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#Why can't I dedicate this much time to one thing when it comes to finishing my fanfics?
sanemisstalker · 8 months
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N/SFW. Minors DNI
CW: GN reader / Men's Mental Health IG ???
KNY characters that I think are more prone to cumming in their pants / NSFW
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Giyu
-He's inexperienced.
-I admire the almost fandom consensus of him being either resident, sexy, black haired, quiet anime boy, and/or 'nobody likes this friendless loser, he definitely has a tumblr'
-Any attention, platonic or not, from someone he's attracted to is enough to make Giyu get an apparent boner. He's prone to them when the people he admires say genuinely nice things to him.
-He doesn't get to hear nice things a lot, nor does he take compliments easily, so when he believes them, his body can't help but believe them too.
-He'd rather it not be that way, but due to his floundering mental health, and general isolation, Giyu isn't jerking off very often, nor is he able to get it up when he wants to, so he just goes... months without thinking about it sometimes.
-Could definitely cum from kissing too hard. Not just kissing, but particularly the rough treatment.
-Giyu must be incredibly touch starved, I imagine. I can't fiction the last time he's hugged someone. That scene where he's holding Shinobu, perhaps?
-So when he's getting so much attention, especially so much positive, romantic attention, even if it's a little rough, I'm sure his dick would be at full mast.
-he doesn't think he's predisposed to masochism or anything. He'd hope he wasn't, but it feels better when he's kissing, and maybe his hair is being pulled on, just a little.
-he'd be very embarassed. He wouldn't cry or anything, but I think he'd get up and leave the room. He knows you knew what happened, he didn't moan, but he flinched because the build up was so immediate, and he just couldn't stop.
-How pathetic. He can't show his face infront of you ever again. All he does is ruin good things. You're definitely disgusted by him.
-Even if he didn't realize how pretty his face looked during his orgasm.
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Gyutaro
-Everyday I fight the gyutaro incel allegations, and everyday I fail.
-Gyutaro is socially inept, to put it blatantly. He spends an incredible amount of time locked away in his sister, and rarely chooses to come out unless eating for the two, or-
-if he needs to jerk off. A rarity, nowadays. Looking the way he looks can do a real number on one's ability to self-pleasure. He also isn't able to seek out assistance from any brothels- He still looks the way he looks. He's no Muzan- blessed with the ability to change his appearance at will.
-So when you're on top of Gyutaro, and he feels the curve of your ass in his palm, and your sex is positioned right on top of his, just barely grazing his clothed cock, as you try and teach him how to kiss (he's doing his best, but he knows he's not good-)
-He cums, and he cums hard. He grips down on your hips, and goes wide eyed, unable to stop the moan that rips its way from his throat... and then quickly moves you off of him.
-He isn't even finished when he moves you, he's shakey armed, and he nearly drops you.
-he's mortified. After all this time, he finally gets someone willing to touch him, and he blows it. He's borderline inconsolable- switching between begging you not to look at him and begging you not to hate him-
-but the noise he made was just so... pathetic.
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Haganezuka
-Men dedicated to their craft don't have time to cum? Silly of you to assume he's ever even seen another person naked. That would imply he looked away from a sword for long enough to register it.
-On a completely serious note (as serious as I can be writing this), It'd be quite awkward interacting with Haganezuka sexually. His mind has been so consumed by perfection that, even if he wasn't dedicated to the blade, he's almost prevented himself from ever being able to cum in a social setting.
-He's developed a phobia of new situations he can't control. Especially sexual ones. Swords are easy and gratifying. Why would he ever need to cum when he can just make a sword and have it be respected and revered. Wouldn't that be nice-
-So when you started rubbing him over his pants, he was, admittedly, panicking. It's not like he went nearly 4 decades without using his dick... He'd just... gone 2 and a half decades without using his dick. Nowhere near the same.
-You'd barely even touched it, barely even pressed your lips to his neck, and Haganezuka was panting.
-The fear coursing through his veins, and the attention his forgotten cock was receiving- He grew more unsightly by the second...
-and then you pressed a particularly soft kiss to the corner of his lips and he was done for. That was his first kiss-
-Though shocked, you'd pump Haganezuka through his orgasm. It'd be enough to go through his pants, and spill over your hand.
-He'd grip your robes, and will you closer to him. His heels would slam into the floorboard, and he'd try to bury his face in your neck, attempting to muffle the groan he'd loose, only to fail tremendously.
-He'd be huffy after. Mad at himself and disguising it as being mad at you.
-'Well, maybe you shouldn't touch me anymore, if you found it so gross! Did you consider that? Just not touching me- ever?'
-but you saw how sad he looked when you said you'd do whatever he wanted. What a simple man.
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f4irys4n · 10 months
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eating you out — maknae line
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choi san
this man lives to eat pussy
he may not be perfect at it, he’s messy, and sometimes he may even overdo it trying to prove just how good he is. but god, does he make you feel good…
he has a huge sexual appetite, and i think that’s pretty obvious, but honestly it’s not even to get pleasure himself but to pleasure you; he could do it any and every day.
throw back to one time when you were literally on call to one of your classmates about a joint project and san was in between your legs the entire time, licking and sucking, making it extremely hard for you to hold up a conversation without moaning his name.
you could literally be laid on your bed, legs hiked up and within seconds san would be racing between your legs with a cheeky smirk on his face.
the type of man to spit on your pussy.. i did say he was messy.. he just loves seeing your wetness everywhere; on your thighs, his lips, his chin.. seeing your wet, sopping pussy just turns him on so much.
song mingi
now.. this man is a big pervert and he loves everything being so messy and dirty. he’s sloppy and messy when he eats you out, and he loves making you spill all over the place.
one of his favourite things to do is use toys on you whilst he eats you out. he'll either thrust a dildo into you whilst sucking and playing with your clit, or push a vibrator on your clit whilst his tongue explores your pretty hole. he knows how much it makes you whine so he can't help but use toys on you. he loves seeing you fall apart.
like i've said, he's a dirty man. and he loves eating you out whenever, but his favourite time to eat you out is straight after he's cum inside you. the second he'd finished pounding into you and filled you up, he'll automatically lower is head to your pussy and "clean you up" as he says, covering his lips in his cum to then give you the dirtiest kiss.
mingi loves seeing your body shake and shiver in pleasure. overstimulating you is his favourite thing to do with his tongue. seeing the way your body jolts and twitches when it's hand too much just makes his cock twitches.
much like san, he spits on your pussy when he's eating you out. like i said.. he likes it messy, real messy. he likes watches the wetness just trickle down your pussy, he finds it beyond irresponsible to look at.
he's pretty new to eating people out in general, so when he first started with you he was pretty nervous and shy about it, but over time he's gotten really cocky about how good he can make you feel with just his tongue.
jung wooyoung
for the love of god, this man IS perfect at eating pussy. if their was a god solely dedicated to eating pussy, it would in fact be wooyoung.
his tongue works absolute wonders, making you cum in minutes with how stimulated he makes you. his main aim is to make you cum at least a couple times before he even considers fucking you.
pussy slapping !!! it’s something he picked up recently, but randomly in the middle of fingering you and his lips were tightly wrapped around your clit, he pulled away and lightly slapped your clit just so he could hear your cute little yelps.
much like san, he could literally eat you out whenever, wherever. he’s always in the mood for a taste of your ‘pretty little fuckhole’ as he calls it.
this man has definitely made you cum multiple times in one encounter just with his tongue and fingers. it’d probably start off with wooyoung being mad at someone flirting with you, especially if they’re his friend, and even though you (and wooyoung) know you’d never thinking about moving on from him, wooyoung made it his mission to prove to you why he’s better than any other man… and hell did he prove it to you?
enjoys teasing you. he can be the biggest dick when it comes to teasing. you’ll be there eagerly waiting for his mouth and he’ll just lightly kiss around your thighs, eyes watching your face slowly get even more needy.
choi jongho
i’m all for dom jongho, he’s definitely a switch with a dom lean. but when it comes to eating you out, he gets a little shy. not because she isn’t good, but because you’re probably one of the only people he’s ever been with sexually; if not the only person; and he still gets nervous about it to this day.
he likes to ease you into it, he knows how sensitive you are, so she likes to start off with little kitten licks on your clit before he fully starts to work wonders on you.
jongho loves eating you out, it’s a big ego boost that he’s able to make you cum that hard with just his tongue. but ultimately, he much prefers fingering you, he likes how it allows her to hit that ‘perfect’ spot inside of you.
when eating you out, his fingers are his greatest ally. he likes watching you twitch and wiggle around at the pleasure both his hands and mouth is giving you.
i have a huge feeling that jongho would be really into public sex so there’s been many occasions where you’ve been hanging out with everyone at the arcades or a cafe and jongho’s pulled you off to the bathroom to have his way with you, legs spread and his tongue lapping over your wet pussy.
he loves giving you pleasure without any distractions, so he’s not really into anything like 69 because he’s not able to completely submerge himself in giving you pleasure.
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celestiababie · 1 year
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Make Yourself At Home Part 1 - K.MG
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Pairings: Mingyu x fem! reader (Wonwoo is in this, but it's purely platonic)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, established relationship
Warnings: mild arguing, crying, lack of communication, slightly suggestive at the end (?), let me know if I'm missing anything
Word Count: 2.415k
Summary: After months of barely seeing your boyfriend, he offers a solution to a problem threatening the well-being of your relationship
A/N: I finally edited this and am posting it....let me know if you'd like to see a part 2 with smut. Thank you for reading and feedback is greatly appreciated, please don't be a silent reader!
UPDATE: Part 2 is out!
Part 2
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"Mingyu! You're back early...I ordered some food you can help yourself-"
Wonwoo's words stop abruptly as he examines your shivering figure, eyes slightly puffy with a few tear stains still on your cheeks. This was the last thing he had expected to see when he heard the front door unlock.
"Y/N? Is everything okay?" You hear the concern laced in his voice. It forces tears to well up in your eyes as you softly shake your head.
Things weren't okay.
At all.
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"Baby..what are you talking about? Of course, I care about you. I've always cared about you. I'm just busy right now, and you know that."
Mingyu sighs in frustration over the phone, his emotions louder than his words. He knew you had every right to be upset, but to question his love for you? That was taking it a step too far. Mingyu dedicated as much time in his schedule to you as he could, but there were times when things would suddenly come up. You were typically understanding. However, he could tell from your voice that you weren't up for letting this one go today.
"You should have at least warned me!" You whisper passionately over the phone, trying to be quiet in the dimly lit space. You felt pathetic trying to avoid the sympathetic gaze of the waitress who asked you if you were ready to order about 6 times already.
"My phone is about to die from how many times I've texted and called you. Do you know how stupid I look right now? I look like I've been stood up."
"You weren't stood up—" he counters, unable to finish as you cut him off.
"Yes, I was, Mingyu. I've planned to come here with you for months, and I'm here all alone. Maybe I should start getting used to being alone since you never make time for me anymore. When was the last time we even went out together? I swear I talk to your own mom more than I talk to you nowadays," you mumble over the phone as you collect your things.
You politely bow to the waitress as you make your way out of the restaurant, realizing Mingyu won't be joining you tonight, not even coming in late.
Your heels click along the sidewalk, mindlessly walking in a direction as you hear Mingyu let out another frustrated sigh over the phone.
"You never told me you had an issue with it, Y/N. You can't expect me to just read your mind."
"I was trying to be supportive, but it's just getting too much lately, and I fucking hate it," you spit out, your frustration level rising as the phone call prolonged.
"If you're so upset all the time, why the fuck are you even with me? I don't want-" Mingyu's words abruptly stop, the silence coming through the phone. You pull your phone away from your ear as you watch it die.
I don't want-
His unfinished words ring in your head as you panic, trying to finish his words for him.
I don't want to be with you anymore.
I don't want you.
Maybe he wasn't busy. Perhaps he didn't break things off this entire time out of the kindness of his heart.
Maybe he was busy, but the distance made him realize he didn't want to see you again.
Tears uncontrollably run down your face, a wave of emotions crashing into you. It takes you a few minutes to calm down enough to hail a taxi, giving the driver an address.
Mingyu's address.
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Wonwoo nods to your words with an unreadable expression as you explain to him your current predicament best as you can, even though you choked back tears.
"I-I shouldn't have even come here. I'm so stupid." You tilt your head down, your heels coming into your blurry vision as your tears have no choice but to fall to the floor.
A wave of embarrassment washes over you, suddenly self-conscious over crying about your boyfriend, to not only his roommate but his best friend. 
Sure, you and Wonwoo got along and were friends even, but you two were definitely not close enough for you to be this openly a mess.
But Wonwoo was a nice guy who cared about his best friend and knew how much you meant to him. He knew how much Mingyu was missing you recently, the constant complaints about his schedule becoming frequent. Wonwoo hated watching his usually optimistic and cheerful friend slowly deteriorate from not seeing you.
Wonwoo awkwardly watched you silently sob as he raked his brain for ideas to help you calm down.
Clearing his throat, he placed a hand on your shoulder and gently patted you, causing your head to lift, your eyes meeting his.
"You said your phone died, right? How about you take a shower and change into some different clothes—I think I've seen some of your clothes in the washer before; you can always wear Mingyu's and try and relax. I don't think you're in good shape to talk to Mingyu now, but I'll call him and let him know you're here. I can leave when he comes home. If you two want some more privacy..."
You listen to Wonwoo's words carefully, giving them some thought before softly nodding your head.
"Thank you, Wonwoo."
He gives you a reassuring smile before he treads to his room, most likely to call Mingyu.
With a deep breath, you kick your heels off, carrying them in your hand as you walk towards Mingyu's room, ready to wash all the makeup-stained tears off your face.
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You lay in his bed, staring at the white ceiling, face rid of tears and makeup. You feel your now charging phone buzz beside you, the name on your screen making you hesitate before answering.
"Hello?" You nervelessly, wrapping your arms that were now drowning in one of Mingyu's hoodies for comfort.
"Are you still at my place? I don't want to make you wait, but I won't be home until another hour or so—please wait there, okay?"
Mingyu's voice is void of any frustration from earlier, instead full of warmth with a tinge of desperation.
"Okay, I won't go anywhere..." you respond, nervous to see him but in need of his comfort.
Silence fills the air, not the awkward kind like earlier with Wonwoo. No, the comfortable kind as both of you thinks of what to say next.
Mingyu breaks the silence first. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier. And Wonwoo told me what you thought I was gonna say; I promise it wasn't that. I said that I didn't want you to be unhappy. I never want to make you unhappy, baby."
You let out a shaky breath as you nod over the phone before realizing he couldn't see you.
"And I'm sorry for assuming the worst. I was just scared since I thought you might've lost feelings for me," you responded as you rolled onto your side, snuggling underneath the blankets that held Mingyu's scent you loved dearly.
"I never lost feelings, baby. Honestly, how busy I was made me realize I love you even more. I love you so much, Y/N," he breathes out.
"I love you too, Mingyu."
Mingyu groans over the phone, his manager's voice interrupting the moment between you two.
"I have to go, but I'll be home, and we can talk more, okay? I love you, bye."
The call drops before you can respond. Although you were still shaken up about today's events, the corners of your lips curled into a soft smile, reassured of Mingyu's love for you even if there were still things that needed to be addressed.
Maybe the two of you were gonna be okay.
Your eyes flutter close as you nuzzle yourself deeper into his pillow, inhaling softly, and before you know it, you begin to drift off, Mingyu's scent easing you into a slumber.
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Mingyu's heart swells at the sight of your sleeping figure as he walks through his bedroom door. He gently sets his bag down, trying not to disrupt you, and sits down on the other side of the bed as softly as his large frame would allow him. His hand reaches out to lovingly stroke your hair, his fingers running through the locks of your freshly washed hair. A smitten smile makes its way onto Mingyu's face, finding it adorable as you subconsciously nuzzle your head into his hand as if you craved his touch even in your sleep. 
The only thought on Mingyu's mind as he made his way home was you, going over everything he'd say, but all those thoughts fled his mind the moment he saw you sleeping comfortably. As much as he wanted to tell you everything in his mind and heart, he didn't have it in him to wake you up. But as his hand leaves your hair, you wake up just as he stands up from the bed. 
"Shit- did I wake you up? I'm sorry, baby." Mingyu's words fill your ears, not fully grasping them in your half-awake daze. 
"Mmmh, it's okay, Gyu," you mumble as you sit up, turning to wrap your arms around his waist. With a smile full of affection, Mingyu's hand finds itself back on your head, softly stroking your hair and nearly easing you into sleep again.
"Hey— don't fall back asleep on me," he softly giggled, his heart swelling when your eyes stared into his. Leaning his tall frame down, he presses a soft kiss to your forehead before pressing his lips against yours, capturing you into a sweet kiss. 
Although Mingyu wanted to enjoy the kiss, the sound of your upset voice from earlier intruded on his thoughts, reminding him that he didn't just want to kiss and make up, ignoring the issue at hand. Even if you forgave him for tonight, he knew there were deep-rooted problems with your relationship that wouldn't go away after a few sorry's and kisses. 
When the call dropped, Mingyu's entire being flooded with worry. Worried he had said something wrong, worried you didn't want to put up with his bullshit and busy lifestyle anymore. He always admired how patient, understanding, and loving you were. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that he'd have you by his side forever, but maybe his love for you blinded him from seeing how much pain he was causing you. Of course, he missed spending time with you. He missed going on cute dinner dates, roaming the city with you, and giving you all his attention. He longed for the days when you two wouldn't do anything, not even go to his house, as you just enjoyed each other's company, kissing, cuddling, and being in love. 
Thank God for Wonwoo. When Wonwoo called, Mingyu felt conflicted. Mingyu was relieved that you were safe and went to his apartment over your own. But, on the other hand, his heart broke when Wonwoo told him you were in tears. 
Luckily, Wonwoo was a quick thinker, and though it wasn't his relationship, he wanted the best for you two. So, when Wonwoo offered an idea that he thought could help the current predicament, Mingyu was all ears, almost upset that he hadn't thought of it first.
You pulled away from Mingyu, noticing how in his head he was during the kiss, worried that the phone call before you fell asleep meant nothing.
"Gyu, is everything alright?" 
Mingyu bites his lip and sits beside him, rubbing his suddenly clammy hands on his jeans. He hoped this worked.
" I love you so fucking much. And I'm sorry I haven't had the time to show you how much I love you. We apologized over the phone, but my schedule isn't changing soon." 
The downhearted look on your face causes him to grasp your hands, flashing a reassuring smile that leaves you confused.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Let me finish, baby." 
You hesitantly nod your head, encouraging him to continue. 
"I can't promise you that I'll be able to make it to every date, but I will try my hardest to let you know beforehand. And I can't promise we'll be able to spend as much time together as we'd like to...for a while, but I was wondering if— and this was Wonwoo's idea, so don't worry about him having an issue with it! I was wondering if you... wanted to move in. You'll be here when I come back from my schedule, or I'll be here when you come back. We can see each other at night at least, and we could spend our mornings together. It may not be going on dates, but at least we'll see each other..." he trails off, nervous of your response—well, lack thereof.
The cogs of your brain were turning, trying to digest what you heard. Living with Mingyu (and Wonwoo)? One of your favorite things about Mingyu was the warmth of his arms wrapped around you at night, your touchy boyfriend claiming that holding you helped him sleep. You always found his sleepy clinginess endearing. Conveniently, another thing you adored about Mingyu was how cute he was in the mornings, even though his hair was messy and his eyes could barely stay open. The morning huskiness in his voice never failed to make your heart flutter. 
A warm smile crept onto your face at the thought of having that domestic side of Mingyu every day, wrapped up in each other's arms every night, even if you couldn't have time for each other during the day. 
Without responding, you cup the side of Mingyu's face and pull him into a deep kiss, catching him off guard. Moans were exchanged as both of your hands roamed each other's bodies. 
"Is that—mmph., is that a yes?" He mumbled against your lips, still in need of a clear answer. You chuckle against him, the feeling of your lips curling upwards causing Mingyu's to curve as well, your happiness infectious.
"When can I move in?" You ask, pulling away with a bright smile and light in your eyes.
Mingyu matches your smile, his hands creeping underneath your (his) hoodie, caressing and gripping your waist before laying you down, your back plush against the soft comforter. He holds himself above you, one of his hands landing beside your head while the other continues to explore your body. 
"Anytime you want, baby. Make yourself at home."
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peachyloveswriting · 1 year
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ok but how about something a little wholesome and a dash of silly where reader is like literal golden retriever energy with the cod boys? like, they could be gone for 1 day and they come back and reader is like "oh my god i missed you 🥹"
GOLDEN RETRIEVER ENERGY --- Cod boys
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SUMMARY: The COD boys with a clingy s/o :)just a bunch of fluff and cuddles that's all.
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PRICE
You and your husband Price don't always get to have missions together so when he's required to leave for a day or two you know there are dangers involved once he's out there. The whole time you worry for his well being and physical health and stress your own in the process. It's hard knowing he's out there and you can't be there to help. Thankfully he has his team to protect him and finish the job nicely but once he comes back it's suddenly like your a different person.
Laying in your bunk with a book in hands your eyes skimmed the page. The words were flowing through your mind like a trickling stream, not exactly sticking or registering in reality for that moment in time. The words were being read actively as you looked at them but no matter what Price just wasn't leaving your head.
The door to the room opens, Price huffing, he tosses his bag down beside the door and kicks it shut behind him. Just the smell of his room being around him again fills him with a warm feeling. Something he associates with you. A bright smile on your face as you leap onto his arms with a laugh and squeeze him into a tight hug. Your body against his is a living sense that proves he made it home in one piece. You hold him down. But for some reason you're not in his arms yet.
Looking at where you lay on the bed he furrows his brows and picks his boots off to walk over. "Love?" He coos. In your head it's almost like he just walked in, Ghost said they weren't going to be back for another three days and that was only yesterday. At this point you must've been losing it.
Not seeing you acknowledge his presence, Price frowned. Normally you would have engulfed him in a hug by now. Something must be terribly wrong for you to have not moved yet. He speaks out again, this time with caution on his voice. "Love? Is something wrong?"
Finally turning to look at the door your heart slams against your chest. Something in your stomach flips and suddenly your tossing the book halfway across the room and jumping to your feet just to leap from the bed into his arms. Your legs wrapped around his torso and head tucked away in the crook of his neck. "You're home!" You squeak with a bright smile. He laughs heartily, warmth spreading in his chest as he catches you against him his his hands under your thighs. "Yes, I'm home love."
GHOST
"I only have to get a few things. Staying in the truck?" He asked before he took the keys from the ignition. You nodded. "Yeah, I'll stay."
Nodding curtly he left the truck running and pushed open the door. Sliding down from the seat and turning around he raised his brows. "I'll be right back." With that he promptly closed the door and you watched him walk away inside the store. He was coming to pick up a few drinks and some teabags for back home. One of his few times off work.
You started talking to him romantically a few months back, first thing he told you was what he did for a living. You knew then that it would be difficult to form a relationship with him because of how often he's gone. As time's moved on though, he's taken you out on six dates and on every single on of them he had just returned home. This would make seven. He was taking you back to his house for dinner and drinks. You're more than happy to be here sitting in his truck happily waiting for his eventual return. You'll have to give it to him, he's very dedicated.
Never once during that time that he was away did he not call you at least once to see how your day was. Most men don't do that unless you tell them too maybe that's why you like this one so much. Come to think of it, anytime he's not away he's with you spending money on you and taking you on dates. True dedication. At this point the other men you were interested men were blocked and dropped the moment you started talking to him.
Jogging across the lot with his hood covering his head, Simon grabbed the door handle and snatched it open to jump and climb in. Spooked, you lumped and shouted. Shutting the door he looked at you with furrowed brows. The moment you realized it was just him you started to laugh to yourself.
"I scare you?" He asks as he leans over with a smirk and puts the bags in the floorboard at your feet. Nodding, you grab hold of his arm and press your face into his bicep. "Don't do that again." You said. He chuckles, a hand coming up to pat your head. "I will."
Sitting back up with a satisfied smile on your face, you speak. "Good- wait."
SOAP
You're first night at the safehouse and Soap and Ghost had already left you alone with the rest of 141, left to talk to Price. Gaz and Alejandro weren't bad company, no, not at all. But after a long, grueling, and ongoing mission this would be your first nights laying in an actual in weeks. Sadly it seemed like your boyfriend, John, wouldn't be able to join you. It was already sundown, the sun set hours ago and your aching body was calling you to bed.
After saying goodnight to the team that stayed behind, you trudged your way to the bedroom you claimed the moment you saw it and secluded yourself to the comfortable mattress. You wouldn't dare lay down though, knowing that if you did you might miss John coming back. Till then you'd be stuck by yourself in a cold bed without someone to talk you to sleep.
The house was dead silent when Ghost and Soap returned, both of they're sore and tired bodies cried out for sleep. The sleep settled in Soap's bones as he made his way back towards the rooms. "Goin' to bed already Johnny?" Ghost queried.
"That's right L.T." He hums as he slowly walks away. Ghost watches him with blank eyes before he sighs and walks into the livingroom by himself. John felt bad for leaving Ghost in there all by himself but the bed was calling him home and so were you. Making his way to the door he pushes it open to find you sitting at the end of the bed with your elbows resting on your knees.
Hearing the door open your head perks up, the moment you see him close the door a bright smile spreads across your face. "Thought you weren't gonna make it." You observed as you turned and crawled your way over the bed to where he stood. Taking his vest off he drops it to the floor, when he looks back down at you your waddling your way across the mattress. Soon enough your arms are wrapped around his waist and your head is pressed into his stomach.
"It's nice to see you again baby." He hums, his hands gently rub the back of your head. His heart beats rapidly in his chest while his stomach does flips at the sight of you. "Stop leaving me." You whine. Smiling at your words he chuckles softly. Warmth spreads across his chest at your words, it takes all of him not to baby you right here.
"Let me get comfy first love, cuddles in just a second." He says. Letting go of him with a frown you plop back onto the mattress and watch him take off the rest of his gear. His shoes are the last to go, the moment their off he tackling you into the bed pulling you close to him with a tired smile.
It couldn't get my h better than this.
KÖNIG
König was supposed to be coming back on leave today, at least that's what he told you the last like he called. He was telling you he had one last thing before he could come home. It wouldn't be much longer but you spent all night cleaning the house and running around. Your feet are buzzing with excitement even after twelve hours of cleaning. Though your back and arms are sore you continue to find ways to distract yourself from waiting.
At the moment you were in the garage cleaning out your car. You're leaned over in the back seat with all the doors open so the music from the radio can play loud enough for you to feel comfortable and in a good mood. The music was so loud though that the sound of the front door opening and closing went unheard.
König could clearly hear the music playing from the garage. That was his first clue that you were distracting yourself. In a way it brought a smile to his face, knowing that this time it was only a few walls between you. Happy to be home he dropped his bag on the couch and strode towards the garage door.
Standing up to set your bag of trash to the side you spot a large shadow standing off to the side. Startled, you jolt and spin to look at what you saw. It took a moment to register that it was only König but once you knew, you screamed.
Your heart leapt out your chest as you bolted to him and engulfed him in a tight hug. All the while you feet danced beneath you, happy to have him home. "König!" You cheer. Hearing you call his name with such excitement fills his chest with warmth. He can't help the bright smile that tugs at his lips as he looks down at you in his arms, your face pressed into his chest. He wouldn't trade this for the world.
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radiant-reid · 1 year
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Single mom reader x daughter (5 year old) and Spencer misses her dance recital and when he goes to make it up to her she calls him dad “daddy…I looked for you in the crowd” “why did you have to leave again”
One of the first things you learned about Spencer was how his job worked. It was something he was very clear about being on his list of cons when it came to dating. Honestly, it didn't phase you. Not when there were some men who lived in the same city that would spend less time with you than Spencer. He was dedicated, loyal, kind, funny, romantic, witty, and not at all put off by your daughter.
Maisie fell in love maybe faster than you did. He's so great with her. Always willing to read her stories and listen to her chatter.
At five, she's a little worse at understanding his schedule than you are. Sometimes he'll be at dinner three nights in a row, and other times, you won't see him for a week.
It's why she sobs into your shoulder on the way to your car after her dance recital. "I looked and he wasn't there." She complains.
You bounce her up and down, soothing her. "Baby, it's okay. We talked about how Spencer can't always be here with us, and momma was there."
She nods, letting you buckle her into the car seat. "I know, and he always comes back."
You tap her on the nose. "You're my smart little girl. Should we get ice cream on the way home?"
"Please, please, please!" She cheers, already forgetting about her disappointment. Oh, to have a five-year-old's brain.
She's happier with ice cream, but it might not have been the best time to pump her full of sugar, so you let her race up the stairs to burn off some energy.
She squeals when you round the corner to your apartment door, and you're immediately concerned, quickly speeding up to catch up with her to see what's wrong.
It's not a bad squeal, it's a Spencer's-here squeal.
He looks like shit if you were being honest, sunken features from not sleeping, but he's smiling, and he's got ice cream.
You greet him with a quick kiss after he's finished hugging Maisie before unlocking your apartment. She keeps looking between the snacks he brought and you, gaining the confidence to ask. "Can I have a second ice cream?"
It's already nine, so you shake your head. "You can have some for breakfast tomorrow if you're in bed in 10 minutes." You challenge her.
"Can Spencer read to me?" She asks hopefully, looking up at him with puppy eyes. You can't say no to them usually, and he definitely can't.
"Of course." He jumps in to say. "I missed it."
She beams at him for a second before she races off, leaving you with him, your perfect boyfriend. "Hi." You say, chest to chest with him as he pulls you closer to him by your waist.
"I've missed you, too." He tells you. "And this." You don't have a chance to ask what he means before his lips are firmly on yours.
"They'll be more of that to come after you've had a long sleep." You tell him, winking at him.
He grins happily, nodding. "I'm going to go read a very quick story then." He says.
You go with him after putting the ice cream in the freezer, kissing Maisie on the forehead and telling her you're proud of her and that you love her before leaving Spencer with her for a story.
"Can I ask something?" She asks him, pulling her covers up to her chin. It's after her bedtime story, and he half assumes she's doing it to stay up later.
He nods, sitting on the edge of her bed. "Anything you want, little one."
"Why do you always have to go working?" She asks with a pout. "I wanted you to come to my dance, and I looked for you in the crowd, daddy."
She doesn't even realize what she's just said, and she definitely doesn't understand the enormity of it for him. It's one title he hasn't had, until now. With the perfect child of his perfect girlfriend, life has never been better.
He's tearful at that one word, but he avoids showing it too much to her. "I know, and I'm sorry. Maybe I can get a special showing tomorrow?"
"Yes!" She agrees, like it's the best idea ever she's ever heard. Her little face lights up and it's one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen.
"I can't wait." He tells her. "But you've got to sleep so you'll have energy tomorrow." She nods in agreement and he leans down to kiss her forehead. "Sleep well, princess."
Spencer's upset, almost sleeping already, and he tiptoes out of her room before heading to yours.
Something's wrong when he walks in. He's teary-eyed with a wide smile, looking like something big has just happened.
"What's up?" You ask curiously.
"She called me dad." He says, still in shock.
You open your mouth, mirroring his shock before smiling. "Spencer... thank you." You decide on saying. "You're the best thing to happen to her."
He shakes his head. "No, you're both the best things to happen to me."
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scaralvr · 1 year
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test me. scaramouche x immortal!gn!reader contains :: religious themes, angst, 3.3 archon quest spoilers
synopsis: you have been scaramouche's faithful & loyal assistant since he was graced with the title of balladeer, but your acts of dedication towards his great being go unnoticed by him each time. however, you would never give up on your God. it is him you worship, not the tsaritsa. when he replaces you with haypasia, you refuse to live without another to serve under.
notes :: songfic based off of melanie martinez's song test me! i haven't written in awhile so it may be a little rusty :')
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at first, you weren't quite sure what to think of the almighty sixth you would serve for the rest of your life as a fatui recruit. bearing a cryo vision, you found no use for the doctor's delusions, but the sixth himself requested you use one, for whatever reason you aren't aware of. the sixth of the eleven had a temper that you didn't mind, but still didn't deem his behaviour tolerable. he acts like a brat, expecting everything to be handed to him on a silver platter by his pathetic inferiors.
it sickens you to the core. how could you serve someone as cruel and disgusting as him? questions like these flood your mind but a specific one stands out from the rest. why do you serve him? with such joy and enthusiasm, too. you're fully aware that the other fatui have been stirring up some trouble with scandalous rumors they spread around, fixating on how insane you must be to enjoy working under the balladeer's orders.
you're not deranged. a little eccentric, scaramouche would say. he doesn't mind your passion as his assistant, if anything, he prefers to have someone like this rather than a timid and quiet person who has to be told twice to finish things up. you don't even talk his ear off but instead, abide by every single demand of his and choose to stay silent when he says to. he calls you a, 'smart one,' considering the fact that his past assistants had to face the consequences you were avoiding.
you found the happiness you rarely had in serving him, enjoying the way he sadistically looks into nothing while going on and on about his sinister plans to overpower his creator through his birth of a God. he'd been planning this for quite a while and you were there through all of it. you stole for him, risked your life for him, took lives for him, and what did you get in return after years of your service? your knees feel weak and you suppose it's from kneeling to him all of the time.
they grow even weaker and the breath is knocked out of your throat at his words. "your assistance was tolerable and i'll be dismissing you. this is where your job ends, (y/n)." his words pound at your head and repeat like a broken loop, reminding you over and over that you're not needed. the God that you love and cherish is abandoning his divine angel. his fallen angel. you don't know why, but tears spring to your eyes as you step forward with a hand against your chest. you open your mouth to speak in a small voice, "but, my lord, i'm afraid you do need me. who will come along with you on your way through your journey of Godhood?"
scaramouche doesn't spare you a single glance and chooses to look out the window. "a researcher i've come across in sumeru has proven her worth to me. and don't get me twisted, you have proven your worth as well. she is... simply better in terms of everything and if you can't handle that truth, i don't care. do as i say, since you worship me so much," a wide smirk stretches his lips and you catch sight of it in the reflection of the glass window. the light in your eyes go out in sorrow as you percieve the fact that your God replaced you.
hey, God, i'll be the jester. entertain you, to the best of, my ability.
you wander sumeru with a blank expression, still registering the moments that previously occured. you cut ties with your family and loved ones for him and going back there wouldn't do you any good, as they've already deemed you as scum for joining the fatui all those years ago. your immortal state makes it worse, since you figure living without a purpose is much worse than death itself. while walking with your head down, your shoulder hits something. a person. you turn your head and your eyes meet those of a dashing gold. a fairly handsome man with long blonde hair tied in a braid appears astounded. not too far, a fairy with white hair floats next to him.
"sorry, i wasn't looking where i was going."
at that pathetic apology, you narrow your eyes. what type of person puts the blame on themself when they know very well it's the other's fault? curious, you place a hand on your hip and comment, "your attire... it's not from here. may i question you?" the fairy excitedly claps her hands, "oh, we were about to question you, actually!" you raise a brow, "really? whatever for?" the man kindly smiles and explains the situation to you in a tone like he's known you forever. scaramouche has known you forever. he's never shown such kindness like that to you.
you have no one to serve. no one to follow. all of your sacrifices were a waste, for the very man you put everything on the line for, threw you away like a worthless piece of trash. as you listen to the voice of the mysterious traveler, you feel a hope light up within you again. maybe, just maybe, it'll be different. this time, it will. when he finishes his brief explanation, you instantly shoot your shot. "the balladeer, you say?"
in the meanwhile, scaramouche is left to his own gadgets within the solace of his temporary room. temporary, because he knows he'll be on the move again. he always will be, now that he's turned his back on her majesty, the tsaritsa, and ran away with one of her treasured gnoses. he stares out the window, just like he did a few hours ago, and realizes the time. the sun is beginning to set and usually, you would enter the room with a tray of tea for both him and you to share as he discusses his plans.
it's not too long before scaramouche remembers he already removed you from the plan. your company and assistance have brought him this far, huh? he lets out a sigh that makes him realize he was holding in his breath for quite a bit now. he places his elbow atop the window sill and rests his chin in his palm. it's gotten a little boring since you left, hasn't it? it hasn't even been a day. scaramouche grits his teeth and groans in frustration. it seems like he doesn't enjoy the feeling of being alone, either.
but it's whatever! you're his faithful assistant, maybe if you put some thought into that robotic and tiny brain of yours, you'll be smart enough to come back because both you and scaramouche know you could never survive without him. yeah, you'll be back. the moon rises in the sky and scaramouche tightens his clutch on the wood of the sill. you'll definitely be back...
when i suffer, more fragility, when i answer. came here for a reason.
for the next few days, you spend it with aether and his friend, paimon. he easily opened up to you about his lost sister and the nations he previously went to in hopes of finding her but to no avail. you pity the poor male and choose to make his time in sumeru more enjoyable before he goes off to confront the balladeer. ah, it wasn't too hard to tell him that you're the balladeer's assistant. paimon was a little jumpy at first, but he, he was understanding... someone worthy of worshipping.
bit by bit, scaramouche can feel himself breaking. every little thing irritates him. the sound of the wind's harsh currents, the feeling of something rough against the supple skin of his hand, the crippling isolation of his room. with a determined yet firm frown, he remakes a brew of green tea for the several time this week. it doesn't taste right. no matter how much sugar he adds (which he never enjoys in his tea but he's trying), he can't recreate the taste of the way you made it.
little does he know, you're making the same tea, yet it's for another man. "(y/n), this is very well-made!" aether exclaims with a grin and you feel yourself flush red. "is it?... thank you," you mutter, turning away to pour some into a tea cup for paimon. aether chuckles, "you've done alot for me and my traveling companion, (y/n). and i've been wondering about something for sometime." you notice the way he fumbles with the tea cup in his hands from the corner of your eye. "go on," you say, putting aside the tea pot and facing him. aether confidently adds, "i'd like for you to join me on my journeys, if you'll allow it. considering the way the balladeer did all of that to you-"
ah. you uncomfortably shuffle your feet in your position and paimon notices the tense situation. "h-hey, it's alright, (y/n)! aether's a really nice guy, huh? we would never do something like that to you!" paimon says, trying to lighten the mood. you let out a soft sigh, "i... thank you. will you let me think about it?" aether pauses and eagerly nods, "of course. take as much time as you need." and that's how you ended up wandering in the vast forest of sumeru. no matter which way you shift your thoughts, it always ends up drifting back to the indigo haired harbinger.
you delicately hold a sumeru rose in your hands and tilt your head to inspect the flower. suddenly, an anger rises and before you realize it, you're tightly clutching the flower, completely destroying its petals and stem altogether. you loved him. he was your everything. you guess he didn't feel the same for you. because he is a heartless, wretched and brutal — the silent time to yourself was interfered with another person's barely audible gasp. you're quick to whip around and wield your sword, finding the sharp end of it against someone's neck. scaramouche is unfazed, content, even.
"still on guard as ever," he murmurs, using his finger to guide your sword away from his throat, but the pressure of your blade creates a small slit against his flawless skin and you draw blood. you slowly withdraw your weapon as he traces his fingertip along the wound. "what has my little ex-assistant been up to as of late? i don't think you have any business in sumeru, do you?" scaramouche casually asks while impotently wiping the blood on his attire.
you knit your brows together and as much as it hurts to do so, you speak without using your usual endearment, 'my lord,' for him. "you cease to exist to me, balladeer," the way it rolls off of your tongue is foreign to him, it even surprises you. scaramouche has no time for petty feelings, but he lets them get in the way. his pupils are blown with anger as he seethes, "who do you think you are? just because i've abandoned you like the hindrance you are, it doesn't mean you get to treat me with such... inferiority!"
"but you're wrong, balladeer. i can and i will." with those words serving a final blow to his non-existent heart, you turn on your heel to find the blonde traveler with the answer to his question bound to escape your lips that used to say nothing but praises to the sixth.
just stop complaining, all have our seasons, it's not just a joke or a lesson to live through.
scaramouche watches your form disappear in the distance, only then, can he fully consume the fact that you aren't coming back unless he asks. stubborn one, aren't you? always playing hard to get. he deludes himself with this, believing that you still want to serve your one and only God. right, he's owned you from the start. he owned you the moment you agreed to be his assistant. you can't just get up and leave like that, no, your work is far from done. scaramouche agrees that it was rather trivial to dismiss you like that and he sees his mistake. why can't you understand that he needs you back?
but the cherry on top is the way you stand before his godly form, alongside the traveler. you're not supposed to be here. scaramouche is struck with shock when he sees you enter the scene with aether. the moment is swept away just as quick when he laughs. he laughs like a crazed man, hands on his stomach as he catches his breath. "oh, this is rich, (y/n)! you're so worthless, you really had to find another to serve after i ditched you. you're nothing but a weak follower and i plan on making you take that role to the grave," his tone drops to that of a condescending one and various emotions surge through his veins.
the immense adrenaline pumping through his system can't compare to the pain he feels when buer seizes his gnosis. this can't be happening. he's done so much to make it this far, only for all of it to come crashing down before him. his mother, his friend, the child, you. you've left a scar on him that he'll never forget. he hates it. you must be smirking to yourself as he falls from the large mech. he misses when you were still by his side, always smiling even when he ordered you to commit something so atrocious as murder.
he acknowledges it now. scaramouche realizes that you were there from the beginning and despite his cruel doings, he was your God. he never needed to go this far, because he was yours. what is this feeling, he wonders. well, it's too late now. scaramouche can only accept defeat, falling, until... he hits something, but it certainly isn't the ground. his eyes can barely stay open from how visibly exhausted he is yet he manages to make out a figure looking down at him. you steadily hold him in your arms and aether rushes to you. "are you sure you want to do this, (y/n)?" he queries. you nod in response, "i'll look after him."
every which way in second, there's a breakthrough.
scaramouche, now being the wanderer, loiters within sumeru with no purpose whatsoever. with no place to go or stay, he explores and occasionally helps the traveler with some of their needs. but it still hurts. even if he's occupied himself with other things, he keeps on thinking about you. it was always you. yet the searing pain makes him wail at night, recalling the way you looked at him like he was... a stranger.
"(y/n)!" for the first time in forever, he genuinely smiled. he was happy that at least, he still had you through this whole wreck. scaramouche had the guts to apologize. coming to think of it, it was a stupid thing from the beginning. he was thankful that you stayed loyal to him and still were at that time, considering the fact that you took care of him when he was unconscious. when nahida informed him of it, he couldn't be more relieved.
you turn at the exclaimation of your name and instantly back away in confusion. "aether, who is this?" your words put scaramouche's movements to a stop and his smile drops. "wh-what do you mean? traveler, what do they mean?" he hurriedly asked, voice cracking in between some words. you furrow your brows together and aether muttered, "they don't remember you,"
he felt the heaviest weight bring itself onto his chest. it's hard to breathe. that's right, he erased himself from the memories of many people, including you. how could he be so blind back then? all he needed, wanted, was someone that could stay by his side forever and love him unconditionally. he knew very well you were immortal, so he wouldn't have to worry about your lifespan. he also knew how much you worshipped him, so he wouldn't have to worry about the potential chance of betrayal, either.
why did he let such a beautiful and caring little thing like you out of his sight?
© scaralvr.
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cowgurrrl · 2 months
Text
Keep the Wolves Away
Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader
Author's note: Dedicated to my real life Andies. Thank you for making me feel easy to love.
Summary: The worst decision [5.2k]
Warnings: platonic threatening, discussions of bad mental health, so much flirting that (spoiler alert) might be real, possible THE shittiest ex I ever could've written, all the southern pet names, alcohol consumption, the resurgence of an old nude of readers, gaslighty behavior, smoking cigarettes (don't smoke kids), Joel talking reader out of a spiral, two (2) kisses
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"So, it's a date." Andie declares once you're done explaining everything to her over FaceTime. You pause your blush application to roll your eyes at her. 
"It's not a date!"
"I'm sorry, so I'm just supposed to believe you when you say you're going to be just friends with the hot, sweet single dad who sounds like he's head over heels for you?"
"He is not head over heels for me." You sound a little petulant, and Andie laughs like she did when you were in high school and trying to hide a crush from her. 
"Babe, he willingly went on a high school field trip just so he could see you."
"His daughter was there. I'm sure he wanted to spend time with her."
"I'm sure he did because he's a great dad, but he also wanted to see you in your element. It's sexy watching someone do the thing they love." 
"Yeah, yeah." You brush her off, and she scoffs. You toss your makeup brush back into its bag and check out your outfit in the mirror. It's nothing insane— just a plain black slip dress— but now that Joel's arrival is getting closer and closer, you're rethinking everything. "Do I look okay?"
"You look stunning!" Andie chirps. "I'm sure your not boyfriend will think the same thing."
"I'm going to get a plane ticket to Austria just so I can choke you out with my own two hands." You threaten, but she laughs so hard you can't stop smiling. Once the trans-Atlantic giggling dies down, the line goes quiet, and you take a deep breath as you pull your mascara out. 
"Are you nervous to see him?" She asks gently. Andie came home for the summer dubbed The Dark Days. She stayed over when the one-bedroom apartment felt too big and got you out of the house when you couldn't stand the four walls anymore. She took whatever he left behind to his new apartment so you wouldn't have to (and gave him a piece of her mind while she was at it). She made you believe in love again. Not sticky, frustrating, unpredictable romantic love but pure, easy, all-knowing love that can only come from long-enduring relationships such as yours. 
For a long time after he left, you thought you were hard to love. Too loud, too bright, too much. Until you were out at a bar with her one night, trying to find the remnants of your independence and self-esteem tucked under sweaty beers and cracked leather chairs, when someone pointed out how similar you and Andie were. "Like two sides of the same coin," the woman told you. Andie is one of the easiest people in the world to love with her quick wit, creativity, and smile. And you realized for the first time if you had even a shred of that, even if only by dint of knowing and being loved by her, then you must be easy to love too. You must be worth the mess and heartache and stained fingerprints. 
So, yeah, Andie was less than pleased to hear that all that hard work could be undone by seeing him again, but she was supportive. 
"I don't know," you sigh. "I'm not a kid anymore. I've had more years without him than I did with him, but it's still scary."
"I know." 
"I don't even know what I'm gonna say to him."
"He'll probably be too busy with the gallery and everything. Maybe you won't even have to." She says, and you groan at the uncertainty of everything. 
"God, why did I say yes?" You ask as a knock interrupts your whining. You end your call with a quick "I love you, thank you, I'll text you" before throwing your phone down. "Come in!" You yell from the bathroom as you rapidly finish doing your makeup. There's a pause on the other side before he jiggles the knob and finally comes in. "I'm just finishing up in the bathroom. Give me a minute." 
"D'you always leave your door unlocked?" Joel asks. The sound of his unsure footsteps reaches your ears, and you smile at the thought of him looking around your apartment like a lost toddler. 
"Only when I know someone's coming over," you say. "Sorry, it's a mess."
"Oh, this is nothin'. You should see Ellie's room." He says, his feet pacing the floor. You swipe on a cute lipstick you never wear and finally step out into the living room where Joel is waiting. He's wearing a black button-up shirt with nice pants as he stands with his back to you, looking at some of the things on your wall. 
"Well, don't you look nice?" You compliment, making him turn around with a shy smile. His eyes roam over you, taking in every detail or sliver of skin he hasn't seen before. His intense gaze reminds you of how he looked at you in the bar when you were sure his eyes would melt you. He looks dumbstruck, and his Adam's apple bobs when his eyes finally settle on your face. 
"Wow… you look-"
"Choose carefully." You tease to take some of the tension out of the room. 
"Beautiful," he says, thwarting your efforts. "You always look beautiful." 
"Thank you. Not so bad yourself." 
"You like it? Ellie helped me pick it out," he anxiously fiddles with the sleeves of his shirt. "Feels weird." 
"What specifically feels weird?" You ask, stepping closer to him to examine his outfit. He smells like aftershave and the cologne he's prone to wearing. Why the fuck do you have his cologne memorized, you think to yourself. 
"I dunno. I think I just feel outta place." 
"Well, you don't look out of place," you say. "These might be what's doing it, though." You tap the top buttons of his shirt, the ones buttoned all the way up to his chin like a toddler going to Christmas mass. 
"Ellie said I should do all of 'em since it's a fancy art thing."
"Well, you should stop taking fashion advice from a fifteen-year-old," you laugh. "I promise it's not fancy enough to justify being uncomfortable." 
"I'm takin' your word for it." He says as he reaches up to undo his top two buttons, revealing freckles across his chest and collarbones and the tiniest sliver of a gold chain resting against his throat. For some reason, you can't tear your eyes away from the veins in his neck or the delicate necklace stuck to his warm skin. "What, it really looks that bad?" He thankfully breaks through your thoughts, and you try to recover by shaking your head.
"No, no. Not at all. You look really nice," you say, clearing your throat. "Let me get my purse, and we can go." You don't even wait for him to respond. You just turn on your heels and walk to your bedroom. In the security of your bedroom, you let out a long exhale and try to get your mind back on track. 
You're just nervous. He's being nice. You're being nice back. It's nothing. It's nothing. It's nothing, you mentally chant. When you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you almost have to laugh at the fierce blush on your cheeks and the distracted look in your eyes. "You better get it together." You say, pointing at yourself in the mirror like it's gonna do anything to make tonight smoother.
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The gallery is packed when you get there. Joel curses under his breath as he tries to find a parking spot, and you try to keep your anxiety at bay. All you have to do is show your face, look at the paintings, and leave. Maybe you can manage to steal a bottle of the cheap wine they're undoubtedly serving. It'll be an hour. Two tops. You can do this. 
You're so in your head that you didn't notice that Joel parked the car or that he was looking at you until he bumped your knee with his. 
"You okay?" He asks. You take a deep breath and nod.
"Just need a second." You mumble. You fiddle with your earrings, your dress, anything to keep your hands busy as you psyche yourself up. 
"When's the last time you saw this asshole?"
"He wasn't always an asshole," you try to redirect, but he raises his eyebrows at you. "Since I graduated college." 
"We don't have to go in." He offers easily, and you give him a look. 
"Yes, we do. My name's on the list and everything." 
"So?" He shrugs. "The world's not gonna end just cause one person didn't show up."
"But you drove all the way here."
"And I can drive you all the way back. Besides, it's nice having a pretty girl in my truck. It wouldn't hurt to have you here next to me for a little while longer." He says, and you laugh, feeling some weight lift off your shoulders.
"You get many pretty girls sitting in your truck?"
"Just my pretty girls." 
"Right." You say, and he smiles, creating familiar crinkles in the corners of his eyes. They look a little deeper in the moonlight, but his eyes shine differently. Your fingers itch to draw them if only to critique your work and find the answer to why he has such an effect on you. You're aware that you're staring, but you also can't find it in yourself to look away. Not when he's staring back at you so fondly. 
"What can I do to help you?" He asks. You feel like you could cry at the sincerity in his voice. You've talked to Ellie about her anxiety, so you know he has some practice in dealing with it, but he's acting like it's second nature. Like this is what he was meant to do. He bumps you again when you start messing with your purse. "Do you want this to be like at the bar? Do you want me to take you home and pretend like we were never here? Do you want me to go in there and crack some skulls? You say the word— any word— and I'll do it for you, darlin'." 
Darlin’. It's what he called you when you promised revenge for almost kissing you at the bar. Normally, you'd be against any form of pet name. Henry was not openly affectionate in that way, and you learned not to expect it from him. But here's Joel, dropping the term of endearment almost every time he's been alone with you. It could be that cowboy accent or his knee pressed against yours, but the nickname fills your chest with warmth and pushes away your anxiety. 
"Any word, huh?" You ask, and he chuckles. 
"My mama raised me not to make promises I didn't have every intention of followin' through on." He says. "What'll it be?"
"I think… I just need you to be there with me." 
"Then, that's what I'll do." 
"Okay." You mumble, and he smiles as a new wave of comfort washes over you. 
"Okay." He says.
"Okay." You take a deep breath and look at him in the driver's seat one more time. "Let's do this." Finally, you open the door and step down from his truck. He's quick to come to your side and offer you his arm before he can even finish locking the car. You smile, tuck your hand under his bicep, and let him keep you upright as you walk in. 
The gallery is full of people who look way more qualified than you— art critics, journalists, and other artists who can actually sell a piece. They barely glance at you and Joel when you breach the doorway, which you're silently grateful for. When a waiter walks by with champagne glasses, Joel quickly snatches two glasses from the tray and hands you one. 
"Here's to us." He says, and you cock an eyebrow at him. 
"Us?"
"Well, we're sure as hell not toastin' to that asshole, are we?" 
"I guess not," you laugh as you clink your glasses together. "To us." You each take a sip, and Joel tries to hide his reaction to the champagne, but you see right through it. "Not your speed?"
"Not at all." He groans as he chokes it down. 
"Don't worry, maverick, we'll get you something else later." You promise and tuck your hand back under his arm as you start walking through the gallery. 
A lot of his newer work resembles his work from college— normal portraits of things like fruits, beds, or people but with unexpected lines of colors lining them like they're vibrating. You even recognize some from your college days. You just never expected them to actually be displayed in this way, not even when you were dating and telling him what a good artist you thought he was. Some have vague titles like "$12" and "Jack," while others are untitled. You can see why it would get taken in by a gallery. There's a very clear skill in how he paints and manipulates everyday objects into something new. It would be impressive if it was interesting. 
Maybe you're just used to the way he paints. Maybe this is exactly what you expected of him. Maybe you thought he would've grown, if not in attitude than, at least, in skill. But it's clear that too many people told him good things about his work, and he saw nothing he needed to change or fix. Somehow, it makes you feel better, not worse, about your own art. 
"So, are these supposed to be good or bad?" Joel whispers to you as you get closer to the next section, and you laugh a little too loudly. The people around you give you nasty looks, but you can't find it in yourself to be sorry.
"Like I said at the museum, I can't tell you that, but…" you glance around to make sure nobody's listening to you. "As someone who saw him make a lot of art, this is definitely not his best."
"Okay, that's what I thought," he says before pointing at a specific part of the painting. "The shape is really weird right there, like he ran outta space or somethin'." You let go of his arm and step between him and the painting, smiling knowingly.
"Did you study for this?" You ask, and he nervously plays with the chain around his neck. 
"I may have… snuck a look at Ellie's notes." He admits sheepishly, and your eyes widen. 
"You were actin' like you were gonna have to rely on me this whole time! You don't need me to tell you what good art is!"
"Yeah, but I want you to." 
"Oh, whatever. C'mon, I wanna hear what else you think." You pretty much drag him to the next section of the gallery, but he's pliant and almost giddy at your hold on him. You take more time in the next part, and he ducks so his lips are near your ear to point out little things he notices. He said he was scared of being wrong in front of people "smarter than him," but all the observations he makes are valid and accurate. He lets you add your own analysis to his and watches you with a smile when you start talking with your hands excitedly. Suddenly, you're not nearly as miserable as you thought you would be, and you're even laughing together as you jump from painting to painting. 
"See, this isn't so bad!" You say as you move to the final part, but your smile and enthusiasm die when you step over the threshold. There, staring at you unashamedly is the painting Henry did of you when you were twenty and topless. He told you it was for his own artistic development, and you were more than happy to do it for him. You just never thought he would've kept it after all these years. Thank God your face isn't visible in the painting, but your rigid posture tells Joel everything he needs to know. He politely turns his back to the painting and steps between you and your likeness. 
"You wanna go?" He whispers at the same time someone calls your name. You take a deep breath and grab Joel's hand for support as you turn around and face Henry. His wavy blonde hair frames his face like it did in college but he's matured. His beard is a little more filled in, and he's gotten a little broader. Other than that, he's still the same person you met freshman year. 
"I'm so glad you could make it!" He says as he approaches. He doesn't try to hug you, and you don't move to let go of Joel's hand. "You look great. I mean, you always looked great, but you know what I meant," he says, looking over you. Only when Joel clears his throat does Henry even look at him. "Oh, sorry, man! We're old friends. I'm Henry." He holds his hand out for Joel to meet halfway, but he doesn't. You think it probably took fighting every single bit of southern hospitality in his veins to stop himself from shaking Henry's hand.
"'M Joel." He says, and Henry awkwardly drops his hand. 
"Nice to meet you, Joel. How are you enjoying the exhibition?" 
"'S alright." Is all Joel offers, not willing to gas up Henry's ego anymore, and you have to stifle a laugh at the expectant look on Henry's face. "Well, I think we were just goin'."
"Oh, so soon? You haven't even seen the last few pieces."
"Are those any better than the thirty identical ones I already saw?"
"Joel," you scold quietly, and his jaw flexes when you look at him.
"It's okay. Not everyone understands art enough to enjoy it." Henry says. 
"Oh, I understand everythin' just fine." You swear Joel would've punched him if he wasn't holding your hand so tight. You step in between them and raise your eyebrows at Joel. His shoulders are squared, and you can feel the molten anger rolling off him, but it softens just a bit when he meets your eyes. You squeeze him twice to let him know you're okay, and he nods. 
"Can you get me a refill on champagne? I think they're still walkin' around with some." You suggest. He gets the hint, but he obviously doesn't like it. He glances between you and Henry like he's trying to make a decision but folds when you mouth, "please," at him. 
"’Course," he says through gritted teeth. "Anythin' else I can get for you, baby?" Baby, that's a new one, you think. 
"No, I'm alright. Thanks, though." You say. Without thinking, you let your other hand rest on his jaw and kiss Joel's cheek. His jaw unclenches when your fingertips graze his stubble, and his shoulders relax when your lips make contact with his skin, but you know he's still upset because you're still upset. Joel smiles and walks away before you can get a good look at the blush creeping up his neck, and you're resigned to watching him disappear into the crowd. 
"He seems nice," Henry says the second Joel is out of earshot, and you have to resist the urge to laugh. 
"He is." 
"How'd you two meet?"
"Through work." You say, knowing that bringing up teaching will make his skin crawl. He sucks his teeth and nods, the champagne in his glass sloshing slightly.
"Ah," he says. "That's nice."
"Yeah," you agree. An awkward silence falls over the two of you quickly, and you're itching to find Joel in the sea of people. Henry notices your lack of attention on him.
"It's really good to see you," he says. "I feel like I haven't talked to you in forever."
"Yeah, that's usually what happens when you leave someone." 
"That's kinda why I invited you here tonight. I wanted to apologize for the way things ended," he acts brokenhearted and torn up about it, but he's years too late for the pity party he's expecting. "I should've talked to you about what was going on. We were just... becoming so different, and it felt like you were always talking to Andie or other people in the program, and there was no way to reach you."
"What are you talking about? I asked you multiple times if we were okay, and you said yes every time. I was talking to Andie so much because I needed someone who would understand me and be able to help." You say, and he waves his hand like he's swatting flies.
"Let's not do this. My therapist says it's not healthy to rehash the past like this. I just wanted to make amends and let you know I'm sorry for how you felt." It's not an apology. Not a real one, anyway. Jesus Christ, what did you ever see in him? Before you can even open your mouth to say something, he gestures to the gallery. "So, what do you think about all this? Crazy, right?"
"It's... something," you say. "Wish you would've given me a heads up about that one before I brought someone with me." You point in the direction of your half-naked body on the wall, and he gives you a confused look.
"I thought I did in the email." 
"Nope, I think I would've remembered if you said something about a half-naked painting of me from college being displayed," you shake your head. "Why do you even still have that? I thought you would've thrown it away or painted over it or something."
"Why would I do that? It's a good piece."
"I know it's good because it's my body. What's weird is you leaving me without a word one day and then keeping a naked picture of me all these years." 
"I didn't even think of it as your body. After a while, it was just a body," he says with no remorse, and you think you might hit him yourself. "Besides, you should take this as a compliment. Not many women get the opportunity to be depicted as art. It's a wonderful thing. You might even thank me one day when you're older." Finally, you see Joel walking toward you with a glass of champagne, and you take refuge in the fact that he's returning for you. "But, from what I can see, they've definitely stayed the same, so you probably don't have anything to worry about." He says like it's a secret or a compliment. You don't even wait for Joel to say or do anything. You just grab the wine from him and throw it in Henry's face. The people in the immediate vicinity gasp as you slap him and shove the empty glass into his hands. 
"Out of all the stupid things I imagined for myself when I was younger, thinking I would marry you was the stupidest," you spit. "Don't you ever try to fucking contact me again."
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You feel like a fucking idiot. What did you expect? An apology? Repentance? Regret? He barely apologized when you were together. Why would he start now? God, was he always that bad? How could you have been so blind? How could you have shed so many tears over him? How could you have let yourself be so vulnerable with him and for so many years? It's a miracle he didn't call the cops and try to get the two of you arrested, even though Joel didn't do anything. You think, at least. The second you finished your sentence, you ran to the bathroom to cry and then snuck out through the back to wait outside Joel's truck. For all you know, Joel (rightfully) beat his ass and is on the run from artsy Austin hipsters. 
You put the lit cigarette back in your mouth and take a long drag, the familiar burning in your lungs a sick relief. You quit during The Dark Days because smoking was something he did, and you wanted to rid yourself of any reminder of his impact on your life. Apparently, at the same time you were scrubbing his fingerprints from your bones, he was in possession of and doing God knows what with the visual reminder of your vulnerability and love-sickness and acted like it was nothing. Like it was a compliment. Like it was just an object instead of your body. Andie would be pissed if she were here but especially if she saw you smoking after she braved all those shaky days and nights of nicotine patches and dried fruit and whatever other remedy recommended to help you quit smoking. You half-expect the same anger when you see Joel walking toward you. 
"Before you even start, I know I shouldn't, okay? It's a bad habit from when I was a kid, and I've mostly kicked it. I just... had a lapse. I'll be back on my best behavior tomorrow," you say as he stops in front of you. He doesn't look angry or upset. He just looks concerned and maybe even a little sad. Suddenly, you regret running away from him when all he probably wanted to do was help. You probably wouldn't have bummed a cigarette from a busboy if you let him. "Don't tell Ellie." You plead. His eyes flick over your face before he takes the cigarette from your fingers, puts the lipstick-stained filter in his own mouth, and inhales deeply, making the ember glow in the dark of the night. When he exhales, he blows the smoke away from you and lets the wind carry it in the opposite direction. A considerate smoker. You should've guessed.
"Don't tell Ellie," he says, handing the cigarette back to you. "Are you okay?"
You shake your head and take a long drag. It's quiet between you two for a while, the only sound being the cicadas and the distant chatter of the gallery. They're probably still talking about the psycho bitch who threw her wine in the artist's face. You don't really care. "I'm sorry for tonight. I don't know what I was expecting, and I sure as shit didn't know that painting was gonna be displayed. I swear, if I had any idea how bad this was gonna be, I wouldn't have invited you." 
"Why are you apologizin'? It's not your fault." 
"I shouldn't have roped you into this. I should've just said no, ignored the email, or came by myself. It's not fair that you got put in the middle of all this, especially when you were just trying to be nice. You're the parent of one of my students, and for you to see that side of me is just inappropriate. I just-" he stops your rambling by putting his hands on your shoulders and making you look at him, the cigarette falling to the pavement in the process. 
"Hey, hey. Stop. Take a breath." He says. Your head hurts from crying, and part of you wants to crawl into a hole and stay there until these feelings go away, but his eyes are gentle, and his hands are warm. You think he might be the only reason you're holding it together right now. "None of this is your fault, okay? Not the painting, not the conversation, none of it. We're both adults, and we can handle these things rationally. I'm not scarred for life just 'cause you lost your temper."
"But I-"
"No, buts. You told me the situation, and I didn't care. You warned me bout the art people, and I didn't care. You threw a drink in that asshole's face, and I didn't care," he says. "The only thing I care bout right now is makin' sure you're okay. Fuck everythin' else." You search his face for anything to tell you what he's telling you is going against his inner monologue but find none. He's completely and wholly concerned about you and nothing else. Not how fast he can get out of this. Not how this might look. Not what other people might think about him. Nothing. You take a deep breath and nod.
"Fuck everything else." You agree. 
"Now, you're gettin' the hang of it." He jokes, and you roll your eyes at him. He takes it in stride, his smile never fading as he looks down at you. You stop messing with the hem of your dress and let yourself relax for the first time all night.
"Thank you for being here, Joel. I really appreciate it."
"Not our best not-date, but definitely a memorable one." He says, and you laugh. You seem to realize how close you are at the same time because you both fall silent. His curls are beautifully draped over his face, and you can't stop watching his tiny expressions. An eye squint. A purse of the lips. A bite to the inside of his cheek. You want to blame your bad night or the emotions, but you can't. There's something more there. Something that's been brewing beneath the surface since he came into your classroom. Something that will kill you if you don't act on it.
You let your hands come up from your sides and tentatively brush against his waist as you stare at him, waiting for him to say something, but he doesn't. He just stares down at your lips, and the hands on your shoulders slowly move across your skin and up your collarbone— leaving goosebumps in his wake— until his hands are on your jaw and your pulse is thrumming against his palm. You pull him closer by his belt loops, and he doesn't hesitate to crowd your space, pushing you into the side of his truck with his body. His lips ghost over yours, just barely touching, and his nose bumps yours. 
"This is a bad idea," you breathe, tightening your hold on him. He nods and presses his forehead against yours. He's still close enough to breathe the same air as him, but the distance feels like miles. You lean forward a fraction as a test, and he doesn't move. If anything, he seems annoyed you didn't kiss him.
"D'you want to stop?" He asks, sounding just as breathless as you feel. You shake your head and swallow hard when he brushes the hair off your shoulder, and you can feel his heavy hand holding you. Your hands skate over his ribs, feeling muscles and a crazed heartbeat, and his jaw clenches. "Then you better do somethin' cause you've been drivin' me fuckin' crazy for weeks." 
Finally, you catch his lips with yours. He tastes like nicotine and smoke, and you know it's going to take a lot more than patches to get you to want to stop doing this. It's gentle and sweet, all relieved sighs and shy touches until you pull away for just a second to second-guess yourself or ask him something. You don't even start to form the words before he's back on you with more fervor. Suddenly, it's like he's everywhere but not nearly close enough. He nibbles at your bottom lip and tests a hand on your sternum, long fingers grazing your throat. The metal of the truck digs into your back, but you stop caring when a little moan slips from his lips when you pull him closer.
This is a bad idea. A horrible one. A bad habit you're gonna need to kick. 
But he might just be your favorite bad idea so far.
TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk
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thankskenpenders · 6 months
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And now for something new
So, here's something I was never planning on doing, but I just couldn't shake the idea... Thanks Ken Penders is gaining a sister blog featuring an entirely different comic franchise!
Introducing... Thanks Steve Ditko, a blog where I read the Earth-616 Spider-Man comics, starting all the way back in the '60s! It's gonna be much more casual and less thorough than how I run things here on TKP, though, which I'll explain in a sec.
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If seeing me post weird bits from old Spider-Man comics sounds fun and you need no further info, then just head right on over to Thanks Steve Ditko. But for longtime TKP readers, I know you probably have questions...
Number one: Why?
Spider-Man's always been my favorite superhero, and with the Spider-Verse movies kicking ass and my excitement building for the new Insomniac game, I've been in a Spidey mood. Inevitably, a thought occurred to me: Maybe I should actually read the comics that everything else is built off of and see the wildly varying contributions of all the original creators, rather than filtering them through big budget adaptations. If I can power through One Piece and all these other manga with hundreds of chapters, it can't be that hard... right?
And, well, after a few issues I quickly realized that my options were to either clog up my other accounts with random Spider-Man panels for years, or to just make a side blog. And so the side blog was born.
Two: Will this blog replace Thanks Ken Penders?
NO!!!!!!!!!
Okay but prove it
To allow the two to exist side-by-side, Thanks Steve Ditko will have a different format than what Thanks Ken Penders developed. Rather than an in-depth guided tour that critically analyzes every story beat of every issue, TSD will just be a place for amusing panels and brief thoughts as I casually read the comics at my own pace.
If you've seen me make a few tweets about reading Spider-Man recently, I'm basically just moving that to a dedicated Tumblr. It's a place for me to dump these things so that it doesn't fill up my media tab on Twitter for the next decade. (You know, assuming Twitter is still around in a decade.) There will be many issues where I only post two panels that I thought were funny. There will be issues where I don't have anything to say at all. Maybe I'll reach a run that I just cannot get into, and I start skipping around more. Who knows!
This may sound similar to what I thought this blog would be before it blew up. Aside from the simple fact that there's already mountains of Spider-Man commentary out there and therefore less of a void for me to fill, one of the main steps I'll be taking to avoid repeating the past is not enabling an ask box on TSD. I do not need people to ask me to go into ten times more detail on everything. I do not need to write seven essay-length responses to questions about Spider-Man minutiae every day. I do not need a place for people to chide me for not covering certain scenes, issues, or ancillary series.
It also won't have any kind of update schedule. I'm trying to keep it very casual. I'm reading these comics at my own pace, and if I feel like sharing a moment or commenting on something while doing so? It goes there. That's it.
(On the subject of format changes, I'm also listing the issue, writer, and penciller in the body of every post. This is a thing I wish I'd done on TKP so that people didn't misattribute every weird Archie Sonic panel I post to Penders.)
Three: So when will TKP come back from hiatus? You said it'd come back after you finished SLARPG!
I don't know! Sorry. I have a couple things on the backburner right now for TKP, but I'm not sure when I'll get back to proper updates where I read more comics.
I wanted to bring TKP back this year, and that's still possible. The main hurdle is that I want to reread my own archive (again) as a refresher, which is, uh. A lot of posts. I've developed a high standard for myself on here, and I feel like I wouldn't be doing my job right if I forgot half the ongoing subplots and character arcs and didn't bring them up in my analysis. Especially when I'm discussing the work of an author as obsessed with continuity as Ian Flynn. Unfortunately, the nature of this blog means that every time I go on another long hiatus for Life Reasons I have even more comic continuity to catch up on than last time.
(This is a big part of why I'm making Thanks Steve Ditko an extremely casual blog instead of promising to become a Lore Expert on 60+ years of Marvel.)
Mostly I've just been very burnt out this year after having finally finished a video game that took almost eight years to make. I haven't really had the energy for any creative projects, including TKP. But I feel a little bit of a spark here with Spider-Man, so I'm chasing that feeling to try to get back into the swing of blogging about comics - no pun intended.
So, basically, bear with me on this as I start this low-energy side project. But hopefully folks will enjoy Thanks Steve Ditko as its own thing, too.
Look forward to goofy shit like this
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angelltheninth · 1 year
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Could you do headcanons for what the members of the bad batch would be like as husbands??
The best kind? The hot kind? The wholesome kind? Everything.
Pairing: Hunter, Crosshair, Tech, Wrecker, Echo x Reader
Tags: fluff, domestic, space husbands, cuddles, kissing, bathing together, sharing clothes, flirting
A/N: All of them are lovely but if I had to pick it'd have to be Hunter.
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Hunter would be the first one up in the morning, a routine carried over from the war. He tries not to wake you up with it though, instead really loving to take a shower later and cuddle back up in bed with you if you don't get up in the meantime.
He never forgets your anniversary. Even if he's away when it happens he will bend over backwards to make time to call you and tell you everything he loves about you without fail. His dedication to you is his most admirable trait, he never lets you feel like you're alone or undeserving of love and his full attention.
"Stop grilln' me sweetheart, I ain't telling you nothin'. What kind of surprise would it be then? And actin' surprised isn't gonna work either so stop lookin' at me like that. They ain't takin' me away on our anniversary this time and that's a bloody promise. Of course I mean it, have I ever lied to you?"
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Crosshair is as strict when he's married as he is as a soldier. He has a schedule, he has a way of doing things, he expects things to go a certain way. He's very serious about keeping things in order.
A bit of a neat freak. He makes it fun though, there's always music in the background and he pulls you in for a dance and a kiss and a an occasional slap on the ass. Takes things too seriously sometimes which can be a lot to deal with but it's nothing you're not used to by now, at least you can always be sure he's being honest in the things he says, and he has a lot, really a lot, of things to say to you.
"If you keep that up doll I'm dropping this and picking you up instead. We can cuddle later, just let me finish this first. Oh? And what sort of compromise were you thinking? Temping, very tempting. Hm... I knew there was a reason I married you. Ouch! It was a joke! Yes, I know a rare one, savor it, like I'll savor you."
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Tech is a planner. He always plans your dates, your anniversaries, your vacations, and is the handyman around the house while you handle the rest of the chores that he's not that skilled at. He tried to cook once and... well he doesn't speak of that incident anymore.
He's still not the best at relaxing after a long day so he lets you take the reins, lets you drag him to the couch or a warm bath for cuddles before he dozes off with his head on your lap. He has an alarm set so he never oversleeps, even when he's dead tired. Lucky for him you've developed a similar sleeping schedule so he's never alone for long.
"I was thinking we can choose that for our next vacation spot. I'm able to take a whole two weeks off soon and I know you like that place sweetie. I will spend the whole duration of it with you I promise, no distractions to speak off. Except for you that is."
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Wrecker is the kind of husband that carries your photo with him everywhere and brags about you to everyone who he happens to get friendly with. Which is a lot of people. So you can bet that there are a bunch of people out there who know all about how much he loves you.
Goes bonkers when you wear his clothes. He absolutely melts at the sight. It's cute, it's funny how big his shirt and pants are on you. Because he knows you like them he always brings extra whenever the two of you go anywhere together. Always cuddles with you when he's home, you will not get away from this mans hugs and kisses if you try. But why would you?
"What? Can't I stare at my sweet stuff looking sweet wearing my stuff? Heh, yer a dream come true I tell ya. I wanted to surprise ya so I told the boys to keep our arrival on the downlow. It worked didn't it. Come here, I need me some sugar, and Force knows ya've got plenty."
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Echo is very openly affectionate as a husband. He's never not holding your hand or smiling at you, alone or in company. He feels very lucky to have someone like you in his life, the best thing in his life really, and he will spend every waking moment remind you of that.
Makes you breakfast every morning, regardless of if he's leaving for a mission or not you can expect the two of you to eat together when he's home. Likes to wrap his arm around you from behind and kiss the crown of your head when you're in bed. Always ready to listen and give advice.
"I did not stay up late love, you're just up very, very early. It's not even four in the morning. Why did I stay up? Ah come one now, how else was I gonna get everything ready on time to surprise you? Losing one night of sleep is nothing to me. I've stayed up for worse, seeing you smile? That's all the reason I need to be the best that I can ever be."
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seleneisrising · 7 months
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Whether or not Ezra's "sister" line has any truth to it, I am still over the moon that he left her a separate message. It was something I was so concerned about going into this show.
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Ezra left Sabine. Without warning. Without explanation. Without saying goodbye.
And not only was it SO out of character for him to do that, but it was something I wasn't sure that she'd ever recover from or be able to forgive him for.
Because being left behind, abandoned, was what broke her.
Sabine: Before you got greedy and left me for dead.
Ketsu: You’d have been better off dead than joining this band of rebels.
Sabine to Kanan: My family didn’t stand with me. They chose the Empire. They left me.
Sabine: Why didn’t you try and find me?
Ursa: Find you?! Sabine, when you ran away, it saved you.
Both of the times that Sabine was abandoned by the people she cared for and trusted, she shut the door on them. She moved on and found other people to live with. She never went back (until she absolutely had to.) It turns out, later on, Sabine fell back on this coping mechanism when Ahsoka left her, too.
Sabine: She doesn’t want me back. She wasn’t even thinking about me.
Huyang: To be fair, you have never indicated that you wanted to come back.
But in all three of those instances, those were cases of rejection. Sabine was rejected, walked away from, abandoned because of something she'd done or some way she'd fallen short.
Ezra knew about the first two. He met all of those people and worked through those issues with her as she was going through them. He stood by her, offering her his steadfast loyalty and understanding. His compassion. His unconditional love.
That's why he has to leave her this message. He has to make it abundantly clear to her that he did not leave her. It wasn't the path he would've chosen if he could've helped it.
Hey, Sabine. I’m sorry for disappearing on you.
I made this recording because, more than the others, I need you to understand.
Regardless of what he actually says, this action in and of itself, this gesture, his thoughtfulness in recording this brief message, is how Ezra tells Sabine that he loves her.
He apologizes and says goodbye, and he tells her how much their time together meant to him. He tells her how much he has come to care about her without saying, perhaps, exactly what he means. This is hard enough for them already.
Ezra wouldn’t leave Sabine behind. Ever.
Sabine: Thought I told you to leave. Ezra: We stuck around, just in case.
He tried not to. He looked at all of the other paths, and this was the only one. This was the only way. So Ezra tells her to move on. To do what she normally does by calling upon that resiliency they both know she has so she can finish the fight without him by her side…even though that's where he'd much rather be.
And funny enough, that's why this time, this leaving, is different for Sabine. Ezra's message accomplishes, unfortunately, the exact opposite of what he intended. For once, Sabine can't, she won't shut the door on the person who left her.
Ezra: Sabine, I told you to stay outside. Sabine: Hey, I've never listened to you before. Why start now?
Ezra thought he might die. Everyone else now believes that he died in the Battle of Lothal. The Lothal scenes open with the memorial dedication in Remembrance Plaza. It's like a funeral.
But Sabine refuses to go through with it. Sabine hopes. TEN YEARS LATER she's keeping him alive. On Lothal she's kept a vigil for him, surrounding herself with his things and paying tribute to him in various ways. Ready to run to him the moment she has even an inkling of where he might be.
Ezra refused to break her with another rejection, so Sabine will refuse to let him remain lost.
Their love was always in the actions, not the words.
Ezra loved Sabine when he recorded that message. Sabine loves Ezra now, still garnering from his message the strength to persevere and the hope that he's still alive. How they're going to describe that love going forward, I still don't know. But in any case…
I'm so glad he left her that message.
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Inspiration
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Dedicated to the Puli girls who have given me inspo to start writing again! (Also this is my first bit of writing in literal years please be nice to me lmao) (Also also if I missed anyone in the tags sorry I’m lowkey running late for work so that’s my bad just let me know if you wanna be added!)
Summary: Even though the press conference is supposed to be about him, Christian can't help but look over at the one who he really owes the win to.
Warnings: Nothing this is just straight fluff lmao.
Word Count: 1004
You loved supporting your boyfriend. Truly Christian Pulisic was one of the most hardworking people you’d ever met, and you admired the passion he had everywhere he went. After all, it was one of the qualities that led to you falling for him in the first place. The past few weeks had been difficult for him, but he pushed through and never gave up (not that you would let him anyway). He deserved all the praise he received because he worked hard to better himself every single day, and you never turned down the opportunity to show the world just how proud you were of him.
Hence why you were seated off to the side, “Pulisic” being proudly displayed across your back while he finished up his press conference with Weston. He’d had so many setbacks within the past few months, and you knew he was frustrated with being away from the pitch for so long. Throughout the game were a few times you gritted your teeth, praying he wouldn’t aggravate his injury, but it was nothing Christian couldn’t handle. He’d just had two assists and a goal against Grenada, helping his team officially qualify for the Gold Cup in the summer. To top it all off, he’d done it with symbol of Captain wrapped around his bicep. You couldn’t have asked for a better game for him.
Yet despite this press conference meant to celebrate the team’s win, Christian insisted you be there throughout the entire interview. Christian was so proud of the way his team played, and he was pretty happy with his performance. But for him, the best part of his night didn’t come from any of his assists. It didn’t come from the comfortable lead the boys had throughout the entire game. Hell, it didn’t even come from the goal he didn’t think he’d end up getting. 
No, rather Christian was most happy that you were right there in the stands by his side, just like you always were. Ever since he got injured, he’d spent weeks frustrated that he couldn’t play like he wanted to. He knew what people had been saying about him online, and he wanted nothing more than to prove them wrong. But despite the negativity that suffocated him, you were the light that he needed to keep going. You centered him, helping him remember what he was doing and why he was doing it. You constantly inspired him to be the best version of himself that he could be. Even when he doubted himself, you always had enough belief in him for the both of you. 
Christian wanted the world to know just how much you meant to him, even if it was just you sitting off to the side as he answered questions. He snuck glances at you every so often, his eyes full of love. He adored how incredibly breathtaking you looked tonight. Christian always thought you were the most beautiful thing in this world, but he couldn’t help but admire you even more as you sat there, eyes twinkling with pride and his last name across your back.
“This question is for Christian,” one of the interviewers said.
His head snapped back in front of him, wanting to give the man his full attention.
“I noticed that throughout the night, you’ve kept peeking your head off to the side. Is there any particular reason as to why?”
Christian blushed ever so slightly, Weston slightly nudging his friend teasingly.
“Um yeah. Sorry this isn’t gonna be about football and I might go on a bit of a tangent, but it’s because my incredible girlfriend is sat over there. She’s actually part of the reason I played so well today.” 
He chuckled a bit, his eyes lighting up with excitement the more he spoke.
“She’s been so incredibly supportive throughout my entire career, and especially throughout these past few weeks. Getting injured was pretty rough for me, but she’s kept me pretty level headed. Even when I was at my lowest, her faith in me overpowered any negativity I had. She’s my good luck charm for sure, and I don’t think I ever would’ve made it this far if it wasn’t for her.”
He looked over at you once again. You were on the verge of tears, your heart feeling like it could burst at any moment. You were so in love with this man and truly you couldn’t believe how you managed to find someone like him.
“Every day I thank God for allowing me to be a part of her life because I can’t imagine anyone else really. Like honestly, I’m so much better because of her, both on and off the field. So yeah, I know tonight was a great game, but the best part for me was the fact that my girl was in the crowd wearing my jersey and cheering us on. And so yeah if you’ve seen me looking off to the side, it’s because I remind myself just how lucky I really am to have her.”
The crowd aw’ed at Christian’s proclamation. He’s right, his answer wasn’t really about football. But it was clear to everyone in that room that to him, you were just as important to the game as any practice Christian could’ve put in. Though he had won the game that night, he felt like every day he won because he had you by his side.
The interview continued on for a little while longer, but Christian continuing looking right at you. For now, your last name was only on in the form of his jersey. But he knew one day that it would be your last name too because there was no one else he would’ve wanted to spend the rest of his life with. And as the two of you smiled shyly at each other as though you were the only ones in the room, the genuine love you and Christian shared touched all who you were lucky enough to witness it.
Taglist: @neverinadream​ @pulisicsgirl​ @masonspulisic @lovelynikol16​ @chelseagirl98​ @bracedes​
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ronearoundblindly · 10 months
Note
Ari- pre baby....: Your boss is being cruel and said a horrible thing about you to the bosses of your boss about you
Warnings for--WOAH THIS GOT SO OUT OF HAND--yeah, so, bad/rude management, bit of angst and language, relatively-tame protective!Ari but look at this guy, nothing tame about him, and then not-at-all-tame sexy!Ari again please just look at him and I dare you to tell me I'm wrong, smut, bit of praise/dominance? maybe, mostly just hng. (I'm FINE, btw, I'm not like lonely or repressed at all, FWIW, this is a totally normal reaction to...whatever. I have no shame anymore. 🤷🏻‍♀️) MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. There is plenty for minors to read on my Light Masterlist, but this work is not for you! WC Who the hell knows. My guess is 2.5k about...
Too Eager, a Bedrock and Blueprints drabble
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Sometimes you can tell by the way someone says something, they do not mean it kindly.
He's done it once before, your boss, described you as 'eager' when you volunteered to stay late and help with a project one of your coworkers messed up before leaving on an international vacation.
Someone had to do it, and at the time, you had no one to go home to. Why not? Dedication to your work makes you look good, right?
Wrong.
Apparently, eagerness crosses a line, and it's not a helpful or useful line. It's this ambiguous veil that you've passed through into being 'a woman' in this line of work. Eagerness translated to submissive and meek to your boss. He thinks you're a pushover now, and what's worse is there's no way to undo that stigma.
If you refuse to do extra, now that you have willingly done so before, you're not being a team player, you're being lazy, or you're clearly having 'a bad day.'
None of that is true, of course. You simply have a terrible boss, a man unable to interpret basic human decency without mansplaining it through a 1950s sepia filter for the incompetent.
You've come home crying a handful of times, played it off as nothing important to your boyfriend, and convinced Ari that you're just having those adulting pains that come with a full-time salaried position in a company hoping to do everything under the sun with as few employees as possible.
You're just worn thin. That's all. Ari understands that.
He even accepts that excuse for a time.
But then the phone call happens.
No, you aren't on the phone, and no, you are not meant to hear your boss say it to his bosses, but you do.
You once again 'volunteered' to finish a late project--if you can call being stared at by everyone in a meeting following the question "Who will handle this by Friday?" a voluntary choice--and walk past your boss's office to the restroom.
"Yeah, Donny--" clearly speaking to his own boss, Mr. Donovan, a golfing buddy once the courses open "--you know how these girls get. They're so eager to prove themselves. She's never said no."
Well, that just about sends you.
You're shaking by the time you wash your hands, splashing cool water on your neck in an effort to control the rising heat of anger. Frustration prickles behind your eyes.
Concentrating is impossible, and you text Ari to let him know you will be much later than initially thought. What can you do? What can you say that doesn't sound vindictive or childish? What happens when you go back on your word to get this done?
He joked about it, but saying 'no' runs a huge risk for someone like you. There's competition for this job. You had to work for years to be given this promotion even. Sure, you earned it, but it can be taken away just as easily.
Your boss knows that. Your boss's boss knows that. You think Ari knows that as well, but he actually doesn't.
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Ari comes to pick you up, but when you refuse to come down to the truck, swearing you can't leave yet, he walks right on up to the offices.
He finds you in silent tears at your desk and kisses your forehead without a word. Your boss still chats in his office, seemingly avoiding going home to his own wife, loudly discussing the need for a new 9-iron.
Ari rips the phone out of the man's hand and disconnects the phone call.
"Hi, you don't know me and you don't want to," Ari starts with a huff that accounts for exactly 4% of his actual outrage at this moment, "but I'm here to pick up my girlfriend. She's been here--" he checks his watch "--an hour and forty-five minutes longer than necessary waiting for you to do your fu--job, and I'm taking her home. I assume you are capable of finishing your own damn work without supervision."
"It's not my job," your boss spits back.
"You're the manager. You've done her job before. You can do it again. It's what they pay you for."
Six-foot-scary Ari steps around the desk to prove his point.
"Unless you're so fucking lazy--" he tried not to curse, he really tried "--that you'd rather pay her double for every single second she puts up with your incompetence, daily, I suggest you get off your ass and do the work yourself."
The phone starts ringing beside him, and Ari picks it up.
"Hold please." He presses the receiver to his broad chest and glares daggers at the alarmed piece of shit cowering in a rolling chair. "She won't be here past five P.M. anymore, will she? Will she?"
Your boss shakes his head, taking the phone when Ari offers it, expressionless.
For good measure, Ari shoves the nearest stack of papers off the desk before stepping over the mess and walking out.
The entire ride home he thinks about how much he'd like to lodge that 9-iron so far up the guy's ass...and then realizes you're still crying quietly in your seat.
"Kid, I'm sorry. I swear, it'll be fine. He can't fire you for that. You still did more than you were supposed to, and if it takes him forever, that's his fault."
But you don't speak. Not when he rubs at your shoulders. Not when he opens the door for you. Not when you go to lay on the couch instead of eating dinner with him.
Ari sets a plate of food on the coffee table in front of you, but you ignore him and turn over, curling into yourself.
Sure, yelling at your boss wasn't his most tactical move ever, but that bastard's been messing with your confidence for so long. Ari couldn't take it anymore; he doesn't know how you have taken it for so long.
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You must have fallen asleep.
Groggy, empty of that hot anger and embarrassment that fueled you before, you turn willingly when Ari sits on the couch and places your legs in his lap.
He’s quiet and gentle, stroking your calves below your work skirt, asking what you want or what you need, but your mind is just blank.
With the TV turned down, it’s just a hum behind Ari’s focused and flickering face as he watches you in rapture. He knows your bad days. He hates them as much as you do. He hates to see you as anything less than content, but he most loves to see you happy.
“Let’s get you comfy, okay?”
He rolls the zipper of your skirt down at your side and yanks it free slowly. He runs his hands up your body and back, under your blouse, to unhook your bra, ghosting a kiss to your clothed chest before sitting back up to tug at your tights. He didn’t say anything about you only taking your shoes off at the edge of the couch, which means Ari is being remarkably controlled for how much he hates shoes in the house. As he playfully shimmies the long and frustrating tubes of nylon over your feet, you sit up to pull off everything up top, letting the blouse and bra drop to the floor and crossing your arms over your bare breasts.
“Cold?”
You nod, and Ari takes off his own t-shirt right there to help you into. It’s warm from his body and each fiber smells deeply of a decade of comfort. His hands return to holding your thighs.
“Better?”
Yes, but you don’t want to talk about it.
You lay back and stare at the ceiling, watching what looks like blue flames dance over the beams and plaster. It wasn’t really your responsibility, it wasn’t truly your job you didn’t finish before walking out of the office, and it wasn’t even you who encouraged Ari to blow up at that shithead boss of yours, but tension and irritation still rise in your chest, constricting you as if the cotton switched to lead threads by some alchemy.
One of Ari’s large hands settles on your stomach beneath his shirt. Though it adds weight, the touch is human and grounding. He cares for you. He wants to take care of you, and sure, maybe his attempts have been imperfect so far but they show a willingness to listen and work. His other fingers draw patterns over the inside of your thigh, and he digs into the soft flesh a little more when you clench.
That tickles. He knows it tickles.
But he says nothing. He asks nothing. He stares forward like this is the most interesting silent movie he’s ever seen, except there’s definitely a lot of talking and he can’t hear a word.
He settles into an absentminded pace, and you don’t notice his position steadily moving until the tip of Ari’s index finger starts teasing over your panties.
His gaze doesn’t shift from the television. Ari’s pace doesn’t change at all for what feels like minutes, but you can’t be sure because you’re not able to pay attention to anything but that featherlight drag over your skin.
You turn slightly, and his hand presses heavier into your belly, pinning you there. As his fingers push closer, drawing more distinct and deliberate circles, you grab hold of his wrist, and Ari hums.
“More? You like that, sweetheart?”
He stops to instead trace the edges of your panties, letting you whimper and squeeze him, rubbing your thighs together over his lap.
“Maybe these are in the way, huh? Should I—“
You’re already lifting your knees to help.
Ari chuckles as he slides off your underwear. You gasp when he doesn’t let both of your legs back down though, hooking one behind his head to keep you open and exposed to him. He doesn’t fake watching the screen anymore. He scoots closer until your hips are propped up on his thigh, folding you at the mercy of his fingers.
“That’s it. Let me in.”
Though he’s no longer teasing, your boyfriend takes his time working in one, then two, then three fingers. As he becomes more engrossed in your sounds and little wiggles of response, Ari turns toward you, kissing the inside of your knee and thigh, drawn in by the sight of you taking him in so smoothly.
He coos when you tighten around him, shallowing his movements in favor of curling those fingers and rubbing his palm against your clit.
Your grip on his wrist is frantic while that tether in your gut threatens to snap. The scrambling makes Ari flip his pressing hand over for you to grasp.
“That’s it,” he encourages hoarsely. “There she is.”
He knows exactly how to fuck you, exactly how to throw you over that cliff and break you apart exquisitely, and he loves to watch.
“More,” Ari demands over your cries and the loud squelching of wetness between you. “Give me more. I know you can.” His hand holding yours remains weighty and urgent against your body as you convulse, milking your orgasm for all its worth and then ripping away to watch your cunt flutter around nothing. “Fuck, yes. More.”
You’re only vaguely aware that Ari shoves his drenched hand down his sweatpants to slick himself, squeezing your grip back.
“More,” you repeat.
Ari groans, tearing the pants down away from his hips to fist his cock harder at your words. “Yeah?” He licks his dry lips after a ragged breath. “That’s what you want? More?”
The only answer you can muster is bringing your joined hands up and sucking two of his fingers into your mouth, a grunt of unbridled lust punched from his naked chest.
He hurriedly picks up your clothes, stuffing them under your ass as a makeshift pillow so he can straddle the side of the couch and fuck into you, your leg still over his shoulder. His shirt rides up as he tweaks your nipples between those same rough, sticky fingers.
He huffs out praise—how beautiful you are, how good you feel, how grateful he is that you let him give you this—and tells you to take whatever you want, to come whenever you want.
Your jaw goes slack, but Ari immediately uses that spit to swirl around your bundle of nerves as he drives in faster, deeper, harder. The only thing your mind can hold onto while your body floats is the sound of him teetering on the edge of ecstasy with you.
He slows to ease you through the overwhelming intensity. It takes you a long time to notice he’s remained hard inside you, and after sweetly petting all over your skin to ground you, he almost pulls out.
You tense.
“You didn’t finish.” It’s a question and condemnation in one.
“You didn’t tell me to,” he says with a debauched smile.
Gingerly, Ari lowers your leg down to hook around his waist, bending to nuzzle against the long line of your sweaty throat, pressed to where oxygen rushes in and out of your ravaged body.
“Go on. Practice. Boss me around.” He leans back, ready. “You know I’m only too eager to please you, kid. Anytime.”
It’s kind and genuine, an open invitation, a request you can refuse, but you don’t want to say ‘no’ to Ari. He is patient and receptive, loyal and respectful. He protects you when you flounder to see your own worth. You’re wanted and needed. The advantage is all yours. You are neither submissive nor meek; you are as dedicated to your pleasure as you are to Ari’s. That’s the whole package. That’s the woman he loves.
Eagerness is not a fault. It’s a gift you give to each other and your lives.
“Okay, then, old man—“ you reach to scratch through his thick beard “—take me to bed. We’ve got work to do.”
Ari grins and scoops you up with sudden energy before realizing he’s about to trip over the sweatpants pooling around his ankles. You laugh, and he curses up a storm, kicking them onto the floor by your shoes.
Like he did that first day in the house, the first day he showed how much he felt for you, Ari follows orders and carries you down the hall.
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A/N: I had a lot of trouble editing this because the month of May just melts my brain with how busy it gets. Hopefully, this turned out okay. I got a sudden bit of inspo when I woke up the other day, and it seemed like the way to go at the time...Now, I'm not so sure. I'm going out on a limb and posting this anyway. If it's trash, please let me know, and I'll redo it!
Taglist: @supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @jamneuromain @nana1000night
[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]
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iamsonny-j · 2 months
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This was originally going to be in reply to @glowinggreeneyes-e post about the Captain's education and career path...but then I got carried away because I'm so normal about this stuff so it's now its own post...with added angst because I have no control over any of this, my brain just goes.
So for a start the Captain would have gone to a public boarding school. I think it's worth pointing out that public schools and universities operated scholarships for students from less wealthy backgrounds. We're still talking middle class and upper middle, but not always full on wealthy and privileged in the way of someone like Julian. Cap strikes me as having the background of a family well enough off but he probably always had to work hard to prove himself for his place, maybe not so much for public school but definitely for university.
Whatever school he attended would have had an Officer Training Corps junior division. Basically cadets. This would lead to the possibility to do an exam (written and practical) to get what was called certificate A to show he had participated in the OTC.
From the Button House Archives it says Cap got to the front in WW1 at armistice and so never saw action. So I imagine he finished his studies at school in the summer, enlisted and completed basic training, and then was out to Europe just in time for things to end. Because he got his certificate A at school he had the option at university to join the OTC university division. This was a route to becoming a commissioned officer. You either needed certificate A or experience in the ranks to join. For the sake of argument, serving in the army for a couple of months wouldn't count as experience so he must have had the certificate A...
University options at that time were limited to Oxbridge, Durham or London. All of those had OTC. I think London can be ruled out...only because it was busy, loud and ugly, even then (sorry London friends!) and the Captain likes wildlife and the countryside and nature walks...I can't see him thriving in London.
Training with the OTC at university involved physical training, military strategy, history and law etc. The Captain would have had to complete 2 years training before he could have done exams for his Certificate B - practical and written. Passing the exams would have entitled him to a commission on graduation. Getting Certificate B wasn't common because of the amount of work involved and dedication required to be successful. It was hard!
Like I want to point out that to get that far would have required so much effort and dedication right from being a child. And this is where I will get sad and headcanon-y for a bit (let me have this one thing out of all this research!)
Bullying and abusive rituals were a big part of public school life at this time and any boy seen as even slightly different would have been targeted for sure, even by some of the teachers. So although Cap comes across as clever and capable at what he knows I think school would have been socially really freaking hard. For a child in that situation I could see the OTC being a respite and something the Captain would have found very comforting with the set rules, order and expectations and from there you can understand why career army would have been appealing...
And I think that's when things get a bit complicated. The army was his life but in a different way to officers who wanted to be on the front line, like Havers. Obviously Cap worked extremely hard for his commission - and he was obviously very well qualified and knowledgable in his areas of interest, but he was always ever going to be best at HQ tasks like intelligence or engineering or whatever his particular career skills were - loving the army in theory, but some of it would have always been out of his reach. And I think being in a public school during WW1 and hearing of so many former pupils (some he would have known personally as seniors, prefects or head of houses) losing their lives on a daily basis during WW1 would have had a huge effect on him and probably influenced some of the guilt about not having the opportunity to fight himself, but ultimately I think he probably knew that wasn't his part to play even with WW2.
And I think all that that shows in his interactions we see in his past as CO - he was obviously doing a good job at whatever secret little operations he had but he really didn't have the skills/personality needed to be a CO. Having someone like Havers as a second hid that (and that's also seen in Havers getting 2 promotions in 4 years...he was much more of a natural CO) and I wonder if a lot of affection that Cap had for Havers originally came from the fact that Havers not only respected him as CO but he was also just kind to him and saw a person worthy of affection - rather than the CO that everyone tolerated but secretly disrespected and laughed at (just look at how all the other officers couldn't wait to come down on him in 5.05)
And then he lost Havers. But still had to command up to 150 men and operations at Button House for the next 4 years. And it's obvious from the letters and information in the Button House Archives that he really REALLY did try and I think with considering everything it's no wonder he overcompensates a lot and that's where he's at in the first couple of seasons of Ghosts; fighting for authority and trying to do his best.
Last sad point because it does relate: When he died Havers gave Cap the swagger stick to hold - Havers still called him 'Sir' even though he outranked him at that point. I don't know if I can begin to unpick all of that, but there's definitely something in there about respect, belief and the burden of responsibility that he clearly took seriously into his afterlife not wanting to let Havers down both personally and professionally.
If you read all of this I love you and respect you and appreciate you for appreciating my level of not normal xD
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iceprincessviviane · 10 months
Text
Last will. - Heritage series prologue.
Paring: poly!BTS (Demons) x Female!Shy!Skinny!Chosen!Reader
Type: dark romance, horror au, soulmate au, poly relationship, slowburn, yandere.
Warnings: Horror themes, some religion themes (mostly demonic), gore, blood, manipulation, witchcraft, magic themes, death (side characters), mentionings of forced marriage, mentioning about past, loss, yandere, obsessive, possessive, swearing, low self-esteem,dealing with grief, sugestive content and silly jokes created by me. (If there is more to add let me know.)
Next chapter.
Summary: When old, lonely lady is dying, some mysteries are revealed, which none is expecting. Someone is going to take advantage of that for sure.
Author's note: It was around Halloween and I was getting inspired and decided to try something in good, old scary mood. I might be not good at it, so sorry! And it's based kinda of my strange dream. Action is supposed to be in northen Canada in make up city, this is how it was in my dream so I will let it stay. Sorry if that has no logic at all. Dream was really strange and first chapters are mostly based on that, rest it just written by me as continuation. Introduction is long and whole mansion is based on one from Tonb Raider series (Legend/Underworld). English isn't my first language so sorry for all mistakes.
Dedication for the @aris-ink meance (angel) which supporter me all the way along and mostly I'm posting because she gave me a wings 💖
MINORS DNI
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In modern office was sitting very old and elegant lady. She had old-fashioned dress and her white hair were in tight bun. Fine jewllery was on her neck, same was for wrist and ears. The stones were shinging in light of the lamp. She sat opposite young notary, which was writing somethine with pen on his documents. Dame was visibly getting impatient, her assistant was making meaningful glances at worker, but he didn't even noticed. After few minutes she sighed and tapped her emaciated on light brown desk.
"I am sorry ma'am, it has to be perfect."
She rolled her eyes and looked around. Office was big and bright, outside was raining heavy, wall of water and sometimes the sky was pierced by thunder. There was computer on the other side of the desk and big bookshelf filled by documents and books about the law. On the wall was hanging put some awards and certificates which notary finished successfuly.
"My boy, I am sorry to interrupting you, but in fact I don't have much time. I am going to die very soon and I need to do a lot." Old lady said bitterly.
"I am sorry ma'am." He gave her sympathetic smile and put down pen. "I have ended your last will as you wished."
Notary handed her document. She read it with little frown. It was strange for her, but the time has come and she had to take care of last things in this world.
"I have concated the curator of museum you have mentioned. He is thrilled by your proposition and agreed to all your terms."
"I am glad then. I hope this will do good for next generations." Old lady smiled warmly.
"But there is one problem. Being specific about the mansion in Grand Hillsam." Man said looking at the name of the town.
Immediately old lady's glance became cold and suspicious. "What about it?"
"I have found that in fact it's part of Canadian heritage and it was just under your custody ma'am. It can't be given to any museum or anyone unless the government agree or the owner can't take care of it. I have tried to contact the office in Grand Hillsam and they have sent me to someone higher."
Old lady scoffed and waved her head with annoying expression. She tapped desk again, looked like wanting to light a cigarette.
"But they have stated that, after your death it will become clear what will happen to the mansion. It can't be made into museum if it's not proven that mansion would be left all alone."
"But I wanted to avoid passing it to anyone. That's why I wanted to make museum there and give all historical stuff away as gifts."
"They are very thankful, but your family last will is above that. You were not living there in fact, only someone who lives there can decide about mansion." Young man sighed taking out some documents. "I have searched it very carefuly, but can't do anything about that."
"That's bullshit." She cursed not like a lady. "I have paying all the bills and sending money to take some care of this mansion. I just didn't want to live there." She frowned.
"And as your family stated, only person who lives there can decided to such things as selling or giving up the mansion. After your death your family and far family will be informed about it. If they won't be able to take care of it, it will be made into museum." Notary said shrugging with helplessness.
"But I have no family. That's why I am giving away the money and things."
"Well... that's not true ma'am... the office searched through documents as did I. You have a very distant family, here in Europe."
"But they have been thrown out of my lineage almost three hundred years ago. The testement didn't include them in any case."
"Well... the office in Canada have stated that unless your famil won't care about mansion or simply can't because of money, then yes it will be made into museum."
Old lady sighed slowly, but then nodded. "If it's all, please let me sign it and let's end this farse."
Soon notary handed her all necessary documents. She signed them with diligence. They have left office and her assistant helped her by softly holding arm. He was middle age man, who served her long time. When they were in the car, driver almost immediately pulled into driveway.
"Damnit, it was so close to get rid of this stupid mansion and it's secrets. I am sure they have had their word in this." She said staring at the window and terrible weather.
"So what now? Your distant family will be called to Grand Hillsam that's for sure." Assistant said with worrying tone.
"I will make sure, that they won't want to stay there and will be protected. I need to be at home as fast as possible."
}*{
It was dark outside and was raining almost all time. Week has passed since old lady was in the office. Now she was lying at bed, weak and in fact annoyed. She lighted a cigarette and took a deep breath. Her assistant just left bedroom. It was quite big one, with canopy bed, balcony, big wardrobe and high bookshelf.
"You shouldn't be smoking." Happy voice said with concern.
"I am dying, I can do whatever I want." Old lady's words were horase. "I don't care how I am going to die, I am going to enjoy life till my last breath."
"You are still the same." Green eyes flashed in dim room, just on the bookshelf.
Small, dark as night cat hopped on the floor and made it's way to the bed.
"Thank's God, I was thinking that Harry was making you suspicious." Old lady said bitterly.
"It was hard to make my way here and this form." Cat said and stopped near the bed, that lady could see him.
"I need your owner'a help." She confessed.
"We know. That is why I am here, but don't know the details."
"I wanted to give up the mansion. To get rid of it, make family free. But of course they have stepped in." Old lady frowned with disgust.
"Well it was sure, that it won't be so easy."
"Officials said that until my last family won't be proven that don't want to take care of the mansion or simply can't take care, because of money, there is no way of making of it museum."
"So they even messed with office." Cat said perking it's ears.
"Yes. There is a threat, that all will start again. I have no time to meet my distant family and tell them about our messed up past. Pretty sure that they won't believe me anyway. So you will have to take care of that. They can't stay there and they have to give up this stupid building."
"Well it's not like when the building is gone, all the problems will disappear. The bond will be still there."
"Yes, but the ritual place will be no more, all the knowledge and items will be gone. Some spells will break. Even town might get free from dark influence. It will be hard for them go rebuild that somewhere else.
"I will go and tell my owner about everything." Cat promised and licked it paw. "But now let me keep your company."
Animal jumped on the bed and sit on old lady's lap demanding headpats. She gladly provided them till her hand stopped and last breath left her mouth. Cat purred softly making sure that her soul is safe.
}*{
Namjoon stepped out of the car and looked at building in front of him. He put his hands in the pockets. The gate was closed and strong walls were protecting land inside. It looked old and untreated. Through a gate you could see entrance to the garden and main entrance to the big manor. It was already late, moon poking from behind a clouds made a little light. He walked to the gate and put a hand in shadow place then
walk
through
the
darkness till he reached other side. He did the same with big doors and found himself inside. There was dust, unplesant smell and silence, but he remembered those halls too good. There was big, main space and staircase which were splitting up, leading up and to the left and right where were rooms. Entrance to the basement was also through this room, same as kitchen and second part of the manor. He wasn't alone.
Shadows shifted slighty and into his view came six characters. Wide smile appeard on his handsome face.
"Is thar true hyung? That's why we all are here?"Jimin asked coming closer.
"Better be that or I will throw hands." said Yoongi and leaned on pillar in opposite.
"Our man has confirmed that there is another descendant. They have rejected idea of the museum for now and have stated that it must to be prooven that descendant can't take care of mansion to make it museum." Namjoon has spoken quietly.
"So we have chance to take it all back?" Jungkook's wide and bunny smile appeard.
"Maybe, now they have to brought here this person."
"All right let's go back to the work guys." Jin stated and they all have disappeard in the blink of the eye.
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yanderes-galore · 9 months
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A httyd request with a yandere dagur wirh a s/o who has a boneknapper ( possible platonic yan dragon )) 👁👁
This is like the second Dagur request where he has to compete with a dragon for your attention and I'm here for it- Sure! I hope I wrote Dagur right :) Cockblocked by a damn dragon, LOL-
Not finished with Race to the Edge yet so bear with me here, cool?
Note: Wrote this late at night, originally to start it off and finish it in the morning. Then I just... didn't stop so- here you go :)
Yandere! Dagur with Darling who has a Boneknapper
(Ft. Platonic! Boneknapper)
Pairing: Romantic (Dagur)/Platonic (Boneknapper)
Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Overprotective dragon, Dagur's obsession is nearly immediate, Obsession, Stalking, Manipulation, Forced relationship, Clingy behavior, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Implied murder, Delusional yandere, Isolation, Violence.
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You were the one that helped your Boneknapper perfect their armor, making them docile and extremely friendly to you.
Your Boneknapper has stuck by your side as your dragon ever since you helped them out.
This was a new development for the Dragon Riders as Boneknappers are so rare they used to be considered myth.
Now they have one at The Edge commanded by you.
The dragon is usually like a puppy around you.
They're incredibly affectionate and watch over you like a hawk.
So when Dagur comes into the picture...
Can you really blame the dragon for being overprotective all that much?
Boneknappers are usually solitary dragons and everyone knows Dagur's past-
Even if Dagur reforms or meets you before, your Boneknapper doesn't care.
Your dragon wants him out of their sight.
Let's be honest, Dagur finds the fact you train a living myth cool as hell.
When he reforms to join forces with the Dragon Riders or at least be allies, he's interested in you.
A possible crush blooming within him.
Really, why wouldn't he get a little flustered?
You look so cool with a literal bone dragon at your side.
Now let's be honest, Dagur is still a bit unhinged (it's in his title).
He'd be one to come off strong with his affection, openly trying to flirt and obtain your approval.
He isn't getting the approval of your dragon, however.
Dagur finds it hard to act on his crush or obsession at all with your Boneknapper.
This dragon is very protective and dedicated to you it seems.
The armored beast often waits for when Dagur tries to come near before wrapping around you and growling.
He can't get near you, your hut, nothing.
It just about drives Dagur mad.
You may even catch him arguing with your Boneknapper early in the morning when you wake up.
An example of this would include Dagur just wanting to greet you with a Good Morning since he likes you so much... only for your Boneknapper to block the way to your hut.
It's funny the first time it happens.
While your Boneknapper prefers you have nothing to do with Dagur, he's persistent.
As a result you often have to call your dragon off in order to speak with Dagur.
Said man often responds with relief and sticks by you as much as he can.
He's taking advantage of your chats because next thing he knows your dragon might come back to remove him.
Dagur is quick to obsess due to his poor mental state.
When he has the ability to be near you he sticks to you like glue.
He's a man who prefers to express his interest through physical affection... but can't because dragon and he doesn't want to scare you off.
It's probably not too hard to tell he likes you, though.
Those green eyes of his often stare at you like you're the most beautiful scenery.
He's impulsive... often saying information he shouldn't-
Dagur really wants to date you even if it is too soon...
He just wishes you fell for him just as quickly.
Your Boneknapper is cool but annoying to him.
Your dragon ruins the fantasies Dagur has of you and him.
It's hard to even watch what you do without the dragon's eyes glaring at him.
Your dragon tries to keep the overly erratic and impulsive man in his place.
It somewhat slows his obsession but Dagur still falls for you fast....
To keep his crush and obsession at bay he has to watch you from afar.
Physical contact is typically out of the question as your dragon would pluck him away from you.
Although... if Dagur had Sleuther, his dragon could distract yours.
Your Boneknapper does like to play... Dagur could just have his dragon occupy yours while he swoops in to swoon over you.
Dagur gets desperate to be your partner.
He is quite lonely due to his past of violence and tries his best to be close with you.
It's just difficult to convey his agonizing obsession over you when he wants to do it through physical contact.
Dagur is probably touchstarved.
When your dragon is away, Dagur tries to coax affection out of you.
Even if you aren't partners he still wants to at least hold your hand... maybe have a friendly hug?
He'd much rather you kiss him but he'll be patient... maybe....
Dagur tries his best to make his obsession slower...
But all he wants to do is smother you in affection and tell you how much he loves you deep inside.
You two could live in isolation!
You two could be happy!
He just knows you two would be perfect together...
So pardon him if he holds a bit tighter... and forgive him for leaning in with hope that you'll kiss him....
He craves you... you drive him crazy.
Not as much as your damn dragon, however, who quickly learns Sleuther is a distraction.
Your dragon can quickly sense if Dagur is making you uncomfortable.
Which makes the dragon peel Dagur off you and toss him aside with a snarl.
Dagur used to think your dragon was cool!
Now your dragon is nothing but a stupid bodyguard who's in-between his love for you.
Dagur is still somewhat of a Dragon Hunter.
He knows hurting your dragon would make you sad... it would make loving you impossible...
But a dormant feeling within him stirs... he should get rid of your dragon.
After all, this dragon is in the way of his love for you.
It's like they knew about his "crush".
It stood in the way of your future with him....
You may not like it, but Dagur would be willing to plan an elaborate idea to get rid of your dragon.
He could kill the dragon... or make it turn on you somehow.
Either way, Dagur wants them gone.
Afterwards he can steal you away with Sleuther!
Then you can love each other to your heart's content!
You may be distraught at what he's done, blood on his hands or not, but that's fine!
Now there's no dragon to pester you both!
Dagur knows you love him deep down somewhere...
Surely when you realize you can't resist all this love he has for you... you'll feel the same, won't you?
"You're all mine now... it's like we were meant to be! Stop crying about the dragon already! You have me... all you need is me!"
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tyttamarzh · 24 days
Text
Missasinfonia song "El tiempo"
I think we can all agree that the last few weeks have been turbulent enough and many of us are going through too much to process, but we should not get discouraged or sink into sadness, life never stops, everything is constantly changing and some changes are painful, but some changes may be good, the important thing is to always move forward.
That's what Missasinfonia's song "El tiempo" (the time) is all about, which have a which has a very sad backstory, because Missa wrote several years ago dedicated to a friend who lose her life against the depression.
It is very sad but at the same time it is one of his most emblematic songs and in the fandom we have a lot of affection for it. That's why I wanted to bring you the translation
The song:
youtube
Lyrics
At what point do dreams come to an end? At what point does sadness take hold of us? Dreams have to end, but it is not the end. There is more than one way out without paying.
I know it's worth a try… I know the pain is temporary…
Time changes for the better, and it can't stop. Things are not like they used to be, you have to get used to it. Time teaches us that you must go on. There's no turning back.
Time rips away so many things that at birth they give you. It leave marks on our souls made to remind us that if you're alive it's because you have something to finish, something to heal. There is no turning back.
The marks on your arms speak for themselves Bleeding is not an option I know it wasn't your time but I swear it's over Realize that this pain is not only yours Your selfishness is too much You should think of others.
I know it's worth a try… I know the pain is temporary…
Time changes for the better, and it can't stop. Things are not like they used to be, you have to get used to it. Time teaches us that you must go on. There's no turning back. Time rips away so many things that at birth they give you. They leave marks on our souls made to remind us that if you're alive it's because you have something to finish, something to heal. There is no turning back.
Many of you may remember this song, because Missa played a bit of it on his piano at the prison event, it sounds a little different, but keep in mind that the song is at least 7 years old. He recently told us that he is working on a new version in which he uses the piano and has a slower rhythm (which would be more similar to the version he played in prison), of which we only have a small preview that he showed in his stream, which you can hear on TikTok.
In any case, it is one of the most beloved songs by fans, with which many identify and personally, although I love the original version, I am very eager to listen to the new full version, because it shows that in many aspects, Missa has improved quite a bit these years.
As a bonus, I leave you this from when he played the song with his guitar in QSMP, simply because I really liked how he sang it here.
I love you so much See you!!
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