsibility to teach him well. Because of this mutuality, I don’t think it quite makes sense to say Izuku deliberately seeks approval for its own sake. You know what I mean? They may be a mentor and a pupil but in practice they are almost more like co-conspirators. They don’t really have a power dynamic going on.

Shouto, Tenya, other friends: Izuku seems to take an interest in what makes his friends tick, and he sets himself aside in order to both analytically and intuitively determine what’s wrong and how to solve it. Examples include his fight against Shouto in the sports festival, and his stubborn concern for Tenya’s reaction to his brother’s forced retirement. He will put himself in the line of fire specifically when confronted with another person’s inner demons. This is not a labor that is asked of professional heroes, it’s just who Izuku is. You can also extend this observation to how he sees through Tomura to Tenko, but I’ll get to that later. Basically, while 2s seek to help in all kinds of ways, a 9’s strategy is always centered on the realm of the mind.

Kota: Adjacent to the paragraph above, before Izuku literally gets into a position where he needs to save Kota, he becomes interested in the boy’s point of view out of genuine curiosity. He doesn’t go “oh no, this kid doesn’t like heroes, I better get him to like heroes.” Instead he seeks out information as to why he thinks that way, and patiently listens. He’s sorry about what happened to Kota, and he understands. Twice (ch 71 and 72), he recognizes the fact that everyone has their own point of view on quirks, and he can’t really do anything about that.

Mirio: This might be one of the most telling examples. Mirio is the platonic ideal of an All Might successor. He’s “perfect.” He even looks the part. While this initially makes Izuku uncomfortable, he doesn’t become insecure and defensive over it. On the contrary, he easily comes to the conclusion that actually, Mirio should have One for All. Just like that (ch 172). If Mirio hadn’t dismissed the “hypothetical,” he probably would have gone through with giving it to him. That’s not how a 2 would respond. A 2 would double down and aim to be better than Mirio by trying to establish some relationship of need, fueled by the insecurity. Their shared subplot with Eri would have looked pretty different, I think.

Katsuki: I’ve mentioned before that I believe their rivalry only exists because Katsuki put it there. First of all, we can see that after the sludge villain incident, Izuku weirdly takes Katsuki’s dismissal of Izuku’s help as practical advice. Like, “oh yeah, I guess what I did was pretty stupid and dangerous, and I’m not cut out for this hero stuff. Now I can move on and find a realistic career.” Hello?? He accepted that so easily. So Izuku clearly isn’t motivated by a desire to prove himself to Katsuki. Even when he proclaims he’s going to surpass him, it’s like he’s happily mimicking Katsuki, not reacting based on insecurity or pride. Izuku is content to meet Katsuki wherever he is, and he’s satisfied with whatever kind of relationship they are able to have, including a rivalry, so he isn’t vying for his affection either. We can observe this when he gives up the role of reaching out a hand to save Katsuki to Kirishima, and also when he thinks about how “blessed” he is to even have a normal conversation with Katsuki. He doesn’t push things. It’s also stated in Deku vs. Kacchan 2 that Izuku doesn’t excuse or overlook Katsuki’s “bad side” but still admires him for his other traits. This is not at all characteristic of a toxic 2x8 relationship.

When 2s are at their very worst or pushed into unhealthy situations, they tend to become more needy and self-centered, even downright manipulative. But at Izuku’s worst, when he went rogue, he pushed everyone away to avoid being a burden. When the refugees at UA tried to prevent him from returning, he was like, “you’re right” and would have turned back immediately if not for his friends, loved ones, and other people who care about him telling him it was all okay. Meanwhile, Katsuki, in true 8 fashion, was pissed off at being rejected and having to deal with Izuku’s stubborn and evasive side (oh yeah, have I mentioned 9s are actually stubborn as hell?), but he made sure to establish that they are (he is) here to step in when Izuku can’t handle things by himself. Katsuki even opened up and admitted to his own weaknesses to show why mutual support is so important. Tbh, a lot of the above can be construed as just super healthy type 2 behavior, but not this. The way Izuku acts at his lowest, and his dynamic with Katsuki? Totally different. Dead giveaway for a 9.

Let’s get into the type 9 itself in more detail to show how it applies to Izuku more deeply—seriously, it’s beat for beat. One of the key differences is, while 2s seek validation, 9s are actually resigned to the belief that they aren’t important. Similar to 2s, a 9′s basic fear is of separation, but their basic desire is actually just peace or harmony rather than love. Notice how these motivations are just like a 2’s, except they have the “self” part taken out. With that in mind, they “achieve” their basic desire through selflessness in and of itself, without the need for recognition. That’s not to say that 9s are better than 2s. In fact, a 9 can be worse, in a way. If unhealthy, they will seek peace at almost any cost to themselves. In other words, they can be more self-destructive while still under the impression that they are doing just fine. “Peace” may refer to the expression of empathy, fulfilling the needs of others, sheltering someone, or mediating a fight—but also to repressing their own opinions and needs, not “rocking the boat,” ignoring negative emotions, or becoming a vessel for someone else to vent to.

What about inner peace? 9s value serenity, and thus they have a complicated relationship with the most tumultuous of emotions: anger. On the surface, 9s look like the type that is extremely slow to anger and highly tolerant. However, as much as they would like to believe this about themselves too, deep down, 9s are afraid of what might happen if they lose control. My phrase for it is this: I feel like a bottled tornado. Personally, I also think of anger as a basic desire to make others feel your pain—not necessarily sadistically, but in an effort to be known, to be understood. The difficult thing to grasp, especially for a 9, is that this is NOT inherently a bad thing. It isn’t wrong to seek sympathy. On the contrary, it is harmful to tell yourself that getting angry is wrong, because it’s like telling yourself that your pain is wrong, your pain doesn’t matter.

The problem is it doesn’t stop there. A 9, in shutting down their anger, ends up with such a low opinion of their own heart, their other emotions dull along with it. They cry less, laugh less, love less. It’s often said that they “fall asleep” to themselves. It all starts with anger. It’s interesting to note how different this whole mindset is from toxic masculinity—where men only feel allowed/able to express emotions through anger. This is sorta like the opposite. Anger becomes the dam rather than the river. For Izuku, I want us to consider that his suppression of anger carries with it the implication that he is hiding other things, too. It’s a given. There’s a whole sea of feelings out there, and we can only see the waves hitting the shore. This brings me to the whole “control your heart” thing. I do think it is worth mentioning that Banjou didn’t just tell Izuku to exercise control. He also told him that his anger could be useful if it is harnessed. With this added context, “control” here means “to master.” And Izuku seemed to grasp this concept… sorta. I think that if Izuku is like a 9, we can assume he has trouble understanding how anger could be a worthy source of strength. His emotions in relation to Katsuki feel more like a weakness to him, a character flaw in a hero, who is supposed to be detached and selfless. But he’s trying to understand, even though he’s afraid of it. He essentially applied the same strategy he used for mastering OFA itself: incremental strength training. Which, okay. Take a moment to absorb how odd that is, in relation to emotions, specifically. Does one learn to cry incrementally? Does one learn to use anger by bottling a fucking tornado?? Like, what, you think you’re gonna be able to let out juuust the right amount of air to avoid an explosion??? No, man… if you want to be the master of your emotions you have to be willing to sit with them. Confront them. Listen to them. Take them in completely and accept them as a part of yourself.

For someone like Izuku, though, it is very difficult to imagine how this is even possible. Tomura, as with every villain, can be used to reflect his hero counterpart’s greatest fear about himself. Tomura literally touches everyone and everything with his rage, and as a physical manifestation of that desire to pass his own pain onto others, destruction radiates from his fingertips. Thus, losing control in this manner must be Izuku’s worst nightmare, as if he would be completely unable to stop the collateral damage like an infinite line of dominoes. But his anger is not something he can overcome, as such.

An overarching theme in this heroes vs. villains conflict is that the villains are not merely obstacles to be overcome. Just think back to Himiko’s bitter rejection of the heroic sense of superiority. She demanded not to be pitied, condescended to, or lied to. Likewise, the answer cannot be that Izuku needs to restrain himself where Tomura doesn’t. What purpose would it serve to show that Izuku is better than him? Certainly not saving Tomura. If this was a battle against AFO, it might have been a different story. In that case, Izuku would have to overcome his emotional manipulation tactics. Tomura, on the other hand, is not so strategic. With his strangely childlike tendencies, he must relish making Izuku mad because it brings them closer to the same wavelength. It’s his own twisted way or seeking sympathy, or at least, the closest thing to sympathy he can get anymore, because he believes he is beyond saving. With that in mind, Izuku isn’t going to get anywhere unless he rises to meet him. Izuku has to match Tomura’s hatred with equally strong emotions of his own, whatever they may be, or else face the loss of OFA (as established in 305). This is not an easy thing to ask of a 9, once they have started to pull the blood from their extremities, become cold and numb. Bringing back circulation is painful and makes the skin crawl.

In case you’re worried about the focus on anger here, I want to reiterate that concealed anger in a 9 is just one sign of so much more. Back when everyone started fretting about Izuku’s habit of self-sacrifice, which would have been the only thing we need to worry about if he were a 2, I was freaking out because Izuku was also starting to look like a person who has too many secrets. You don’t even have to acknowledge the possibility that he lied about what triggered blackwhip. It’s written all over his face all the time these days. It’s especially noticeable when you contrast him with Katsuki after all his own growth. Katsuki confides in people. He acknowledges his weaknesses. He enjoys being himself. He asserts his place. He thinks about Izuku all the damn time and now he even lets himself be soft about it. All this warmth while Izuku is distant, muted, and blank. I know all too well what this state of mind is like. Man, I hate secrets. You get to the point where you don’t know how to talk about even the simplest most inconsequential shit. And the bigger things? They’re like a growing snowball of words in your throat that cannot possibly fit out of your mouth. The “easiest” way to cope is to simply fade into the rhythm of life. Go with the flow.

Since 9s have a natural curiosity about the interiority of other people, they may choose to focus on that in order to divert their own attention away from themselves. Taken to the extreme, they will lose track of their sense of self. Like I said, you can see Izuku doing this as he fights, analyzing the psyche of his opponent, and his match against Shouto in the sports festival was a fantastic early example. They became friends because of how observant Izuku is. His emotional intelligence and intuition are very strong, but gradually, as he has taken on greater responsibilities and experienced more trauma, he has gotten worse at applying these skills to himself. You know, we go on and on about how his narration has been reduced to nearly nothing, and it’s not just an absence of introspection, it’s an absence of self. It creates a lack of ownership over the narrative—what should be his narrative.

Right now, he’s focusing on trying to see Tomura as a person, figuring him out. I think it would be really satisfyingly ironic if in the process, he ends up uncovering insights about himself instead. It’s about time we learn what Izuku’s secrets are. I don’t actually think that Izuku mastering anger will constitute the emotion that is strong enough to keep Tomura from taking OFA. Moreover, he can’t expect to reach Tomura’s core, Tenko, unless he exposes his own. Rather, anger is the conduit for Izuku to unlock something else. Think of the way he described how Katsuki is his image of victory. The feeling manifests when he asserts a stronger sense of self (the urge to win) and he becomes more free with his words. I have no doubt that Tomura has the power to make unfiltered honesty spill out of him. He knows how to bring out his selfish needs, his pain, his pressure points, his fears, his insecurities. Hell, maybe Mt. Fuji erupting is a metaphor. I want to see Izuku explode while Tomura watches with mad glee. But then I want Izuku to Realize Things such that it finally sets him free. Then, instead of Tomura witnessing yet another person he touches fall apart, he gets to see someone become whole.

"I let the scale tip, feel all of it. It's uncomfortable but right. And we were born to try to see each other through. To know and love ourselves and others well is the most difficult and meaningful work we'll ever do." --Sleeping At Last, 'Nine'

#you are very much welcome to send me asks about this and the enneagram etc because it's very fun to talk about!#bnha meta #bnha manga #bnha 411 #bnha 412 #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #character analysis #midoriya izuku #shigaraki tomura #bakudeku #bkdk #dekubaku #dkbk #lin speaks

310 notes · View notes

jadeazora · 10 days

Text

Honestly tho, Spinel's probably the best anime-original villain Pokémon's had. (Not counting the TRio, they're more comedic than they are a threat.) Most of the myriad poachers we've had over the years were pretty forgettable barring J, and she was more "overwhelming power and cool tech" than she was a schemer. (And her petrification gauntlet isn't even unique anymore thanks to that one dude from MPM) and most of the unique Team Rocket characters we've had were only around for a couple episodes, not really leaving time to get much of an impression from them.

There's a few good movie villains like Mewtwo and Molly, but they're more sympathetic rather than evil. Mewtwo is angered over being treated as someone's experiment and is trying to carve a place for himself in the world, and Molly is a kid who lost her family. But with the other evil movie villains like Kodai, Alva, the Iron-Masked Marauder, and Dr. Zed, we run into a similar problem of not being around long enough and it's mostly their tech over their intelligence that makes them as big a threat as they are. (I feel Alva was probably the smartest one? He was manipulating the prince, but it's an adult to a child. I feel Zed topped him in evil tho, since he successfully murdered two people-- I'm still pretty sure this is our first case of human-on-human murder in the anime--and thought he got away with killing an ACTUAL INFANT. When I first saw that, I was pretty shocked.)

With Spinel, every setback is a learning experience, and several of them weren't even things he could have anticipated, like Terapagos's pendant exploding out of his hand.

He's a pretty solid tactician tho, using his Magneton for interference with the Brave Olivine's systems and the RVT's phones, baiting Liko to come off alone and then mind-wiping her, ordering his Pokemon to attack from remotely so the group never sees his face (at least until he can't really hide anymore with the pendant going haywire), disseminating false information across the net to throw the RVT off the right trail, luring Friede into a trap because what are a couple kids gonna do in stopping them from getting Rayquaza (it was really more failure on the end of the other Explorers, he had successfully stalled Friede long enough at that point), and there's now his recent thing with getting Amethio expelled from the Explorers by framing him. (As a contingency plan in case his murder attempt against the kid failed.)

It's clear he's got his own agenda, and I'm curious to see what he's got in store for us now that one of Gibeon's most loyal pawns is gone, and now that Spinel is in Gibeon's ear 👀

#pokemon horizons #pokeani #anipoke #pokemon spinel #pokemon explorers #pokemon villains

65 notes · View notes

kolyasangel · 1 month

Text

NEW BEGINNINGS

synopsis: the new apartment complex you just moved into doesn't feel like home just yet, but you're hopeful you can make friends with your next-door neighbor.

content: ch. 1 of icarus falls - main navi / wc: 4.2k

A thud is heard when you drop a box on your foot.

You groan and stoop to pick the box back up. Thankfully, it wasn't that heavy, so your foot is alright. You should be at work right now, but you're thankful your boss knew you've been busy moving and had been kind enough to grant you a day off to settle into your new apartment. It's actually been a few days since you officially moved in, but you're still hauling items from your old uni dorm, plus your parents' house, which was a lot more difficult than expected.

You recently moved into this apartment complex with the hard-earned money you saved up. Although it was far from beautiful, it wasn't awful at all either by any means. But you do hope that one day, you can afford a house of your own. Daydreams often come to you about having a place you could call a home of your own, maybe even a cozy cottage surrounded by lush greenery and lots of vibrant blossoms. That sounds nice, right? The thought of a tranquil and secluded place is undeniably appealing, you have to admit. With your current job, affording something nicer than this seems like a distant dream, but you make it work since you're grateful for what you have now. Something is better than nothing.

Even though many people live in the complex, you feel like an odd one out in this building, as most of the residents are considerably older than you. Despite this, you've made it a goal of yours to become acquainted with some of your neighbors who live on the same floor. Sometimes when you're walking past them, you'll wave or exchange greetings, and perhaps even strike up a conversation when the opportunity arises. But there's still someone you've yet to meet.

Your thoughts are interrupted by your landlord, who has just finished inspecting the apartment to ensure everything is in order and that there are no issues with the place. Judging by his appearance, he seems visibly older, probably in his forties.

"Everything looks great, miss. The place is in pristine condition, just like new." He says with a chuckle.

"Thank you." you smiled at him and listened as he continued to speak.

"If you need anything or encounter an issue, I'm always available." he flashes one more kind smile before turning to the stairs and heading to leave.

Just as he was about to take the first step, you summon the courage to speak up. "Uh, sir, excuse me..?"

He turns to look at you, his actions halting when he hears your voice.

"Does someone live here?" You ask, pointing at the door to the right of yours.

He glances in the direction you are looking in. "Huh? Yeah, the guy's pretty depressed though. Probably not a good idea to talk to him." He laughs, finding his own comment humorous, although it doesn't sit well with you as you don't find what he said at all to be funny. Despite this, you try to downplay your reaction, concealing your displeasure at his words.

"Do you know his name?" you press further, your curiosity now piqued.

"Uh— Niko.. Nikolai, I believe. Yeah, that's the one." he rubs his chin as if he's thinking hard about the question.

"Nikolai.." You pronounce softly, the name rolling off your tongue easily.

"Well, if that's all, I'll be off then."

You nod and thank him again and watch as he walks off, disappearing from your sight.

You weren't sure of what he meant by what he said, but it left you with a sense of uneasiness. Maybe you should just stop worrying, it's none of your business anyway. At least that's what you tried to convince yourself to believe in an attempt to silence the nagging worry at the back of your mind. Just leave it alone.

A frown fell on your lips when you thought of his words again, causing you to bite the inside of your cheek as you recalled the distasteful words. Even if it was meant to be a joke, it was a poor one at that. No one deserves to be talked about in that way.

Interest in the person who lives next to you is only heightened, which compels your next action— Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Hello?" you call out to whoever might be inside, your knuckles still against the wood.

No answer.

Maybe you shouldn't bother.

You sigh and withdraw your hand, pulling away from the door and looking back at the ground. The few remaining boxes left outside your door were practically calling for your name, awaiting unpacking. However, you couldn't concentrate on unpacking anymore, thanks to the new information you'd just been informed of that completely derailed you. With some reluctance, you decided that you were going to attempt to delve into the task again, leaning down to pick up a box.

But that all quickly went out the window when your gaze was again drawn to the quiet apartment adjacent to yours. You don't know who or what possessed you to make the next move, because you found yourself standing up again and reaching for the handle of the neighboring door.

"What do you think you're doing?" A stern voice interrupts your actions, catching you off guard.

The suddenness and the daunting tone instilled a feeling of dread in you, the situation diverting into something you didn't expect. It causes you to retract your hand quicker than lightning, fearful of catching a glimpse of the person's face, probably angry with you. But in a fleeting second, your head turns anyway, and your gaze meets his. A cold shiver immediately runs down your spine when piercing, mismatched eyes peer back into yours. You observe his worn-out appearance and the grocery bags he's holding in his hands, his long white hair tied into a braid, and the unnerving scar running down his left eye.

"Watch where you're going." He says rather coldly before jingling his keys into the lock.

"I-I'm sorry.." You move away from the door and let him enter his apartment, leaving you standing there, feeling apologetic. "Um, I—!" You step back with a look of shock on your face as he slams the door.

Maybe he's just in a bad mood. No, he has every right to be mad at you— it literally looked like you were about to break into his fucking apartment. Great, this was the impression you left on the person who lives next door to you? Fantastic.

You realized it was by your own fault that provoked such a reaction from him, but recalling what you had just been told about Nikolai, all you were left with was a lingering sense of concern and curiosity.

— ✦

It's nearing afternoon, and you are getting ready for work. Since your job requires some moving around, you like to wear something simple and would rather be comfortable than anything while also considering practicality. But you still did like to make yourself all pretty, doing your makeup and hair being a simple but enjoyable part of your routine and overall day. Although, the heat of the summer has led you to opt for lighter, more refreshing makeup these days. After finishing up, you grab your belongings— car keys, wallet, lip balm, and put them in your bag, prepared to head out for the day.

On your way out the door, you see your neighbor standing on the balcony, his arms resting on the railing and his eyes focused on the view in front of him. He seems to be lost in thought.

"Good morning, Nikolai." You greet him politely.

Startled by the sudden voice, he turns his head toward you. "How do you know my name?" he asked with a hint of wariness laced in his voice.

"O-Oh um, the landlord told me. I promise I'm not a stalker.." You laugh it off, but he doesn't seem fazed.

"That's what a stalker would say." He says in a low tone, jokingly.

"What?"

"Nothing."

You look down at your feet, hoping he will break the ice as you are starting to feel uncomfortable in the silence that continues to prolong.

"Do you need something from me?" he eventually asks, noticing you aren't moving from your place.

Your ears perk up when his words register in your head. "I wanted to apologize for yesterday.. I know it looked like I was doing something bad but I promise that wasn't what I intended! I-I moved in recently and I just—"

He walks past you and reaches for the door to return inside his apartment, disinterested in what you have to say, having heard enough already.

"Wait!" You grab his arm in desperation. "I'm sorry for scaring you.."

"You..? Scary? Please." He looks at you with an unreadable expression before tugging his arm away from your weak grip. You're acting like you've already known each other for years. He has to wonder if you fake it, or if that must just be your personality. After all, he would know a thing or two about artificial personas.

"That's not what I meant.." you grumble, frustrated once again by his stubbornness.

"I'm nothing but a stranger to you, why are you trying to get close to me?" he shoots back.

"But, we don't have to be! I'm trying to make it so that's not our situation, I would like to know you a little better. You are my neighbor after all." You defend yourself.

Surprisingly, he lets out a chuckle, though it was seemingly a mocking one at that. "Do you do this with everyone you meet? There's a lot of dangerous people roaming around, you're going to get yourself into a very bad situation one day if you're not careful who you talk to, girl."

"But the fact that you said that makes me think you're not one of those people."

His eyes widen for a second before you continue to speak.

"Can I buy you a drink or something some time? As a proper apology?" You offer, hopefully, to elicit a positive response from him.

He was silent for a moment while staring at the door he wanted to so badly close on your face. "We'll see." He leaves it at that, undoubtedly not interested in drawing out the conversation.

"Really?" Your eyes light up at his words, leaving you with a spark of hope.

"Please, just leave me alone now."

That hope you felt for a short moment was quickly extinguished by his plea for solitude. You noticed the falter in his sentence contradicting his earlier coldness. Disheartened, you let go and step back in defeat, watching him return inside and close his apartment door.

There was something very wrong.

— ✦

"I like this one!" The cheerful voice of a customer rings in your ears.

"I'll get that one for you then, just a minute sir." You politely assure with a warm smile. You are arranging a bouquet for a customer who is planning to surprise his girlfriend, and he has just picked out the ribbon color to wrap around the flowers.

The soft pink of the ribbon perfectly complements the delicate pink tulips as you skillfully tie it into a flawless bow, taking a moment to admire your handiwork.

"Add in one of those white teddy bears too, I think she'll like that." the customer jovially adds.

You glance to your side, where an array of tiny gifts, such as small teddy bears and other stuffed animals, are displayed and available to add an extra touch of sweetness to someone's day. Choosing one of the teddies and placing it on the counter along with the bouquet, you ring the customer up at the cash register before handing over his new purchases.

The jingle of little bells on the door signals the departure of a pleased customer, a satisfied smile creeping up on your face as you watch the customer walk out of the shop. As stressful as your job could get sometimes, it was rewarding in the long run. Making people smile when they receive flowers is always the best part of your job. Moreover, it's a Friday today, so you also have a restful weekend to look forward to.

Your fingers tap on the counter as you stare at the clock, hoping your intense glare bullying the arms of the clock will impend them to move faster. The uncharacteristic impatience is unusual— because you actually like and enjoy your job. But there was something else on your mind today, plaguing your thoughts. Ever since Nikolai left you with a vague answer this morning regarding your potential hangout with him, it lingered in your mind, stirring a need for reassurance. You needed more confirmation from him, and perhaps, if luck was on your side, he would agree.

You don't know why you're so persistent in your endeavors. Maybe because you just want to make new friends, and Nikolai's dismissive behavior made you only feel more determined to bridge the gap between the both of you.

Post-college life has felt uneventful thus far, to say the least. Following uni, your friends moved away to further their education and achieve their dreams, off to different cities, countries even. Things have been quiet after graduation, and making new friends proved challenging. And amidst all this, you felt an undeniable sense of loneliness gnawing at you. It's only natural for humans to yearn for a connection, but you feel that the longing weighs heavy on you, especially nowadays. It all appeared too out of reach, too elusive to even hope upon. But, now that you had a chance to make a new friend, you weren't going to let the opportunity slip away from your fingers so easily. At first glance, Nikolai didn't seem much older than you either, so that was also a plus. Maybe the two of you would have some things in common if he was open to conversation, that was. His stubbornness, albeit making you feel a mixture of frustration, also fuels your determination to connect with him, feeling that there is more to him than what meets the eye.

Even now, you are working only with one other person on your shift. There were only ever a few people working in the shop, one of you handling arrangements and the front register while the other assisted and made deliveries on occasion. The tasks you needed to complete at work depended, based on what needed to be done on that day. Sometimes you engaged in conversation with your coworkers, but light chatter about the weather or what you ate for lunch was as far as your interactions went, evolving into nothing more than small talk.

As closing time neared, you began to close up shop, your movements more hasty than usual. You were eager to clock out and head to your favorite cafe down the road, which had become a post-work ritual for you. Locking the shop door with your key and hearing a satisfying click before exchanging goodbyes with your coworker, you look up at the sky, noticing that the sun is going to set soon. You pull out your phone and check the time— 7:13 p.m.

With anticipation, you walk a few blocks down until making it to the cozy cafe you've come to adore. A familiar chime of bells greets you as you push the door open, a reminder of the same bells you added to the gift shop entrance after a visit to the cafe— not being able to resist replicating the charm.

Usually, you order something simple, but the allure of the new summer menu catches your eye. So you decide to try something new and treat yourself to an iced strawberry green tea. Although you had to admit, you only ordered it because you were enticed by the cute strawberry drawing on the chalkboard that advertised the seasonal drink.

You pull out your wallet, fingers idly grazing the edge of the card while you wait in line after placing your order. While you wait, you take a moment to take in the lovely ambiance of the cafe— the soft glow of twinkling lights overhead and the relaxing atmosphere of the place. However, your peaceful mood is eventually spoiled when your gaze shifts to the pairs of couples sitting at the tables and groups of friends sharing laughter, briefly stirring an all-too-familiar pang in your chest. Your mind gets lost in the bittersweet memories shared with old friends when you were still a student. You wonder if your friends stayed in the city if they would spend time with you like they used to, if they would still call or text you like they used to.

Now that it comes to mind, you don't ever recall a time when you weren't the one reaching out and asking your friends to hang out with you first. It didn't bother you before, possibly because you didn't notice at the time, but the give or take of communication always fell upon you. A certain discomfort permeated your senses as you sat with your thoughts for a bit longer, your nails scratching against the plastic of your card in a vain endeavor to quiet them. Not wanting to wallow in your own thoughts, you quickly shift your focus so that your gaze is fixated on the floor instead. That is until you hear your name called, deterring your eyes from the ground. You pay for your drink, settling up at the register before exchanging a thank you. The coldness of the iced drink brings a chill to your fingers as you touch the cup and bring it to your lips, the sweet flavor of strawberry settling on your tongue, leaving you satisfied with your choice.

Leaving the cafe and heading to your car, your mind wanders again, a flood of old memories washing over you as you reminisce about your days in uni. It was pointless now to think about what could've been different, what you could've done differently. You know that. But you can't help but do it anyway, the reason why things turned out the way they did being unfathomable to you. Once inside your car, you take a deep breath before putting on your seatbelt and starting the engine. The soft hum of the engine lulls you into a reflective state as you begin to drive home, the route you're still becoming familiar with soothing your mind.

— ✦

As you park and step out of your car, you look up at the apartment complex and notice someone standing on the balcony.

It's Nikolai, and he's looking out at the sky. The sun was beginning to set.

Walking up the stairs to your apartment on the second floor, you catch a glimpse of Nikolai as his back is turned to you. You approach him calmly and comfortably.

"Hi, Nikolai." you say with a soft smile.

He turns to you. "Hey." he says, low and plain.

You were expecting a harsh comment or look from him, but to your surprise, he has a gentler look on his face, his eyebrows relaxed. Maybe he's in a better mood now.

Nikolai observes your tired expression and realizes you must've just returned from work, particularly eyeing your simple outfit comprising of jeans and a short-sleeved top. Wherever you work, he doesn't care enough to ask.

As you join next to him on the balcony, your eyes fall upon the sun that is dipping below the horizon, casting a warm glow over its surroundings and painting the sky in fiery shades. Sunsets never fail to bring a sense of peace and calmness to your day, there was something about them that made you want to delve into the awe and beauty of nature. After not-so-great days, the sunset was a reminder that a better tomorrow would await you, always giving you the feeling that everything was going to be alright.

Nikolai must like watching the sunset too, you assume. You thought as much as you shifted your gaze towards him, his usual expression and features softened by the evening light. However, you notice how he looks distracted or rather that he's thinking hard about something. Hesitation pervaded your mind as words sat at the tip of your tongue, daring to spill. But you decide that you shouldn't ask him about whatever was on his mind, worrying he'll get irritated.

"You stand here a lot." You comment instead.

His tone shifts into a light-hearted one, putting your worries at ease. "What do you mean? You've only seen me twice. Don't tell me you actually are a stalker?" He joked, his gaze not moving from the view ahead.

Feeling relief from his playful response, though still slightly embarrassed by your previous statement, you redden, wishing you would've eaten your words rather than speaking them out loud. "Well, I mean.. you were here this morning.. and right now. I'm just making an observation." you replied, almost stumbling over your words.

He hummed, nonverbally agreeing with your words.

"But then, why haven't I seen you before yesterday?" You asked, curious.

"I was busy."

"With?"

"Gosh, you're so nosy, aren't you?"

"I-I'm sorry." You murmur as your voice gets fainter, looking back towards the fading sunlight in the sky.

Nikolai looked back at you for a moment when you looked away from him, taking heed of the pink tinge of glow that spread across your cheeks. He watches the wind wafting away strands of hair before cascading over your flushed cheeks again as both his and your hair billow from the gentle breeze, finding himself incapable of looking away after noticing how the setting sun poured pools of orange and yellow into your eyes, creating reflections that swam around in your irises.

Noticing his gaze is now fixated on you instead of the sun, you confusedly ask him, "Is something wrong?"

For a moment, he seems to struggle to find the right words. His gaze averted from you swiftly, feigning indifference to pretend he wasn't doing anything. He had to look away before unwanted feelings rose in his chest. "No... I'm going, g'night." He hastily spoke before turning away, excusing himself.

"Wait!" you called after him, causing him to halt and look back at you, taken aback and visibly perplexed by your frantic voice. "About us hanging out, are you still down? I mean, you didn't really give me an answer last time.. so I wanted to check with you to make sure."

"Why did you want to in the first place again?" He asked, running a hand through his hair before stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, looking at you confusedly.

"As my apology to you, remember?" You explain, your voice growing quieter with sheepishness, replacing your previous tone. "And.. and I think it would be a nice opportunity to get to know each other and maybe become friends."

The reason is unknown to you, but the way Nikolai tenses up at your words is discernible, though he quickly composes himself before replying to you. "You're still thinking about that? Listen, I don't care about what happened yesterday. What's done is done, you don't need to do anything for me."

"But I want to." You insisted, looking at him with pleading eyes.

Gosh, you wouldn't give it up, would you?

Nikolai sighed involuntarily, taking some time to gather his thoughts before he carelessly spews out something unnecessarily mean at you. It's dangerous to get too close to anyone. Ever since what happened, since he died, he pledged to himself that he would never get close to anyone again. He cringed whenever he thought about how he committed all those atrocities and conducted a whole prison break years ago— all in the name of what? Freedom? What freedom? There is no true freedom. At least not here. He had to learn that the hard way. He'd become too overconfident and didn't realize it wasn't as easy as he had initially thought, and now he's stuck in this strange space in life where he doesn't know what to do with himself anymore. And yet, despite the chaos occurring in his head, clouding his mind, he knew he had to give you an answer. He figured that if he said yes to you this one time, maybe, just maybe, you would leave him alone after that. That's the only reason why you're doing this, right? You just want to show him you're sorry for your stupid mishap, and that's all. He didn't have any big plans for tomorrow anyway, and it was about time he actually did something else for once rather than his usual routine.

"As long as you don't constantly interrogate me." He eventually settles.

You held out your pinky to him, causing him to look at you with bewilderment at your childish display. "I promise I won't berate you with questions." you pledged, softly giggling.

And for the first time, you swear a genuine smile graces his face. He takes one hand out of his pocket and holds out his pinky, linking it with yours.

Maybe things will get better.

#fari's catalog 𝜗𝜚 #nikolai gogol x reader #nikolai x reader #bsd nikolai x reader #nikolai imagines #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x you #bsd x female reader

64 notes · View notes