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#If I were american or alive back then
wanderingmind867 · 7 months
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My Voting Record (US Republican Primaries: 1856-2024):
1856 Republican Primaries: John McLean
1860 Republican Primaries (Top Two):
1. Salmon P. Chase
2. Benjamin Wade
1864 Republican Primaries: Abraham Lincoln
1868 Republican Primaries: Ulysses S. Grant
1872 Republican Primaries: N/A (I would have grown disillusioned with the corruption and expansionism and left for the Liberal Republicans).
1876 Republican Primaries (Top Two):
1. Oliver P. Morton
2. Benjamin Bristow
1880 Republican Primaries (Top Two):
1. Elihu B. Washburne
2. James A. Garfield
1884 Republican Primaries (Top Three):
1. Chester A. Arthur
2. George F. Edmunds
3. John Sherman
1888 Republican Primaries (Top Two):
1. Benjamin Harrison
2. Chauncey Depew
1892 Republican Primaries: Benjamin Harrison
1896 Republican Primaries: Thomas B. Reed
1900 Republican Primaries: N/A (Can't Support McKinley after the Spanish-American War)
1904 Republican Primaries: N/A (Screw Theodore Roosevelt! He's an imperialist tyrant and a warmonger)!
1908 Republican Primaries: William Howard Taft
1912 Republican Primaries (Top Two):
1. Robert M. LaFollette
2. William Howard Taft
1916 Republican Primaries (Top 2):
1. Robert M. LaFollette
2. Charles Evans Hughes
1920 Republican Primaries (Top Three):
1. Robert M. LaFollette
2. Herbert Hoover
3. Calvin Coolidge
1924 Republican Primaries: Robert M. LaFollette
1928 Republican Primaries (Top Two):
1. George W. Norris
2. Herbert Hoover
1932 Republican Primaries (Top Three):
1. Jacob Coxey
2. George W. Norris
3. Joseph I. France
1936 Republican Primaries: Alf Landon (I do not like William Borah, for whatever reason)
1940 Republican Primaries: Wendell Willkie
1944 Republican Primaries: Wendell Willkie
1948 Republican Primaries: Thomas Dewey
1952 Republican Primaries: Earl Warren (I respect Robert Taft to some degree, however)
1956 Republican Primaries: Dwight Eisenhower
1960 Republican Primaries: Nelson Rockefeller
1964 Republican Primaries (Top Three Candidates):
1. Nelson Rockefeller
2. Margaret Chase Smith
3. Henry Cabot Lodge Jr.
1968 Republican Primaries: Nelson Rockefeller
1972 Republican Primaries: Richard Nixon
1976 Republican Primaries: Gerald Ford
1980 Republican Primaries (Top Three Candidates):
1. Lowell Weicker
2. Larry Pressler
3. John B. Anderson
1984 Republican Primaries: N/A (I just can't bring myself to vote for Ronald Reagan).
1988 Republican Primaries (Top Two Candidates):
1. Alexander Haig
2. Bob Dole
1992 Republican Primaries: George H.W. Bush
1996 Republican Primaries (Top Three Candidates, any order):
1. Bob Dole
2. Richard Lugar
3. Arlen Specter
2000 Republican Primaries: John McCain
2004 Republican Primaries: N/A (I can't vote for Bush. Not because of him necessarily, but because of who he surrounds himself with).
2008 Republican Primaries: John McCain
2012 Republican Primaries: Fred Karger
2016 Republican Primaries: John Kasich
2020 Republican Primaries: Bill Weld
2024 Republican Primaries: N/A (They all suck at this point)
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uncanny-tranny · 5 months
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Something kind of funny I never anticipated about crocheting with longer hair was pulling out a piece of my own hair out of my project that I somehow crocheted into it
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ereborne · 1 month
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Song of the Day: March 27
"Long Time Gone" by The Chicks
#song of the day#I'm still thinking about the Country Songs About Country Songs#this is actually a cover too though I never hear the original around anywhere#(it's by Darrell Scott who is also the originator for 'You'll Never Leave Harlan Alive'#turns out he's got a bunch of songs that got picked up and made somewhat more popular in the hands of other folks. an interesting legacy)#the best lines of this song to sing are also the bits About Country Music--well the whole song's about chasing the love of it#but this bit is bemoaning the kids these days you know. country music isn't what it used to be. why back in my day etc etc#it's so so so much fun to sing too because you get to exaggerate your 'I think's until they rhyme with 'Hank'. excellent work#'we listen to the radio to hear what's cookin / but the music ain't got no soul#now they sound tired but they don't sound Haggard / they got money but they don't have Cash#they got Junior but they don't have Hank / I think I think I think / the rest is a long time gone'#it's fascinating to me to think about these songs in (saying 'historical' here is giving me psychic damage but) historical context#because the Darrell Scott original for Long Time Gone came out in 2000 and The Chicks released their version in 2002#so they were talking about the trend towards American jingoism in country music of the time#versus like Waylon Jennings in 1975 'Are You Sure Hank Done It This Way'#(I typed that and /then/ went back and looked up the release date and I'm so proud I got it right)#already bemoaning the state of country music in the 70s versus good old classic country like Hank Williams Senior sang#(Hank Jr covered Waylon's song in 1981. like yes it's a tribute to his father but also Hank Jr was a big push towards outlaw country#and has a few pretty famous songs himself about not singing like his daddy did. it just seems a strange choice to me)#and then Eric Church put out 'Lotta Boot Left to Fill' in 2009 calling out the shallowness of the country music scene of the time#(talking some only-thinly-veiled shit about a few of his peers in the process)#and then he released 'Stick That In Your Country Song' in 2021 and that /definitely/ put some backs up#that one's a less directed but more direct call-out if that makes any sense#no lines that are direct references to other artists' songs but stronger sentiments overall#not just general 'y'all are getting shallow prioritizing good times and high sales over genuine heart and integrity of craft'#but some straight up 'you have forgotten the face of your father' shit towards country artists and fans alike. the whole industry#a very good righteous-anger song
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sitnorelle · 2 years
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another random imagine cause my brain won't leave me alone
eddie walking into family video after the vecna shit going to rent a movie. steve and robin are both at the counter looking extra bored. he picks the movie and goes to robin to check it out. it's rocky horror. robin looks at it, then looks at him and cautiously asks him a question. eddie looks surprised but answers. they both start talking excitedly while steve just stares, confused and not understanding a single word they say. asks something along the lines "you didn't know each other few weeks ago how do you already have a secret language?!" both of them just laugh at him.
they were speaking polari.
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ava-does-dumbassery · 11 months
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Yesterday I asked both my parents what it was like to be alive during part of the Cold War, because I’m learning about the Cold War in Social Studies class.
My dad told me that he wasn’t really that worried about it, because nobody thought either side would actually do anything because they wouldn’t risk killing absolutely everybody.
My mom told me that when she was little her brother showed her a globe of the earth, and pointed to where the Soviet Union was, where America was, and where Canada was in between them, and told her that if they launched the missiles they would go right over us. So she wasn’t worried about that many things as a child, but one of the things that she did worry about was that the Soviet Union and America would launch bombs at each other, and they would collide with each other over Canada and blow up absolutely everything.
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husband · 2 years
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Idk why I don't mind touching my Dubia roaches or Madagascar hissing roaches but I will have a full on panic attack if I even see an American roach
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imperiuswrecked · 3 months
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I'm never forgetting the Palestinian babies that were left to starve to death then rot in their beds by the IOF.
I'm never forgetting the Palestinian doctors surrounded by bodies of dead children begging the world to stop the slaughter.
I'm never forgetting the Palestinian children who held a press conference in English to beg the world to stop murdering them because they want to live.
I'm never forgetting the Palestinian Priest who said "We will not accept your apology after the genocide" to the world.
I'm never forgetting the Palestinian Imam who used the speakers of the Mosque, not to call people to prayer but to call out to God while the world around them was burning from American supplied Israeli bombs.
I'm never forgetting the grandfather who held his dead grandchild in his arms. Or the father carrying the remains of his two children in plastic shopping bags. Or the mother holding her dead child in a shroud. Or the father sitting among the rubble after he lost his whole family. Or the girl trapped under a broken building begging for people to save her family first. Or the boy who cried when he saw his brother alive. Or the girl who asked if she was still alive after being pulled from the rubble. Or the boy who carried the remains of his brother in his backpack. Or the old man the IOF used for a photoshoot before they shot him dead after getting pictures. Or the little boy wearing plastic gloves to pick up the remains of his family. Or the graves desecrated. Or the body of that small baby girl left alone in a tent because no one knew who she was or if her family was alive, small and alone and not one person who knew her name to bury her. Or the young boy who was shot in the street while his sister watched from the window. Or the men and boys who were stripped naked in winter. Or those tortured. Or those made to stand in open graves. Or the people who were raped by IOF soldiers. Or Palestinian workers kidnapped by the IOF and then labeled with wristbands, each one reduced to a number, then made to walk back to Gaza to be killed in the world's largest open air concentration camp. Or the people of Gaza starving because Israeli Zionists are blocking aid trucks. Or the Israelis dancing and celebrating the death of Palestinians. Or the lies spread by Zionists and their supporters. Or the people profiting off the oppression and deaths of Palestinians. Or the people of the West Bank being killed or kidnapped by the IOF. Or old woman who was older than the creation of the terror state of "Israel" who was shot by snipers for saying that. Or the Israelis dressed up as Palestinians to enter a hospital and kill three Palestinians in their beds. Or every single Palestinian currently kept in an Israeli prison. Or the journalists, doctors, poets, men, women, children, and the unborn all massacred. Or the fact that WCNSF exists now. Or the woman who refused to wash the blood from her hands. Or the dead, unburied and unmourned.
I'm never forgetting those who chose silence in the face of a genocide.
I may not know all their names but I will not forget the over 30,000 Palestinians dead. Or the over 60, 000 people hurt. Or the unknown number of people missing, still lost under the rubble. Or the 12,000 children slaughtered. An entire generation crippled or murdered.
I will never forget these things when Palestine is free.
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wiisagi-maiingan · 1 month
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Oh my god, once again reminding people that Jews in the SWANA region being scared of being murdered if Israel is dismantled are not comparable to white Americans and Canadians being scared of indigenous sovereignty. The entire world, and that includes Muslim countries, has a very very long history of violently expelling and brutally murdering its Jewish communities; Israel itself has many, many refugees and descendents of refugees from other countries in Asia and Africa, countries that do not want those people back.
The comparison to white North Americans is absurd, cruel, and ahistorical; the claim that Jewish people lived in happiness and peace and safety in SWANA countries before Israel's founding is a complete fabrication and blatant victim blaming. Many of the countries surrounding Israel and throughout the SWANA region have Jewish populations that can literally be counted on one hand and that isn't because people just abandoned their homes and friends and communities to move to Israel for funsies, it's because many of them were brutally murdered or expelled from their homes, with the rest fleeing out of fear for when they would be next.
I am saying this as a Native person who is 100% in favor of indigenous sovereignty in my home country and who is fully against the treatment of Palestinians by the Israeli government. If you cannot acknowledge how antisemitism is still very much alive and an active danger to Jewish people all across the world and how many people fled to Israel specifically to escape violence, then you really cannot have any sort of meaningful conversation about Israel.
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heritageposts · 2 months
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By Ahmad Ibsais, First generation Palestinian American and law student.
I do not blame Benjamin Netanyahu. I do not blame the Israeli prime minister for what is happening to my people. I do not blame him today, as Israeli bombs destroy every corner of Gaza, and children die under the rubble. I did not blame him back in 2013, when I had to watch the slaughter of my people in Gaza on the evening news, either. My mother did not blame him when snipers perched on rooftops shot at her as she tried to make her way to work in the West Bank. My grandfather, God rest his soul, did not blame him as he died without ever returning to the land settlers stole from him in the 1980s, either. For me, for my family, for my people, what we are witnessing in Palestine today is not “Netanyahu’s war”. It is not his occupation. He is nothing but another cog in the relentless war machine that is Israel. Yet if you were to ask senators Bernie Sanders or Elizabeth Warren, the supposed champions of Palestinian rights and progressive humanitarianism in the United States, everything that has happened to us in the past 75 years, and everything that is happening to us today, can be blamed on one man, and one man alone: Netanyahu. Sanders insistently calls the ongoing Israeli assault on Gaza “Netanyahu’s war”, and demands that the US “not give Netanyahu another nickel”. Meanwhile, Warren denounces “Netanyahu’s failed leadership” as she calls for a ceasefire. For these progressive senators, the cause of all the pain and suffering in Palestine is clear: a far-right, hawkish prime minister hell-bent on continuing a conflict that keeps him in power. Sure, Netanyahu is evil. Sure, he committed countless crimes against Palestinians and against humanity, throughout his long career. Sure, he is continuing to fuel the carnage in Gaza today in part for his own political survival. And he should be held accountable for everything he has said and done that caused harm and pain to my people. But the racism, extremism and genocidal intent that is on display in Gaza and across the occupied Palestinian territory today cannot and should not be blamed on Netanyahu alone. Blaming Israel’s blatant human rights abuses, disregard for international law, and open celebration of war crimes on Netanyahu alone is nothing but a coping mechanism for liberals like Sanders and Warren. By blaming Netanyahu for the suffering and oppression of the Palestinian people, past and present, they keep alive the lie that Israel was built on progressive ideals, rather than ethnic cleansing. By blaming Netanyahu, they whitewash their seemingly unconditional support for a state blatantly committing war crimes and crimes against humanity. By blaming Netanyahu, and casting Israel as a progressive, well-meaning state that would respect international humanitarian law but is currently taken over by a bad leader, they are absolving themselves – and the US at large – of complicity in Israel’s many war crimes.
. . . continues on Al Jazeera (7 Mar 2024)
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msgexymunson · 1 year
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Rumour
Description: you share with Eddie, your older neighbour, the rumours you've heard about him. They might not be all fictitious...
Warnings: smutty smutty smut smut, lotta angst, tiny fluff. NSFW, Minors DNI I will whack you with a dinner plate, Eddie is mid 30s, tattoo artist, dom, reader uses sher/her pronouns, sub, fem! Oral receiving, praise kink, potential for Sir kink, a tiny bit of penis handling, p in v unprotected sex (wrap it folks) genital and tongue piercings.
A/N: well, this thought gripped to the inside of my thighs and refused to let go. I had to share it with you before I started humping my furniture. Have fun. Again I'm English so I try with the Americanisms, anything I got wrong soz babe. BTW ST 4pt2 never happened soz babycakes ❤ Reblogs are what keep me alive FR. They keep Tumblr alive (and my own heart beating)! If you want more smut reblog my stuff. I'll love you forever, promise.❤
Masterlist Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
5.2k words
Walking back to your ground floor apartment after your shift, your feet aching, you spot your neighbour sitting on a lawn chair in the courtyard smoking a cigarette. Your incredibly hot, older neighbour. Mr Munson.
The neighbour that sends shivers up your spine at the mere mention of him. The neighbour that you think about at night when you're in bed, all alone.
No doubt about it, he looked both hot and intimidating. Not that you would care to admit but that was entirely your type. Mid thirties, broad shouldered, and appeared to be as confident as a wolf, and about as self assured. He reminded you of one; gruff looking, proud, stalking around, making you feel like prey.
He looked particularly jaw dropping tonight in a black button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up; part of his muscular arms were on display, covered in countless tattoos. You've heard that he works in one of the tattoo shops down town. In fact you've heard a lot about him, but that was one rumour that you actually believed.
Elbows resting on his knees, his messy hair fell in waves just brushing his shoulders, full lips taking a drag on a rolled cigarette. Peeking out of his shirt collar, between the waves of hair, you can see a skull like tattoo on the side of his neck.
Is that new? Oh God, he's so hot. Okay just walk past, act normal.
You saunter past him with as much confidence as you could muster.
"Hey Mr Munson." You nod in his direction, trying to stop your voice quaking, fumbling for your keys.
"Hey sweet thing. You good?"
Jesus, does he really need to call me that?
The nickname travels to the pit of your stomach making you squirm hotly.
"Yeah sir, just a long shift at the bar. Idiots tonight, you know?"
Mr Munson shifts in his chair taking a sudden breath in.
"Shit sweetheart, sorry to hear that. Wanna talk about it?"
Well, it couldn't hurt, right?
You flop down in the chair bedside him, gesturing for a drag on his cigarette.
"Can I?"
He smiles wickedly and puts his roll up to your mouth. The roughness of his fingertips brushes on your lips making you clench, almost rucking your hips up, albeit briefly. You hope he doesn't notice. Of course he does.
Taking half a hit you realise that it's not a fucking cigarette, it's a blunt. It's not like you'd never tried anything like that but it was  certainly not what you were expecting. The heavy, sweet, herb feeling lays on your tongue. Eyes wide you breathe out, coughing slightly much to his amusement.
He holds it out at you so you can take a proper hit. Sucking at the blunt so you can take it all in, your lips brush against his calloused hands, adorned with rings.
Breathing out, you gaze at him. His smile splits his face wide open, thick tongue rolling to a point, licking across his upper lip in a teasing manner. You cannot help but focus on the tongue stud pierced right through the middle of the muscle, a long stainless steel bar penetrating his whole tongue. You had certainly never noticed it before. It's presence made you wet, sticking between your thighs at the sheer thought of what he could do with it.
"Something on your mind pretty girl?" A cocky side grin plastered across his handsome features.
Shit, I was totally staring.
Blushing, you look away and try to change the subject.
"You know, you should really warn a girl before she takes a hit of a blunt."
He laughs deep in his throat. "I thought you knew! So, why was today so terrible?"
"Just customers thinking that I'm nice to them because I want them, not because it's literally my fuckin' job. Couple dudes tried to hit on me, one of them grabbed my ass." You sigh into the night air.
"Shit, I hope you taught him a lesson."
"Of course, hit him on the head with my tray."
He laughs out loud at that, throwing his head back. You gawp at his neck, sexy stubble running down past his Adam's apple. Turning his head towards you, he flashes his teeth.
"Didn't know you had it in you. Good girl."
Holy shit.
Your whole lower body clenches at his words of praise as you take in a shaky breath. The apples of your cheeks are on fire. Mr Munson gives you a knowing look, eyes glittering darkly.
You stand up on slightly unsure legs.
"Okay I'm- I'm gonna have a shower. See you around Mr Munson."
You fumble for your keys. Turning to your door you hear a gravelly voice behind you.
"Eddie. Call me Eddie."
********************
A few nights later and your surrounded by the rough brick interior of the bar, busy wiping down sticky tables. There's only half an hour until closing; half an hour and you can go home and rest. It's pretty empty tonight, just three regulars dotted around in the semi dark, nursing their drinks.
You haven't been able to get your latest encounter with Mr Munson, sorry, Eddie, off your mind. You liked to think you were a strong independent woman. You were 22 after all; having had to live on your own since you were 18, life hadn't exactly been kind. You had to be strong to survive. So why exactly was it that a few moments with Eddie had turned you into a blushing, giggling school girl? He had disarmed you with a few words and a rough grin and now you couldn't stop thinking of him. All he had done was call you a good girl and you turned into one. A simpering mess.
Doing a final sweep for glasses, you make your way back behind the bar just as the door opens and a brisk breeze blows in.
Oh fuck its him.
You see his broad frame silhouetted in the doorway for a moment, leather jacket hanging open. His wild mane is in a low messy bun for once, tendrils of loose hair moving in the wind. He stalks over to you and you feel your breath hitch in your throat. Dark eyes finding yours, he leans against the bar on one elbow, towering over you.
Plastering your customer service mask across your face; social armour to hide the nerves, you smile at him.
"Well good evening sir, what can I get ya?"
He grins at you devilishly, biting his lip, like he wants to devour you whole.
"What did I tell you? Call me Eddie."
"Sorry Eddie."
"Good girl. I'll have a bourbon, please."
Only just realising your mouth is hanging open, you slam it shut, cheeks burning. He looks at you smugly, like he's just proven a theory. Your body goes on autopilot, grabbing a glass, adding ice, measuring bourbon.
When you hand his drink over he slides over a twenty dollar bill.
"Keep the change."
You blink at him. "I couldn't, it's too much-"
"Then have a drink on me. I just finished a piece and got paid today. I'm celebrating."
You wouldn't usually, but you're on your own and it's nearly closing. Fuck it.
You pour yourself a bourbon, adding a dash of soda water to yours and take a sip. Eddie beams at you.
"Well thank you." You smile back at him, losing yourself in those dark brown eyes of his, watching the way the skin crinkles at the corners when he grins.
He sticks the ball of his tongue piercing out, rolling it between his lips as he stares at you. It seems like a subconscious movement, you're not sure he's aware that he's doing it.
"Why do you have that?" You blurt out, word vomit pouring off your tongue.
"Have what, pretty girl?" You're staring at his mouth, and he understands, sticking his tongue out at you.
"Thith?" He lisps at you, still poking his tongue out. Giggling, you nod.
His hand drops to the bar, thumb reaching out, stroking back and forth over the knuckles on the back of your hand. An involuntary shiver creeps down your spine at the touch of his rough skin.
"Oh, sweet thing. I think you know exactly what it's for."
His eyes are deep pools, inviting you in. Your thighs clench at his words, biting your lip.
"Oh."
He smirks at you, humming. You pull your hand away, looking at the time.
"Er, just a sec."
You move away slightly and shout out last call. Two of the patrons leave; the other walks over to the bar, slight stagger to his step. Serving him a final Scotch, he pounds it back and walks outside.
It's just you and Eddie. All alone.
"I've got to, um, finish closing up."
"I'll give you a ride if you'll have another drink with me."
You open your mouth. Then close it.
He pouts at you, looking at you with big doe eyes. "Please?"
Well fuck.
"Okay, just let me finish up."
You collect the rest of the glasses, wipe down the last of the sides and sort the nights takings, getting it all in the small safe in the back room.
After locking the front door you return, hang your bar apron up and pour the drinks. Eddie gestures for you to join him on the bar stool next to his. You perch on it lightly; he reaches for his wallet but you wave it away.
"No, I've already done the takings, this ones on me. For the ride, you know."
He shrugs, returning the wallet to his back pocket.
"So" you say, taking a sip of your drink, "you said you finished a piece. You're a tattoo artist, right?"
"Yep, that's right."
"Thought so, I heard a rumour."
"Rumour, eh? What else you heard?" Eyes glittering, he took a mouthful of bourbon.
You giggle "Hmm, well, I heard you were some Satanic cult leader in high school-"
He waved that off, "oh that's so old. If playing D&D is satanic then I'm the devil himself." He sticks his tongue out again, creating little horns with his fingers on his forehead.
You laugh at that, starting to finally feel at ease in his company. The bourbon helped.
"Someone said you sacrificed a goat in the woods once."
He nearly spits his drink at that one. "Now that's more like it, even I've not heard that one. Got any more?"
You blush, realising you've only heard one more.
"I heard you had... other piercings." You mumble, not wanting to say it too loud despite the lack of company.
"What other piercings?" He eyes never leave yours as he finishes his drink.
You're sure it's not normal to have so much blood in your cheeks. You can hear the blood swooshing in your ears. Finishing your own drink for courage, you gaze down at your hands in your lap.
"I heard you have a pierced..."
"Dick?" He ducks his head, trying to catch your eye again, cheeky smile on his face.
"Yeah." Your whole body feels hot and small under his gaze.
He just smirks at you and shrugs.
Is that a no? A yes? Now I'm dying to know!
He winks at your obvious frustration and says "come on I'll take you home."
********************
The ride home in Eddie's Mustang is uneventful. A little small talk is shared, but mostly you're staring out the window, trying to catch glimpses of him when he wasn't looking, eyes wandering to his crotch.
Pretty soon he was dropping you off at your front door, hand leaning on the door frame, crowding into your personal space. Just breathing the same air as him felt suffocating in the best way.
"Well, goodnight then sweet thing." He winks at you, glancing at your lips. For a split second you think he's going to kiss you, but he breaks away and turns to leave.
"Do you wanna come in?" Shit did I just say that out loud?
"You sure?"
You nod and he throws you a wolfish grin. You've never felt so much like a lamb in your entire life. You may as well baa at this point.
You lead him into your tiny apartment, gesturing for him to take a seat on the couch, turning on a couple of dim lamps as you go. He flops down, manspreading, large hand resting on his knee.
"You want another drink? I've got bourbon but no ice I'm afraid."
"Sure thing sweets." He responds whilst slipping his jacket off, placing it on a nearby chair.
"You mind if I smoke? Just a cigarette, promise."
You smile at the reference, "sure, there's an ashtray just there."
He pulls out a pre rolled smoke, lighting it and taking a few drags.
When you've poured the drinks you make your way to the other side of the couch, placing the glasses on the coffee table. He offers his cigarette to you. As you nod, he shifts closer, holding it to your lips. You take a couple of drags, relishing the feel of his fingers on your mouth. Every time your skin touches his it sends a flutter through your nerves.
You watch him take a sip of his drink, seeing him press that perfect bottom lip to the glass. He drinks and puts the glass down. Not even looking your way, he says "something you wanna share, pretty girl?"
"Do you? Is it?" You say doltishly. Well done, real eloquent.
"You really wanna know, huh?"
"Yes!" You say loudly, bourbon well and truly in the drivers seat for that one.
He laughs and looks at you dead in the eye, another chance to make you squirm.
"Yes."
Gaping at him for a few seconds, your brain and mouth finally connect.
"Do you- did it hurt? What's it look like? What kinda-"
Stopping you mid babble with a wave of his hand, he simply asks, "you wanna see it?"
Brain short circuiting, you merely stare at him dumbfounded. You nod, curiosity well and truly getting the best of you.
He stands up and undoes his belt, sound echoing through the apartment. Your gaze is fixated on his large hands as they deftly unbutton his jeans. A glimpse of a tattoo teases you on his lower abdomen. His happy trail is peeking out, leading to the large thatch of hair that snakes down to his manhood. You swallow hard.
He slowly pulls his boxers down and you scoot closer to have a look. It emerges from the fabric, to your surprise half hard.
You gape at it. You've seen dicks before. A handful. And they are just that, a handful. This is more than a handful. You think you'd struggle to get your hand around his. The girth of it was truly intimidating. It certainly looked long too, and that was at half mast.
The end of it was pink and rounded, and the piercing went through the slit at the top, down to the underside of the tip. The piercing was thicker than you imagined, a curved bar with thick steel balls on either end. You never thought you would be into this sort of thing, but just looking at it made you think about what it felt like. What it tasted like. You wet your lips and continue to stare.
On instinct, your hand reaches out. You only notice when it meets the roughness of his jeans, touching ever so closely to his exposed member.
You look up at Eddie's face. He's looking right back at you sinfully.
"Did it hurt?"
"Not as much as you'd think. Ached like a bitch the first time I got a boner though."
You giggle, staring at it again.
"Can I touch it?" What the hell. It just slipped out, unbidden. You see his dick twitch at the thought.
Eddie chuckles darkly. "Did you seriously just ask if you-"
"Sorry that was dumb of me-"
"Sure you can sweet thing."
Before your mind can even comprehend what's happening, your hand shoots forward with sudden bravery, reaching out to hold it. You inspect the tip, looking at the piercing, feeling his hardness grow under your delicate touch. Inquisitively you rub the jewellery with your thumb, inadvertently smoothing the pad of your thumb over his tip in the process. Eddie hisses through his teeth.
"I'm sorry, did that hurt?"
"No," Eddie manages through gritted teeth, "just felt really fuckin' good."
Oh.
You back off, moving your hands from his piercing and placing them in your lap. He tucks himself away again, doing up his jeans, subconsciously palming his length.
"Well? What do you think?" He sits on the couch next to you, denim clad knee touching yours.
"It's really big Eddie."
He laughs, throwing his arm over the back of the sofa.
"You talkin' about the piercing or my dick?"
"Both." You couldn't help it. It had to be said. It was true. You knock your drink back, feeling entirely too sober for this conversation.
Eddie's mouth splits into a lazy smug smile. Finishing his own drink, he turns to you, eyes roaming over your body.
"So, do I get a turn now sweet thing?"
You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "At what?"
Well, you got to touch me. Can I touch you?"
Your eyes widen at his brazen attitude, but you'd be lying if you said this wasn't the reason you had invited him in in the first place. The very air around you feels heavy, hot with anticipation.
"Ok."
You stand up shakily, mirroring his movements from earlier, unsure hands unbuttoning your jeans. Eddie's eyes travel down to your core, predatory gaze shamelessly wandering over you. Your jeans are a little big, slipping straight to your ankles when they're undone. You kick them off and away. Standing there in your tank top and tiny white panties you've never felt so exposed in your life.
Eddie stands up for a second looking down at you, eyes shining with mischief. He winks, and drops to his knees between the couch and the coffee table, grabbing your hips and pulling you to face him.
Sizeable hands hovering over the hem of your underwear, he looks up at you. "Can I? Can I take these off?"
You nod, cheeks flaring with heat.
Eddie licks his lips, eyes never leaving your cunt. "I'm gonna need you to say it, sweet thing."
"Y-yes Eddie." You manage to stumble out.
"Atta girl."
He peels them off. They stick for a moment between your thighs, slick and heat pouring from your core. The tops of your thighs are already damp with expectancy. Your muscles clench, pressing together with angst. Eddie pries your thighs apart slightly, thumbs massaging calming circles into the flesh.
Eddie presses a kiss to your mound, stubble scratching the delicate skin ever so slightly.
"Eddie what are you doing?"
"You said I can touch you."
"Yeah, so why-"
Eddie's tongue pushes between your folds firmly, tongue bar flicking right over your clit.
The noise you make is nearly inhuman, breath knocked out of your lungs in shock. Your legs buckle at the knees, ass falling to the carpet. He takes the opportunity to wedge his head between your legs, your thighs pushed as wide as far as the narrow space allowed, stuck between the sofa and the table.
His stubble is burning the insides of your thighs, roughly rubbing against your soft skin. Eddie licks into you, pushing his tongue inside your hole. You feel the warm wetness of his thick tongue and the foreign bump of hard steel forcing shockwaves of pleasure into you. The moan he rips from you reverberates in your chest, full of want.
Eddie groans into you, tongue making it's way to your clit, running in dizzying circles. The feeling is almost too much as you buck up into him, writhing your back on the carpet.
"Oh my God, Eddie!"
You can practically feel him smirking against your dripping pussy, getting his large hands underneath your ass so he can push his face into you even further. His tongue is everywhere, eating you out messily, hungry for you. The occasional rub of steel sends your senses into overload, hips rutting shamelessly into his face.
He moves one hand from underneath you and pushes two fingers deep onto your cunt. You're on the verge of screaming, tears gathering in your eyes, overwhelmed with pleasure. The pressure of your desire collects in the pit of your stomach.
His fingers make you feel so full, reaching somewhere you've never been able to touch on your own. The rough sure movements of his hand so close to sending you over the edge, pussy grateful to have something to clench around.
"Eddie! Holy fuck." You cry out, an unsolicited tear spilling from your eye.
Eddie's mouth unlatches from your heat briefly.
"You gonna come, pretty girl? Come on, soak my face, that's my girl." And he's diving straight back in, tongue movements unmatched, strong fingers fucking into you. Desperate, filthy noises pour from your throat at the sudden onslaught.
Tensing up, you feel the unimaginable tight hot ball of desire suddenly drop. The feeling ignites through you like wildfire, coalescing into a burning, broken scream of his name.
Once you've chased your release as far as it could possibly take you, your back finally touches the floor again. Eddie moves away from you, sitting up, gazing at your fucked out form. Panting, flushing, sweating, you manage to look at him.
Eddie looks wild, feral, hair a mess, face covered and dripping with your slick. You can even see a wet shiny patch on his forehead. You giggle, dopey in your post orgasm haze.
"What? Have I got something on my face?" Eddie stares at you unblinking. You laugh loudly at that, pointing to where it was on his forehead. He laughs back and pulls his t shirt off, wiping his sticky face all over it before tossing it onto the sofa.
Your eyes go wide at the sight of him shirtless. Taunt, muscular frame, dark patch of hair covering his chest, matching the rough hair of his happy trail. He is littered with tattoos, some dark and bold, others lighter and faded. There's small patches of alabaster skin here and there. He's glistening, clearly having worked up a slight sweat just from the force of which he'd eaten you out. Muscles shining, catching the dim light.
He catches your lust filled stare and leans over you, caging your head with his strong arms.
"So, you wanna know why I've got the other piercing?" Sinful smirk turning his mouth up at the corners.
You crash your lips into his, throwing your arms around his neck. Desperate hands snake into his hair as you open your mouth to deepen the kiss. Eddie's kisses are messy but skilful, one hand moulding to the back of your head, pushing you towards him almost painfully. The need for each other is tangible, bodies colliding, rolling into one another. He sits up, pulling you along with him by the waist, tongue continuously dipping into your mouth. Finally, you break from the kiss just to breathe. It's like all the air has been sucked from the room and all you can breathe is Eddie.
He's kissing along your jaw line, down your neck; yearning, robust kisses. Heaving breaths are coming from each of you.
"Bedroom?' Eddie manages between heavy panting and pecks.
You gesture to the hall and he wastes no time in standing up, pulling you along with him, eliciting a surprised squeal from you. You wrap your legs around his waist, firm hands holding you steady, as he attempts to navigate your hallway whilst still kissing you.
Nearly tripping on your discarded jeans, he slams your back into the wall. You couldn't care less, tongue invading his mouth, pressing your naked heat against his solid bulge. His groans are so low they're almost growls, bearish and dominant. He takes the opportunity to press your form against the wall so he can pull your tank top over your head, eyes rolling back at your braless chest.
Finally, he carries you through your bedroom door, dropping you onto the bed. Unbuckling his belt and exposing himself to you for the second time today, this time he's taking his clothes off completely, standing in front of you naked in all his glory. Further tattoos cover his hairy legs, you see his thick thighs flexing. He gives you a ravening look; predacious in its delivery, with a smile that belies the lust in his eyes.
Quivering before him, he roughly widens your legs and slots his hips in between. You feel the hard shaft of his dick pressing against your slick folds, whimpering at the contact.
Hovering over you, one of his hands engulfs the side of your face, stroking down to your chin, holding you there. You stare at him open mouthed, consumed by the feeling of him rubbing up and down your wet pussy.
"You sure you want this, sweet thing?"
"Yes, Eddie please." Your voice doesn't sound like you, its smaller, meek. Your eyes plead with him.
Leaning in to you further, his hot breath whispers, deep voice on the shell of your ear. "Are you sure you can take it? Can you be a good girl for me?"
You moan loudly at him, small hands clasping at his biceps in desperation.
"Yes, please Eddie, I'll be so good for you!" You writhe underneath him.
He chuckles, biting his lip. "I knew you were into that. You got a condom?"
"No I'm on the pill, I need you, please."
"Holy shit." Eddie wastes no more time, rubbing his cock up against your entrance, strange feeling of the piercing hard against your slippery cunt.
He starts to push into you and your mouth falls open, no sound coming out. You grip his shoulders hard, trying so hard to take him. The stretch is intense. He's looking at you with concern, softer than he's ever looked at you.
"You gotta relax, my good girl, or its gonna hurt."
You nod, pupils blown, trying so hard not to clench around him. He bottoms out, the final push making you whimper.
Stroking your face, he gives you a moment to adjust.
"So fuckin' beautiful like this."
Your cheeks burn at the praise, lips enveloping his in a soft kiss.
He moves, pulling out almost all the way before pushing back in. Your eyes roll back at the feeling, a loud whine escaping from your lips. The burning feeling has been replaced with pure ecstasy. You're sure you can feel the steel of the piercing hitting that spot inside you.
Thrusting into you slowly a couple of times, you already feel pressure in your stomach, knots tied tight and begging to be released. The sensation tightens further, shoots of it flying down your legs and up your spine. You clench around him hard, moaning.
"Fuck Eddie I'm gonna cum, fuck." You pant out, eyes wide.
"Already? Shit you're gonna give me an ego."
"You already- oh God, fuck- you already have one."
He laughs loud and thrusts into you harder. Instantly you release, the ropes holding your stomach snapping. You come with a high pitched squeal of his name. You hear your wetness before you can feel it, a squelching noise resonating with each drive into your sopping cunt.
"Oh fuck, sweet thing, you squirted. Soaked me. You're- perfect" he groans. You keen at the praise.
Getting on his knees he pulls you bodily into him, slamming into you harder, hands digging at the flesh of your hips. You've never felt so full in your life, his cock piercing nudging your g spot with each thrust.
Eddie's grunting with effort, hair completely loose now, wild around his shoulders. Your fingernails bite into his flexing muscles leaving crescent moons in their wake.
"Shit, sweet thing, oh fuck."
Eddie pushes himself forcefully back on top of you, folding you in half, knees pressed against your stomach.
"Oh Eddie!"  It's just so overwhelming. You're full to the brim with him, satisfaction coating your insides, eyelids coated with emotion. Tears spring out the corners of your eyes, running down your temples. You're trembling, inundated with emotion and sensation.
"Hey, hey, you ok?" He slows.
"Yes fuck please Eddie don't fucking stop!"
Grinning wickedly he thrusts into you without restraint, slamming his hip bones into the flesh of your thighs, cock breaching you like nothing ever before.
Clamping down around him, your third orgasm is an ocean; wave after wave of sinful pleasure washing over the very fabric of your being, stripping you back to your bare components and leaving you breathless, sweating, and as exposed as a raw nerve. You babble, and cry, and whine his name, eyes tight shut, utterly taken by the moment.
Eddie's plunges into you start to falter. Feeling him twitching, becoming impossibly harder inside you he comes, spilling his seed deep into your cunt. The warm, rushing feeling just expands the length of your own release, waves finally ebbing and retreating.
Eddie pulls out from you, leaving you feeling emptier than ever before. He lies on his side next to you, thumb approaching to rub a stray tear from your cheek. You're both perspiring; glowing forms gasping for air.
Finally catching some semblance of breath, he strokes your cheek again, wide grin dissipating on his face.
"You ok pretty girl?"
"Yeah you could say that." You huffed a laugh, still trying to focus on how he'd made you feel.
"But you cried?" Its a question, but he looks concerned, hands attempting to comfort you.
"It was just, so much. Too good, you know." Taking in his smirk you say "don't you let that go to your head!"
"Bit fuckin' late for that" he laughs. "C'mere."
He gathers you up in his strong arms, holding you close, and kisses you on the forehead. The affection honestly takes you by surprise, expecting him to have bolted by this point, having got what he wanted.
"Can I level with you?"
Oh shit here we go.
"I've wanted to do that since you moved in." He grins at you.
"Oh, really?" You look up at him, surprised that he'd been feeling the same as you. "Well, same. You're really hot."
He laughs and strokes your back.
"You working tomorrow?"
"No, why? Are you?"
"No. I wanna take you out somewhere, if you want." He almost looks embarrassed. Almost.
"Are you asking me out on a date Mr Munson?" You smirk at him in disbelief.
"I mean, yeah, if you wanna. Unless you just wanted this to be a one time thing, I get it, I can just leave." There's a quaver to his voice. A weakness your not used to hearing.
You stare up at him. Cocky, confident Eddie Munson, was about as unsure as you were. You giggle.
"I'd love to go on a date with you." Smiling, you attempt to hide it into his inked chest.
"So, wanna take a shower?"
"Well" you say, leaning up on your elbow, "we could. Or..."
"Or what, sweet thing?" He rubs your arm, furrowing his brow.
"Or, we could do that again."
Tag list (please reblog this fic if you want to stay in the tags ILY ❤)
@angelsarecallin @cutiecusp @pxrxcxa @spencerinmydrawls @munsquinns @sillypurplemurple @tiannamortis @walleloveseve @sinczir @biblichornerd @frogers @lauraasiain @madiisixx @leftdonkeygothgoop-blog @rafestarkeysblog @kittykatvenom @southside-serpent-bae @psychedelicsandsunsalutations @biblichornerd @angelina16torres-blog @ocean-of-rage @kirksslut @venisvendetta @pretty-vulture @munsonology @miss-nothing29 @lady-jane3 @eddiemunsonwife222 @reidslittlegenius213 @sombodynotimportant @mystars123 @bloodsuccaaa @rabbitsf00t @scrumplump @crazylove-69 @wonderfulw0rldx @ifiwereazombie @spencerinmydrawls @athenamunson1 @soggycinnamonroll @skunknuts-wine @residentdreamy @ab05 @janaedaze @midmare2000 @pollenallergie @spiderlily02 @eddiemunsonsbedroom @gumballsglassofmilk @gnomesboi3002 @kiwi-bitchez @mangodrgnfruit @skinij3fx @6charly66 @50shadesofuncomfortable @fvckpretty @the-fairy-anon @spooks97 @figsfigsfigs @cutiecusp @cherrychilli @devilinthepalemoonlite @magnificantmermaid @chickpeadumpsterfire @lightvixxen @eddiemunsonfuxks @corrodedhawkins @munson-blurbs @indouloureux @eddiemunsonsheart @eddiesprincess86
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harrysfolklore · 2 months
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Harry Styles Answers the Web's Most Searched Questions | WIRED
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this was posted on my patreon a few months ago, enjoy ! MASTERLIST | MY PATREON
"Hi I'm Harry Styles and this is the Wired Autocomplete Interview."
Harry introduced himself to the camera and you smiled, you were currently at WIRED Studios for Harry's long awaited autocomplete interview that he finally agreed to do thanks to yours and his fans persistence.
You were sitting behind the camera with the rest of the crew, watching him with a small smile.
A crew member passed the first board to him, he looked at it confusedly for a minute before speaking.
"Okay so. I'm answering what I think or what?"
Everyone in the studio laughed and the director quickly explained to him how the game worked once again, you rolled your eyes with affection and he sent a wink your way.
"Alright, how is Harry Styles?" he said after taking the little piece of paper off the board, "I'm good, I'm really enjoying being home in London, I was away for a while on tour and I'm going to stay here for a bit so that's exciting."
"How did Harry Styles," he paused to rip the next paper and reveal the rest of the question, "Become famous? Well, when I was sixteen years old I auditioned for a singing show called The X Factor, I got put in a band with four lads and we didn't win but we put out a song called What Makes You Beautiful," he smiled for a second, "that one put us on the map, we released a bunch of albums and now I'm here."
"How did Harry Styles meet his wife?" at this, he turned his gaze to you to give you a big smile, you immediately mirrored his and nodded your head, signaling that you were okay with him talking about it.
"We could say that it was basically a blind date, we had a friend in common who thought we would be a good match and set us up, we had an amazing first date but then I had to travel to Los Angeles for work so we couldn't really see each other after that but once I was back in London we hung out all the time, and now we're married."
He smiled at you again and you couldn't help but feel your heart melt, you had been married for 6 months now but the married life was still new for the both of you, and everything he called you his wife butterflies made its way to your stomach.
"How is Harry Styles still alive?" his eyes widened in surprise and he looked around the room, making a few present laugh, "Um, that's a weird thing to search on the internet, but I guess, I don't know if I can answer that, I don't think anyone can answer that we're just lucky to still be around and enjoy life."
He gave the camera one of his infamous "frog smiles" and handed the board to a crew member who was ready with the next one.
"Does Harry Styles have tattoos?" he revealed the first question of the new board, "Yes, he does. I have a lot of tattoos actually, they're basically all over my body. The most recent one is right here," he pointed at the back of his right arm, "It's my wedding date, actually, everyone might call me a sap but I was reserving this arm for tattoos about my wife a and future kids, so I guess it's finally time to fill it."
It was safe to say that  fans watching at home and everyone in the studio absolutely melted, especially you.
"Does Harry Styles have siblings? I do I have a sister, she's older than me and her name is Gemma. A lot of people claim she's cooler than me for some reason but I don't thing that's true," he shrugged and revealed the next question, "Does Harry Styles speak Italian? I would like to think that I do, I spend a lot of time there and I've learned how to communicate pretty decently."
"Is Harry Styles an actor?" he said after peeling the first sticker of the new board, "He tries to be an actor that's for sure," he laughed and everyone in the room did as well, "I mean, I've been in a couple of movies, I've auditioned for a bunch of roles and my agent has sent me scripts to go through," he shrugged "So I can say that makes me an actor."
"Is Harry Styles american?" he shook his head at that one, "He is not! He's Britain, born and raised okay? He's very proud of it."
"What's Harry Styles BeReal? I don't have a BeReal, but if I did I wouldn't tell you," he pointed to the camera jokingly, "What are Harry Styles fans called? I think they are referred to as Harries, but I don't like to speak on behalf of them, you should ask them."
"What was Harry Styles first song? My first song was Sign Of The Times, I wrote it with friends that I love, and that is my wife's favorite song I've ever written, right love?"
"That's correct." you said from your spot, pretty audible so you know it would make it to the final cut of the interview.
"What are Harry Styles songs about?" he peeled the last sticker of the board, "They're about a lot of things, life, friends, love, my wife," he shrugged, "I even have one about the female orgasm."
You quietly giggled, knowing that his fans would go crazy over that last sentence.
"Did Harry Styles go to college? He did not, he became a singer."
"Did Harry Styles win a Grammy? He somehow won Album Of The Year last year, which is absolutely insane if you ask him."
"Did Harry Styles finish high school? Oh I'm glad the internet asks," he laughed, "Contrary to popular belief I did finish high school, I completed my GCES and I graduated, I don't know why there's a rumor there that I didn't finish high school tho."
"Anyway, last one!" he comically threw the board to the floor and grabbed the final board a crew member was handling him, "Who is Harry Styles best friend? Um, I have a ton of best friends. Jeff who's also my manager, Mitch who plays in my band, my childhood best friend's name is Johnny, so yeah, I'm very lucky in the friends department, I love my friends."
"Who does Harry Styles look like? My mom, I would say. A lot of people point out that we have the same smile," he shrugged, "My mom is a beautiful woman so I'm flattered."
"Who did Harry Styles write Love Of My Life about? My wife and London."
"And final question," he slowly peeled off the sticker for dramatic effect, "Who does Harry Styles love? Okay, that's cute that people search for that on the internet, um, I love my family and friends, I love my wife that's for sure, I love making music and performing," he listed with his fingers, "And love love, yeah, love is great."
He smiled to the camera and put the board aside to say his goodbyes.
"I thought my Google searches were much more appropriate that I expected. I was fun to see what people wonder about me, so yeah thank you WIRED for having me."
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aziraphale-is-a-cat · 8 months
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DPXDC Community Service Mentor
After Dan's redemption arc and subsequent chilling out, the observants still feel he hasn't paid back for what he ruined, and decided that rather than incarcerate a perfectly nice guy, he's going to have mandatory community service.
And thus, Dan Phantom is shunted off into the mentor program for shitty powerhouses known as Marvel Duty.
So when Billy Batson is chosen and meets his new head mates, he's faced with morally questionable mythical figures such as Zeus, Hercules, Solomon, Atlas, Achilles, Mercury and,,, some guy named Dan???? Who, for the record, gives horrible life advice.
-
Billy: Batman kinda scares me.
Dan: oh, he's one of the easier ones, actually. Just go after him first real quick when he has no reason to suspect you, worked real well.
Billy, very concerned: ...what?
Dan, doesn't realize how insane that was: what?
-
Billy: How do I get rid of this rogue? He's really persistent!
Dan: kill him.
Billy: NO!
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Dan: That rich guy, the Wayne one.
Billy: yeah?
Dan: don't let him get your genetic material, crazy billionaires are an epidemic.
Billy: what the hell happened to you?
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Flash: so what were the crusades like, did you participate on either side?
Billy, put on the spot and panicking: uhhhh
Dan: say you were in China, Kublai Khan was trying to relive his grandfather's glory.
Billy awkward as hell: oh I was in China for that. Kublai and all that jazz.
Billy: were you alive in ancient China? You sound American?
Dan: I am, time travel.
Billy, confused: oh...
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ovaryacted · 4 months
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FORGOTTEN DREAMS
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PAIRING: DI!Leon x fem!reader
SYNOPSIS: Coming back from his mission to Alcatraz, Leon wasn't expecting to have old desires from his past haunt him at his current age. Being his partner, you comfort him and try to fulfill his hidden wishes.
CONTENT/WARNINGS: 18+/MDNI. NSFW. Smut. Porn with some plot. Angsty at the beginning. Brief talks of trauma. Established relationship (Leon & Reader are engaged/married). Assumed ages (Leon is 38, Reader is an adult so 25+). Breeding Kink (reciprocated both ways). Mating Press. Creampie. Unprotected sex (p/v). Oral Sex (f receiving). Dirty Talk. Multiple Orgasms. Domesticity. Intimacy. Relationship conversations.
WC: 3.6k
NOTES: Hey, surprise surprise. I don't know where this came from, but I just started thinking about older Leon as a dad, and paired with me ovulating, I came up with this. Wanted to get something out before the end of the year, so I hope you like it. Happy New Year from wherever you are! Comments & reblogs are always appreciated!
✰ ── 《 Navigation ⟡ Main Masterlist ⟡ AO3 》
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Leon always believed he couldn’t have the things he’s always wanted, that he was destined for a life of misery.
Ever since that night in September all those years ago, he’d lost hope of the idea of the American Dream, a fantasy that was destroyed by the horrors of the same country he was forced to serve and protect. He once imagined his life would be different, living in the suburbs in a house with a white picket fence. Perhaps he’d have a pretty spouse, a few kids, maybe even a dog, he was always fond of bloodhounds and golden retrievers.
But of course, that wasn’t his reality.
So he accepted his fate the moment he miraculously made it out alive from Raccoon City, letting go of any control he had to change his life. He didn’t expect to live this long in the first place, foregoing any extensive plans for a future that remained uncertain with every mission he was sent on. No matter what he did, he remained stuck in a never-ending loop of dread, constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop to be released from the torment of a life he did not choose to have.
That was, until he met you. He didn’t know how he managed to get so lucky to experience a sense of normalcy in his life, albeit it felt like he was always dreaming, waiting for the moment he’d wake up and see you slip away in his arms.
But you didn’t, you never left.
Leon wakes up every morning with the opportunity to take a glimpse at your sleeping face, taking every feature you had into memory. You granted him the chance to experience domesticity, something that was foreign to him at first, but he got adjusted to it and quickly began to crave it. You were what he wanted, a chance at peace in the hellscape that was his life. And over time, he didn’t have a doubt in his mind when he popped the question and happily slipped a ring on your finger when you told him yes.
Having someone waiting back at home was another added motivation for Leon to make it out alive, to return to you. All he ever wants is to be able to fall asleep in your arms after a long day, to have his head nuzzling into your neck and hear you giggling when his stubble tickled you too much. It was what he needed, and he silently thought that after all this time, as long as he had you he’d be happy.
That was why when he came back after his mission to Alcatraz, his new thoughts began to take him off guard. The same desires he had buried for so long slipped out of the crevices of his mind and began to plague him. The desire for more, for the things he never thought he could have. It was like his biological time clock was quickly turning into a ticking time bomb of anxiety ready to explode if it were suppressed any longer. He already had more than what he bargained for, he was alive, he had a home, and he had you. That should be enough, more than enough.
So why does he want more? Wanting anything else felt wrong and undeserving, so he never vocalized it. But you could tell something was on his mind and had been bothering him since he had returned.
It first started with the longing stares, where you’d often catch Leon looking your way a bit too fondly, as if he were taking you in for the last time before looking away. He was always an affectionate person, at least around you, but he was growing clingy. He was never that far away, usually holding your hand and caressing your fingers, cuddling up with you, and stroking your body whenever he could. Not to mention the sex, it was always passionate, always fun, and enjoyable, but recently it was as if Leon did it so frequently with so much vigor that you almost got worried.
No matter how calm he seemed, you knew him well enough to read him by now, and the small changes in his behavior showed you that something else was going on, that he was acting differently. 
“You’re thinking again”, you stated matter-of-factly, watching Leon stare off in the distance as he rubbed his bottom lip over and over again. Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, bringing him back to the present as he glanced at you.
“I’m getting old”, he said with a sigh, rubbing your legs that were currently propped up on his thighs from where you lay on the bed with him.
“You’re not getting old, you’re getting older. Big difference”, you commented, hearing him chuckle under his breath. That wasn’t entirely what he meant, but he didn’t know how to say what he wanted without possibly scaring you away or jinxing himself.
“Are you happy? With me I mean?”, he asked you the question in a soft tone, not to signal that he was unhappy with your relationship, but rather he was thinking about something regarding you being together.
“Of course I am. You make me happy. I wouldn’t have said yes if that wasn’t the case”, you told him reassuringly, moving closer to him to hold him by the cheek.
“I guess what I’m asking is are you happy with just me, just us”, Leon said the question as if he were afraid, and you raised an eyebrow to gauge his reaction.
“Leon, if you want to get a pet or something we can. I think a cat would be kinda nice”, you said to him, and he looked at you with a wide grin before he laughed, actually laughed. For a second you’re assuming you said something wrong, but when he regains his bearings, he grabs a hold of your hand and runs his thumbs over your knuckles.
“Although a pet sounds good, that’s not exactly what I’m talking about”, he offered you a smile, giving you a second to think harder about his suggestion when he could see the lightbulb going off at the top of your head.
Kids?
“You’ve been thinking about kids?”
“Is it bad that I am?”
In a way, the revelation that Leon was thinking of having a family was surprising and took you off guard. When you met him, he initially struck you as a family man or someone who would want that down the line. So when he told you that wasn’t on his mind nor a goal of his, you took his word for it and stayed with him because that didn’t bother you, you loved him anyway. Now, it seems that he’s had a change of heart, and it sparked your interest.
“Well no…I don’t think it’s a bad thing. Thought you told me you never wanted them?”, you asked him, leaning into him closer and putting a warm hand on his chest.
“I said that because I didn’t think I could have them. But since coming back from Alcatraz…I don’t know, I keep thinking about it”, he shrugged under you, not meeting your gaze and looking down to the floor.
“I wanted a family when I was younger, but with all the shit I went through I just didn’t think it was possible, or that I could have it. So I simply forgot about it. But now..it popped back into my head and I’ve been thinking about it for a while”
Your eyes softened as you looked at him, seeing the gears turning in his mind. 
“It’s probably the old man hormones or something, I must be having a mid-life crisis”, he was joking, trying to use his humor to downplay how he felt, the way he usually did when he was dealing with something that made him uneasy.
“Babe, if you’re thinking about having kids you should’ve told me. I don’t mind you know, I think it’s endearing”, you whispered to him, now holding his face in your hands and offering him your warm gaze.
“So you don’t think I’m crazy for wanting them? Now of all times? I don’t think I should be wanting more than I already have”, you shook your head at that, knowing that Leon would feel guilty for having desires, that he had no room to be selfish.
“I think you deserve to have everything you want, regardless of what they may be. And if kids are on the list, then that’s okay, it’s what you want”, you were speaking to him in a confident voice, the one you used when you were trying to gently knock some sense into him.
“I don’t even know if you want them, with me anyway”, his eyebrows furrowed, hellbent on the assumption that you wouldn’t think twice about avoiding having children, much less have them with him.
“You aren’t the only one who’s been thinking about them you know”, his eyes widened at your confession, and your smile turned a bit sheepish.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously. Guess the hormones are also working overtime for me”
Leon blinked once, then twice. You fixated on the way the blues of his irises shifted, reminiscent of the clear sky after a storm had passed. But in reality, what you were looking at was hope interwoven in his eyes, a rare emotion that you’ve only seen a handful of times.
“Is that a yes then?”, you could see the way his lips began to curl up, an optimistic grin plastered on his face now, looking for an answer that would calm the excited beating of his heart. 
“If you want to try, then we can try. And whatever happens, happens”, you reassured him once more, feeling him sit up straighter on the bed to kiss you on the lips.
“I love you, you know that?”
“You’ve told me a few times, but I don’t mind reminders”, you grinned at him, finding yourself tackled to the bed the next moment with laughs filling the room.
-
The next few days felt like a blur, basking in the domestic bliss that otherwise would’ve been a rarity for Leon, he found ways to keep you occupied.
Just like he did now.
Currently with your back on the bed, Leon’s head was between your plush thighs, lapping away at your cunt sometime at noon. It was Sunday, a day of rest meant to hide away from all of your responsibilities and chores. But of course, Leon had different plans when it came to keeping you busy.
“Fuck Leon”, you said with a loud moan, a light layer of sweat covering your body as your fingers yanked at his head, bringing him closer to where you wanted him. Leon groaned against you, tongue curling around your pulsing clit and forcing an arch in your back.
He already pulled one release out of you earlier, right after he found you on the couch wearing nothing but a worn-out T-shirt of his you stole years ago. He couldn’t help but fall in between your legs, head against your chest so he could listen to your heart beating in his ear. The comforting rhythm put Leon at ease, his hands running down the length of your thighs and kneading at your skin while you watched whatever show was currently on the screen. You looked at him from the corner of your eye, already seeing the mischievousness he had written all over his face.
“What are you doing?”, your attention moved from the TV screen to the top of his head, focused on the movement of his hands on your body.
“Nothing”, he told you playfully, his hands were already slipping under the edge of where your shirt covered the top of your hips. He shifted higher up to place a kiss on your lips, moving to your neck and nipping at you gently.
“Just keep watching your show”
It was the last thing he told you before his fingers found refuge in the welcoming warmth of your pussy, rubbing at your clit as you quickly forgot about the plot twist happening in front of you. He was a distraction, as he always was, but you’d never turn him away, you couldn’t even if you tried. And now, you were willingly paying the price of his affection.
Heat started to build up in your lower spine the more you felt Leon’s mouth on you, his needy tongue flicking against every sensitive spot you had before burrowing inside you. It was muscle memory for him, knowing exactly what to do and how to make you fall apart with skill. With every moan you gave, every twitch and shake of your body, Leon drank it all, trying to drown himself in the intensity of your pleasure whenever he had you like this. In between your legs, sucking away at where you needed him most, it was where he belonged.
Your hips were against his face, grinding into him and having his nose press into your clit again, pulling another airy whimper out of you. His hair was wrapped around your fingers, trying to listen in to the shameless sounds Leon made when more of your slick entered his mouth. To him, you tasted like honey, sweet on his tongue like molasses. It was something that curbed his sweet tooth, completely addicted to a taste that only you created when he made you feel good.
“I’m gonna cum, fuck f-fuck”, you didn’t need to announce it, Leon already knew from the way your walls were pulsating around his tongue that you were getting close.
Slipping away from your clenching hole, his tongue went up to run circles against your nub, sucking at it in pulses and snapping the rope of tension in your gut. Your breathing remained stuck in your throat as your second release ran through you, your shaky thighs pinned to his broad shoulders and his mouth continued to prolong your climax. He didn’t stop until the waves of your orgasm calmed down and ebbed away, where only a light pleasurable numbness remained and a dumb smile was left on your face.
No longer feeling you convulsing around him, Leon gave your clit one last kiss before coming back up from between your legs, matching your smile with one of his own. Plush lips covered in your essence, his charm radiated off of him every time he achieved the feat of making you cum.
“Feel good?”, he said teasingly, meshing his lips with yours with a pleasant hum. His tongue curled around your own, giving you a taste of yourself that you graciously took and reveled in. 
“I feel good, but I can feel better”, you drew away from his face, giving him a smirk and tugging him closer to you by the waistband of his briefs. With a sneaky hand, you slipped your fingers underneath the soft cotton, gripping his hard length to touch him properly. You heard him grunt again, his breath hitching when you took his earlobe between your teeth and whispered at him.
“I want you inside me already”, you practically purred at him, a shiver running through him followed by another chuckle. Your vulgarity wasn’t new, but it was always something Leon found amusing.
“Yeah? You need me to fuck you sweetheart?”, he wasn’t asking you necessarily, more so reiterating facts that didn’t need your confirmation. Because you did want him to fuck you, you needed it and he knew it. Your hazy eyes watched as he stripped off his briefs, instinctively opening your legs for him, a silent invitation that you craved more.
“Want you to fuck a baby into me”
For a second Leon froze, his eyes widening at your words as they rang in his head. The phrase alone did something to him, brought out a new primal instinct he didn’t know existed until now. It festered carnal lust deep in his gut that shot in two directions, up towards his chest with his heart beating rapidly, and in the opposite way where all of his blood began rushing down south. He blinked at you, the blues of his eyes darkening to a sharp cobalt, and in the next second, he was on you so quickly it almost gave you whiplash.
The tip of his cock teased your entrance with two rubs before being sheathed deep inside in one easy thrust. Your body gave no resistance, welcoming the feeling of Leon stretching you out just the way you liked. Strong hands digging into the back of your thighs, he pushed your knees down against the mattress and closer to your chest, letting him slip that much deeper into you and leaving you gasping underneath him.
Dragging his hips back once before slamming back into you with intention, Leon fucked you without restraint, pinning you down against the mattress and ruining you for any other person, past, present, and future. He didn’t change his pace, filling in every possible gap, his dick hitting your deepest spots and kissing your cervix with every push and pull of his body. You swear you could feel him trying to breach your womb, the thought alone turning your head to mush. The urge of wanting him to leave his mark inside you grew like never before, your eyes rolling to the back of your head with another broken sob coming from your lips.
“Gonna fill you up. Is that what you want?”, he muttered, huffing out a breath and pounding his hips into you harshly to where the room filled with an audible skin-slapping sound.
“Yes, yes, I need it so bad!”, you felt him shift, forcing your knees down until they were parallel to your ears and effectively putting you into a mating press. His torso leaned more into you, caging you in and taking in your fucked out face with pride.
“Need me to breed you? Fuck a baby into you, huh?”, letting go of one of your legs to press his thumb against your clit, he rubbed against it and felt you clench around his cock. Your grip on the bedsheets tightened, bleary eyes looking up into him as he fucked you with determination.
“Yeah, I’ll make you a momma don’t you worry”
He said it like it was a promise, a sacred vow he didn’t plan on breaking. It was harsh fucking that was usually reserved for whenever you were both stressed and pent up. But now he was on a mission, making it his personal goal to not stop until he gave you what you both desired.
In the back of his mind, he was imagining what you would look like pregnant. The soft expanse of your stretched-out tummy that continues to grow as your child develops along with you. He pictured the way your body will start to fill in a bit more, becoming more soft and curvy in spots you didn’t consider previously. The heaviness of your breasts and the changes in sensitivity when they filled up with milk, something that he can’t wait to see and taste for himself. Every image that filled his head only made his cock throb and his thrusting intensify.
“Gonna look so pretty, all round for me”, he was lost in his thoughts, mumbling to himself and driving into you so good he hit that soft spot tucked inside. Your mind had turned to static, his words only bringing you that much closer to the edge and your legs shaking from how they were bent.
“Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up, make sure it catches, right here”, he placed a finger right underneath your belly button and pressed into your skin, the friction of his touch rapidly sending you into your next orgasm unexpectedly.
Throwing your head back against the pillow, you couldn’t warn Leon when you felt yourself coming again for him, your walls flexing around him and a wail filling the room. His thumb continued to stroke tight circles on your clit as he fucked you through your release, thrusting sloppily against you before cumming inside with a resounding grumble of your name. His hips were flushed with yours, grinding into you until he had nothing left to give, panting against your neck and kissing your nape.
You felt Leon slip out of you, gently putting your legs down back on the bed and his spend starting to drip down your thighs. With two of his fingers, he collected some of his release that spilled out of you and pushed it back inside your body, plugging you up with his digits to make sure none of it would dribble out.
“Can’t waste it, hold it there for me”, he said, making you keen and grip him tighter. Drawing out his fingers, he brought them to your lips, grinning when you wrapped your tongue around them to lick off the remnants of his taste.
“You think this one did it?”, you asked him tiredly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to give him soft pecks, growing clingy and wanting more of his affection.
“Hopefully, but there’s nothing wrong with a little more practice”, Leon smirked at you, giving you a wet passionate kiss and rekindling the flame of desire once more.
You knew that he wasn’t going to stop until he gave you what you both wanted, a happy family in a happy home. Of course, you had zero complaints, you’d do anything to make him happy and give him what he deserves.
Maybe just maybe, Leon will get his dream after all.
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everdreamofme · 1 month
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it's a boy, girl thing
mattheo riddle x reader
Mattheo Riddle was insufferable. He was one of the biggest assholes Y/N Y/L/N had ever met, and she had met a lot. Being a more 'reserved' Ravenclaw, Mattheo and his friends had the tendency to tease her every now and then. Not as much as other students in their year, admittedly, but she definitely had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of it.
Like today, for example. Transfiguration class wasn't exactly Y/N's favourite class, but she did well enough in the subject that she didn't despise the lessons. Y/N had always wanted to be a healer after Hogwarts, and to do that, she would need at least an Exceeds Expectations in numerous subjects just to be able to qualify for the Young Healers programme at St. Mungo's. Transfiguration being one of those numerous subjects.
So here she was. Transfiguration was fairly straightforward, but of course the execution was the tricky part. After successfully transfiguring the small American Goldfinch in front of her into a bouquet of flowers, a satisfied grin crossed her features as she set her wand down and turned in her chair to dig around her bag for some spare parchment to begin her essay. 
Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened as she turned back to face her flowers, only to find there were no flowers sitting in front of her anymore. Instead, a huge phallic object made of porcelain now sat in front of her. Laughter came from all over the classroom as her peers started to notice what was sitting before her.
'First time seeing a dick?' Draco sniggered as she hurriedly searched the desk and surrounding ground for her wand.
She snapped her head up towards the table of Slytherins, ready for a snarky response, when she spotted Mattheo Riddle in the seat closest to her desk, twirling her wand absentmindedly through his fingers with a wicked grin on his face.
'You idiot, Riddle -'
'Miss Y/L/N,' She froze on all fours as Professor McGonagall called her name. 'I suggest you change the subject of your essay to one less... erotic. Fifty points from Ravenclaw House.'
'Y-yes Professor McGonagall.'
Standing, she snatched her wand from Mattheo's hands and sat with a glare as she transfigured the phallic object back into a bouquet of flowers.
I am going to kill that boy one day!
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After class had ended, Y/N had all but chased the Slytherin boys down the hallway.
'Riddle! Riddle!' 
Mattheo groaned as he turned from his conversation with Draco and Enzo to the Ravenclaw girl storming towards him, his friends continuing on without him. 'Can I help you with something, Raven? Checked out any sex toys lately?'
'I cannot believe you did that to me! In front of Professor McGonagall too!' Scoffing, he began down the hallway after his friends again, Y/N stomping after him.
'You lost me fifty house points, Riddle! Fifty! They're going to eat me alive in the common room tonight!' She hissed after him.
'I don't give a fuck what you pencil-neck virgins do in your common rooms, princess,' He smirked as he turned to her again, leaning casually on the statue of Merlin that stood in the hallway.
'Can't be much worse than what you dumb Slytherin jocks get up to in your common room!' Her words didn't affect him, and she knew it from the roll of his eyes and the remaining smirk on his face. 'You're incorrigible, Riddle!'
'Don't care.' He shrugged back.
'I hate you!' 
'That's because you secretly want to have sex with me!' 
'Eugh! When I do decide to surrender the flower of my womanhood, I always imagined it to be with someone of my own species!' Y/N scoffed back, some passing students shooting her strange glances.
'Someone of your own species? What, like Longbottom?' He snorted.
'You are such an idiot, Riddle!' She hissed. ' You really think the world just revolves around quidditch and your stupid little gang and the dark arts.' Mattheo's jaw clenched as he took a step towards her.
'You know, you think you're so different to everyone else-'
'Different from.' She interrupted, causing him to stare at her incredulously. 'You said 'different to'. The correct phraseology is 'different from.''
'Thanks for that information; now I can say you're no different from any other fucking nerd with books instead of friends - and you don't have to open your big fat mouth to fucking correct me!'
'Dick!'
'Bitch!'
'Fuckboy!'
'Skank!'
'You know, I should pity you, but I can't—I hate you too much! I would rather cut off my legs with a rusty knife than be anything like you!' She exclaimed, pointing a finger in his face. Mattheo seethed, nostrils flaring, and eyes hardening.
'Ditto!' He hissed.
She snorted. 'Ditto?'
'Yeah, ditto!'
'Well - double ditto!'
'Double, double ditto!'
'Ugh - you are insufferable, Riddle!' The pair scoffed in unison, barging shoulders with each other as they stormed their separate ways.
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Later that night, Y/N sat in front of the common room fire, hunched over a potions essay. She dropped her quill with a grimace as a blinding pain came into her head.
'Is everything alright?' Luna asked from her spot on the arm chair.
'Yeah, just got a sudden headache, is all.'
'Maybe stop faffing over your essays for once and actually get an early night then?' Cho suggested, flashing a grin at the girl from behind her magazine. Y/N rolled her eyes but began packing her textbooks up anyway.
'Yeah, I think I might just do that. Goodnight guys.'
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Mattheo laughed as a puff of smoke left his mouth and he passed the blunt to Blaise.
'Mate, you have got to get some more of this for the party,' Draco complimented as he took a drag of his own blunt.
'You know I was already planning it,' Mattheo grinned in response until a sudden pain hit his head. He groaned as his hands shot up to his temples and his eyes screwed shut.
Theo barked a laugh. 'Think someone's about to hit white, boys!' 
'Nah, it's just a headache; I'm sure it'll pass soon.'
'Or you'll pass out!' Enzo giggled.
'I don't think so, Berkshire.' He scoffed, standing up. 'But I think I will have an early night.' He patted a sleeping Pansy on the shoulder as he made his way to his dorm, leaving his friends in the common room to continue their usual late-night shenanigans.
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lovelytsunoda · 5 months
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jolene // logan sargeant
summary: nothing breaks the internet more than international recording artist dolly parton appearing in the williams garage. well, nothing more than finding out that her granddaughter is dating a certain f1 rookie
pairing: logan sargeant x parton! reader
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y/nparton just posted!
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liked by mileycyrus, logansargeant, theofficialdolly and others
y/nparton this one's personal. i came back to tennesse after spending a year doing my undergrad. by that point, i'd dropped out of university, found myself drinking to regulate my anxiety, and was ready to walk away from it all. without all the love from my parents, from my grandma and from my dear L, i don't think I would have made it out alive.
"i got so high that i saw jesus" is out now on all streaming platforms.
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theofficialdolly I’m so proud of you, sweetheart!
user I wish I was as strong as you are tbh
user you wtf is Logan Sargent doing here fr?
-> user hear me out, hear me out: look at the second picture. clearly she has a boyfriend. her boyfriends name starts with an L. she has the name ‘Logan’ engraved on her guitar, all this time I just thought it was the brand name, but what if it’s her lovers name?
user I have never felt so many emotions in one song before
yourbestfriend SLAY QUEEEN!!! IM SO PROUD IF YOU AND I MISS YOU
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logansargeant just posted
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liked by y/nparton, oscarpiastri, alex_albon and 69,231 others
logansargeant my evaluation of your cowboy reputation has me thinking you’re a cutie and I am hopelessly in love with you
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oscarpiastri thank god were allowed to talk about it now, you were getting insufferable
-> logansargeant oh be quiet
y/nparton love you most, florida boy
-> logansargeant love you to saturn, country girl
liamlawson30 Jolene, Jolene, Jolene Jo-leneeee
-> alex_albon IM BEGGING PLEASE DONT TAKE MY MAN
-> oscarpiastri PLEASE DONT TAKE HIM JUST BECAUSE YOU CAN
-> user not the Jolene jokes, they’re so unserious 😭
theofficialdolly you take good care of my granddaughter, young man. welcome to the family.
-> logansargeant of course, ma’am. I love her with my whole heart and soul.
y/nparton just posted!
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y/nparton memphis, always a pleasure 🩶
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user DID YOU SEE HOW SHE RAN INTO LOGANS ARMS AFTER SINGING YOU SEXY THING?
—> user AND THEN SHE GAVE HIM HER COWBOY HAT I AM NOT OKAY
oscarpiastri okay so maybe I do like country music
-> logansargeant says the guy who was singing the climb in the car on the way there
logansargeant proud of you sweetheart ❤️
(liked by y/nparton)
user this is the sexiest american power couple I have ever seen # pargeant4eva
user my american royals
user so does this mean we get dolly in the williams garage more often
-> williamsracing yes.
SONGS MENTIONED
I got so high that I saw Jesus - noah cyrus
save a horse ride a cowboy - big&rich
you sexy thing - zella day
TAGS
@magnummagnussen @twinkodium @httpiastri @arshiyuh @userlando @mignonricciardo @oconso @lorarri @thatsdemko @libraryofloveletters @sidcrosbyspuck @scuderiamh
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moondirti · 1 month
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so.. simon and johnny stopping by a seedy 24/7 roadhouse on their way back home post-op
featuring: established ghostsoap. pregnant fem!reader. alluded kidnapping, extremely toxic attitudes. they’re literally delusional. mentioned death. this verges on dark so please beware!
They’ve driven past it about a hundred times, never having given it more than a passing glance. Who would, really? Nothing about it seemed appealing – in all its sun-bleached paint job and flickering neon signage glory – but circumstances lent themselves to its consideration. What was supposed to be a half-day mission ended up taking two, meaning they haven’t had time to sleep let alone eat. On top of that, a delayed exfil made it so they touched down on base at an ungodly hour. By the time Price waived their paperwork and they got into their car, they were famished.
“Could eat the scabby heid aff a dog,” Johnny eventually groans. He’d tried his best to hang in there, mindful not to be a pest during the hours it takes his partner to decompress after a rough operation, but his stomach kills and he knows Simon’s does too. He only receives a grunt for a response, though the man abruptly steers into the leftmost lane, catching the nearest exit towards the place in his periphery. Cleary meant to model an American diner with it’s fading blue exterior and obnoxious banner: The Dahlia
But they’ve been in worse. They hardly take note of the coffee rings staining their table, or the homeless man who’s taken residence in a corner booth (besides the brief once-over in their threat assessment upon entering). No; they just slot themselves by the nearest exit, scan over the menu and decide to order the quickest meal possible.
Only for things to take a sudden turn when their waitress stops by.
Christ alive, Johnny wonders how you manage to glow under the harshest of fluorescents. Dewy skin. Bright eyes, if not a little sunken at the late hour. Still, you smile and do so genuinely as you waddle to their station, clicking a pen before asking: “And what can I do you for, gentlemen?”
Simon doesn’t look at you immediately, not even when you speak up. He’s too fixed on Johnny, replaying the past days’ events in his head. Revisits the hour where their comms malfunctioned, when he lost touch with his boy and had to fight not knowing whether he was holding up okay. He has trust in him, of course, more bleedin’ trust than he has in earth to keep rotating. Still–
You clear your throat.
His pupils shift to pin you under their scrutiny, only he can’t bring it in him to be as severe as he wants to be. Because, while the first thing Johnny notices about you is your beauty, the first thing Simon sees is your bump.
Obscured by your apron, but still there. Round. Full. 6 months along, by the looks of it.
He’s forced to recall Beth, Tommy by extension. An old working knowledge that comes back to haunt him. At 23 weeks, his sister in law’s pregnancy began to weigh on her. Heartburn. Backaches. Hot flashes that resulted in bouts of dizziness. She couldn’t be up for more than 2 hours at a time, and yet here you are.
What the fuck were you doing in a place like this?
“Need more time to decide?” You ask. Patient. Lovely. If Johnny weren’t so sleep-deprived, so in over his head, he would perhaps realise the subtle hints you were dropping. They’ve been staring too long now, unsettling no doubt. Grimy, each with a tell-tale bump on their waistbands that point to their armament. Simon sans hard-shell mask, but still in a balaclava and eyeblack. Both larger than life and practically alone with you in this isolated place.
It’s Simon who speaks up first. “Fish and chips for the both of us. To-go. Cheers.”
You scribble the order down, pausing to consider. “Coffee? Gotta inform you, it’s drip, bottom of the carafe so it might taste burnt too. Hotplate’s all out of sorts.”
“Aye, just the one. Gae head an’ dip yer finger in it too. Might benefit from a little sweetener.” It takes you a second to process Johnny’s flirt. When you do, though, you visibly blanch, ducking your head to hide your face as you pretend to jot what he said down.
“I’ll have that right out for you.”
And then you scurry off, glancing over your shoulder once you think you’re out of sight. Curious. Flustered.
Simon’s attention refocuses on the scotsman once you’re gone, an eyebrow raised under his mask. His partner is able to read the expressed question well enough: what do you think you’re doing? Strict, but not so much angry as it a press for him to think before he speaks, to balance the scales before he asks something of Ghost that he can’t refuse.
“Dinnae look at me like tha’.” Johnny whispers. “Bonnie lass, isn’t she?”
Simon blinks. “Expecting, too.”
“We cannae leave her here.”
Memories occur in rapid succession. Tommy. Beth. The cherubic face they had brought into the world – little Joseph, who was the first he found dead upon returning home.
He considers Johnny, Soap, this force of nature that wormed his way into his life and sunk his teeth into the rot of his heart, fastened before Simon could even think of brushing him off.
“And here’s that coffee! Your meals should be coming out soon, thank you for being patient.”
It’s a bad idea. Horrible. You could have a partner, a cozy home waiting for you. Nursery already painted. Names already chosen.
What good partner would let you work this shitty job?
It’s a bad, horrible idea. No good for anyone. They’re on constant deployment. They risk their lives on every run. You’d be put in harm’s way yourself.
Not if they hide you well enough. Their house is secluded for a reason.
It’s a bad, horrible, no good idea – but Johnny accepts the mug with a gracious smile and you bloom all pretty, hand inadvertently cradling your belly. Little flower, persisting against all odds. Growing from the fissures of broken concrete. Dignified still. Kind. Strong.
So what if they pluck you from your place? They’ve got somewhere much better for you to thrive.
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