#I'm tired. but in an accomplished kind of way | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

xxchumanixx · 2 months

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can you please do a tim bradford x fem reader where they are dating but he also her TO, so while they are on duty he is kinda harsh on her (like he is to lucy on the show) but off duty he is like so sweet to her. thank you <33

Sweet 'n Sour

Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Warnings/Tags: language, fluff

Word count: 1.098

Authors note: Hey love, thanks for the request! Actually thought about this kind of situation before, so let's see if I can make it come true (and match your expectations)! I'm a little nervous, but I hope you'll like it (at least a little bit)!

"God damn it, boot!" Tim shouted, slamming his car door shut angrily, making you flinch, before rounding the car and coming to a halt before you. "How many times do I have to tell you not to throw yourself in harms way at first sight!"

You were just back from a call were two kids were playing with a gun, when a shot fired, barely missing you, as you tried to stop them.

Tim had almost lost his mind, not talking to you on your way to your current call, until you had enough, provoking him until he had enough.

Rolling your eyes you briefly nodded, looking away from him.

Big mistake.

"Hey!" he warned, taking a step closer. "Don't roll your eyes at me, do we understand?"

Looking back up your eyes met his stern ones - nothing in those eyes hinted at the love he held for you in private, when the shift was over and you were lying in his arms at night.

Sighing you nodded, signaling him that you indeed understood.

"Good." he murmured, before turning around and walking towards the front door of the house infront of you.

Biting your lip you followed him.

You couldn't wait for your time as a rookie - as his rookie - finally being over. When he wasn't your TO anymore, you could finally stop the hiding.

At least after letting some time pass as to not look too suspicious.

Tim knocked at the door, as you joined his side, waiting for the owner to open it.

"Hello." a young man greeted you, when the door opened, his eyes nervously shifting from Tim to you and back.

Raising a brow you looked at Tim, who slightly shook his head. "Mr. Turner?" he wanted to know, looking at the man before you. He nodded, his hands nervously fidgeting at his sides.

"We're looking for a woman, her names Melissa McCarthey, and regarding our information she was last seen here, at your house."

The man chuckled nervously, again looking between you. "I don't know a Melis-" he wanted to respond, when he was interrupted by a scream, as a woman attacked him from behind, jumping on his back and hitting him on the head.

You jumped back in shock, as the collision caused them to stumble through the door and towards you.

Tim and you shared a look, both confused and shocked, before you went after them, pulling the woman from Mr. Turners back.

Tim handcuffed him, whilst you inspected the woman. Her clothes were dirty, her wrists showing signs of being bound together with ropes.

"Tim, it's her - it's Melissa McCarthey!" you told him, eyes wide in surprise as you recognized her.

"You're under arrest, Mr. Turner." Tim told him, shaking his head at the man, when he still insisted on not knowing her.

Whilst he took him under arrest, you called for an ambulance, checking the woman for any signs of injuries.

On your way back to the LAPD you looked out of the window, watching people enjoy their time off, walking dogs or riding a bike.

Sighing you were glad that your shift would be over soon, already looking forward to a warm bath and some tea.

"You okay?" Tim wanted to know, sparing you a glance, before looking back at the street. "Yeah, just tired." you responded, rubbing at your eyes.

"We didn't accomplish our goal for today, there is nothing to be tired of, boot." he responded coldly.

Barely holding back from rolling your eyes yet again you kept quiet, only nodding slightly.

When you entered the garage, you exited the car, slamming the door behind you in frustration.

He was right, you didn't accomplish your goal for today, something Grey surely had an opinion about.

"Tomorrow I want you to do 30 push-ups, before we go out there." Tim ordered, causing you to look at him in bewilderment, eyes wide.

"Wha-" you wanted to argue, but he cut you off. "40! For every time you complain ill make it ten more." he harshly gave back, eyes trained on you.

Nodding you accepted your fate, as you looked down, not wanting it to get even more push-ups.

It wasn't easy sneaking around, not being able to drive together or driving with your car to his house, so you took the bus, entering the house when Tim was already cooking, a delicious smell filling the room.

"Hey." he greeted you, smiling.

Every time you and him were together in private, it was such a stark contrast to his behavior as your TO, that you almost had to do a double check, just to be sure this was real.

"Hey." you gave back, smiling as well, as you put down your keys beside his on the dresser beside the door.

He met you halfway, his hands finding your hips as he kissed you. "I'm making dinner, pasta alfredo." he told you, his eyes finding yours.

"Perfect." you told him, smiling up at him, as he kissed you again, before he abruptly let go of you. "The pasta!" he shouted, as he ran to the stove, frantically stirring the pasta to not burn it.

Laughing you took off your jacket, hanging it up, before joining him in the kitchen. The food looked delicious, what you told him.

"Thanks, babe." he returned, placing a quick kiss on your temple, before he grabbed two plates, putting them down on the dining table.

You helped him by getting the cutlery, neatly putting it down beside the plates.

He finished the pasta, serving it before sitting down opposite you.

As you ate you didn't talk that much, besides a little smalltalk.

The food was delicious.

"What do you say if we take a bath afterwards? I bet your neck must hurt after today." Tim asked after finishing his pasta, taking a sip of his beer.

Nodding you smiled gratefully at him. "That would be nice."

He smiled back, standing up and rounding the table. "I'll run the bath while you eat up." He told you, kissing your forehead, before he went to the bathroom.

He really was the sweetest.

When you were sat in the tub together, he started to massage your neck, making you groan, satisfied.

He chuckled, planting a kiss on your shoulder.

"Thank you, baby." you mumbled, sighing. "Everything for you, love." he gave back.

"I love you, Tim. Even when you treat me like an ass at work." you told him, a smile stretching your lips. "I love you too," he returned, kissing your cheek.

"Boot."

#tim bradford x you #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford #tim bradford imagine #the rookie #the rookie x u #the rookie imagine #the rookie x reader #john nolan

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prouddogboi · 1 year

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Stray dog (Part 1)

To find the most recent chapters, please go to @doggoboigaugau 's masterlist

Pairings: Ghost x Soap x Male Reader

Summary: Male Reader is traumatized and forcefully refuses affection from Ghost and Soap even in his sleep.

Word count: 1852

Warnings: It's my first time posting my writing on Tumblr. There are so few CODxM!Reader fics I just want to contribute lmao TToTT. The warning is it can be shit because I'm new.

It was a successful mission. A tough one, yes, many soldiers got serious injuries and had to spend days in the hospital, but still, the mission was accomplished with minimal loss. The people at the base decided to throw a party at a well-known bar in the area. As usual, you stayed close to your team, until they left you all alone again for whatever they were up to: Ghost and Soap went into the dark corridor doing ‘secret’ business except for the fact that everyone knew what that business was; Price meeting up with the Captains of other teams, talking about the ‘kids’ in their care like the good ol’ tired dads and moms they all were; Gaz hitting up on some pretty guy or girl; and Roach just immersing himself in the music on the dance floor.

“The usual shot?” The bartender smiled at you. He was an ordinary-looking guy, not too tall, not too short, but he was always nice to you.

“Yeah.” You replied, eyes looking down at the empty glass in your scarred hand. Your usual shot was one of the heaviest types served at this bar, you found its bitter, stinging taste and the dizziness it brought about worked wonders for you, helping to repress the strong emotions that always came up to the surface to trouble you whenever you were off the field, whenever you were not having to fight between life and death. Free time and a mind that was offered the opportunity to relax were not something you felt grateful for. Instead, you loved being constantly stimulated when being in battles, since it left your mind no time to overthink unnecessary things other than trying to keep yourselves and your teammates alive.

“A successful mission, huh? Everyone is enjoying themselves a lot tonight.” The bartender said, clearly trying to keep talking to you as he was preparing your drink.

“It was.”

“Did you get injured?”

“Just some scratches, nothing serious.”

“You seem to do your job very well.”

You did. You were a good soldier. An excellent one even. You were showered with praise from the Captain, the teammates, the higher-ups… just anyone after almost every mission. Even Ghost himself had to admit that you were a good one. However, you didn’t know for sure what made you excel while most others didn’t. Maybe it was because every mission you paid no mind as to whether you would be alive or not. It was true that everyone in this line of work had to come to terms with the notion of death upon themselves, no one could be sure how many days they got left on this planet doing this kind of job, but you were still different. You weren’t actively trying to get yourselves in situations that would get you killed, because it often meant a great threat to your teammates too, but you were not one that would hold on to life that much. You were always ready to sacrifice.

“I notice that you’re always alone. Well, the others do join you, but after a while, they leave and you’re still here.” The bartender passed you the shot.

“They have things to do.”

“Why don’t you? Getting out there and having some fun.”

Fun? It did not sound fitting to who you were. “Thanks for the suggestion, but I prefer it this way.”

“By the way, can I ask for a guy’s number? The one with the mohawk.”

“You mean Soap?” You left out a soft chuckle, “Give up, mate. He already has a partner. A scary one.”

“Who?”

“The fuckin’ huge one with the skull mask. I’m sure you know well who he is and how scary he is.”

“What? That guy? I’ve always thought he’s into you though.”

This time you laughed out loud. The thought of someone interested in you was just so ridiculous, it felt surreal and impossible, “Ain’t no way, why would you think that?”

“He always looks at you with those piercing eyes, as if he will eat you up in no time.”

“Probably it’s because the Soap guy is always leaning over me. He’s so mad that I dare to get that near to his precious partner that he just wants to end my life right here.” You drank up the whole glass in one breath, then smashed the now empty glass on the bar, resulting in a huge ‘thump’ sound, mainly due to the fact that it was your fist that came into contact with the wooden material. It sent a burning feeling to your skin and fresh, but it was nothing compared to the physical pain you had to endure in battles or the mental one off field, when your mind was free to drift away.

“Could be. But I still think he is into you.” The bartender shrugged, knowing you so well that he went ahead to prepare another shot for you. Nights like this often led to you drinking non-stop until you were so drunk that you’d pass out, and that masked guy was the one who carried you back. That was another reason besides the intense glare that made him convinced that the guy was attracted to you. Well, the hot man with the mohawk was always there too, but he usually waited in distance and smiled at how the masked guy having trouble carrying you as you thrashed around in his arms, clearly too drunk to know that he was just helping you. But the bartender only thought that the mohawk and the masked guy were close friends. Now that you mentioned it, it was indeed possible that they were in love with each other.

Wouldn’t that make a love triangle though? The bartender threw a glance at you, studying you with amusement. Everyone loved some drama in their mundane lives. You were a handsome boy with sharp facial features, those damn bright eyes that lit up the whole place when you genuinely smiled, and all those strong muscles. He would’ve asked for your number instead if that scary big masked man wasn’t into you that much.

A few hours passed and the party came to its near end. All those smiling and laughing soldiers slowly hopped on the vehicles, making their way back to the base, clearly not wanting to wake up a mess the day after. They still had training as usual after all. One didn’t seem to care though. You collapsed on the bar, your handsome face grew red with how drunk you were and how much alcohol your body had absorbed. Ghost and Soap assured Price that they would bring you back safe before the tired dad of your Task Force got in the car with Gaz and Roach. They didn’t usually drink too much when they were off base, but you were quite the opposite. The team had no idea why you would pour so much alcohol into your mouth and stomach on these occasions, it was like you were grieving over something rather than celebrating the good news of a successful mission. Everyone in this line of work had their own past and troubles, but there was indeed something different in your troubles as they never felt that you were comfortable to open up. Soap even joked a lot about how much harder it was to get closer to you than Ghost. It was true that you were always smiling, chatting, and gossiping with him and Gaz and Roach over stupid things, but there was this invisible wall that you had built around your heart, unwilling to let anyone in.

Ghost and Soap got to the bar where you were lying.

“Come to get him?” The bartender was cleaning all the glasses that you and some other regulars used.

Ghost looked at you as your eyes were tightly shut, clearly not happy with your current condition, “Maybe next time don’t let him drink too much.”

The bartender raised his hands, “C’mon, I’m just serving my customers. He appears to need those shots to handle whatever emotions he’s having.”

Ghost and Soap turned their head to look at each other for a few seconds before Ghost stepped up and got you off the bar. You were too drunk to know anything, but surprisingly tonight you were very silent and cooperated well with your Lieutenant.

“Let’s take you back to your room, huh?” Ghost was content with this sudden change and Soap just casually used his strong hand to rub your neatly cut hair.

As Soap parked the car in the base's park, Ghost threw one of your arms over his shoulder and carried you off the vehicle. However, your tightly shut eyes suddenly opened, they widened as you turned your head left and right to make sense of your surroundings.

“You’re up early.” Soap said jokingly.

“He’s too drunk to understand your stupid sarcasm, Soap.” Ghost scoffed.

However, it took both men aback when they heard you sobbing. Soap was quick to cup your face with his palms, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

You shook your head, sobbing almost uncontrollably, trying to get your face out of his grip. One of Ghost’s arms went to your waist in an attempt to hold you in place and calm you down, but you started to act the usual way when you were drunk: thrashing around hysterically, as if you were striving so hard to escape from something inescapable.

“Let go of me!” You screamed.

“Y/n, calm down, calm down! It’s us! Ghost and Soap!” Soap tried to talk some sense into the heavily drunk you.

“Stay away from me!” You didn’t seem to listen. Feeling Ghost’s grip was still firm around your body, you got more and more violent. Screaming and kicking, you definitely hurt him in the process as you finally succeeded in getting away. You stumbled a few steps on the cold cement ground before you collapsed on it due to the perfect dizziness that you hoped the shots at the bar would gift you. You curled into a ball, trembling violently yet not from how cold the ground was. Shuddering sobs still escaped your lips, and your eyes were tightly shut again. Price and Gaz hurriedly ran to where you three were, their eyes filled with worry given how loud and heartfelt your screams were (Roach didn’t come with them because he also drank too much). The two men saw Ghost and Soap standing beside you, their arms were hanging in the air as if they were holding on to something, while you were there, laying on the ground sobbing and mumbling unintelligible words.

Luckily you quickly fell asleep again, still sobbing but unconscious enough for the men to carry you back to your room. They tucked you nicely into your bed, watching over your now peaceful sleeping face. Soap wiped the tears left on your cheeks with his hand, his mind questioning the reasons why you reacted so fiercely to them taking care of you earlier. When you finally stopped sobbing, they carefully left your room. There were things to be discussed, but they could wait.

to be continued bc I have class tmr and I need to sleep :D

#call of duty #cod #cod x male reader #ghost cod #soap cod #john price #gaz cod #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghost x male reader #soap x male reader #price is a tired dad #mw2 x male reader #roach cod #cod x reader #it's 3am in the morning im fvcked guys #angst #cod angst

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astrid-sama · 2 months

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What if a reader x carmilla but reader sold their soul to Carmilla as a show of love and devotion to her? Like either they were already dating, or they confessed and gave her their soul when she accepted.

(Hi, thanks for your request, I'm sorry it took me so long to write it, but I wanted to give context to your request)

Carmilla Carmine x fem reader

The first thing I thought of when I realized I was in hell was "what did I do to deserve it?", even today I can't give myself an answer, while alive I had always been told that to end up in hell you had to have accomplished horrible actions, but I had never done anything wrong; the only blame that can be attributed to me is my death, I was killed, due to my naivety, by what I believed to be the love of my life.

At first I was quite surprised by hell, I imagined it as a great chasm that descended to the bowels of the earth inhabited by sadistic demons whose aim was to make your eternal damnation an agony, but instead it was a large city and to make your eternal damnation and torment were not demonic creatures but other sinners.

When I had resigned myself to my eternal "life" of suffering, I met the person who made me feel like I was in paradise without ever having even seen the golden gates of heaven.

The first time I met Carmilla was during the extermination, I had recently arrived in hell and I didn't know that once a year the angels came to kill sinners.

I was about to be killed by an exterminating angel but then she came and saved me.

When, after having made the angel flee, she held out her hand to help me stand up and asked me how I was, I felt my heart skip a beat. I don't know exactly what Carmilla liked about me, but after that day I was no longer alone in hell, at first I found an acquaintance, then a friend and finally a lover.

Carmilla had introduced me to her daughters before we even got together, she was very happy when she saw that we got along well, in fact within a few months I had become their "second mother".

The day Carmilla confessed her love to me and asked me if I wanted to be her girlfriend was the best day of my life.

Our relationship was perfect and made me realize how different our relationship was from what I had had in the past, Carmilla was always kind and loving to me, she gave me black roses (my favorite flowers) because she wanted to and not as as a sign of apology for hitting me, she never had outbursts of anger because I went out with my friends or because I didn't answer her phone calls; and the more time passed the more my fear grew that one day all this would end, it wasn't often that I was able to express my love for her to Carmilla and I feared that if I wasn't able to show her that I would be hers forever she would get tired of me (like my ex who had finally killed me).

I began to think about the best way to show her my undying love for her and finally decided that I would give her my soul.

I had organized a romantic dinner at our house and asked Clara and Odette if they could leave us alone for the evening.

My heart begins to beat faster with anticipation when you hear the door open symbolizing Carmilla's return.

-Welcome back-

I said and Carmilla greeted me by kissing me tenderly on the lips.

-How was your day?-

-Good now that you are here with me, mi amor-

I felt my cheeks heat up at the cute nickname, oh how I loved when she spoke to me in Spanish.

-Come love, I gave you a surprise-

-Did I do something special to deserve a candlelit dinner?-

-Why can't I treat my girlfriend well? Come let's go eat-

The dinner was very pleasant and Carmilla's hand remained on top of mine the entire time.

After dinner, Carmilla and I sat on the couch so close our knees were touching.

-Carmilla, I wanted to give you a gift, since you usually give me gifts-

-Mi amor there was no need, you are enough for me-

Carmilla said and then kissed my hands.

-Of course there is a need. I wanted to give you something that could show you how much I love you and that I would do anything for you; I want to give you my soul-

I expected Carmilla to be happy, but instead the emotion I saw on her face was bewilderment.

-Mi amor, don't joke with certain things-

-I'm serious -

-Why do you want to give me your soul?-

-I want to show you that I love you and that I will love you forever and there is no better way to do it than to give yourself to you-

-Mi amor why do you think you have to prove something to me?-

-I I...-

I didn't know what to say, I wanted to show Carmilla that I loved her as she always did for me and I had believed that giving her my soul would be the best path, I wanted to avoid having doubts about our relationship, I wanted to avoid it ending up the way it ended with my ex because maybe if I had shown him how much I loved him he wouldn't have had any doubts about us maybe he wouldn't have killed me maybe...

-Mi amor please tell me what pushed you to do something like that, you know you can tell me everything.-

Carmilla looked very worried.-

When I was still alive I had a relationship, he was very possessive and wanted me to prove to him that I was his but I didn't do it and I ruined everything and in the end he killed me; I was afraid of ruining everything with you too-

-Mi amor possessiveness is not a sign of love, the person you were with before was toxic and if he had really loved you he wouldn't have killed you. I don't need you to give me your soul to love you, I just love you-

-Please forgive me, I didn't realize how toxic what I wanted to do was-

-It's not your fault mi amor, it's the fault of that bastard who made you believe that those things were normal in a relationship. Mi amor I love you more than my life, if you want I will always be by your side and I will help you overcome the wounds that your past reaction has left you.-

#hazbin hotel #carmilla carmine #carmilla carmine x fem reader #carmilla carmine x reader #hazbin hotel carmilla carmine

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fastcardotmp3 · 1 year

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thinking about Max and the Munson's living across the way from each other post s3 again, but maybe specifically Max living across the way from Wayne post s3.

Wayne Munson knows what a kid looks like when they hide behind well practiced and carefully crafted defense mechanisms, after all, and he recognizes a kid with too much responsibility on their shoulders.

He sees this teenage girl with the pigtails and the hard eyes who doesn't answer the door when her friends come to call even though Wayne saw her sitting on the porch twenty minutes ago; who is always the one bringing groceries home on foot even when her mom's car is there; whose bedroom light is too frequently on when Wayne gets home before the sun even has the chance to think about rising.

And he's not gonna overstep about it, he has no intention of making this girl uncomfortable because he is a stranger to her and he knows how both he and Eddie look on a first glance, wouldn't blame her for not being entirely trusting, but he keeps an eye out for her anyway.

Tells Eddie too-- "She's home alone a lot, you make sure no one tries takin' advantage, hear?"-- even if Eddie is mostly preoccupied with his own shit most of the time, because if Wayne can recognize a kid hiding, a kid carrying too much around on that skateboard of hers, then Eddie certainly can too.

"You adopting another stray, old man?" is Eddie's response, but he glances out through the blinds at the trailer across the way with a heaviness to his shoulders in understanding at the sight of that girl sitting on the porch with her headphones on and a school book in her lap that she's decidedly not paying any attention.

"Something like that," Wayne claps him on the shoulder, squeezes as he passes by, but he doesn't think anything will really come of it.

There's not much they can do except keep an eye out, carry the Mayfields' paper up to the porch on rainy days so it won't get soggy and unreadable, offer a wave and a kind word and a reminder that "if your Mama ain't home and you need something, you just give us a knock," despite the brush off he gets every time.

And then one night-- one morning really, before the sun is about to rise-- Wayne pulls up at home after his shift to find Eddie standing out in the snow, odd enough in and of itself made odder by the fact he isn't alone.

"--don't know what you think you're gonna accomplish here at four in the goddamned morning, Harrington, but--"

"I mean, that doesn't feel like any of your business."

"You're parked outside my home, yeah it's my business," Eddie gestures broadly at the unfamiliar BMW the two of them are standing next to as Wayne clambers out of his own truck on tired legs and overworked shoulders.

He needs a hot shower, a good, long sleep.

But Eddie is getting in this other kid's face and it's--

"I'm parked outside that home," Harrington, big coat and gloves but thin pajama pants poking out underneath it all, points at the Mayfield trailer with exhausted exasperation and something tinged with a bit more urgency too, "and I don't know you, man, nothing I do is any of your business--"

"Steve come in-- do you have visual yet, over?"

"Jesus Christ," Harrington reaches into the front seat of his car, yanks out a radio that has Wayne's eyebrows shooting up even as he approaches them, the impatient and anxious shift of Eddie's untied sneakers in the December slush. "Gimme a minute," he says into the walkie-talkie, "I told you I'd call when I did."

"Yeah, but it only takes you ten minutes to drive to her place and--"

Harrington shoves the antenna down and shuts the thing off, just as Wayne finally stops beside his nephew with a hand at his elbow.

"Everything alright here, boys?"

Wayne knows his kid, is the thing, so he knows the protective tension in the cross of those arms, the furrow of his brow, knows that Eddie is maybe seeing himself in Max Mayfield a little too fully on this night, dragged out of his bed by god only knows what to argue with a Harrington in the brisk wind of winter.

And Wayne knows his kid, so he recognizes the work of his jaw when he's about to burst out into a spiel to make himself the target instead of whoever he's put behind him this time around, but he doesn't get the chance to start before he's being interrupted.

"Steve, why are you harassing my neighbors."

Flat and unimpressed but shaky around the edges like she's not quite getting enough air, the orange glow of the light inside her trailer spilling out past her into the blue of night as Steve Harrington's legs all but give out with a breath of--

"Oh, thank god," he shuts the door to his car behind him as he takes a few steps closer to him, Eddie trailing like he's ready to literally put his body between them instead of just figuratively, "are you okay?"

"I'm not the one driving around town in the middle of the night, what are you doing here?" she crosses her arms, doesn't leave the cracked doorway at the top of the steps and Harrington doesn't try to climb them either.

And then it's a quick, well-punctuated punch of a conversation in which Wayne feels like he's missing about half the facts, standing by nonetheless.

"Lucas walkied."

"I told him I was fine."

"You called him at three A.M. and hung up on him without explanation," Steve points out surprisingly levelly.

"Yeah. After I told him I was fine."

"Max."

"I thought I wanted to talk about it and changed my mind."

"You know he'd listen."

"I can't-- you know I can't--"

"Yes you can."

"Not about him. Not to Lucas."

"To me, then," Steve throws his hands up in exasperation, and Wayne can feel something crackling in the air.

It's the same thing that had been there the first handful of times Eddie had picked a fight with Wayne after he first moved to Hawkins, looking for the line, looking for how far he could go before it all went to shit again.

Wayne knows this girl, even if he doesn't know her, because years ago he'd brought a boy with a buzzcut for a visit and he'd never left.

Which is maybe why he speaks up even though he knows how that boy would've reacted.

"If you need something, kiddo..."

"I need everyone to leave me alone," she snaps, striding out all the way onto the porch, only the bravado of it falters when the door slams shut behind her and she all but jumps out of her skin. "Fuck. God, shit, that door--"

She opens it again, yanks it nearly off its hinges just to slam it once more like she's trying to break the thing.

And now she's definitely not getting enough air. Now she's--

"Max, hey, alright--"

"Buddy, I dunno--"

"Back off, Munson, this is really not your business," Harrington shoves past Eddie and strides up the steps as Max slumps down onto the top one, arms wrapped around herself and Eddie looks ready to fight but Wayne just.

He doesn't know Steve Harrington, doesn't even really know his family beyond the way of small towns and knowing names and the neighborhoods in which they reside, but he knows a kid in distress leaning towards safety even if they don't believe they deserve it and Max Mayfield is leaning towards him.

Not Wayne, not Eddie, but this kid with the walkie-talkie and-- is he wearing two different shoes?

Wayne waits the compulsory moment to see Max really fall apart, right there into the fabric of Steve's coat as she keeps her hands tucked under her arms but catches her breath with that one point of contact-- forehead to shoulder-- as Steve speaks gently, words getting caught in the wind. As she stutters out rattling feelings right back.

"The door slammed when she left for work and I-- thought he was-- back again-- I thought-- and I shouldn't've-- not Lucas-- not for, for this--"

Wayne crosses the distance between him and Eddie, hand on his shoulder dragging him out of his own head, wherever it is he goes when his gaze goes glassy and tired like it does now in the gray glow of this place as the snow starts up again.

"You did good," Wayne murmurs, tugging Eddie back towards their own home, just across the way. "Good job, Ed, she's gonna be okay."

"She's..." Eddie clears his throat, looks so much younger than he is for a moment.

"Being looked after," Wayne says with a certainty he wouldn't have felt about the matter a day ago, Eddie following him listlessly back up the steps to the unlocked front door. "You did good."

"I didn't do anything," Eddie frowns, the pink of his cheeks and his nose practically glowing once they're inside.

"You showed her you've got her back," Wayne tells him without room for argument, pulling off his winter coat and moving to heat up water on the stove even as Eddie peeks through the curtains again, seemingly unable to accept that nothing bad is going to happen tonight.

Wayne can't be sure what put him in this state of mind, how he even got alerted to Harrington's arrival in the first place, but he knows he'll find his way back to solid ground soon enough.

Hot tea and warm clothes, when Wayne pulls Eddie away from the window, he catches sight of Steve speaking into the walkie with one hand and holding Max to rest against his shoulder with the other.

He'll make sure they get out of the cold before he goes to bed, but for now he has his own kid to sit with in the ghosts of past hauntings brought back to life for the night.

"We gotta keep an eye out for her," Eddie mutters as he accepts the mug Wayne hands him, feet tucked up under a blanket on the couch.

Wayne sits down next to him and props his tired feet up on the coffee table with a heavy breath.

"We will," he says, because he knows there's no discouraging Eddie now.

The kid learned his habit for picking up strays from somewhere, after all.

#dot post #dot fic #this was a three sentence thought that turned into 'oh wait I have feelings to share' so whoops #eddie munson #wayne munson #max mayfield #steve harrington #tw implied child abuse #I entered this fandom having feelings about max and eddie bonding and here I remain

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pyrrhiccomedy · 3 months

Text

the one thing I have heard probably the most consistently, from the most people, since being diagnosed with breast cancer, is that I have a "good attitude;" meaning, that I make jokes about having cancer, which makes whoever is listening to me feel better about the fact that I have cancer.

Here's the thing - the worst part of having cancer (so far, in my experience - I'll update as this progresses) is having to live with the constant, oppressive dread that right now, somewhere in my body, a cancer cell is taking root in my bones, or in my lungs. That it will silently grow, and spread, and eventually become rampant and untreatable, killing me decades before my time, and I won't know that I'm on that course until it's too late to do anything about it. That I will have to leave my wife alone, that she will have to watch me die painfully and without dignity, and that I will leave this world without having had the time to see so much of what makes it beautiful and strange.

this is not a funny thought!

However, the second worst part of having cancer is - okay, so they removed the tumor, right, and at the same time, they also removed a clump of lymph nodes in my armpit. They do that to test whether or not the cancer has spread. So coming out of surgery, I have two incision sites: one above where the tumor was, and the other one on my trunk right about where your bra passes under your arm.

And that means I'm not allowed to wear deodorant for ten days.

Imagine me: stinky, in my bed. I am an adult woman with a beating heart. I will not claim I have any greater share of dignity or wisdom than a typical example of my cohort, but I have lived and learned and erred, and amassed a small collection of accomplishments which I would not be ashamed to present to God at my reckoning, should such a being exist, and should such a reckoning take place. Times when I have shown meaningful kindness to someone when it would have been more convenient or popular to do nothing. Times when I have told a necessary truth to my own painful detriment. Things I have made that possessed, to at least a meager measure, a glimmer of genuine beauty. Trust I have earned, and not betrayed. I'm not a saint, but my soul is not nothing, and as I am forced to reckon with my own mortality in a way that few people my age ever do, I, like - I smell pretty bad? And like - my armpit is, like, clammy. I mean, how long has it been since you didn't wear deodorant for multiple days. There's a change in texture that I was not expecting. Just in the right armpit! The left armpit is fine, she gets to have deodorant.

But like, stress makes the B.O. situation not so hot, and I'm medically prohibited from doing the one thing that would rectify the situation. I own deodorant. It's right over there. I can see it from where I'm sitting. I am sure you understand of course that I am immersed in greater miseries. Even aside from the existential dread of having cancer - the incisions are painful. I'm very tired. I have two blown-out veins from when the anesthesiologist struggled to find a workable injection site before the surgery, so I have some wild bruising, and I can't really bend my left arm. But these are afflictions with some dignity. To have pain or fatigue after surgery is rather ennobled in the common discourse. But - do I have to smell like ham, too?

Must I smell like rank ham?

Of course the solution to the ham smell is just to take more showers, but bathing after surgery presents its own category of woes, which are also not particularly dignified. And it's here, caught betwixt the Scylla and Charybdis of 'smelling like old meat' and 'unwinding my boob from its surgical sling to take another ride around the wet room rodeo' that I find the humor in my situation. The feeble ape rails against her trivial but intractable stink!

And that humor spreads - much like cancer! - to everything else that it touches. It is, actually, very funny to tell someone that the joke Christmas gift they got for me is probably what gave me cancer. It's funny, when people find out I got my diagnosis on January 2nd, to blandly follow that up with "--So, 2024, not off to a great start, but 2025 is going to be my year." It's funny, when someone invites me to something we both know I probably don't want to go to, to suck air between my teeth and go, "Ooh, I would, but, you know--the cancer. Yeah, I can feel it flaring up right now. Maybe next time."

Things are funny when they subvert your expectations. People expect you to treat your cancer diagnosis very gravely, and so it's funny - to them, and to me - when I don't. And then they tell me I have "a great attitude."

"You'll be fine," I've heard over and over again. "You have a great attitude. That's the most important thing, in this kind of a situation - keeping a great attitude."

I certainly hope that's true! There is definitely plenty of science to support the idea that a positive mental attitude has an impact on health outcomes. I think the effectiveness of modern chemotherapy drugs, and the extent to which my particular cancer responds to them, will have a significantly larger impact; and that moreover, it's probably prudent to remember that people with great attitudes die of cancer every day. But I will not turn my nose up at a percentage point or two perhaps coming from the willingness to crack jokes about all the cancer I've got, and how surprised I was to learn that I'd got it.

As I suggested up top, I know that when people say "you have a great attitude," they sometimes genuinely mean that they are pleased to find me in a mental state that might increase my chances of recovering from a deadly disease, but mostly they mean "thanks for not being a huge bummer about your cancer. I appreciate you for not ruining my day about it." And I'm completely okay with that. Like, yeah - I am deliberately sparing you from the burden of having to Take Seriously my life-threatening condition. You're welcome. I, too, would rather avoid this conversation on one of the finite number of Thursdays God has seen fit to grant unto the measure of our lives. What the fuck are you supposed to do about any of this?

(Shout out to my one good work buddy who, on hearing the news, instantly responded with "Oh my god, Geri Hallwell aka Ginger Spice also got breast cancer young! You're like twins!" Thus far he is the only person who has said something in response to the news that actually made an immediate, positive impact.)

So anyway, obviously all I ever say in response to "you have a great attitude" is "Thanks! I'm just focusing on the positives and taking it a day at a time." Because that's true, and moreover, it's all anyone needs to hear.

What I'd like to say - not to them, because there's no point in burdening them any further than the embarrassing reminder of death burdens anyone - but maybe to someone, maybe just to You, maybe that's why I'm writing this -

What I'd like to say is: dogg, you have no idea how subverted my expectations have been lately. How could I not find this funny?

How profoundly alienated from the absurdity of death would I have to be to not laugh about this?

Like - I know this is so stupid, but listen: I could die. No, no - listen - no I know everyone dies - but like - are you listening? Are you actually listening? I could die. I could die. I could die. I could die.

Isn't that so funny? Isn't that actually so funny?

And this - this attitude that I'm in, right now, this one right here, where shaking my head ruefully and marveling at the - maybe belated, but I think probably actually quite premature - realization that oh no, 'everyone dies' means for me too, huh - and laughing at myself for never, apparently, really grasping that until now, and laughing at the incredible statistical unlikelihood my cancer - I've never won anything before! - and laughing at how woefully ill-prepared most people are to respond to news like this, and laughing about how, of everything terrible about cancer, the actual number-two-on-the-list worst thing about it so far is that I can't put on deodorant -

Is this the great attitude you're talking about?

I'm not angry, I'm not resentful, I'm curious, I'm really curious. Do you understand why I'm laughing?

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sunandmhoon · 5 months

Text

Love Songs

Genre: fluff Pairing: Jeonghan X Reader “He thought about your mind, how crazy it must be, how tiring it must be. Who’s on your mind right now? Who has your time? Who have you been seeing? Why couldn’t you just be his?” w/c: 1926 a/n: Hello~~ new story hehe!! Also it’s fluff this time wooohooo. Also idk if you’ve noticed but every svt story so far has been based off a song…hmmm i wonder why that is?? (also I didn't proofread this so I'm sorry for any inconsistencies) ps: pics are from pintrest ctto :) MASTERLIST; OTHER WORKS Jeonghan was never a person that falls in love easily.

It’s not that he’s anti-romantic, or that he hates the concept of giving love or receiving love. In fact, on some days when the rain gets too loud, the room gets too cold and the sky gets too grey, he longs for a nice warm hug from a person that he loves.

He’s had girlfriends before, but they always end in the same way. The same, ‘it’s not you, it’s me” argument. And it is true, he can never find himself infatuated with a person for more than a month. He still finds them attractive of course but he’s never been interested in them, their goals, their big dreams or even their small ones.

That was until he met you.

Meeting you was like an angel appeared at his door; like a gift from cupid to cure his lonely heart. A gift in the form of a new roommate.

Seungkwan was staying in the flat with him before he moved out to his hometown, leaving behind his room and another part of the rent he had to pay. In his absence though, Seungkwan–ever the social butterfly– recommended the place to you, and although Jeonhan was wary at first, he definitely had to thank Seungkwan now.

When he first met you he felt as though his house was graced by a higher being. The sun flooded into the room in golden rays, shining around you, creating a halo above your head. And though he was the known heartbreaker around town, he felt his palms go sweaty and his ears turn hot. And when you spoke, he felt he got worse. Your voice sounded just like it was dipped in honey; smooth and sweet. He could listen to it forever. Your expressions were kind and gentle, you were the type of person that could lure anyone into your charm like a siren in the sea.

He was attracted to you, so so attracted to you, but he brushed it off. It was probably just that, Attraction, nothing more.

As the days went by you two grew closer. First it was catching each other in the kitchen at 3am for a midnight snack. From then on you started talking to each other more. You find out that he’s been living in the flat for five years, he finds out that you just moved to the city. He’s taken you around the area to get you familiar with your surroundings, you’ve cooked him dinner in exchange (and because he only eats ramen in the house). He’s introduced you to his friends, you’ve introduced him to your family.

You even go to him when you need to rant. School’s being annoying? Go to Jeonghan, Your parents are being annoying? Go to Jeonghan, the neighbour that for some reason finds the need to be up at 4am every single morning watching their soap opera at full volume with their door open is being annoying? Go to Jeonghan. Just like the new flat’s been your physical home, Jeonghan has been your emotional home.

You tell him everything, and even though he loves it, he loves that he could be a person you can come to–can talk to and rant to about your hardships, feelings, accomplishments, he somehow hates it when you come to him for advice on love.

“How do I get a boyfriend, Han?”, “Why don’t guys like me?” to “Han, I’ve been talking to this guy”, “what do you think of him?” to the dreaded, “He asked me out on a date!”, “How do I look?” he’s been there through it all. And he won't admit it–he can’t admit that he likes you, he can’t admit that he hates when you tell him not to wait up for you because you’ll be at Woozi’s for the night. He can’t admit that it bothers him that you come home, greet him and go to your room. He can’t admit that he’s lonely again, and that he misses when you would talk to him late at night about your dreams, inspirations, aspirations, goals or even just your shopping list.

And most of all, he hates that you have him listening to love songs. He never used to listen to love songs on purpose, let alone with someone in mind. Love songs have plagued his playlists, and he dreads the day that spotify wraps up his year into one big lovefest. You were sea, sunshine, star and moon; you were his cocoa butter kisses; you were what comes up in his mind when he listens to Daniel Caesar, Frank Ocean and even Drake. You were his in his mind, his playlist, his heart but not his in real life.

He started doing his work in the living room just to see your face, to see you in the kitchen, on the couch or even leaving for school or work or to your boyfriend’s house, because the longer you were with Woozi, the shorter you were in the house.

That was until one day when he came home from work. The world seemed to mirror the same sad mood he’s been in for the past month; heavy rain, grey skies, cold air. It was the kind of weather that made him feel even more lonelier than he already was. He was just about to pass the living room to go to his room when he noticed you asleep on the sofa.

You looked so peaceful that he didn’t want to move, afraid that even the smallest step could wake you up from your slumber. He stood there for what felt like hours but were only a couple of seconds when he was suddenly snapped back to reality with a cold rush of air down his spine. The room was getting colder, he noticed, and he saw you rustling around the couch–no doubt affected by the coolness too.

He saw that your shoulder was exposed to the cool air and quickly but quietly rushed to get a blanket. He placed the blanket over your body, gently tucking the ends to your sides, effectively blocking any coldness from reaching your skin. He froze as you moved, thinking you had woken up, but sighed as he saw you snuggling into the warm comfort of the blanket, continuing your peaceful nap.

He cleaned the area around you, the tissues, empty soda cans, empty chips. You must’ve eaten yourself into a food coma, he thought, smiling at the thought of your well fed self falling into a deep sleep. However his smile dropped as your phone lights up. Rows and rows of notifications piled up on your lockscreen, all from your boyfriend begging you to ‘take him back’, ‘forgive him’, ‘trust him to do better’. And then it made sense to him. The food, the tissues, your exhaustion.

Once he finished cleaning up, he just couldn’t find himself to leave you in the living room all alone. You must have been sad, angry, upset, tired and vulnerable right now, and he would hate himself if he knew he was leaving you in such a state.

He also couldn’t get over the last notification he saw from your phone–he knows that it wasn’t the best thing to go scroll your notifications, but it was there and he couldn’t help it (pls forgive him)-- ‘I can be better than him’.

Him?

Is there someone new?

He sat on the ottoman, beside where your head was laying on the pillow and watched as you breathed. Your chest would rise and fall in steady patterns, showing that you’ve fallen into a deep sleep. Your eyelashes were feathered along your eye, and he couldn’t help but be charmed by it. Him, charmed by the simple sight of eyelashes? He couldn’t believe how much he changed, how much you changed him. Your lips were slightly parted, a pale pink and full. He wondered how it would feel against his own, would they be soft? By the looks of it, he thinks it would.

You looked so peaceful and angelic and he couldn’t help but think about how much you’re going through right now. He thought about your mind, how crazy it must be, how tiring it must be. Who’s on your mind right now? Who has your time? Who have you been seeing? Why couldn’t you just be his?

He knows that you had a boyfriend but still, despite that, why did you stop talking to him as much? You used to be texting him all the time, checking on him all the time, staying up with him all the time. But recently, your interactions were shorter than two sentences. Was it your boyfriend? Was it you? Was it him?

“If you let me,” he whispered, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear gently, “we could paint a perfect picture, we could even last forever.” he sighed as he feels how strong he loves you–it scares him, he’s never felt this way with anyone before. “I’ll even let you wear my sweaters, I know how you get cold so easily,” he said as his eyes traced your face, from your hairline down to your eyebrows to your eyes, to your nose to your lips. He smiled at how perfect you were. “I’m so horribly down for you, Y/N,” he said, “for the worse or the better,” he added.

“To be honest, I hate it,” he said, surprising himself with the sudden confession, “I hate how much I feel for you because It’s so strong that it’s hurting me. But I don’t care, I will keep sticking to you, Y/n,” he breathed in, “Because I love you.”

And although you were sound asleep, he still felt as if the weight of the world has left his shoulders. The burden of keeping it trapped within his heart has finally disappeared, and even though he knew that this confession was done in vain as he knew that pouring his heart out doesn’t mean you have to reciprocate it, he still felt happy that it’s out there.

Maybe you were asleep, but your heart was listening.

He noticed how the sun had disappeared and the clock was moving into the double digits. He knew that your back was going to be painful if you slept there overnight, so he took you in his arms, the blanket wrapped tightly around you still; like a burrito, and carried you over to your room. There he tucked you in properly, propping your head gently a top your soft pillows, laying the comforter over your, keeping the sides snug. Before he turned off the side lamp, his self control had left his body with his confession as he bent down placing a gentle peck on your forehead. When he felt that everything was done, windows checked, you tucked in, lamp turned off, he headed out the door.

“Jeonghan,” you called softly, your voice still groggy from your nap. He froze by the doorframe, turning to you.

“Yeah?”

“I love you too,” you told him, a soft smile growing on your face before you turned over and fell back to sleep.

No amount of self control could stop the smile that was blooming on his face, his mind was fuzzy, his heart was racing. He watched you for a little bit more, the same love-struck smile on his face to see if you were still sleeping.

“Sweet dreams, love,” he whispered before leaving.

He needs to give Seungkwan a gift basket.

-fin.

Like, comment and reblog pls :)

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thegreatestsandwich · 1 year

Note

Xavier: I'm TRYING okay? fuck my feelings, it's fucked but one thing that I'll always be sure about is my love for you. I fucking love you and i don't fucking know how to act around you. Okay? I--" and then you kissed him to shut him up. AIGHRIGFHERIGHQERG

Kissin’ in the rain (Xavier Thorpe x f!reader)

Masterlist

Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x f!reader

Word count: 1.3k

Summary: Nobody knew what you were and there was a breaking point where Xavier just exploded and demanded you to tell him what was happening

Warning: Angst and Fluffiness

A/N: We’re almost finish with all the requests!

Coments, Reblogs and Asks are happily received! I love to read your lovely coments :)

Everyone began noticing there’s something going on between Xavier and you, specially after your failed date on the fair. At first, there’re were murmurs around you, not so kind ones until Xavier force them to shut up, giving you a nod after almost hitting one of the mermaids that was taunting you.

He didn’t talked to you on classes and neither you tired to get closer to him. Yet, both of you began noticing the other more. Xavier’s eyes always drifted to you when you entered a room, when you sat quietly and lonely on the other side of the cafeteria, when you stayed as far as you could from the others when Principal Weems made the announcements.

You began noticing a few things on your own, how he often had smudges of paint or charcoal on his hands and sometimes on his face. How he often covered his mouth when he take a huge bite of something, how he always sat with the same people at lunch, how he tried his hardest to ignore Bianca’s attempt to have a conversation.

But still, neither of you acted out on your discoveries, until that one time after lunch.

Some people thought it would be funny to take away your gloves, so with the help Vinny’s telekinesis, they managed to take your gloves away and put them as higher as they could on a tree. You were at this point hyperventilating outside under the rain, trying to grabbed them before class started.

Everyone was watching you struggle from the windows, a few of them giggling at your attempts but the others just ignored the childish prank.

Xavier entered the classroom and put his backpack on his desk, noticing how there was a multitude of people watching the window with amusement. “What’s going on?” He asked Ajax, who was recoding something on this phone.

“Vinny, Jax and Penelope pranked (L/N), they managed to take her gloves from here! That’s having balls dude.” Ajax laughed, making a close up to your distressed face. Xavier stared at it for a second before leaving the classroom.

“Xavier?” Bianca intercepted him on the corridor, her hand grabbing his arm to stop him. “What are you doing? Class is going to start soon.” She tried to turn him around but he shook her off.

“I have something to do.” He drily told her, trying to pass her but she blocked his path. “Bianca, move, I don’t have the patience to do this.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and arched a brow. “And what could be more important?”

Before Xavier could answer, a happy Enid and a following Wednesday stood at their side. “Don’t you hate rain? Ugh, it always get’s my hair all frizzy.” Enid complained.

“I quite enjoy this day.” Wednesday stated, her hands carrying her bag on the front, her face as emotionless as always. “Class is about to start Bianca unless you finally accepted you will not accomplish anything if you stay there.”

“Rude.” Bianca told her, finally taking her attention from Xavier, but still not getting out of his way. “I’m here simply reminding Xavier to enter the classroom.” She smiled, “Isn’t that right?”

Xavier didn’t answer, looking at the door that would take him to outside. Wednesday noticed.

“I didn’t know you enjoy portraying the maternal role, quite painful to watch.” Wednesday nudge Enid with her elbow.

“Ouch Wednesday! That hurt!” Enid complained but Wednesday only glared at her, she sighed, linking her arm with Bianca. “C’mon, they want to talk about death or something creepy, I still don’t know how you enjoy those things Wednesday.” Enid dragged a complaining Bianca away.

“Thanks.” Xavier murmured, beginning to walk away, only to be stopped by Wednesday. “Don’t have time for this Wednesday.”

“If you are planning to be a creepy hero, at least take an umbrella.” She pushed one hard enough on his chest before walking away.

He stared at it for a moment before finally going outside. He opened the umbrella and walked towards you, who now was sitting under the three accepting the rain. “Hey.” He gently greeted you.

“Please,” You whispered completely broken. “Just go away, please.”

He watched how you hugged your knees closer to your body before he knelt in front, he quietly offered you the umbrella and you stared at it for a moment. “It won’t bite.” He whispered.

“I don’t want to touch you.” You whispered back. “Just leave Xavier, the damage is already done, they are completely destroyed.”

Xavier couldn’t help but sigh, offering once again the umbrella for you to take, you slowly took it, trying so hard to not touch him, once you had it in your hands, he quickly search in his pockets for something, once his fingers felt the plastic material he took it out, a tiny packet of gloves, he offered them.

“Bought them the other day for one of my paintings, they are new.” He told you gently, “Take them.”

“Xavier.” You began.

“Just take them (Y/N).” He placed them on your knees, “It’s not the best material but it’ll do the work.”

You quickly open the packet, letting go of the umbrella but Xavier managed to grab it, you put them on and you felt somehow safe. You stood up and offered a small thank you.

“That’s it?” He called you out. “Just a thank you and you leave?”

“What do you want me to say?” You turned around, distressed. “Just accept it!”

“Accept it.” He huffed a laugh, looking at you in disbelief. “Just accept it?”

“I don’t know what more do you want me to do Xavier.” You brushed away the wet hair from your face. “I can’t touch you or hug you, so what do you want?”

“I’m trying to be nice here (Y/N).” He grunted, taking a step closer to you. “I could just let you out here on your own.”

“Then you should have!” You tried to turn around but he didn’t let you, grabbing the back of your jacket, turning you around. “What do you want from me? You did a good thing, now you are the hero, congratulations.”

He closed his eyes. “I’m trying, okey?” He paused, trying so hard to not lose his cool. “I’m trying! Fuck you, you hear me? Fuck you and fuck my feelings” You stared at him. “It’s fucked up, y’know? Last month I hated you, I hated you so much that I wanted you out of here because your whole presence bothered me!”

“What…?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me but I can’t get you out of my head you hear me?” He grabbed your shoulders and you tensed, “I don’t fucking know how to act around you, okey? I–“

“You what?” You whispered.

“I don’t know what to do…”

“You’ve done enough.” You gently took a step inside of the umbrella, carefully to not touch him. “You’ve done more than enough, you’ve been kinder than anyone in this school.”

“But that’s not enough.” He whispered. “I don’t want to just be kind, I-I want to hold your hand even if I need to put on gloves, I want to hug you and I don’t care if I have to layer up a thousand of clothes to do so, I want to paint you, eat the weird lunches they serve in the cafeteria, I want to do those things with you.”

He quickly searched his pocket once again and took out another packet of gloves, with so much effort (because they got wet) he managed to put them on, offering you his hand. You stared at it for a few seconds. “C’mon.” He whispered.

You took it and he intertwined your fingers together.

#xavier thorpe oneshot #xavier thorpe blurb #xavier thorpe imagine #xavier thorpe x y/n #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe fanfic #xavier thorpe fluff #xavier thorpe angst #wednesday adams imagine #wednesday adams fic #wednesday netflix #xavier thorpe wednesday #xavier thorpe

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tinfairies · 2 years

Note

aemond catching the reader taking care of a baby dragon that’s hungry and needs attention (so cute) without fear and he is completely enamored by it? 💓

Anon asked: Can you make a hc of Aemond opening up to the reader about his insecurities?

I mixed these two asks

Keeper of his Heart

Aemond Targaryen x GN!Reader

Aemond had gotten tired of his brother rather quickly that day. Aegon had brought up his favorite subject; the pig, and his eye. Aemond quickly excused himself, ignoring his brother telling him to "Stop being so sensitive."

The young prince wished he could take his brothers eye just to show him how it feels. Aegon's whores would surely turn in fear.

Aemond made his way to the Dragon Pit, he needed to clear his head. A ride on Vhagar may accomplish that. As he approached, he nodded a greeting to the Keepers.

The men looked at each other, almost in fear. Then one stepped forward. "Uh, your grace. Vhagar has brought back an egg. We don't think it's hers, but she refuses to give it up." the Keeper stated at his feet as he spoke, not wanting to look Aemond in the face.

"Let her have it, maybe if she hatches it I'll have two dragons." the prince smirked and continued his way into the Pit. He said hello to Sunfyre and Dreamfyre as he passed them.

The deeper into the Pit he went the more he started to hear this odd noise. It was like small screeching, but not of pain. More like laughter. Curiously he slowed his pace as he turned the corner to Vhagar's den.

There he saw his favorite Keeper, they had always had a kind word for him and never feared to look him right in the eye.

The Keepers back was turned and Vhagar was intensely focused on what was in their lap. She hadn't even noticed her rider. Aemond continued watching from afar, wondering what could possibly have his old girl so enthralled.

Soon that question was answered, he saw the flutter of tiny wings. Small screeches and growls echoed through the den, as well as laughter from the Keeper.

Aemond was in shock, they were playing with a baby dragon. Completely without fear, with childlike wonder even.

Vhagar huffed and stared at the Keeper. That must have been the hatchling from the egg she found, Aemond thought. How crazy it was to think that this Keeper is able to play with a hatchling in front of its mother. Whether she laid it or not.

Aemond smiled, and stepped forward finally gaining Vhagar's attention. The great she-dragon gave a rumbling purr in response as she looked at him. The Keeper turned around, and smiled when they saw the prince.

"Look what Vhagar brought home, my prince!" the Keeper lifted the hatchling. It's scales were a deep green, and the wing webbing was a golden yellow. It was beautiful.

Aemond approached the Keeper and the hatchling. "You're not afraid?" he asked as he came to a stop, staring down at them on the floor.

"Why should I be? If you respect a dragon it will respect you. You can't show fear." the Keeper responded, their eyes never leaving his.

The prince hummed, he knew this Keeper was special. He lowered himself onto the floor next to them. "What are you going to name it?" he referred to the dragon.

The Keeper looked at him wide eyed. "It's not mine to name, I can't ride a dragon. I'm not a Targaryen." they protested.

Aemond could think of a few way to remedy the Targaryen issue, he smirked at the thought. "Well, it seems you'll have to tell that to the baby in your arms." the hatchling nestled itself further in the Keepers lap, preparing for a nap.

They stared into Aemond's eye, a beautiful smoky blue, they thought. "Why is it you always wear your patch? Certainly your scar can't be that bad."

The prince scoffed a laugh. Then looked to the ground, they had not been around when he was maimed. Only arriving after he started wearing the patch in his late teens. They never got to see the way men and women alike, would turn away from him in fear and disgust. Even when he began wearing his sapphire, the whispering and teasing never stopped.

Aemond worked hard to become someone to fear, no one would dare say anything to the man that can have their head in seconds. Aside from Aegon unfortunately.

"I promise, this patch keeps you from the horror below." Aemond looked back up at the Keeper. "It's a scar, and a missing eye. A horrible thing that happened to you. You shouldn't be feared for what others have done." their voice was steady as they spoke.

"My dear, I wish that were true."

#house of the dragon #hotd #house of the dragon x reader #hotd imagine #hotd x reader #house of the dragon imagine #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones headcanons #game of thrones #Game of thrones x reader #got imagine #got headcanons #got x reader #Got

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oak23 · 6 months

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Honestly having people in their late 20s to their 30s continue to have maladaptive inner voices is a lot more tiring to me than it was when I was in my early 20s. I am empathetic and yes I have lived through it, but being on the other side of it where no amount of my own kindness and nurturing is able to fix something that someone else needs to do it on their own.

Like, practicing self compassion and self kindness is hard work, but it's a lot more sustainable to treat yourself kindly than it is to completely rely on external sources to provide that.

And no amount of "It's because I'm ugly, it's because I'm inherently unlovable, it's because of how I was born" is gonna change that bitterness and hatred that lives within yourself and how it bleeds out into every interaction you have with others. You need to be able to actually live with yourself, to wake up and treat yourself the way you would treat others. And that means stop saying cruel and vicious things to yourself, to stop cutting yourself down after every accomplishment, to stop telling yourself you don't deserve things, to stop studying every flaw and wishing something would happen to you.

Watching people continue to never be introspective, to continue to cling onto their self hate and destruction, to continue to blame others and external forces, just to avoid the idea that you can be kind to yourself.

It's hard work to be kind to yourself but you need to do it to survive.

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roosterforme · 1 year

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A Love You Don't Find Everyday Part 3 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Things finally boil over for Bradley. You don't understand the full extent of what you've done and how much you've hurt him until after a phone call and too much to drink.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing and smut

Length: 5300 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my Masterlist!

"I hate to say it, but this is not the worst date we have been on together," Bradley told Jake, pouting as they sat down together in the movie theater.

"Hey, I had fun at hot sauce class. You were the one who was grouchy," Jake told him before shoving a fistful of popcorn into his mouth. "Now why couldn't Angel come tonight?"

"Work," Bradley muttered, popping a few Junior Mints into his mouth. "Busy with work."

He had felt a lot better today. Work was going well for him, and instead of feeling neglected, he forced himself to feel happy for you. It wasn't his accomplishment, but it was the next best thing.

"She's been working a lot?" Jake asked cautiously. "Barely seen her around. Usually you can get her to eat lunch with us a few times a week."

"She's been working nonstop," he said quietly. "I miss seeing her at lunchtime, too."

Jake cleared his throat as the lights dimmed. "It's not another Josh kind of thing, is it?"

Bradley's jaw dropped. He hadn't even considered that.

"No," Jake said quickly. "I'm sure it's nothing like that. She would have told you if there was a guy giving her a hard time."

Bradley swallowed against his fear. "I think she's just trying her best to be as successful as she can while she has a good commanding officer. She's kind of chasing that next promotion, you know? And this project deadline is coming up soon. Hopefully things get easier after that."

"And then you two lovebirds can plan your wedding," Jake said.

"Right," Bradley replied as the previews started. "Right."

--------------------------

You were holding up your champagne flute and smiling brightly. Your entire group was seated in the private room of a rooftop restaurant along the beach. Your belly was full of seafood and wine, and now the desserts were coming out. It had been weeks since you were eating on a real schedule, and you'd probably feel sick tomorrow, but you had as much as you wanted.

Bradley would love it here. You would have to tell him about it and bring him one day. Maybe you could make some seafood for him this weekend as a treat. Maybe he could help you practice your presentation. You could make a game out of it again.

You returned your attention to the toast and took a sip before taking a bite of chocolate cake. You were tired, and kind of ready to go home, but everybody else wanted to hit another spot for drinks, so you agreed to go.

And after three more drinks, you realized you were going to need to wait around for a while before you could drive home. It was late, and you didn't want to call Bradley for a ride. You knew he would come get you, but there was no sense in waking him up. And even if he was up, you didn't want to have to come retrieve your car before work tomorrow morning.

This was fine. Tomorrow was Friday. You were way ahead of schedule with work now. You could spend a day with Bradley. You could catch up on some sleep.

---------------------------------

Bradley was easily persuaded to join Jake at the Hard Deck. It was better than going home to a house without you in it. But it was Thursday, and there were no other aviators there.

"This is weird, Hangman," Bradley said as they shot some pool. "We never come here on Thursdays."

"True," Jake said, lining up a nice shot. "But, I'm a little worried about you. Plus, it'll be easier for me to pick up a girl with your ugly mug next to me."

Bradley gave him a blank stare.

"I'm kidding, Bradshaw. Clearly. You bagged yourself a dime. You couldn't be that ugly."

"Thanks," Bradley muttered, focusing on his next shot.

"Now you gonna tell me what's wrong?"

Bradley looked at his former nemesis turned friend. He knew you and Jake were friends as well, so he felt a little weird talking to him about you. He preferred to do that with Nat for a number of reasons. But he couldn't help himself. He shook his head slightly. "She won't work on any wedding planning with me. I'm not even sure she wants to."

Jake frowned. "You tried talking to her?"

Bradley took a long drink of beer. "Yeah. Just blames everything on work. I'm sick of asking her about it." He set his empty down and shook his head. "I don't know what happened. Everything feels wrong now."

"Jesus, man. Let me get you another beer," Jake said before setting down his pool cue and ambling up to the bar.

Bradley re-racked the balls and practiced breaking a few times while he waited. He didn't realize anyone was behind him until he heard a voice.

"Hey, you're really good."

He turned to see a cute girl. Bright eyes. Pretty smile. Probably in her late twenties. Exactly the kind of girl he would have tried to take home with him.

Bradley glanced up at the bar and saw that Jake was in heavy conversation himself, so Bradley nodded and said, "Thanks."

She smiled and licked her lips, and Bradley's mind took him there. He thought about how easy it would be to hook up with her. He knew it would be. It could be a one time thing. Meaningless. Just the way he used to operate. You would never have to know about it.

What the fuck was wrong with him? He was engaged to you, a walking, talking dream. How could his mind have possibly gone there? He was disgusting.

"So, you wanna teach me how to play pool?" she asked, inching closer until her hand was resting on his chest.

Bradley didn't respond. He couldn't even figure out how to breathe correctly. He didn't even fucking deserve you.

He shook his head. "No, sorry. I'm not interested," he said before moving away from her and heading for the door.

"Bradshaw! Where are you going?" Jake asked as Bradley walked past.

"Home."

-----------------------------

You tried to come in as quietly as you could, but Tramp still came running to the front door. It was so late. You were exhausted, but you also really wanted to take a shower. When you walked into your bedroom and found Bradley asleep, you decided to skip the shower and just curl up next to him. After you brushed your teeth and took your contacts out, you got undressed and just climbed right into bed.

You were dying for a good night of sleep. Tomorrow would be a long day, but then you'd have two in a row off. You pressed your naked body against Bradley's, and that was when you realized how much he reeked like liquor.

How much had Jake let him drink? Did he drive home like this?

"Bradley?" you whispered. "Are you okay, Roo?" you asked a little louder.

He groaned, "I'm going home."

You kissed his cheeks. "You are home, Roo. I just got home as well."

"Baby Girl," he mumbled, rolling over toward you. He smelled like he drank an entire bottle of bourbon, but at least he seemed to be okay.

"Yeah, I'm here," you told him, letting him pull you against his body. You dozed off with his strong arms wrapped around you.

Then you woke up to the sounds of him getting sick in the bathroom. You climbed out of bed just as the first rays or sunlight were filtering through the bedroom windows.

"Are you okay?" you asked him as he sat in front of the toilet cradling his head.

He turned to face you, his brown eyes raking over your body. He looked terrible, but you could still see the longing on his face. "Yeah," he told you, his voice hoarse.

"Did you and Jake overdo it last night?" you asked, running your fingers gently through his hair. He seemed to melt into your touch.

"Something like that," he groaned, turning back toward the toilet to be sick again.

"Roo, how are you going to go to work like this?" you asked. He should know better. Maverick would ground him for the day in this condition.

"Very carefully," he told you with a grimace as he stood and washed his face.

"Okay," you hesitantly agreed as you started to get yourself ready for work. "Want me to make you some coffee?"

"Sure."

You finished getting yourself ready and left some plain toast and black coffee on the counter for Bradley.

"Do you need anything before I leave?" you asked softly. He was halfway dressed and sitting on the end of the bed.

"No, Sweetheart. I'm fine." But he really, really didn't look fine. He looked miserable, sick, hungover and sad.

"Listen," you told him. "It's Friday, and we have the whole weekend to ourselves. I'll probably work a little late tonight, but when I get home, I'll make dinner and we can relax. Sound good?"

He looked up at you and nodded.

"Perfect. Bye, Roo," you told him, placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

----------------------------

Bradley deserved to feel this shitty. After the thoughts in his mind last night, he honestly deserved much worse than this. He hated himself right now, and he didn't deserve you. Even on your worst day, you weren't as bad as he was. That's why he drank half a bottle of scotch when he got home from the Hard Deck. He just wanted those thoughts out of his mind.

But damn it, he also wanted some sort of reassurance from you. Every time he asked for you to plan even the smallest wedding detail, you shut him down. And he didn't want to push you too hard right now, because he knew you were busy. You had Annapolis coming up. This was all very important to you.

He wanted to feel like he was important to you too, though.

He scrambled through work, thankful it was only a classroom day. When Jake tried to ask him why he left the bar so suddenly, Bradley didn't know what to say.

"Was it that pretty little thing talking to you?" Jake asked, and Bradley's eyes snapped up to his. "You could have tossed her my way, you know. Instead of running out like your ass was on fire."

"I told her I wasn't interested. Nothing happened."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Obviously nothing happened. Look, Angel's not gonna care that some little airhead touched you, Bradshaw."

"Right," he agreed. "She wouldn't care about that."

But that's not what had Bradley rattled. He was starting to question too many things. He needed to get himself home and wait for you. He would demand your attention.

So when he got there, he sat on the couch with Tramp, but then he decided to just finish the rest of the bottle of scotch to help him relax a little bit. When Jake texted asking if it was okay to come over and workout in the garage, Bradley responded and told him that was fine.

He sipped more of the scotch and ate a bag of the disgusting, unsalted pretzels you liked. He finished the bottle around seven o'clock and was just about to pass out on the couch when he remembered that he had hung up the dirty calendar you gave him in the garage next to his weight bench.

"Shit," he hissed, rolling off the couch and making his way out to the garage. He could already hear Jake's music playing, and then he noticed his car in the driveway. Bradley was having a really difficult time walking, but he did manage to get inside the garage.

"Bradshaw," Jake said in greeting as he did some bicep curls.

Bradley shook his head and unclipped the calendar from the wall. "Don't look at her."

Jake snorted. "Yeah, it's a little late for that, man. Angel looks good in red though. And if I haven't already told you before, you are one lucky asshole."

Bradley ran his hand through his hair and turned back toward the house.

"Are you okay? Wait, are you drunk?" Jake asked, hopping up from the bench and following Bradley. "Whoa. What the fuck is going on?"

Bradley tried to stand still, but his head was spinning. "I don't know."

"Let's go inside," Jake suggested softly, guiding Bradley back into the house and helping him sit on the couch.

Bradley watched him bring in a glass of water and some crackers. "Eat and drink some water. I'm going to call Angel."

"No... don't bother her at work. She's busy." Bradley closed his eyes to keep the room from spinning.

But he could already hear Jake talking on the phone.

---------------------------

"Hey, Jake, I'm a little busy," you said when you answered your phone. "What do you need?"

He was silent for a beat, and your heart started pounding.

"Angel, I think you should come home right now."

"What happened? Where's Bradley?" you asked, tossing your computer into your bag and heading for your office door.

"Can you just come home?"

Now you were scared as you rushed out of your building. What happened to Bradley? And why was Jake at your house? When you finally pulled into your driveway, you saw Jake's car. And when you rushed inside, he was there talking to Bradley.

"What happened?" you asked, out of breath.

"Sweetheart," Bradley groaned from the couch. He was clutching the calendar you gave him to his chest. You watched his eyes slide in and out of focus as he looked at you, reaching for you as he tried in vain to stand up. Sinking back to the couch with a deep sigh, his eyes drifted closed.

"He's drunk again?" you asked Jake. "Why did you let him get trashed again? He was a mess last night and this morning!"

"What are you talking about?" Jake asked. "He only had one beer with me last night. Ran away when some cute girl started flirting with him. Didn't even stay for a second drink. And he was already like this when I got here an hour or so ago."

You let Jake's words sink in as you tried to puzzle through this mess. Bradley must have gotten drunk here last night. He must have been trying to do it again tonight when Jake found him.

"You came over to use the garage?" you asked, eyeing up his gym clothes.

"Yeah. Rooster came stumbling in and took down all the scenery," Jake said, pointing at Bradley. Well, at least the calendar's presence made sense now. "Red is definitely your color."

"Shut up," you told him, making your way over to Bradley. "Are you okay, Roo?"

He cracked his eyes open and nodded. You pushed his hair back from his forehead and kissed his cheek. "I'm going to walk Jake out. I'll be right back." Bradley whimpered in response and nodded his head as you stroked your fingers along his flushed cheeks.

Jake took you firmly by the hand, and you followed him out onto the porch.

"Listen, Angel. I don't mean to pry, but why are you putting him through the wringer like this?"

You gasped. "What?"

Jake ruffled your hair before you could duck out of the way. "He's crazy about marrying you. Just tell him you're looking at dresses or you picked out some exotic flowers or you know what flavor cake you want. Give him a little hope. It'll go a long way."

He was already walking to his car when you let your shoulders slump. "No," you whispered as you rushed back inside.

Now Bradley was up and walking around, still holding the calendar.

"Roo, why don't you sit down and I'll get you something to eat?"

"Not hungry," he told you, pacing over toward the piano.

"Okay, well how about we sit on the couch together?"

His eyes went a little wide. "You'll let me touch you?"

You nodded your head and took him by the hand, but you were starting to feel like shit. "Yeah, you can touch me."

You guided him to sit down, and then you started to unlace your boots. His unsteady eyes followed your every move as you took them off and set them near the front door. When you sat next to him, he curled up with his head in your lap, running his hands along your uniform pants. He kissed your legs through the fabric before letting his cheek rest on your thigh.

"You look really nice in khaki," he told you, his voice deep and raspy.

"So you've told me. I've also heard I look nice in red," you said, raking your fingers through his hair.

"Fucking Hangman shouldn't have been looking at that," Bradley muttered, nuzzling the back of his head against your belly. You were just thankful the photo with your bare breast wasn't the one on display in the garage.

You took a deep breath. "You gonna tell me what's wrong, Roo?"

Bradley sighed. "I wish you still wanted to marry me," he told you, and you felt like someone had kicked you in the stomach.

"Bradley. I do," you promised him as tears stung your eyes. But he was wrapping his arm around your leg and starting to doze off.

Okay, so you had made a mess of things. Even Phoenix and Jake could tell what was going on, but you were so absorbed in your own work projects, you had been oblivious. And now Bradley was drunk, again, and you couldn't even put his mind at ease.

You let him sleep, running your fingers along his cheek and looking down at his beautiful face while you cried. You had to fix this. And you needed to do it this weekend. You had one more week here before you left for Annapolis, and you needed Bradley to know you wanted to marry him. You wanted to do everything with him.

When he started to stir a little bit, you helped him stand and walked him to the bedroom. "Let's get you undressed," you told him softly, peeling his shirt and jeans off. He just did whatever you said, so you sent him into the bathroom to brush his teeth while you got him a fresh glass of water and something for the headache he was going to have in the morning.

You were waiting for him next to the bed, and when he climbed in, he said, "She wanted me to teach her how to play pool, Sweetheart."

"Who?" you asked, handing him the water.

He shrugged and shook his head before he snuggled back against the pillow. "I dunno. It was a girl."

You kissed his forehead and started to get undressed from your uniform. Bradley got hit on all the time at the Hard Deck. If there was something you should be worried about, Jake would have told you.

You climbed in bed with him until he was definitely asleep. But it was still pretty early, and you had been neglecting more than just Bradley. So you slipped out of bed and gathered up all the laundry. Then you cleaned the kitchen and pulled out ingredients to make a nice lunch tomorrow. Then you cleaned the entire house before you got your phone out to text Jake.

You scrolled through your calendar, and your eyes caught on what was listed in your schedule for Monday. You'd take the day off. You would use some of your vacation time and spend the day at home. Everyone would just have to get over it.

And then you started to look at wedding dresses. Because you wanted to. You also knew you wanted that weird confetti cake batter as your wedding cake. Bradley always complained it was too sweet, but you would insist upon it to the point where he would concede and smile and kind of grunt at you.

You emailed three dresses to your mom and Maria, and then you took a quick shower before climbing into bed. When you were both awake, you and Bradley would have a calm, rational conversation about what was going on.

------------------------------

Bradley woke up with a pounding head. And he was pissed off. He was fucking angry about everything. He was mad that Jake saw his calendar. He was mad that you came home and took care of him. He was mad that the house was cleaned up. He was mad that he was throwing up again. God, now his ribs were aching, and he was laying on the bathroom floor.

He wasn't a fuck up. Not entirely. He hadn't let the house get too bad while you'd been busy working. He'd managed to feed himself. He hadn't chatted up that girl at the bar. In fact, he'd come home on Thursday night and jerked off while thinking about you.

God damn it, he would be a fucking great husband, and he knew it. He remembered all the dumb shit so you didn't have to. Like when to pay the bills, when to buy dog food, when to change the oil in your piece of shit car. He even remembered to change the batteries in the smoke detectors.

He let Tramp lick his ear while he rolled over to stand up so he could wash his face and brush his teeth. Then he sat on the floor in front of the sink, and the pup climbed into his lap. He scratched him behind the ears and tried to calm down, because he was fucking mad at you, too.

There was no way he was going to beg you for your affection, but he would demand your attention today if he had to. He wanted a real reason why you didn't want to plan a wedding. You'd been engaged for two months already, and you couldn't even tell Bradley one single detail you wanted. And if you didn't want to get married, he deserved to hear you tell him why not.

"Roo," you said softly from the bathroom doorway. He looked up at you, wearing one of his Top Gun tee shirts, and he wanted to bend you over and fuck you. He also wanted to yell at you until he felt better. So instead of doing either of those things, he just sat on the floor and stared at you.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

He cleared his throat. "What are you sorry for?"

He watched you swallow hard and swipe your fingers across the tip of your nose. You were going to cry. He could already tell. But Bradley refused to get up and comfort you.

"I made a mess," you told him, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. "I've been working a lot and neglecting too many things."

"What things?" he pressed, tired of dealing with this shit. Tired of trying to pry information out of you when most of the time you weren't even home. "And I swear to God, if you tell me we can't have a conversation right now because you need to go to work, I am going to lose my mind."

Tears started to stream down your face, and the sight actually made him feel a little better. "You! I've been neglecting you! And myself! Us!" You were sucking in air as you tried to talk.

Bradley nodded and watched you grab the door frame. "Yeah," he agreed, making you cry harder.

"I'm sorry! I just wanted to get through this work project, because it's important to me. I told you before we even started dating that work is important to me. You know how much I love what I'm working on now. And women don't get promoted as quickly as men."

Bradley nodded his head slowly. "Yeah, I understand that. And I know it's important to you, and I know promotions aren't always fair. I guess I just got used to being on your list of important things."

You swiped the tears away from your cheeks and took a step toward him. "You are on my list, Bradley! You're at the top. And I'm sorry we aren't having sex as much as you want, but how do you think I feel when you're deployed for weeks or months?"

"No," he said, setting Tramp down and standing up. "That's not fair. I can jerk off when I need to. That's not the problem. And I don't need you to give me pity blowjobs to get me off your back. It's not about that, and you know it."

"Pity blowjobs?" you asked, still inching closer.

Bradley ran his hands over his face, suddenly wishing he was wearing more than just his underwear as your gaze dipped downward. "I've had to practically beg you to let me touch you for the past three weeks. And every time I try to be with you physically, you turn me down."

"Bradley." Your voice sounded pitiful, and your face was all red and splotchy now. "I'm sorry."

He took a step in your direction but raised his voice. "Why don't you want to plan a wedding with me?"

"I.... do.... I want to."

Bradley threw his hands in the air. "I can't plan this without you! I don't even know what you want to do, because you won't tell me anything! Two months of asking, and I have no information from you! And you haven't asked me what I want to do. Not once."

"Roo," you whispered, your lips quivering.

"We can wait and get married next year if you want to. We can get married tomorrow. For all I fucking care, we can get married in Spain or New Zealand or Maryland or our back fucking yard! I don't care! I just want to know what you want! I'm begging you!" He realized he was yelling, but he couldn't stop now. "Do you even want to marry me at all?"

"Yes!" you yelled back. "Yes, Bradley, I want to marry you! I want confetti cake! And I want to wear your mom's veil, because it's prettier than anything you can buy today! I already emailed three wedding dresses to my mom! And I don't want to look at the venue in Laguna Beach, because it looks too fancy in an annoying way!"

Bradley's heart was pounding. His head still ached, and he still felt nauseous, but your shouted words and scratchy voice were soaking through his skin and making him feel better than he had in weeks. He watched you clench and unclench your fists as you took deep breaths. "Well, fuck! Baby Girl, why didn't you tell me any of this before?"

"Because I feel overwhelmed!" you told him, your voice echoing around the bathroom. "If I can't keep it together now, how is this going to work later?" Your voice softened to a whisper. "I'm scared I won't be enough for you."

Bradley's eyes went wide. "Baby Girl, you're everything," he promised, rushing forward to grab you. He pulled you against his body and mashed his lips against yours before gently letting his fingers ease up along your body until he was holding your face in both hands. "Everything."

You kissed him back, whispering his name, and his entire body was aching. "Roo." Your voice was questioning, pleading with him to understand.

He scooped you into his arms and devoured your mouth, relentless until you were gasping. Then he eased himself to his knees and set you gently on the floor, the back of your head coming to rest on the tub mat. You pulled him down by his hair, and he whispered against your neck, "You're more than enough. You always will be."

You moaned as he pressed his body weight on top of yours and ran his rough palms up along your thighs and over your bare ass and pussy. Bradley kissed your face, your cheeks still pink and damp and cool from your tears. Your tears gave him relief this time; he felt so thankful that you shed them.

Your voice was nothing but a broken whisper as you told him, "I need you."

He kissed your lips, holding your chin with one hand. "I need you, too," he promised. "I always will. Please don't forget that." Bradley eased your thighs apart, settling himself against your core. You rocked against him, your fingers gripping his hair tight and keeping his mouth on yours.

"Please, please," you were gasping against his lips, your teeth grazing his mustache as you pleaded. He loved the way you were needy for him, but he needed you just as much right now.

Wordlessly, he reached between your bodies and stroked your clit softly one time.

"Oh!" you whined, your head automatically tipping back, and he licked a stripe slowly up your perfect neck. He stroked your pussy softly, barely giving you the pressure you needed, which had you writhing. "I love you," you told him, rubbing yourself up against his hand. You were so soaked, he could feel you through his underwear when you rubbed yourself there. "Bradley."

He was instantly yanking down the elastic and pulling himself free. He filled you in one stroke. It felt like ages since he'd been inside you. He hated the way it felt like he'd been sharing the house with you, but you had been just out of his grasp. He hated how he felt like he wasn't a priority.

When you licked your lips, and met his eyes, Bradley started to thrust, slowly at first. A soft smile touched your slips, and then with one sharp movement of his hips, you were whining again. He pinned you down with one hand on your hip and teased up the front of your shirt with the other.

He took your soft breast in his hand, gently working his thumb along your taut nipple while he fucked you with hard, short thrusts. He watched your back slowly arch off the floor as he hit just the right spot, and you pressed your lips together stifling your sounds.

"Be as loud as you want, Sweetheart. I'm gonna make you cum on my cock."

"Fuck," you whined. "I'm so close," you cried, shaking your head against the mat. Bradley could feel your right leg shaking against him. The keening noises coming from you had him on the edge too.

He leaned over you, getting some pressure against your clit as he squeezed your breast. You spasmed around him, crying out and gasping for air. And he spilled himself inside you, jerking into you until he couldn't move.

Your hands and lips were all over his face, and as he let himself rest against your shoulder, you wrapped your arms around him. "I'll be better, okay? I promise you, Roo, I will do better."

"Okay, Baby Girl."

A few hours later, you were still wearing just his Top Gun shirt and sitting on his lap at the dining room table. You were sharing a plate of Marry Me Rooster while a confetti cake from a boxed mix baked in the oven.

"Please, Roo? Confetti cake for the wedding?" you asked, giving him your best puppy dog eyes, which weren't even as good as the ones he frequently gave you.

"It's too sweet, but I'll think about it," he replied. But you both knew you would get whatever you wanted.

---------------------------------

Let's hope they can stay on the same page and plan a wedding that will make them both happy.

PART 4

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647 notes · View notes

pendarling · 2 months

Text

Some Possessing

• Part 2 > End >>

Villain stumbled on their foot-- well- not their foot but Hero's.

Possessing their own rival's body was a trick they'd been carefully constructing for the past few months. In order to possess the body of another, one must accept death. Villain would travel out of their own body and push into the consciousness of another, forcing the original host's soul into a deep sleep.

Right now, Hero's soul was as knocked out as could be. They could sense when Hero would wake up, which was rarely ever because Hero was always tired. If anything, this benefitted Hero more than Villain because they got their sleep and Villain got what they wanted. They'll be in and out, maybe an hour or so, to accomplish their goal for tonight.

It didn't actually take an hour, but Villain enjoyed looking through some of their stuff. Right now, as they glanced around the home, Villain noticed a small dog hiding behind the couch. Hero's dog was always on edge and knew whenever Villain had taken control of their owner's body. Maybe it was the personality switch, or perhaps the dog just didn't like Hero from the start, and it was always shy.

Villain stuck out their hand to beckon the pet over. "C'mere buddy, I'm not going to hurt you."

It whined and tucked itself further from view. Villain frowned and stood up. Well, winning a dog's trust wasn't their objective anyway, so they didn't mind the cold attitude; it would go away as soon as they realized they would stay.

Villain walked into what looked to be Hero's bedroom; the last time they came in here, it was a mess—boxes were thrown on one side, and a bed was barely visible under layers of clothes. The floor was trashed, and the dresser turned on its head, but whatever that was looked to be over, and Hero had fixed the room. It was an odd behaviour they hadn't seen before in their previous visits, but maybe they got caught up in a spring cleaning.

Villain shrugged; the motion was reflected from a mirror, and they glanced at themselves.

"Not bad, sweetheart." they tucked a part of their hair under Hero's ear and walked up to the tall mirror. They admired the way Hero's shirt had fit their form just at the right angle. Villain played around with the look for a little longer, their hands roaming their curves, pressing their thumb into Hero's arm as they slid up it. From behind them, their eyes landed on Hero's phone charging on their bed.

They turned around and picked it up, subtly excusing themselves before unlocking it and running through their messages.

"Let's see..." They scrolled down slowly, examining each contact until their eyes landed on the one they'd been looking for. "Bingo!~"

Unlike the villains in the city, the heroes were all idiots to add themselves into a single group chat to trade and share whatever information they needed. Some of these were quite valuable once they got past all the gossip nonsense they liked to talk about. Villain lay themselves onto Hero's bed and casually scrolled through as if the place were theirs.

Next week, the heroes were planning an attack on the West Side of the bank, which was popularly known for bars and clubs that actively sheltered homeless villains who were commonly under some kind of threat. It worked as a shelter, and it was very generous of the local civilians who sympathized and understood their perspective, unlike official authorities.

Villain sighed and patted around their pants for their phone to take a picture of the conversation, only to realize that they didn't have it because they were still in Hero's body. Their own body was resting at home, temporarily deceased or in a suspended state. Although it was soulless, it still maintained regular breathing, and upon any disturbances, Villain would sense it.

The criminal laughed at how easily their mind went empty and continued reading the text, now with the intent to memorize everything. The further up they went, the older the messages got until they stumbled onto a conversation they hadn't expected.

[Nat101]: Hero, just tell us. We promise we won't laugh at your crush.

Villain raised their brow. A discussion like this shouldn't intrigue them as much as it did, but Villain couldn't keep their eyes off of it now. They continued reading through the messages. Whoever Nat was was pushing Hero into giving up private thoughts.

Although Villain felt offended that Hero was taking the verbal attacks, they also were equally as curious and hoped they'd cough it up already.

[Hero]: Oh lol

[Hero]: I don't have one

[Yui_0]: Nobody believes that

[KiLeeStar]: I like that pretty lightening boy from the Orange District <3

[Yui_0]: Who

[KiLeeStar]: He's the one with white hair

[Yui_0]: Cares

Villain chuckled.

[Nat101]: Pleaseeee tell me, Hero, I promise on my momma's life I won't be a snitch

[Nat101]: DM me privately

[Hero]: Fine...

It seemed that Hero had stopped messaging from then on. They exited and scrolled back up to find Nat's conversation; however, as soon as a new text had appeared, the slots refreshed, and Villain accidentally tapped on a message box from someone new.

[JeremyF.]: Citizen, it's been like 2 hours. Please send the files.

'Citizen?' Villain thought, their brows furrowed. That must've been Hero's real name. What a way to find out. This must've been a work thing.

They stared at the screen as another message appeared.

[JeremyF.]: I know you read my message.

[JeremyF.]: Hurry up.

Without thinking, Villain tapped onto the keyboard with a short confirmation.

From the corner of their eyes, they spotted Hero's dog peaking from the door. "Here, boy!" They paused, "or girl." They tapped on the bed for a few seconds, but in their gut, they felt something wrong.

Villain walked out of their bedroom, and the small pet ran to the kitchen, their worry growing as they caught the scent of burning food. "Aw shit!" Villain rushed to the simmering pot and turned off the stove. They rushed to take the situation under control, an event that forced them to throw an entire pot away and open the windows.

Mentally, they took note to always check if Hero was cooking something before they got carried away with their mission.

They clicked their tongue; if they had left Hero's body now, Hero would have definitely suspected something was wrong. They didn't know how to cook the sauce, though; they would have to hope Hero was oblivious enough to assume they were on autopilot.

A piercing headache made Villain wince as they stumbled and fell forward.

Villain gasped as they woke up in their bedroom, now back inside their body. Panicked, they shot up and looked around; the only reason why Villain should have been forced back into their body is if their life was under threat. They steadied their breathing and stared at their shaking hands, still in a daze and searching around the room for what could have triggered an immediate return.

~~~

MASTERLIST

•

Part 2 > (not yet)

End >>

#writing prompt #villain x hero #hero x villain #heroxvillain #enemies to lovers #writblr

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shockwavve · 9 months

Text

TF: Earthspark Shockwave

Alright, here we go! The long overdue analysis of Earthspark's portrayal of Shockwave!

TRANSFORMERS: EARTHSPARK SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT!

So, right off the bat, the first thing I noticed about Earthspark's version of Shockwave, much like their Soundwave, is MUCH more emotional than previous iterations of Shockwave (MTMTE or Prime) and is maybe even much more in line with his G1 or TF:A iterations. This seems to be a recurring theme within Earthspark with some of the more historically "stoic" characters, but I'm wondering if that's intentional because it still works so well - that is to say, the representations are not inherently out-of-character, but rather moreso show off how these characters would react in specific circumstances that... previous generations have never explored before. It's FASCINATING. More on that later.

One thing that stands out to me regarding Shockwave that... does strike me as maybe a little bit odd is that in Earthspark he seems far more dedicated to the cause than to Megatron. This is Unusual in terms of how he's usually written, but also not surprising. It seems a little bit MTMTE-y because it does give off the vibes that he has his own underlying motives, which is very Shockwave-y in the sense that he almost always seems like... one step ahead of everything. But... I think Megatron switching sides was like. NOT something he planned for, and it threw him off quite badly. We can see this in the flashback scene wherein Megatron steals the Allspark from him. He doesn't, like, initially seem angry with Megatron at all, rather, he moreso expresses excitement for plans, and talks like he hopes to regain Megatron's alliance and sway him back to the Decepticons.

Megatron calls him "old friend" and says it doesn't have to be like this (obviously trying to get Shockwave to switch sides as he has with everyone so far), and Shockwave doesn't refute it he just seems very calm and also seems like he's... trying to remind Megatron of his own goals? The "you made it like this" (notice, does NOT initially call him a traitor like others have so far) and when Megatron asks why he responds, quote, "For our glory! We will conquer this planet, and resurrect our own, under Decepticon rule. With this, the Autobots will kneel before us!" The way he says these lines... it doesn't sound like they're coming from him. It literally sounds like he's using Megatron's own words and logic against him, especially the way he says "For our glory!". It just sounds like he's trying to remind Megatron of what HE himself had said in the past... kind of like "isn't it obvious? This is what you've been telling us the entire time."

I think he was halfway expecting to be able to sway Megatron back to his side by excitedly revealing his project. The way he says "It will end" almost sounds, like... comforting? Like he's trying to reassure Megatron like, I understand! You're tired of fighting! But look what I made for you, we won't have to fight anymore. He doesn't attack Megatron, he doesn't seem aggressive with the reveal beyond raising his voice - but it doesn't sound angry it sounds like. Triumphant! It sounds almost like he wanted Megatron to be proud of him? Of what he had accomplished in the name of the Decepticons, of giving them a tool to end the war... and he seemed genuinely surprised when Megatron betrayed him by hitting him. Like he genuinely wasn't... expecting that. Listen to the way he says Megatron's name after being shoved in the cryo-chamber... he's confused, desperate. Doesn't understand why Megatron isn't... listening to reason? He calls him a traitor only after Megatron approaches and activates the cryo chamber - once it's obvious what Megatron is going to do. And THIS is where you can hear anger in his voice - a tone/bitterness that just wasn't present before. And he's even MORE angry after being woken up later because he expected Megatron - his friend - to listen to reason... (but more on that later.)

The storyboards honestly give a much better view of Shockwave's expressions before being frozen and I'm actually so disappointed this wasn't portrayed as well in the final cut... He is SO expressive here and actually looks SO GENUINELY SAD. He does end in that same position, though, and it's just... it's so obvious he was meant to look and feel... surprised and sad and betrayed. The way they speak to each other during this entire scene, Shockwave's reactions to everything... I think they were very close at one point. I think their relationship may have been similar to TF:A Shockwave's sort of "anything for you, my liege" kind of deal, but switching sides? It just went against everything he knew and he truly felt like he could bring Megatron back to his senses... but when that didn't work? Shockwave was trying, but Megatron wouldn't have it. Only then did Shockwave kinda... realize that it was over. (Megatron divorced TWO people??? DAMN.)

Trust is broken. Later once he wakes up, one of the first things he does is ACCUSES Megatron of lying when he says the war is over/he's been offline for years. "Back off" is said very aggressively and angrily as he threatens moreso Megatron than anyone else with the immobilizer. It kinda looks like he didn't even... notice the Terrans are there until he accidentally grabs one (looks like he was aiming for Megs, and looks a little bit surprised and curious about what the fuck he just grabbed with the way he kinda. Tilts his head and looks at Thrash), and until Megatron explicitly brings them up. And then he's like, "Them? Just who exactly is them?" (The voice acting in this line KILLS ME!!!) He's like morbidly curious about the Terrans but also... like, jealous? And ANGRY with the way he fucking throws Thrash like he's PERSONALLY offended him. It feels like he almost deliberately harms the Terrans just to piss off Megatron, and also seems offended that Megatron not only tried to replace him, but their entire species with the Terrans. Unfortunately, Shockwave… definitely seems to think of cybertronians as superior to all other lifeforms, lmfao.

(Side note, the way he says "Abominations. Accidents of the Ember Stone." seems to imply that he like... at the very least understood what was happening, how it happened, and why it happened?? Does he know more about Terran biology and how the Ember Stone works than Megatron or the Terrans themselves? He seems to recognize what had happened and seems angry about it.)

I'm also fucking losing my mind at the way he says "You think you can just START OVER?" And "Except that you'll eventually betray them. Just like you did ME." HE'S SO FUCKING BITTER. Notice the wording, he doesn't say "Us" or "The Decepticons" he says "ME". He's 100% taking this personal. I... actually think he might not REALLY think as lowly of the Terrans as he makes it seem tbh... Shockwave should normally be fascinated by these kinds of things and see them as an opportunity, not an affront. He's a scientist, after all. I think he's actually just taking his anger out on them because he views Megatron as having replaced him with something new and better, or something he considers "experimental". The Ember Stone could have been very useful to the Decepticon cause - instead Megatron is using it against him (unintentionally but Shockwave views it as just another betrayal).

He almost seems to hesitate after shooting Megatron at first like. Oh man. Did I really do that? Like he moreso shot him impulsively out of anger... Then tries to use the immobilizer when Megatron starts to get up to avoid fighting him altogether, but misses and hits the Terrans instead (again...). Which, seems to make him realize that, okay, Megatron is definitely gonna retaliate now... so he keeps attacking until Megatron hits him. If he were actually trying to fight/hurt Megatron, he wouldn't just stand there and wait for Megatron to catch up - he knows how Megatron fights, and taking a full force punch by the dude is not wise. If he wanted to fight at first, he would've blown up his lab as his first point of order. Instead, he only does it after Megatron hits him and he loses the immobilizer. Now it's serious. Now we're fighting.

"The war continues so long as I stand to oppose you." Makes it sound like he's aiming for a new leadership position, or to continue the war? But at the same time, "Let's go out with fireworks" seems to imply that he's going to take both of them down. The like "I know I'm going down but I'm taking you with me" mindset? Like he's not confident in his own abilities as a fighter? But at the same time he totally whoops Megatron's ass and displays some extremely intuitive and skilled fighting - like he's confidently on par with Megs in terms of combat ability. (Also wtf is his alt mode? It looks like a really weird mobile anti-aircraft weapon.)

The way he talks and fights almost makes it seem like he had a sudden change of heart and realized - after Megs punched him - that he's so angry he wants nothing more than to hurt Megatron, even at his own expense and destruction. Does he feel like he has nothing left to lose with the war gone, Megatron on a different side, the space bridge destroyed, and the Terrans to replace him? This doesn't feel like it's about the war, otherwise he wouldn't be so self destructive. This feels like it's JUST about Megatron. Which is even more backed up by the fact that he keeps shooting Megatron when he's already down and laughs about it, later saying "You brought this on yourself Megatron." He just wants to hurt Megatron as much and as badly as Megatron hurt him. He's on a revenge trip. He doesn't even care about the humans or Terrans anymore, otherwise he'd have shot Mo on sight. Instead he actually gives her a choice, telling her to leave, "or perish with the traitor." He doesn't really care about destroying the humans. Just Megatron... and then he gets fucking frozen so... rip!! He was so angry he hadn't even realized that Megs had grabbed the immobilizer - which is a convenient way to end the fight from, you know, a plot-perspective, but it also seems slightly OOC unless he was just... extremely distracted by his own anger/destructive motivations. (And Mo.)

I think, given the massive breakout in Hashtag's episode (in which it isn't... explicitly clear whether they got everyone back in their cells), he might eventually reunite with/get saved by Starscream and/or Soundwave... which is just gonna lead to chaoooss. I also think... Soundwave and Shockwave will end up getting along super well and lowkey bond over their mutual breakup with Megatron skdhjssjms... They're both expressing far more emotions than in previous iterations, both obviously hurt and bitter and taking the betrayal super personally... and they're just... alike in mind and motivation. I'd like to see them team up in future episodes. (The wavewave in me is SCREAMING)

Aaanyways, that's all I've got for you!! This post got WAY too long way too fast, but I'm really excited to see what's coming next!! I absolutely LOVE this portrayal of Shockwave, tbh, and I have so many questions. What happens from here? Is he going to get unfrozen? Rebuild the space bridge? Restart the war? Rise to a leadership position to oppose Megatron? He feels so driven by anger than by his usual motivations, I'd love to see him struggle with himself and his own feelings given everything that's happened... he's usually so sure of himself, and plans everything perfectly to a T. But how could he ever plan for something like this? Will he let himself pick up the pieces and move on, or is he going to be consumed by his own self-perceived failures?

#earthspark #earthspark spoilers #transformers #tf earthspark #transformers earthspark #tfes #tf shockwave #shockwave #tfes shockwave #earthspark shockwave #transformers shockwave #character analysis #long post #BETTER LATE THAN NEVER #alright time to hibernate again for another 3 million years #sorry it's so fucking long I had So Many Thoughts

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