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#get him goose!
ghouljams · 18 days
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Goose beats the shit outta König, that's the fic. Yay :) Dedicated to all my König haters, I get it.
cw: fighting, highly opinionated internal monologue, Goose is #1 König hater
You'd hate this man even if you didn't have two brain cells to rub together. You'd hate him just for bein' alive, but mostly you hate him for the jagged scar he's left around your husband's neck, and the audacity he has to glare at him from across the ag hall like it's Simon's fault. Simon's fingers steady against yours as you reach for your hip, his grip firm, warning. You're not supposed to be starting fights at town halls, and you certainly can't go about firing a gun in a room full of trigger happy hicks. But God Dammit you're a trigger happy hick and you want to shoot this motherfucker!
His stupid mug points its eyes your way and you level your glare at him. If he thinks that sort of smolder is going to scare you he's got another thing coming. You'd stick your hand in a fire and call it cold before saying that look did anything to you. Which seems to startle König a little(dumbass motherfucker, callin' himself a king when he's barely a cowboy). He blinks, his brows draw together, his eyes move back to glower at Simon and then sort of dart to yours. You'd spit if you could.
Simon leans heavy against you, the same way he always does when you're getting agitated, wraps a big hand around the back of your neck and turns you to look at the front podium. You do your best to keep your attention on the town happenings, the updates to summer reading lists, the town bylaws being up for a rewrite, all the minutia of small town living. But that fucking guy won't stop itching at you. You keep checking him out the corner of your eye. He's distracted by the city girl, which is good, gives you a chance to glare at the back of his head before Simon turns you forward again.
You're all but grabbed around the middle by the time the town hall ends. Simon working to keep you in place as you jump to your feet and attempt to go over and talk to König. Maybe some polite conversation will keep him from eyeing your husband like he wants to finish what he started. It doesn't matter, the man brings himself within swinging distance. Obviously too big for the brain rattling around in his head.
"König," Simon stops him, his fingers holding tight to the back of your jeans, "try keepin' your eyes on yer own work, hate havin' to lay you out again."
König's eyes narrow, his annoyance palpable as he looks for something cutting to say. Whether or not what Simon claims is true doesnt matter, the tension of a long standing grudge is one you know well. Youre just glad your man is being more civil than you are for once. König's eyes settle on you, and his head tilts. "And perhaps you keep your dog on a tighter leash, I would hate to deprive the town of a good-"
Simon lets you go and you fly at König. It's enough of a surprise that he raises his arms first to shield his face, before you crash into his middle to tackle him. Simon's on his feet, quick to grab the city girl when she tries to intervene as you bring your elbow down hard on König's nose. His hand shoots out to grab you by the neck, leveraging his reach to choke you as he tries to sit up. It's a good strategy, your arms are certainly shorter than his, but your legs aren't, and you're not the Captain's daughter for nothing.
You grip his wrist and throw your weight back, twisting to wrap one of your legs around his arm, your foot hooking behind his shoulder. You twist hard, and feel the joint dislocate with a satisfying pop. His fingers twitch, torn between letting you go and squeezing tighter. You unhook your leg from his arm and drive the toe of your boot up under his chin. Pulling at the dislocation as you push his head back, driving the pain clear through his arm from both angles. König howls, his free hand coming to clock you hard enough you're forced to let go and roll away from him.
"Hey!" your dad yells, "No fightin' in the ag hall."
"I'm not fightin'," you spit, pushing up onto your feet again, "I'm winnin'."
König says something in German you don't care enough to translate and attempts to rush you. He trips and whips his head to glare at Johnny's smile. You take the advantage, shifting your weight to your left foot. König preps for a right side strike, which is really too bad. You jump to your right, spinning as you hit the side of his knee with a hard left kick. König goes down a second time, taking the blow and dropping to one knee.
He's too reliant on his reach, swiping at you with blind fury as you slip right and cut his cheek with your elbow. You're really aiming for a knock out when you're hauled up and out of reach, König's arm closing around the space you'd been occupying. Gaz holds you out of the way with a mumbled apology.
"Captain's orders," he tells you.
"Nutte," König spits at you, you feel Gaz bristle.
"Mate, really..." Gaz grumbles, his hold loosens and you give a solid kick in König's direction. It doesn't matter. You watch Simon tap König's shoulder, watch König turn, and watch you lovely husband's fist collide with his jaw.
König goes sprawling and you see your mother rush over to check his injuries. The city girl is crying, you feel sort of bad for her. You should invite her to dinner sometime.
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originalartblog · 1 year
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they're experiencing issues over at the Armed Detective Agency
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theminecraftbee · 1 year
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i haven't seen this clip floating around here yet, incidentally, so, in the same episode as "why etho is afraid of cleo", may i present: cleo being entirely unafraid of any of doc's threats. as she should be.
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rainymoodlet · 6 months
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finally - don “goose” gooseman 🪿🏜️
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thatsrightice · 7 months
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Slider and Iceman fist bump after their flights.
Hollywood gives Wolfman a fist bump after their flights but Wolfman always responds with an open palm shouting “Turkey!” because they’re flying the turkey.
Maverick and Goose high five after their flights because they can never agree coordinate who’s the head and who’s the tail of the turkey.
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I absolutely adore that live action Sanji looks at Luffy like "I would die for this man, he is the love of my life" and anime Sanji is like "I would die for this man, he's the love of my life, but I'll be damned if I ever vocalize these feelings in anyway that isn't heart wrenchingly homoerotic"
Luffy just wants him to stop being so okay with dying
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andmakeithome · 10 months
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I'm sure someone has to have seen this before but look at this!!
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turtleblogatlast · 8 months
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With how often his portals screwed up in the beginning, there’s absolutely no way Leo didn’t end up in multiple scenarios where he was trapped in random places chasing after his odachi as it gets separated from him, causing him to have to chase after it as it somehow evades his grasp in increasingly comedic yet unlucky ways.
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ghouljams · 11 months
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Ghoul if you don’t write Ghost absolutely falling apart ugly crying when he discovers what Gooses scar is about and how he possibly could have never met the love of his life Elmo is gonna SUE
Make. That. Man. Cry!!!
He doesn’t even bother knocking when he opens your door. You clutch your shirt to your chest, glaring over your shoulder at Simon. Rude. He just raises a brow and shuts the door tight behind him.
“Got a minute?” He asks, moving close, and you know you’re not going to tell him no. Not when his hand cups your face and he lets you tug his mask down to kiss him, your shirt forgotten on the floor.
He must’ve just come in. His skin is still warm from the sun where you touch him, and there’s the last taste of tobacco on his tongue. His hand slides over your chest as he kisses you, giving your breast an appreciative squeeze before dragging towards your fly. You make a quiet noise against his lips when it slips over your scar, his touch stilling against the slightly raised edges of it.
Simon's fingers feel over the scar, rough calloused pads dragging along the sensitive delicate skin. The ugly line of it where it cuts across your stomach. He drags his fingers along the whole thing, from your waist to where it stops just below your belly button. You wish you knew what he was thinking. You've had years to grow out of being self conscious, but that didn't mean it didn't still rear its ugly head. Especially when it was a man you- 
Simon probably doesn't even care, his torso is littered with scars. You're sure he doesn't even remember how he got half of them. 
"How'd you get this beauty?" He asks, so quiet you almost don't hear him.
"Sort of a blur," you tell him. He nods like he understands, you think he does.
"Tell me." Simon hums, dropping to his knees and pressing his lips to the top of the scar on your waist. You do your best not to wince, remembering the way the bull's horn had torn into you.
"Was helping the Lucas'," You start, "their bull is tipped now but back then they were all about-" Simon kisses you again, lower down the scar, your breath hitches, "-natural, uh, natural horns. I must've spooked it or something because it-" you let out a pained hum when he presses his lips lower still, tracing the line of the scar with his mouth, "-it caught me with its horn and ripped me clean open." You finish in a rush, Simon freezes.
"It what?" You hate when his voice goes even like that. When you can't hear his breathing anymore.
"Gutted, tore, nearly eviscerated," you give him the words the doctors used, that your dad used when he was upset. Your stomach jumps when Simon kisses it again, clean flesh this time, and presses his forehead against your diaphragm. "If Soap hadn't been there I probably wouldn't have made it," that's what the doctors had told him at least, "you know how long it takes EMS to get anywhere out here," Simon's fingers tighten on your hips, "he kept pressure the whole time, made sure all my guts stayed put." 
You thread your fingers through Simon's hair, scratching and pulling affectionately, "It's funny I don't even remember what we'd gone over to help with, but I remember how blue the sky was while I was laying in the grass waiting."
Simon has gone very quiet. He's completely still, save for his thumbs rubbing small circles against your hips. You're not sure who he's soothing. It happens quickly, his arms wrap around your hips and lift you so fast you have to duck to avoid hitting the ceiling fan. Curling over his head before he drops you on your bed. 
You let out a noise of surprise, opening your arms for him as Simon climbs on top of you and lays down. His head settled against your chest, his arms wrapped tight around your waist, he doesn't say a word and you- you don't either. You let him have his silence. You let him lay on you, listen to the beat of your heart, the way your lungs fill when you take a breath, the rush of blood, the sounds of life. A life he almost missed. 
He's never been more thankful for one Sergeant MacTavish in his life. Never been more thankful for you, and all the little ways life had to go just right for him to meet you. Your fingers scratch the base of his skull, and you’re humming some quiet lilting tune he doesn’t know, but he wants to. He wants to know every thought that goes through your head, every kindness you’ll ever afford him. Every way he could show you he loves you. 
“You cryin’ baby?” You ask him gently, there’s no judgement in your voice, just the question.
“No.” He lies, feeling you hum your acceptance.
“S’okay,” You tell him, “I don’t mind.”
And you don’t. So he does.
Big heaving silent sobs that shake his whole body, fat tears that you brush away with every gentleness. You don’t think Ghost has ever cried, but you think Simon has needed to for a while. And he’s crying for you, over a loss that didn’t happen, over the pain you went through. Over the lonely days waiting for your body to be whole again, and the fact that neither of you will ever be lonely again. Maybe you’ll be hurt, but never lonely. You’ll make sure of it. He’ll make sure of it.
"Johnny burn down the Lucas' house?" Simon asks, looking up from where he'd buried his face in your chest with watery eyes.
"Just their barn," you cup his cheek, wiping away a stray tear with your thumb. Simon gives you a little hiccuping sob around his frown and angry eyebrows.
"Should've killed 'em." It's a little hard to take him seriously when his voice wobbles like that. When his lip trembles and tears start falling again. You shush him, and let him press his face against you again.
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feelingtheaster99 · 1 year
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It is WILD to me that there were so many steps almost not taken that led to that final scene with Alphonse
First, Lou debated blowing up the trebuchet, but decided that would be awkward
Then, Pinocchio considers stopping to attack Alphonse himself but gets yelled at by the party because Alphonse is literally surrounded by enemies and he would be surrendering double moment to hurt someone doomed for death.
THEN Brennan decided to allow Pinocchio lighting a firework and giving it to Cricket as an object interaction
Pib gives Alphonse the help action and he fails his save. At FIRST, Pinocchio admits he was going to use his Master of Destiny reaction to MAKE him fail so he’s all good. But FINALLY upon hearing Pib say Alphonse is the only person from his town who’s still alive, Pinocchio feels bad and uses the ability help save Alphonse and he fucking rolls a Nat 20
And that Nat 20, guys gals and non-binary pals, is what allows a Cricket aiming a firecracker at a rocket to kill many tiny people and break a curse, turning a mule back into a prince
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diadotcom · 2 months
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dude started saying shit about the canopy behind its back bro i think it heard him…….
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skytinee · 2 months
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I have not actually drawn anything in like 9 months at this point I don't know what I'm doing. Take some Vaughnothy I did for an art trade with @thelegendarypusheen-art
alts w different overlays and blur levels under the cut because im indecisive
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inksheeep · 5 months
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Wrapped
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joshusten · 10 months
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love me in spite (guy/honey, redacted audios)
Guy and Honey get into an argument early into their relationship.
(angst, hurt/comfort, arguments, fluff)
3k+ words [ao3 link here!] [masterlist]
[CW and notes: swearing, arguing, insecurities, overthinking, breakdowns, descriptive?? crying?? I think??, idk they’re both having a bad time. probably a lot of grammatical errors lmao. also honey is implied to be empowered!!]
Honey doesn't remember the last time they felt like this, but they’ve always known their personality would bite them in the ass someday.
“Aww, is my beloved mad again? Oh, pray tell, which heinous crime did I commit this time, officer? Robbery? Public indecency?” Guy stroked his chin, pretending to rack up his mind on any possible offense he could have made. “Hm…jaywalking?"
“Guy.”
“Oh! Or maybe—just maybe—it was wanting my ever-so-affectionate lover to stop their pretty head from fussing over me?”
"Guy, can’t you take this seriously for once?” 
“But I am! It’s just not that big of a deal, baby! Look, a manuscript can’t just write itself, y’know? Especially one with a little flair from yours truly!”
“You haven’t slept properly for days now, you work overnight most of the time, and on your days off you pull all-nighters writing!” 
“Oh, you’re one to talk!”
“Well, this one’s more serious! I haven’t even seen you eat a proper meal and anything I offer you gets left out cold!”
They continued to have a back-and-forth confrontation, voices raising and words getting crueler as time goes on, with both parties not intending to back down anytime soon. Honey thought it was the first time they ever heard Guy let out an actual annoyed scoff and they noticed the slightest change in his demeanor. 
“Jesus, Honey. Of all the times you can finally act like you care for me, why now? Hm?” There was a playful smile on his face. It almost made them believe he was still joking around but his words were laced with an unmistakable annoyance.
But something inside Honey snapped. Their chest tightened at the thought of their partner thinking they didn’t care. They felt themselves flinch from the comment and Guy seemed to notice that too as his smile drops. “Shit. Honey, I didn’t–”
“I’m–,” They scrambled to get their bag, keys, wallet, anything they would need because they just want to be anywhere but here.“I’m going out. Let’s finish this later. I-I just can’t fucking do this right now.”
They didn’t mean that. Didn’t mean for it to sound so harsh. Then again, they don’t mean to sound so harsh most of the time but end up doing so either way. Grumpy. Mean. Intimidating. A common descriptor from most people. But Guy wasn’t like most people. ‘Unless,’ they think, ‘That was just a lie you told yourself to believe in.’
Honey shuts the door behind them, leaving the building and the warmth of their partner.
The pain in their chest almost distracts them from the exhaustion currently catching up to their body after a long day. They can feel the telltale signs of a migraine coming as they rub their temples gingerly with one hand, the other guiding the steering wheel. ‘Damn, it started to rain too. What a great way to lighten the mood,’ they think bitterly. Their mind eventually goes back to the fight earlier.
“Of all the times you finally can act like you care for me, why now? Hm?”
They do care. They care for him so much it scares them . He knows that, right? Even if they groan at his flirtatious quips and innuendos or if they grumble at his (very creative) attempts to give them as many hugs and kisses as they would allow, he knows that that’s just how they are, right? 
Maybe that wasn’t enough anymore. Maybe that never was enough to begin with. Maybe Guy finally realized he deserves better than an ill-tempered partner who doesn’t even know how to properly show any affection to their own fucking boyfriend.
A sharp car horn snaps them out of their thoughts. Shit, it’s a green light. They continue to drive until they see the familiar soft glow of a nearby 7-Eleven sign despite the persistent rain. 
Honey's entrance was signaled with the chime of the bell above the glass door. It’s relatively empty save for what they recognize to be a few D.A.M.N. students buying some late-night study snacks. Walking through the aisles while the pop song they heard their partner hum before softly plays in the background, slowly but surely calming them down. Muscle memory makes Honey reach for Guy’s favorite snack and they wonder how he’s doing. 
---
Guy doesn't remember the last time he felt like this, but he’s always known his personality would bite him in the ass someday.
Sure, he and Honey had their disagreements, but they were all accompanied by playful slaps and teasing laughter. Never had it gotten to the point of an actual argument that caused them to spit such venom toward each other like the one they just had. 
“I’m going out. I-I just can’t fucking do this right now.”
The door closes and Honey leaves, bringing the warmth of their shared apartment with them. Guy lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and starts to get to work. He wordlessly distracts himself by cleaning the living room—picking up stray plastic chip bags, vacuuming crumbs that settled on the cheap shag carpet, and fixing up the pillows on the couch that he’s been nesting on for the past few days while he works on the final draft of the project he was writing. 
Piles of paper littered their second-hand coffee table. Every inch is covered in Post-it notes and wrinkled pieces of paper filled with ideas that he had haphazardly scribbled in an attempt to record them before it leaves his mind. Most of them, he recalls, are just random doodles of spirals and honeybees that he absentmindedly drew as he was typing away on his laptop. The spaces left exposed on the table were adorned with faded mug rings on the old dark oak wood.
He tries to compile them into a neater collection, pausing as he notices a doodle he made of his Honey. It was far from a masterpiece, but the cute cartoony style paired with heavily exaggerated furrowed brows in order to replicate their partner’s usual expression pulls a smile from his lips. There was even a jumbled-up line inside a small text bubble next to it to symbolize the adorable grumbles they always make. 
Fuck, he misses them so fucking much.
A sudden wave of exhaustion almost makes him drop the stack of papers he’s holding and it dawns on him how much he really has been neglecting his own health for this project. The stress of trying to find a job where he can utilize his degree and finally get out of that godforsaken pizza place has been taking a toll on him. All Honey was trying to do was for him to take a break that he so desperately ( and, he embarrassingly admits, unknowingly ) needed. And he just treated it like some silly joke. Granted, it really was because he wasn’t used to being coddled after, but, it definitely wasn’t an excuse to dismiss their worries like that. 
The guilt builds up in Guy’s throat like bile. He feels worse now, especially considering how much they struggle with expressing themselves like that to him in general, even if they don’t say it aloud.
He finishes cleaning up but the restlessness doesn’t leave him as time passes by with no word from his partner. Maybe this is it? Maybe he fucked it all up like always? Maybe they finally came to their senses and got fed up with him. It wasn’t uncommon for people to think he was a bit too much. Too chaotic, too irritating, too overwhelming. He ever minded those comments in the first place, but the thought of Honey possibly thinking like that too makes him sick. 
It’s getting late and he can hear the rain outside get louder. The anxiety that has been settling in their stomach flares up. He reaches for his phone to message them before concluding they might not want to be bothered right now. Shit, he’s feeling a little sluggish. 
Guy begrudgingly trudges to the wardrobe of their shared bedroom to get a change of clothes. He glances over as he pulls a familiar-looking hoodie from the hanger. Their double bed, adorned with a pizza plushie that Honey had given to him as a joke gift, was more inviting than usual. Maybe he should just take a rest and go to sleep. 
No, no, no, they might want some space from that too. Guy wants to talk this out with them instead of sleeping it out. If this persists, he isn't sure how his poor heart could take it. He ultimately decides to go back to the couch, stay up, and (at the very least) greet them when they come back. 
If they come back. God, please come back.
What if they don’t?
The thought felt like a mere whisper in his head but it left him numb. Guy's aware of his tendency to overthink but before he knew it, he was lying down on his side, hand clamped to his mouth as he forced his eyes shut. He lets out a quiet sniff. His breath hitches. Then he hears himself choke out a small sob. 
Then another.
And another. 
And another.
The dam breaks, his eyes water and he heaves as much air as he can into his lungs. It suddenly became a struggle to breathe and it definitely became a struggle to calm the ugly thoughts that plague his mind. Shaky, broken sobs fill the room, he cringes at how pathetic it sounds.  He hates this. He hates this feeling. Just come back, I’m sorry.
After what felt like hours, his sniffles slowly died down. With heavy eyes and a heavier heart, he finds himself drowsy from all the crying. The hot tears streaming down his face had begun to dry, but, the warmth on his cheeks reminds him of his Honey and the thought of them finally lulls him to sleep.
---
Honey returns, a little haggard but with a calmer mind. The drive around Dahlia and their quick run to the local convenience store definitely helped lighten their mood but the guilt still followed them around like a shadow. Shaky hands find their way to the lock of their shared apartment and Honey opens to a dim living room, with the forgotten hanging bulbs from the kitchen barely providing a sense of light. They noticed the place was tidier than they remembered.
It was eerily quiet, as well. The wrinkling sound of the paper bag that they were holding filled the room.
"Guy?" Fuck, they can hear their voice getting wobbly. 
"I'm home. You there?" A shift from the room was all they heard accompanied by a sniffle. Honey suddenly becomes hyper-aware of the soft snores matching the rise and fall of a figure on the couch.
They couldn't really explain why their heart started to pound with their pulsating headache. Why they made a beeline inside their apartment. Why they started to get down on their knees in the living room despite the protests of their tired body. Why their chest sank deeper as they saw their partner all bundled up on their battered couch. 
They don't miss the frown on his face and his tear-stained cheeks.
Fuck. Tears? Guy was crying? 
Honey quietly (urgently) sets down the paper bag from their grasp and slowly places a hand on his shoulder, patting it ever so gently.
"H-hey? Guy, what are you doing over here?" They noticed how cold they felt to the touch and remembered their thermostat wasn't working that well. "It's freezing. You're freezing. "
After a few gentle pats and caresses (and reminders of how it's cold here, the bed is warm. Take it, please. ) Guy manages to blearily open his eyes, rubbing away the sleepiness and the few tears that managed to slip.
Cute. His eyes are so cute. Honey would have thought if their mind wasn't filled with thoughts and questions. Why was he sleeping on the couch? Was he waiting for me? He didn't need to do that. Why was he crying? Did he cry himself to sleep? Was it because of me?
Did I do this?
"Honey?" Guy's voice croaked and Honey's heart aches after hearing how hoarse it was. It aches a little more to see him smile at them despite the argument they had earlier.
"You're back…" he mumbles, slightly adjusting his body to prop himself up with his arm. He was wearing their hoodie again.
"Guy, why are you sleeping here? It's cold," they repeated, the worry in their tone becoming more and more evident. 
This had Guy fully sitting up, giving his full attention to their Honey with a slight grin that was preparing to give out a smug reply before dropping his smile and deciding otherwise. If he noticed that their eyes were starting to get just as glassy as his, he didn't mention it. “I-I mean, you’re…mad, right? I thought you’d want some more space from me or something…” 
“N-no! I mean, yeah, thank you for that but that doesn't—” Honey cuts themselves off with a groan. Why can’t I just say what I want to say? What do I even want to say? Guy immediately notices their partner’s frustration and sits down beside them.
“Hey, hey, it's okay. You’re okay, Honey,” he says with a reassuring smile and slowly raises his hand near their cheek, “Can I touch?” 
Honey immediately nods, almost melting at Guy’s warm hands. The familiar calluses from working countless graveyard shifts and delivery jobs all over Dahlia for Max’s kept them grounded. They notice a newly formed bump on the ring finger of his dominant hand from the number of handwritten notes he’s been doing recently.
After a few moments of soft breaths and the sound of Guy's rough thumb gently gliding across their cheek, Honey let out a weak laugh but the words that followed were by no means a joke to them. “You’re so good for me.” Too good. I don’t deserve you. 
It was Guy’s turn to let out a confused chuckle. He felt anything but good to them at the moment.
“What do you mean by that, hon?” He caresses their cheek and he forgets how much his chest hurts when his Honey leans into his touch. “Hey, c’mon. Do you…do you wanna talk about what happened?”
Honey nods once more. "I'm…I'm sorry," they choke out as if the words got caught up in their throat. Everything was overwhelming again. The sound of the remains of the rain, the ticks of the wall clock, and most of all, Guy's unwavering attention to them. They avoid his gaze. 
"I know that…I'm…I dont have the most…pleasant attitude," The nervousness in their tone was obvious but the quick squeeze of their hand from their partner was enough for them to go on. "And I know that you didn’t mean that. About me…not caring,” They felt him give another squeeze, a bit tighter than the last. “Fuck, god knows you’ve put up with me long enough for me to know you wouldn’t mean that.” 
Honey manages to finally look him in his eyes again, they think it's their favorite color. “I…I just don’t know why I act like this. Why can't I just…care for you in a normal way.”
“Oh, Honey…” 
“I’m just so fucking sorry. I really, really care for you, please know that,” they sob out. Guy thinks he’s never seen them this vulnerable. His arms slowly circle and stop around their body as if he was waiting for their permission but Honey beats them to the embrace, burying their head on his chest. He knows they can hear his heart speed up.
“Hey, I know, I know,” The hands that were once on his partner's cheeks find their way to their back, rubbing circles and tracing shapes. “I’m really sorry for what I said too. The stress from work and writing these past few days is catching up but please don’t let that ever be an excuse for me to talk like that, especially to you and especially if it makes you think of all these lies.”
“And all this talk about…caring for me in the ‘normal’ way. Don’t say that.” Guy slowly pulls away to tilt his partner's chin up for their eyes to meet again. The way his Honey looked so distressed was a sight he decided he never wants to see again. “What matters is that I know you care and I want you to know that the way you show it is… fuck, I’ve never felt so cared for like this until you, Honey. Okay?”
“I’ll work…on not neglecting my health too. If it weren’t for you, I might’ve actually collapsed from exhaustion,” he adds, lips upturned into a sheepish smile. “So, thank you.”
Guy isn’t prepared for the way their Honey finally graced him with a soft smile. He’s had them laugh and grin at his…eccentric behavior before, but this smile held so much fondness and sincerity (directed towards him of all people! ) that made this moment all the more intimate. 
I think I'm gonna have a fucking heart attack. He doesn't recall having butterflies for lunch but he definitely feels them flutter up and about in his ribcage. He wants to treasure this moment. He wants to treasure them.
Honey looks down, uncharacteristically flustered and Guy’s heart soars again. “Thank you,” they whispered. “For that.”
“Of course, Honey. Though, I must say,” he grins. “Although your methods of conveying your love for me are a bit… unconventional , you could say I’m on the more bizarre side, too. I guess we make a perfect match after all then, don't we?”
Honey snorts, a reaction that's endearingly familiar to him and he smirks even wider. “You’re so fucking stupid.”
“Well, for the record, if anybody here is fucking stupid, it would be you!” Guy shoots back, “Hi, hello, I’m stupid, by the way, ehh– Ow, ow, ow!”
The pair continues to laugh and banter at each other like before, but, as they comfortably settle down to cuddle on the couch, they both don’t miss the way the grip on their entangled hands tightened for the slightest bit.
---
hope you enjoyed!! please let me know if i had any mistakes or just some feedback in general!! i kinda wanna continue doing these kinda stuff :DD
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24hrfrog · 2 years
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YAY! Part 2 Sketch page following “Nothing Compares to You (Nothing, Nothing)” by StoriesofmyLife/ @victimofthemusic 💚 much love!! part one can be found here for those who haven’t seen it 👀 I hope to keep coming across fics that inspire me to doodle 🤲💞 hehehe
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pollyna · 1 year
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Mav and Ice's socks drawer is split perfectly in half: white or black ones on the right side, and colourful pairs with drawings of all kinds on the left. Nobody ever believes Mav when he says his side is the one on the right.
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