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cowgirlcherrie · 10 months

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𓏲 APPLE OF MY EYE ᵎᵎ secret admirer! abby anderson

synopsis: love is a free spirit; crushing is even harder. It all started with a special delivery of anonymous treats at your door. While you were yearning that it would be your best friend sending them to you.

song(s): apple cider by beabadoobee

*LYRICS ARE BOLDED

content: takes place in game universe. follows the events leading up to seattle day 1. violence. death. repetitive mentions of apples; eating them, imagery etc. mutual pinning. implied character death by end. blood. right person, wrong time. missed connection. kinda implied fem! reader. Joel death mention. death foreshadowing. intuitive knowledge of death. Closely follows the song.

WE BOTH LIKE APPLE CIDER

Crush and Crunch.

Crunching with your crush.

It all sounded the same to you, the cracking of your vocal cords at the back of your throat pushing at enunciating every syllable in crush sounding like crunch; which were your teeth poking into an apple every Tuesday. Shiny Granny Smiths, on Tuesdays, Honeycrisps on Wednesdays, and Fuji on Fridays.

You weren’t sure when the kitchen started getting apple deliveries; perhaps the never-ending garden of trees grown them with the perfect analytics to make sure they weren’t poisonous or synthetic apples but you weren’t complaining. The first time you tried an apple sounded ridiculous to say. Your first ever. You took the finely cut slice; detached from its core to your mouth, groaning in satisfaction as the flavors mixed together in your mouth like a rollercoaster. Juicy and bitter with a tinge of sweetness. Just how you liked it.

Abby said they were even better with cinnamon. Rambling on about how sugar and spice equate to everything nice and the best finger-licking of your dreams. On apple days, during breakfast you found yourself sitting at a secluded table with Abby in front of you slicing the apples so they were easier to consume. Shared amongst the two of you as your hands reached for the same slices; Abby pulled her hand away to let you have the last.

BUT YOUR HAIR BE SMELLING LIKE FRUIT PUNCH

You enjoyed these bittersweet moments; like the apples of course. The sun beamed on Abby’s face in marigold and marmalade, as her blonde locks blew in the air slightly disheveled from when she went on patrol that day. Her fresh scent of pine, and fruit blend from her hair which was refreshing and comforting you. She took a final bite before flipping the knife down to take it back to the utensil bin for washing. Where then the two of you would part ways. It was never awkward. Eating apples in silence; you mean — because Abby had a schedule more vigorous and deathly than yours and you had other businesses to attend to. But she never would miss out on an Apple time with you.

AND I DON’T EVEN LIKE YOU THAT MUCH

You’ve grown suspicious in recent meters. You weren’t one to talk about love either but it somehow found some way to bite back at you like the juices of the apple splattering on your lips when you would eat them.

WAIT, I DO, FUCK.

It started with suspicious packages revealing themselves outside of your door, wrapped in a delicate ribbon, with a brown paper box tied off with the most absurd cursive handwriting that you could hardly read. But somehow making out, the delicate notion of

An apple a day keeps the doctor away. Xoxo, eyes from afar.

CALL ME, AT MIDNIGHT.

So as anyone else would, at midnight, you stomped your way to Abby’s door pounding your fist into the wood until she slammed it open looking at you in bewilderment. Toothbrush in between her lips scratching her teeth; scrubbing away at any build-up as she watched you. Notioning with her hands for you to speak. She looked carefree, laidback her hair was down and she looked as though she freshly showered.

“Thanks for the gift” you smirk, holding up the box with randomized love and self-care books with an intact nail polish set that was on top. It was a variety pack, swishes of different shades of pink and white, and even nudes to go for a clear coat; like a puff of cotton candy.

You were flattered, naturally, it was a sweet gift like a candy cane in the sweet summer breeze you wanted to just rip it out of the packaging and have a go. You also never had someone be so considerate of you. Thinking to bring you back something so pure and valuable that surely wouldn’t collect dust but you would bring out every month. You would make sure it wasn’t forgotten.

Abby furrowed her eyebrows, holding up her pointer finger motioning – one minute, running to the sink and spitting out the toothpaste rinsing her mouth off.

“I didn’t give you that.” Abby specified, taking a washcloth to wipe at her hands and around her mouth as she let you inside.

“C’mon Abs, even if you did that’s—”

“I didn’t give that to you.” Abby’s voice was more serious this time, stern and strict with some urgency. Not that she was being rude about it, but she was trying to get you off her case. After a long day of patrolling where she did find goodies you would like along with some ribbons from a craft store along the way, Abby got to work making you a sweet delivery. After all, you deserved it.

“But who else would know I like apples besides you!”

“Manny, Mel, Nora, Ow–”

“Okay I didn’t ask for names.” You hushed, fiddling with the box in your hand as you looked at the treats inside. Biting at your lips, it was like being given a hug but the person who gave it to you disappeared before you can offer one better, or even fully wrap your arms around them to give one back.

“This was really sweet I just wish I could give something back.” You mumbled, tilting your head down to look at the books yearningly. Amidst the violence, the blood, and the chaos, you still loved and that was what pushed you forward. That was what erupted a fire in you; triggering your passion and jumpstarting your heart like cables to a car.

“I think you shouldn’t worry about it,” Abby suggested, not looking at you but folding her laundry to put away for safekeeping.

“What?”

“What.” Abby shot back, acting as if she didn’t say anything prior, but you heard her well. Your friend, heart, and soul were being shifty with you; acting as if she didn’t care about your treats or that you were being admired from afar by someone with a sweet gentle heart.

“Nevermind I’m being silly” You confessed, taking your words back and turning on your heels to leave her room.

Abby wasn’t going to let you leave. Lips parted as she watched your feet get closer and closer to the exit of the door.

LETS GIVE, THIS, THING A TRY.

“Show me.”

You stopped walking, turning around slowly on your heels. Part of you wished it was Abby, though she would never really know. You watched the way she looked at Owen with appreciation but also disgust. How her love turned to hatred and pain. Abby wasn’t focused on you, you would think.

Abby wasn’t focused on you.

“What?”

“I said show me,” Abby confessed, her voice as clear as day, “C’mere…” Abby patted the side of her bed where she sat comfortably.

“G‘head tell me about it. I wanna see it too” Abby gave a smile. Truth is, behind her push n’ pull — rigid love and aggression she still hoped for you. Amidst her passive-aggressiveness, she was giving the love she felt as though she would never feel again. The permanent hole in her heart that you kept on refiling and you didn’t even know.

She didn’t want you to slip through the cracks of her fingers just yet. Hiding behind a mask, cowardly shying herself away from you. Owen wasn’t on her mind but having you think that especially as she set off on a spree for the man who killed Jerry, would fix that. You were a liability, she wouldn’t let you go.

You made your way down the steps, to her bed tucked in the corner nook, sitting down as you opened the package. With that you started rambling, tossing the paper apart like a kid on Christmas, showing Abby the hardcover copies with a dopey smiley on your face. Abby couldn’t contain her own smile either. Watching as you went through each nail polish shade.

“Can I try these on you?” You held up a baby pink, it was in a ballet slipper shade, which would make a good neutral against her bright skin.

Abby wasn’t going to resist, shrugging up her shoulders against her black long-sleeve shirt, pushing the shirt up on her arms, “Sure”

So you proceeded further with painting her nails that evening, toxic paint brushing on her fingers like a canvas — while the two of you whisked away in laughter. It was like a red string wrapped around the two of your fingers, webbing you together and pulling you closer and closer until there was no gaps or lack of air.

It was pure and for the moment you really valued it. What you didn’t know you had until it was gone. You wished you could have hugged her a little bit longer, and learned more about her besides what she was showing you at a service level. You wanted to know Abigail, not Abby. Before it was snatched away from you with the snap of the fingers. Get the gunpowder dust off the sea salt it was time for war.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

YOU SAID YOU LIKED MY HAIR, SO GO AHEAD AND TOUCH IT.

I like your hair today, and your necklace xoxo, eyes from afar

Maybe it was the validation or the comments but you loved receiving the little notes wrapped in different color ribbons. Maybe you were looking forward to catching your second set of eyes. Lingering outside your door to see if they would show but it was always as if they knew your schedule. Catering to the perfect moments that you were gone to slip the delight at your door.

The note of this week – bringing joyous to your being made you wear the delicate jewelry even more. At first, when you wore it, it was just a careless decision that you did for fun. Spontaneous and last minute as you untangled it in between your fingertips pulling out the birthstone necklace that was gifted to you from no other than Abby herself; weeks before the arrival of your secret admirer. But the moment you remembered, clasping it on around your neck was the moment you truly valued it even more. You were certainly never going to take it off.

YOU SAID YOU LIKED THE JUMPER I WORE, SO I ALWAYS WORE IT.

But your bright radiating aura, evidently in hues of pink and purple; signs of love and wisdom was shortly dimmed by the chatter during your afternoon meal. You were set to follow Jordan to the Serevena, patrolling being the last thing you wanted to do of the evening. Endless pit in your stomach nothing felt right. The snap before everything fell apart.

Out for blood, out for vengeance was Abigail Anderson who returned with blood on her hands. Murderer!Murderer! Red-handed girl with fury in her eyes and a golf club sharp at the end splattering everything into two.

Wrecking havoc; causing destruction.

That was all you heard from Jordan as you chewed through the same-old burrito that evening. That was enough to make your eardrums bleed. You could feel your heart in your ears jumping out of your chest at the whispers of Abby’s name, eyes darting from table to table to hear if anyone had caught wind of such a subject:

I heard she…

Can’t imagine that…

That’s terrifying…

No Abby mention.

Coincidentally amongst Abby’s absence; the snarky girl was gone with the wind, and so was your secret admirer. The deliveries stopped coming, you were alone, with a set of eyes ‘watching you’ and apples to now peel on your own. . . you found it odd, but one thing for sure was that Abby would hear from you later, where you would gush about this admirer of yours and what you imagined them to be.

IT’S REALLY NICE TO TALK TO YOU, IT’S REALLY NICE TO HOLD YOUR HAND

“Abs on a scale of 1-10 how attractive do you think my admirer is” You pondered, hands entangled in the pages of a fashion magazine. Fingers dusting away at the thin layer of grime and grey from the dust and dirt; signs of age.

“Probably like a 3” Abby confessed bluntly as she walked around her room moving vastly to pack away her belongings.

Abby’s side of her room was neater in comparison to Manny’s, her laundry was folded, memories stored away for safekeeping, and everything was where it needed to be. Including your ribbon and the scissors she used — the bad duct tape she stole for security.

“Really?”

“Okay, maybe a 5, it could well off be a creep,” Abby muttered as she continued to push different survival items into her bag, jacket first, followed by flashlights and extra batteries.

“I don’t think it is though,” Abby froze, panicking instilling in her, it was like a vicious game of hot and cold, you creeping closer and closer to her and it was time for Abby to fall back and bring on the passiveness.

“What?”

“I mean imagine this, they send me a final letter asking me to meet by the gardens where they reveal their identity to be no other than —”

“Save that for a fantasy, I’m leaving” Abby spat, cutting the happiness in the air with a thick knife which was her voice that evening. It felt like a safety net for her to drop off bad news right after you gave the good ones, almost debunking it creating a hostile environment, and shattering the rose-tinted glasses off. Then you remembered who you were talking to, what you were doing. A flower in the middle of an apocalypse, Abby being covered in thorns.

“Is it because you killed that man”

“What makes you think it’s…who told you?” Abby furrowed her eyebrows stopping her movement to let you get a good look at her face. Abby was looking you up and down like you ripped the bandaid off her arm like you were digging your fingers into a cut infecting it with your fingertips and any active bacteria.

“Word travels around here pretty fast, this isn’t knew information”

A beat. And then another.

“Are you satisfied” You perk up, not breaking eye contact with the blonde in front of you. The fresh azul orbs dilating under the words that left your mouth. She looked at you with such admiration, but the mention of Jerry was enough to make Abby swing hard as she was back in the room holding her weapon of choice. Who was she to play god? Be the bearer of death? Call of evil? Abby thought back to what she was fighting for: was she satisfied? It wouldn’t bring her father back but there was a price on her head. Preferably until her life was obliterated and gone with her head.

“Hmm”

“Because you don’t look satisfied” Your voice cracked, you were cutting into her skin and Abby was growing steadily uncomfortable, shifting her weight. Cracking her knuckles and rolling her head as she looked at you. Like a pretty Jem stone in a dimly lit room; all eyes on you she didn’t want to talk about this with you. Someone she was so emotionally connected with, god — anybody else but you.

“I…I need to go.” Abby stood up, swinging her backpack in her arms as you followed suit in the silence.

You stood up mimicking her actions taking your magazine in between your fingers and holding it close to your chest.

“When will you be back?” you whispered, picking at the skin surrounding your nails as you rubbed your lips against each other as you rocked your body forward and backward. Abby’s eyes softened, looking at you up and down as she stuck her tongue in her cheek, clenching her jaw tightly. It almost pained her to say.

AND EVEN IF WE’RE JUST FRIENDS, WE CAN BE, MORE THAN THAT.

“Soon…I hope, I’ll be back soon” Abby asserted. Abby bowed her head, cusping your cheeks in between her hands as she gave a chaste kiss to your cheek. Calloused fingers rubbing at your soft skin, It was a friendly thing, right? Nothing more?

She didn’t even like you that much.

But you on the other hand weren’t sure of your own feelings.

Like a tough game of tug-of-war, you wanted her, then you didn’t, then you couldn’t shake yourself out of it. You liked her and you wanted her. You wished and hoped that the admirer of yours would be her. The person you had sleepovers where you would laugh about your events and enjoy the delicacies delivered by your admirer you would have it no other way.

When she pulled away you struggled to find the words, hands jittery somewhere between reaching to grab your cheek or to wipe off her kiss with your hand. You weren’t sure how to feel. It was as if someone held a gun to your head telling you the right pill or blue.

“May your survival be long” you reminded, holding a hand at your arm scratching at your sleeves.

“May your death be swift”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

CALL ME AT MIDNIGHT, LETS GIVE THIS THING A TRY.

If you could do it all again you would.

ASK YOU IF ITS OKAY,

You were alone, deep into your ocean of thoughts as your happy moments were coming to an end? Did you take it for granted?

TO HAVE A SLEEPOVER,

The burrito you ate that evening wanting to come up, mouth sticky with bile. You suddenly didn’t want to patrol the Serevena and help Nora move supplies. It felt wrong – almost impractical like you were in the wrong place. Foot cemented into the floor as you stood at your bed. Shoving supplies into your backpack, tying a strand of the ribbon from your admirer's box around the handle of your bag. You wanted to be back at the base with Abby where the two of you would have your sleepovers, cut your apples, and have competitive matches in the shooting range where you would tell Abby she missed a shot and she would tell you, you held the gun wrong.

Preparing to leave, doing one final spin at your place of comfort. Freshly made bed and sorrowful grey sheets, you wished for a happier time and a great release. Opening your door, you were met with one box before you would go. Picking up the lightweight box it almost felt impractical to even be wrapped.

TO DRINK SOME APPLE CIDER, OR MAYBE SOME FRUIT PUNCH

Parting gift for the one I stole these for… don’t forget me Xoxo, A. Anderson Your eyes always

You smiled to yourself, it was all you ever wanted. Your best friend really was your admirer and you just hoped you could reach her before she was gone and it truly could have been your last time seeing her. Unwrapping the terribly wrapped paper object revealed a shiny sharpened knife with a brown handle. It was Abby’s knife, the one she savored and used only for your apples that she would cut during your lunch breaks. Tears brimmed your eyes moving the object around as if it were malleable, smiling gently to yourself at the irony of it all. Quickly locking the door and throwing the paper that was used to wrap the gift away in the hall trash you ran to try to catch Abby who was already on the truck, across from Mel as she set off on her journey. As the sun was getting low, so were you who had to travel adjacent from your new fount lover.

What were you gonna say?

Besides: I knew it, of course, you wanted her to know that you felt the same; in fact even more.

AND WE CAN TALK ABOUT HOW WE DON’T LIKE EACH OTHER THAT MUCH.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖

“There’s no real you are real right now”

“Shh– baby, I’m real” Abby hushed bringing up her hand to your mouth to silence you. “I’m real.”

You were currently carrying a tray of med supplies but soon it all crashed to the ground; metal tin hitting the floor as Abby backed away into a corner. She looked disheveled different than you had last seen her; whispies around her face. Like she cared a little bit more, but maybe it was because she was with you.

You couldn’t help but bring Abby into a tight hug head against her shoulder, resting your eyes in full solitude. You were home amidst the violence and her going AWOL that had made Isaac angry with all of you. You lied thickly through your teeth when Isaac dragged you in asking questions about the location and conspiration Abby had going on.

All you could say was you didn’t know.

And it wasn’t a lie but in fact the truth there was not much you really did know.

Abby held onto you as if you were going to be snatched out of her hands as the both of you cried. Sobbs shaking the both of you. Abby couldn’t stop herself from applying gentle kisses to the side of your head and holding at the nape of your neck during the hug.

“You look like shit!” you acknowledged pulling at the sleeve of her jacket to which Abby rolled her eyes and pulled your hand away.

“Ahh could be worse”

A beat. And another; comfortable silence filling the air between the two of you. You didn’t wanna ask but for your newfound knowledge, you had no other choice but to. You wanted her to know, hell you haven’t seen her for very long and this well could have been the last time you would ever.

“So it was you? All along” you sputtered, snickering under your breath as you brought your hands across your chest, licking the base of your lips as your eyes wandered off.

“It was – hey! You opened the letters” Abby gave you a look of disbelief, half of it was due to her being scared shitless, others it was the fact that Abby could feel her own hands getting clammy as she rubbed them against the base of her jeans to get it to stop.

“It said 2 —”

“Weeks I know” “I was desperate”

There was silence again.

“I could just kiss you right now I can’t believe you are alive” You blurted out, giving Abby the most gentle smile. Abby for a second felt her world move in slow motion as she stared with such unconditional love.

“Then do it”

So you did, rushing forward, throwing your body against Abby’s as the two of you leaned in for a swift kiss. Her lips were chapped, slightly rugged but you didn’t mind applying your smooth ones to her as the movements of your body synched together in eternal sunshine. Nothing in this moment mattered, besides her lips on yours and her hands against your body. Abby’s fingers stroked at your cheeks eventually moving down between your jaw and your neck as she continued. No breaks; no air, until the sound of boots stomping closer to the room rang your ears, forcing you to pull away.

“Okay, I need supplies miserably Nora brought me to you, I have to go, I don’t know if this will be my last time seeing you: I hope it’s not, I’m not exactly in Isaac’s good graces – I think we both know that” Abby spoke with urgency, distrust but also sadness. Abby wasn’t sure but recently she’s been feeling as though things were slipping in between her fingers. She wasn’t sure how long this ecstasy and rapture would last, or the longevity of her contentment. Abby was certain the girl from the room; with the golf club and joel would show her face again.

“It’s okay” you assured, hands now at Abby’s biceps, lips rubbing against each other as you turned your head away from her face, shaking it slightly.

“But don’t forget. . .” “I’m so incredibly infatuated by you” Abby whispered as she moved in closer to give a swift kiss to your forehead.

Now wasn’t the time for formalities or titles, but you wished with your fingers crossed and your eyes closed shut, that she would return for the conversation worth having. Full honesty and confessional where your girl that smelled of pine would tell you all her rushes of thoughts that nagged at her as she closed her eyes.

“Knife to the chest sweetheart, swing with your right not your left…it’s your better arm” Abby cautioned, pretending to bring her arm up to swing, giving a final squeeze to your cheek as she was headed for the door preparing for ground zero.

“Bye Abby”

That was the difference, it was as if your body knew. Saying Bye instead of a see you later or, playfully threatening her to come back to you in one piece. Your eyebrows furrowed; your face scrunched as you cringed at your words, as mediocre as they sounded. You caught yourself doing that a lot and you weren’t sure why. Going from present tense to past tense. “I am” to “I did” to “I was” , this happened after you started dreaming. Dreaming that your body was against a cold tile, scrunching into a ball as you let out your last breath alone.

You knew.

“This is not goodbye — don’t say that, it’s see you later!” Abby snapped, giving you a hand motion as she swung the door open, crouching down as she moved steadily through the room as it closed behind her with a loud CLICK! From the lock.

“I’ll see you later” Your hand went from waving to at your side as your smile dropped and abruptly the warm room felt cold. Very cold.

But you weren’t going to see her later. Body paralyzed to the floor as the bullet wound in your stomach bled crimson all over the floor. As red as the Honeycrisp apples you ate on Wednesdays. An auburn-haired girl rushes past you following the footsteps of Nora. You were crashing and your body was failing you. Whimpers of pain escaped your lips as you held onto your stomach like you had a bad stomach ache, rolling onto your side as your vision became a nuisance and blurry mess. During your last few moments, you thought of Abby and her bright smile, all the plans she had for the two of you, and how you were finally happy that you got your happy ending,

But at what cost?

You weren’t going to get to drink apple cider with her or hug her again, and that’s what destroyed you the most as a salted tear fell from your eye. Apple was placed on the table rotting from the inside out, With Abby’s knife poked into its core. Death has met its match.

You were the apple of her eye, and you were destroyed and eaten whole indefinitely.

taglist

@beforeimdeceased @starologist @destielcore @rarestdoll @luvrgalore @ellsss @zahraaziza @emluvselandabs @abbyily @elliestrwbrry @mossc0vered @spacewlf @as2rid @ariianelle @spaceshipellie @lottiematthewsceo @emonopolyman @imamybubbles @mikasbby @trulygnomed

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chibi-celesti · 5 days

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TWST related Ramble Incoming; Spoilers to Book 07 mentioned as well. You have been warned!!

I just noticed this morning that Malleus has traits connected to the previous OB gang. And how it kinda culminates together in Book 07. Let me explain:

Riddle and Malleus have strained Realtionships with their families. Granted in Riddle’s case it's his mother and Malleus his grandmother, but with some slight differences. Where Riddle’s whole life was dictated by his mother, the Senate(aka bitchie old farts that need some purifying salt) controls Malleus and his life. And when I mean that, I meant how they ripped him away from Lilia as a baby cause of their narrow minded view of the former General.

Leona and Malleus are both royalty. While Leona is a second born Prince who will never be king, Malleus has no choice but to be crowned Ruler of Briar Valley once his Grannie retires. Sure Leona may find him stuck up and annoying, but what he doesn't know is the fact that just like him, Malleus is also dealing with subjects who revere him or fear him cause of his powers.

Azul and Malleus both crave something. Azul craves power and money as a coping mechanism(at the beginning at least) as revenge for those that bullied and mocked him as a child. Malleus craves companionship. And yes he has his family (his Grandmother, Lilia, Silver and Sebek), they all keep him at arm's length for different reasons beit his status or heartache of getting too close. Thus building up the loneliness in his heart.

Jamil and Malleus are envious of other people. Jamil is jealous of the freedoms Kalim has as a naïve heir and able to dance about in the light, and yet he-Jamil-has to stick to the shadows. Never allowed to be free to do what he wants lest he bring dishonor to his parents. Malleus, as stated before, is jealous of others and the fun things they get to do. He's hardly been invited to events from EVERYONE at NRC. Heck, not a single Noble invited him to any social gatherings during his Winter break! The only time he got one was from Yuu/MC in Book 05.

Vil and Malleus both share some sort vanity with one another. Vil works hard to be the fairest, most beautiful person in the world. Malleus is part of the Top 5 Strongest Mages in TW, and there are times he takes pride in using his magic to fix things or get carried away with doing something that throws others off like in Vargas Training Camp Ver. 02, with him altering the Cave and making it mazy and confusing to his the other campers.

Idia and Malleus value their family bonds but theyre alos the cursed ones of the group. Idia and his family are doomed to forver be the Gatekeepers of the Underworld due to the nature of their connection with Overblots and such. Malleus is cursed not just by his family name, but his own late mother, Melenor Draconia, blessed him with being a star of hope for the people of Briar Valley and an omen of evil to humans. This in turn has isolated him from his peers all throughout his time in NRC til we befriend him. And like I stated in Azul's part his family does love him, but his status makes it harder for him to convey his true feelings of love them.

Malleus is a tragic character with neat parallels to those that broke before him. A person who yearns for things that his peers are too naïve to understand. Let alone give him a chance to engage with them in ways they could better know each other. Which makes his eventual defeat in Book 07 whenever that happens all the more painful ;-;

#dont mind me just having them sleep deprived epiphanies #and combined with never ending feels you get this #suffer with me please #twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #chibi celesti rambles #chibi-celesti rambles

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santoteez · 2 years

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Kinktober 2022 - Day Five

Genre: Smut, sort of crack-ish?

Idol: Song Mingi of ATEEZ

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Roleplay, Stuck sex, MaintenanceMan!Mingi, CollegeStudent!Reader, Oral (f receiving), unprotected sex

The soft humming of the dryer could be heard throughout the house as Y/N got started on another load. She dumped her darks-the largest load- into the washer. She reached for the detergent and fabric softener from the shelf above. She was preparing to pour the soap into its compartment when she noticed something shiny catching the light from inside the tumbler. She squinted before realizing it was a pair of her earring dangling from the rips on a pair of jeans.

“How did that get there?” She mumbled to herself, reaching for the piece of jewelry. The task was easier said than done, as the hoops were just out of reach. She tiptoed as far as she could go, letting out a noise of triumph as she held onto the earrings. She tried to lift herself out of the machine. Once, twice. Her brows furrowed in confusion. She turned her head, noticing that not only had her bracelet gotten caught in one of the holes in the tumbler, but her shirt was also bunched up in the groove of the machine.

She was stuck with no way out.

Panicking, she reached out for her phone which was on the counter next to the laundry basket. But due to her shirt being stuck, there was only so much she could lean over. She huffed in annoyance. Her roommate wouldn’t be back until late. Maybe she would come back…if Y/N could just reach that damn phone.

“God, I know we don’t have that great a relationship, but please just get me out of here. I’ll go back to church, I’ll even buy a new bible. Just please get me out of this.” She rambled.

Her impromptu prayer session was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Maintenance.” The deep voice called out.

Y/N’s face lit up. Maybe, just maybe, God had sent her help in the form of a six-foot-tall man with jet-black and blue hair.

“Mingi! There’s a key under the doormat. Can you let yourself in?” She shouted, hoping she was loud enough to be heard.

There was a silence, and just when she contemplated shouting a second time, she heard a key turn in the lock.

“You really got to find a better place to keep that spare, you know? The doormat is the first place someone would look. Especially since you don’t have one of those obviously fake houseplants.” He called out, setting the key on a table near the door. “Where are you, anyway?”

“In the laundry room!”

“...Well, can you come out? We have to talk about the leak in your kitchen.”

“Yeah, about that. Can you come here?”

“Why? Is there a leak there too? I’m starting to believe you poke holes in shit just to see me.”

“Mingi, I’m begging you. Just come here.”

“Okay, okay. I’m coming.” Mingi set his toolbox down near the entrance of the kitchen before making his way down the stairs.

Now, Mingi has seen many things in his time as a handyman. Toilets clogged with the unthinkable, fridge door dangling off the hinges, naked grannies, the works.

But none of that could prepare him for the sight that awaited him in the laundry room. He froze at the doorway as he took it all in: Y/N bent at the waist with her top half inside the washing machine, her ass peeking out of her barely-there lounge shorts, and her feet just barely grazing the tiling below.

Mingi knew he should say something before it became obvious he was gawking. He pleaded for his stupid brain to say something, anything.

“What are you doing?” He settled for that. Not the brightest thing he could’ve said, but it was something.

Y/N turned around, managing to see just enough of Mingi to confirm he was there. “Mingi! Thank God. Quick, help me out of here.” She squirmed, and Mingi took note of how her thighs jiggled from the action.

“Damn. No ‘please’?” He asked, crossing the threshold of this rather dangerous situation.

“Fine. Please help me out of here.”

He tsked. “You don’t really sound like you want my help.”

“Mingi, I’ve been stuck for the past 15 minutes. I just want out of here. My bracelet is stuck and so is my shirt. Please just help me.”

He walked around. Her shirt was indeed stuck and exposing more than he was sure she’d like him to see.

He wrapped his fingers around her bare torso, giving her an experimental tug toward him which changed nothing.

“If that would’ve worked, I would be free already, Mingi.”

“Keep up the sassy comments and I’ll go home.”

“No, no. I’m sorry.”

He sighed, his hand traveling up in an attempt to find where the shirt was bunched up.

He couldn’t quite find the snag, but the pads of his fingers definitely felt warm little nubs that hardened at the sudden touch.

He was ready to apologize. Ready to back off. Ready to just hand her some scissors and pay her back for the shirt. But then he heard it.

The moan that escaped her lips.

Despite praying to be taken out of the washer a few minutes ago, Y/N was now thanking the heavens she was still there. She couldn’t imagine what she’d do if she had to face Mingi after that. She hadn’t even realized it happened for the first few seconds. It was as if her body was acting on its own.

“Are you okay?” Mingi asked, the only statement running through his head that seemed appropriate at the moment.

“Y-yes. I’m fine.” She mumbled.

“I’m just asking you know, it seems like you’re pretty …sensitive-”

“Mingi.”

“Okay! Okay. Just didn’t expect such responsiveness from a light graze.”

“Well, it was unexpected. Plus, it’s been a while.” Her voice trailed off, but Mingi caught it.

“Really? How long?”

Y/N shrugged, knowing he couldn’t see her anyway. “Couple months? Almost a year, actually.”

Mingi’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really? I wouldn’t expect that from a college student.”

“What does that mean? And you act like you are so much older than college-age people.” She scoffed. They were only 3 years apart, and she was already a senior in college.

“I never went, though. I guess I just assumed.” He ran a finger up the back of her thigh, watching as she flinched at the contact. “Tell you what. I have a proposition for you.”

Y/N felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. “What are you proposing?”

“You haven’t fucked in a while. I can fuck you right now. Provide some relief to your sensitive body.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. I’m flattered, but I’d much rather you get me out of here.”

“Well, if that’s your choice I have to respect it. But I’ll have you know, in order to get that bracelet out of the machine I would probably have to cut into it, wait until you get a replacement tumbler, and put that into the machine. That’s not even considering the damage I’d have to do to get the shirt out.”

“...So how much would all that be?” She asked, gasping when she heard the unspeakable number. “Mingi! I can’t afford that!”

He chuckled. “ I know. You can barely afford to pay me. How much do you owe me so far?”

“I’m working on that balance.” She grumbled.

“You’d have to add today on top of that, too.”

She groaned.

“If you take me up on my offer, I’ll take today off the total.”

“Completely?”

“It’ll be as if I was never here. Plus, you get to cum. It’s a win-win.”

Y/N sighed. There wasn’t much she could do in her predicament anyway. “I thought God answered my prayers when you knocked on the door. But there’s no way God sent you anywhere.” She sighed. “You have to promise you’ll get me out of here once you’re done.”

Mingi snorted. “Maintenance Man’s Honor.” He said, pulling her shorts down.

Y/N’s breath hitched as she felt him slide her panties down her legs so gently, she almost didn’t believe that he had taken them off until she saw them fall into the washing machine along with the other clothes inside. Y/N stared dumbfoundedly at the panties she clearly put on this morning. This was really happening.

“Now, we can have some real fun.” Mingi mused, sinking to his knees.

She gasped when she felt his tongue slip past her wet (wet? When did she find time to get wet?) folds, his swift licks showing her no mercy.

“Ha, fuck.” She sighed, her voice muffled as she dangled from the top of the machine.

“Yeah? Feel good?”

“It feels so good. Your tongue is so long, it’s filling me up.”

Mingi smirked against her skin, sliding his tongue in deeper, tasting the arousal that oozed out and dribbled down his chin. He suckled on her clit, strong hands holding her legs apart when she threatened to slam them closed. He turned around, sitting between her legs, thrusting his tongue into her sweet cunt while his nose gave her clit the attention it deserved.

Y/N panted, her free hand gripping the edge of the machine opening, desperate to ground herself somehow as she fell deeper into delirium.

Mingi flipped back and forth from long, languid licks to her folds and swift, harsh sucks to her clit, finding it impossible to focus on just one task. He groaned as he collected drop after drop of her arousal on his tongue, his cock hardening at the taste. He chuckled at her pitiful attempts to grind against his tongue, chasing her orgasm.

“You wanna cum, baby? Grinding this pretty pussy on my face trying to cum? Go ‘head, cum for me.”

Y/N let out a whine that rang in Mingi’s ears like church bells at noon. Her arousal ran down his face, trailing down his neck.

“Mingi.” She whimpered when he didn’t stop licking her cunt. “Just fuck me already.

“Patience, baby.” Mingi stood up from the floor, wiping his face with his sleeve. “I’ll take good care of you in just a minute.” He shrugged out of the top half of his uniform jumpsuit, pushing it and his boxers down just enough for his thick, veiny cock to spring out of its confinements.

He sighed as the bulbous tip of his cock slipped past her folds. “Hah, this pussy is unbelievable, baby. Pure heaven.” He smirked as his cock nestled inside her drenched walls.

“Mingi, hurry.” She muttered, clenching down on his length. She wasn’t sure if her head was spinning from the position she was stuck in, the need for friction, or both.

Grasping her left leg by the back of her knee, he pistoned his hips into her ass, his other hand gripping her waist.

Y/N squealed as his tip rubbed against her g-spot, his balls smacking against her clit only adding to the stimulation. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, barely aware of the drool pouring out of her agape mouth.

“Is this what you wanted, baby? For me to fuck you stupid?”

“Yes! Please, Mingi. Don’t stop, keep going.” She babbled, his name falling from her lips as if her life depended on it. Her body slid down the machine slightly, her shirt rising up and her breasts now fully exposed, dangling inside the tumbler.

He angled his hips, his cock now hitting that sweet spot with every thrust. “I’m not gonna last, baby. So you’ve gotta cum, okay?”

She nodded frantically. “I’m close, gonna cum. Cum inside me, please.”

Mingi’s pace slowed, his cum releasing inside her cunt in spurts. Y/N body shook, overwhelmed as her hole wept, both of their cum intertwined.

He marveled at the sight when he pulled out. “Look at that. That’s so hot.” He said, clearly out of breath.

“Okay, seriously. Get me out of here. I’ve had enough.”

Mingi laughed, reaching into the machine and unhooking her bracelet. He then yanked her shirt out as well, finally freeing her and helping her to her feet.

“How’s that for different?” He asked once she faced him.

She rolled her eyes, reaching up to peck his lips. “It was great, but I always prefer to see this face when I cum.”

Mingi hummed, stroking his chin. “True, I am a work of art after all. Maybe we can put a mirror in the machine before I fuck you next time?” He asked, wincing when she pinched him. “What? I’m serious!”

Y/N started to respond when she was interrupted by the dryer going off. They both turned to the beeping machine, its noises indicating the clothes were now dry and ready to fold.

“Just shut up and help me finish this laundry.” She said instead, handing him the detergent.

“Did you really have to do actual laundry? We were just roleplaying, you know.” He shoved his now flaccid cock back into his pants.

“We get to fuck and have clean clothes. Why wouldn’t I?” She asked.

“Guys! I’m home!”

“Laundry room!” Mingi called out.

The shorter woman headed down the stairs, smiling at the couple. “Hey! Laundry day?”

“You know how it is. “Y/N sighed.

The roommate nodded. “I think you spilled something on the floor, though. What is that?” She furrowed her brows.

Y/N met her gaze, freezing when she saw what had to be remnants of their lewd actions just a while ago.

Mingi peered down, then nudged Y/N’s arm. “What have I told you about spilling the fabric softener? Let me pour it from now on.” He pulled a tissue out of his uniform pocket, wiping up the mess.

“Oh, yeah. Mingi, how come you’re in uniform? Isn’t today your day off?”

“I got an emergency call this morning. Then, I came back home and the washer was acting weird, so I tweaked it a little. Somehow, I got stuck helping someone with the laundry.” He turned to Y/N, who stuck her tongue out at him.

The girl laughed, shaking her head. “Be grateful you have a handyman boyfriend, Y/N. He’s always helping out around here. Well, let me know when you’re done! I have to tell you all about that guy from last night.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Can’t wait!” Y/N chimed, watching her head back up the stairs before letting out a deep breath. “You have a response for everything, don’t you?” She asked Mingi, who just smiled at her. “Well, thanks. I had no idea what I was gonna tell her.”

“I got your back, baby,” Mingi said, leaning in to kiss her.

Happy Ateez Anniversary <3

-pluto

#ateez mingi #ateez fanfiction #ateez smut #song mingi #mingi #mingi smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #ateez fanfic

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chibifox2002 · 8 months

Text

I'm bored so here's my list of the top ten plus sized characters that I want to hug/believe would get awesome hugs.

This will contain ramblings for each character, so everything is gonna be under the cut!

#10: Sam from Sam & Max

He seems like he'd LOVE hugs. Plus since he's a dog he'd probably let you pet him if he's in the mood. His hugs would be soft as fuck and nobody can tell me otherwise.

#9: Leatherhead from TMNT (2003)

This guy NEEDS a hug and will absolutely accept one with zero hesitation. Will probably even lift you up while hugging.

#8: Doctor Vargas from Knack

HAH, Y'ALL THOUGHT I WAS GONNA SAY KNACK HUH?! You wouldn't be wrong. Dr. Vargas is very dad coded to me and is a very kind man who loves his family. Plus this science family canonically hugs each other so yeah. Hug the scientist.

#7: Raphael from ROTTMNT

Fucking look at him. Need I say more? Precious baby boy who's doing his best to protect his family. Hug him. Hug him you sick bastard. His hugs are immaculate and safe. FUCKIN' HUG HIM-

#6: Hollyberry Cookie from Cookie Run

She's a grandmother, you are legally not allowed to say she gives bad hugs. Jail. Right to jail if you say that. Her hugs are warm and loving. Best granny.

#5: Kratos from God of War

Now this is probably VERY random, but whenever I think about this man's backstory and what he's gone through I think "this man is VERY OVERDUE for a hug." Even though he's probably not that much of a hugger, only hugging those close to him. His hugs feel earned and validating.

#4: Barnaby from Welcome Home

HE'S BASICALLY A GIANT SENTIENT PLUSH DOLL WHY WOULD YOU NOT HUG HIM?! HIS HUGS WOULD BE SO SOFT AND FUN, SINCE YOU KNOW HE'D SPIN YOU AROUND LIKE THE GOOF HE IS.

#3: DBK from Lego Monkie Kid

He may not be one of my favorites, but I still wish to hug him! He's yet another man who loves his family and would probably give his own life to protect them. Started off as a bastard, still kinda is, but has grown into an amazing father. Is hugs would absolutely be warm! But that's mostly because of the fact that he lives in a lava castle.

#2: King Dedede from Kirby

Of course this dude was gonna be on here. We all knew. But, again, LOOK AT HIM. How could you not wanna hug this cool dude! He'd pat you on the back and everything. Safest hug you'll ever be in. Also he loves his Waddle Dees so of course that's a plus!

#1: Scarlet from Sackboy: A Big Adventure

She's Sackboy's mentor in this game, and, as me and my sister screamed out every time she was on screen, gives off vibes of a grandma who's a veteran and who adventured all over the world and tells her kids all sorts of stories from her 'ventures! Her hugs would be soft, safe, and warm.

#chibi rambles #talking stuff #sam and max #tmnt 2003 #Knack #rise of the tmnt #Cookie Run #God of War #Welcome Home #Lego Monkie Kid #Kirby Series #Little Big Planet

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mikhailwrites · 8 months

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All fun and games / Ghost x Soap

Kinktober #12 - Costumes

Why the hell did he agree to this? Oh, right, because Soap promised to give him the best head of his life if he joined him for a LARP. The things Ghost would do for good sex, right? Well, it was more about what he’d do to make Johnny grin the same way he did when he watched one of his expertly designed fireworks go off.

“Remember, you’re dark elf going by Ghost, you’re a rogue, so… no stealth, cloak and dagger, maybe a crossbow or something like that. It’s right up your alley!” Soap rambles, clearly excited, while he affixes fake pointy ears on Ghost. Ghost, who looks very unimpressed by the whole getup. The clothes Soap made him wear are vaguely historical but more in that eye-candy pop culture way. There’s a lot of leather, useless trinkets, and gratuitous lace-ups. He looks beyond ridiculous. Especially since the daggers are made of foam, and the crossbow looks like a toy. It probably is.

The exasperated sigh cannot fully belay the level of Ghost’s embarrassment as Soap clasps a cape on him. Nobody can ever catch a whiff of this, or he would never live it down.

“There you go, fucking brilliant LT!” Soap whistles as he looks Ghost up and down.

“So, if I’m an… elf…,” Ghost says but is interrupted.

“Dark elf! It’s important!” Soap corrects him.

“Whatever. What are you?”

Soap puffs with pride, and Ghost immediately regrets he’s asked. He knows this look. It’s the “prepare for a fucking nerd-out” look.” Soap smiles wide, smoothing his own clothes that look much more normal than Ghost’s. Just a linen shirt with a lace-up, of course, and what looks like some very old-school type of kilt. It’s simple, but it suits him. That’s perhaps the only reason why Ghost didn’t pull off a Houdini already. The sight of Johnny and the prospect of Ghost bending him over by the end of the night, tucking the kilt up and fucking him senseless. He can imagine it so vividly that it takes Soap to jab him in the ribs to get his attention. “Yer not even listenin’!”

“Sorry,” Ghost says, even though he’s not.

“’S fine, just remember, whatever you do, you gotta stay in character.”

“Like undercover?”

“Aye! Exactly! Ye ken… just… let’s say this is a mission. The objective is to find a certain item. We dinnae ken what is it, where it is, or who knows aboot it. The only way to get it is to pretend we’re someone else.”

“I understand,” Ghost nods, suddenly much more at ease with the whole thing.

They walk out of the tent and are greeted by a large group of… individuals. The costumes range from extravagant and colourful to clearly repurposed items from granny’s closet. There are a few people in armour, too. Ghost feels somehow comfortable in his role. It’s not that different to what he usually does for a living, after all, and thankfully, Johnny does most of the talking as a charming charlatan and a gifted alchemist.

Some good negotiation and pointed intimidation later, they’re much closer to their objective. Ghost has to admit that he’s having a bit of fun. Especially once another group of players attempts to steal Soap’s notes containing all the clues they’ve gathered so far. The skirmish ends before it even begins in earnest. Ghost is holding back a lot, obviously, but he still outmanoeuvres and overpowers their opponents easily, while Soap stands back, looking almost bored. He has made Ghost his bodyguard of sorts, not that Ghost really minds.

Once they go through the loot, they’re rewarded with a vital piece of information they’ve been missing. It’s time to get their prize.

The powerful artefact they’re after is well-hidden and well-secured. Which means it’s booby-trapped to high-heaven. Ghost disarms the tripwires and pressure plate, and just as he’s about to make another step, Soap stops him. “Don’t move!”

Ghost freezes instantly; it’s the same deeply ingrained reaction he’d have in the field. Soap comes up to him, inspecting the area just in front of them. Unclasping a pouch with some alchemical ingredients from his belt, he pours a bit of bright orange sand into his palm and throws it into the air, revealing a few laser beams. “Well, looks like a magic trap. Let me deal with that.”

Soap looks right in his element as he takes out various trinkets, including a small mirror. With some clever refraction, they manage to pass, only to be met with another test. They can already see the chest, but there’s a letter lock on it. There’s also a piece of creatively half-burned paper with an overly ornate and somehow ominous message. Johnny reads it out loud: “Only those with the heart of Gold deserve to see the power I hold. Well, that’s a riddle. The key to the lock is a word, five letters.”

Ghost fiddles with the lock. “I could force it open.”

“That would be boring. Give me a second.” Johnny hums, thinking hard. Then… “It can’t be that easy… can it?” With a doubtful look, he slides the dials until it spells “Aurum”—the lock clicks.

As soon as Johnny takes the obscenely large and obviously fake ruby out of the chest, Ghost grabs him from behind and presses him against his chest just as he pretends to stab him in the back with the fake dagger.

“Ghost! What the… oh no…,” Johnny trails off as the realisation dawns on him. “You traitorous shit!” Soap does a bit of a show of going down, slowly bucking his knees and sliding from Ghost’s grasp. Ghost tries for semi-convincing acting, kneeling next to Soap as he gently pries the artefact from his hands.

“I’m sorry, darling, but you know what they say: never turn your back to a dark elf,” Ghost lowers his head and kisses him goodbye.

Once Ghost claims his prize and after a short but grand ceremony of naming him the ruler of the land – until the next year - they return to the small lodge and their rented room. Johnny is silent the whole way back, but once the door closes and they’re alone, he speaks up. “Ye bastard! Ye eejit! I brought ye with me so ye would help me win!”

“What can I say, Johnny? There can only be one,” Simon deadpans as he holds up the sceptre, marking him a king. He will return it to someone from the organisation team tomorrow.

Soap stares at him with a bloody murder in his eyes as he points an accusing finger at him. “Was that… did ye just… did ye quote a bloody Highlander, Ghost? Oh, that is low even for ye.”

Ghost’s smile is disgustingly smug as he sits down on the edge of the bed. “What’re you going to do about it, Johnny?”

He barely finishes the sentence before Soap is on him, straddling his lap, tilting his head and kissing him like a savage. It’s all teeth and tongue. “You’re lucky you look so good in all that leather.”

Ghost smirks, sliding his hands up Johnny’s bare thighs under the kilt. “I was wondering…” his hand slides higher, feeling nothing but warm skin.

“Of course, you were,” Soap chuckles. “Could feel you staring at my arse for the better part of the day. But with the shit you’ve pulled, I think I’ll revoke your rights to it. Your majesty.”

“You know, with all the magical power I now have, I guess I could resurrect you, make you my prince consort or whatever,” Ghost suggests, caressing the soft skin but making no further move.

“Bargaining now, Ghost?” Soap cocks an eyebrow, pretending to think hard about it. “But…” he trails a finger along the laces of Ghost’s trousers, “I’m feeling generous tonight.” It goes without saying that he’s also horny.

Ghost lets himself be pushed down to the mattress, lets Johnny kiss him, and opens up to his tongue. He’s still holding him, kneading the muscles on Soap’s thighs, enjoying the fact that he doesn’t have to hassle with trousers to get what he wants. As an added bonus, his cock twitches every time he reminds himself that Johnny spent the whole day walking around commando.

Johnny’s mouth moves to Ghost’s jawline, to his neck, on which he sucks dutifully. One of the perks of Ghost’s renown is that he can parade around with love bites, and nobody dares say a thing. Soap would never admit to it, but he enjoys the privilege more than he probably should.

Ghost groans and smacks the back of Johnny’s thighs. “Give it a rest, you vampire.”

Johnny laughs, sits back and tucks Ghost’s shirt up, dragging his blunt nails across the scars all the way from his chest to the waistline of his trousers. Soap licks his lips, deliberate with the gesture so Ghost would notice. He does, and he’s had quite enough of the foreplay.

Johnny laughs as Ghost manhandles him to switch their position. Now it’s Johnny’s turn to lay on his back with Ghost looming over him, brown eyes dark and hungry. Soap bends one knee, feeling the thick tartan slide down, revealing a lot of skin. He can also feel the leather, warmed by Ghost’s body heat, and it makes him buckle his hips, seeking at least a little bit of friction. Honestly, he’s so hard it almost hurts.

Simon, to his credit, possibly feels at least a little bit bad about betraying Johnny earlier because he doesn’t tease him like he normally would. Instead, he sneaks a hand under Johnny’s kilt, brushing against his prick.

Simon chuckles at Johnny’s sharp intake of breath. “Well, this is convenient.”

The smugness leaves him as soon as Johnny retaliates; the lace-up is much easier and faster to undo than buttons and a zipper. Simon presses into Johnny’s palm as soon as it slips into his trousers. Soon enough, it’s not enough for either of them. Johnny slides Ghost’s trousers and underwear lower, and Simon lowers himself to slot their cocks together before closing his hand around them. The hold is loose at first but tightens after a few languid thrusts. Soap moans, enjoying the fact that they’re not on the base and he can be louder than usual.

Simon hums appreciatively as he kisses Johnny on the neck, worrying the sensitive skin between his teeth. Soap sighs, holding Simon close and rolling his hips in time with Simon’s lazy strokes. Soap tries to urge Simon on, but the only reaction is a muffled laugh and a thumb flicking over his cock-head, making him gasp.

What started as luxurious soon turned into torturous. The need to move and chase the pleasure is overwhelming, but Simon seems dead-set on making Johnny suffer in the most delicious way possible, ignoring the whimpers and jolts as Johnny squirms, trying to get what he wants. “Come on, Simon!”

“Patience, Johnny,” Simon smiles against his quickened pulse, licking along his ear. “Or do you want us to ruin your kilt?”

Johnny’s breath hitches as he’s momentarily thrown off by Simon’s words. He recovers quickly. “Fuck yes.”

“Alright then,” Simon finally concedes, loosening his grip a fraction to allow Johnny to fuck into his hand and against his prick. The slide is smooth, eased by the pre-cum. Simon raises his head, looking at Johnny, who looks at him in turn. Stormy-blue of his eyes dark, brows knit together, and mouth slightly agape in a mixture of desperation and pleasure. He could see this a thousand times and never tire of it.

A moan escapes Simon, a rare occurrence, but he lets it slide. They’re well away from the base, safe from the regulations. The way Johnny’s cock slides against his own, hard, hot and wet, drives him nuts. Without even realising it, he starts to match Soap’s pace.

Despite the pace, the tension in both of them rises gradually. There’s no stress, unlike their quick shags in the storage rooms around the base. No risk of being discovered and punished. Instead of focusing on keeping quiet and stilling every time there are footsteps approaching, they can focus on each other and the sensations.

Ghost’s hips stutter as he loses himself in the feeling of Johnny under him, the sound of his moans, his heavy breathing, and the feeling of his nails digging into Simon’s back. Ghost tightens his grip around both of them as he comes, powerful pulses wrecking his body, making him skip a breath as he spills over his hand and Soap’s cock and soils the precious kilt in the process.

Johnny is quick to follow, spurred by the feeling of Ghost’s release. He manages a few more thrusts, making Simon gasp as he ruts against his oversensitive cock, before he arches into Simon, generously contributing to the mess between them. He feels light, which is a bit absurd, considering Simon is still lying on top of him like a dead weight. Soap doesn’t mind; somehow, it’s soothing and grounding him in the moment.

“Do you think I could convince Price to let you wear leather while we’re on the base?” Johnny asks after a few minutes of silence.

“No, but I want to see you try,” Ghost smirks. “You know, I might take a look if it’s permitted to wear a kilt while on duty.”

“It is,” Soap replies without hesitation. “Not in the field; not officially, but otherwise, it’s permitted.”

Ghost hums, a clear idea forming in his head.

#call of duty #ghost mw2 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost x soap #ghostsoap #soap mw2 #soapghost #ghoap #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

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wannabespacesmuggler · 2 years

Text

Small Talk and Mediocre Coffee | Motorcycle Ride

Chapter Thirteen | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: You recently moved to Storybrooke and began working the morning shift at Granny’s diner. Meanwhile, Killian Jones has been working the night shift on the docks of Storybrooke for years. When his routine gets turned upside down, he begins to understand the simple joy brought by an early cup of coffee, as long as you’re the one pouring it.

Pairing: Killian Jones x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.1K

Extras: Playlist – A playlist for two idiots in love: a gruff outcast who hates coffee but now drinks it every morning because the waitress at the diner keeps smiling at him as they pour it.

Author's Note: Oh, boy. It's been a hot second, hasn't it? I didn't realize until recently that the last time I updated this fic was in January. A lot has happened since then in my life and although I missed writing, I am very glad I took a break. I wasn't sure if I was ever going to come back to Small Talk and Mediocre Coffee. I always thought that this was just a self-indulgent fanfic about my favorite morally grey pirate, but apparently, many of you have come to love this little au. What I really want to say is thank you to all of you who have loved this little fic, left kudos, reblogged, and even commented. Your continued support means the world to me. And a very special thank you to @drinkfantasy for the extra push to finish this chapter. I don't know how frequently this fic will be updated, but I want you to know that it has not and will not be abandoned. Killian and his princess still have more stories left to tell. Please enjoy.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite waitress!”

Killian’s eyes tear away from the morning paper in his hands and he watches as Robin and Will enter the diner. Robin places a hand on Will’s shoulder, ushering him to sit at one of the tables in the middle of the room. Killian’s grip on the newspaper tightens subconsciously. The sound of your voice causes his eyes to wander to you.

“I’m here every morning, Will.”

You give Robin and Will a smile before quickly shifting your gaze to Killian. He watches as you covertly roll your eyes at the boisterous, young man. Killian stifles a laugh and offers you a kind smile. He pretends to return his attention to the newspaper, but he’s watching you in his peripheral vision. You grab a pot of coffee and two mugs before heading toward the table that Robin and Will sat down at. Killian can’t hear what Will is saying to you, but, he can tell from how fast his lips are moving, that he’s talking at about a mile a minute.

You place both mugs on the table and pour Robin’s coffee first. You’re nodding your head vigorously, pretending to listen. The sound of the door opening distracts you from Will’s rambling for a brief second. You turn your body towards the door and smile at David who offers you a small wave before taking a seat at the booth in front of Killian. As you turn back around, your brow furrows at the sudden absence of Will’s voice. You look at Will and see that his attention is now focused solely on the two silver trinkets hanging around your neck.

From his booth, Killian watches you turn your body back to Robin and Will causing the necklace he’d given you to swing back and forth ever so slightly. Will’s eyes seem to be drawn to the movement and his lips stop moving for the first time since he entered the diner. Will whips his head around and finds Killian while Robin uses his silence as a chance to order finally. Will’s eyes narrow as he meets Killian’s gaze and a smug smile spreads across his face.

“What are you smiling about, man?”

Killian shakes his head and shifts his gaze from Will to David. He lets out a soft chuckle before responding.

“It’s nothing, mate. Absolutely nothing.”

David seems to consider his answer for a second, probably pondering if he should press him or not, but lets it go after a few seconds. He opens his mouth to speak again, but your voice interrupts him before he can say a word.

“Coffee, sheriff?”

David laughs at your words. When you first met David, you had called him sheriff and he insisted that you just call him by his first name. He’s always thought ‘sheriff’ was too formal of a greeting for him, but you kept on using the name. At first, it was out of respect, but now you say it playfully. He doesn’t bother to correct you anymore. At this point, he considers your use of the name as your way of showing that the two of you are friends.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You cringe and he laughs. He knows you hate the name ‘ma’am’ just as much as he hates ‘sheriff’. Still, you pour him a cup of coffee and offer him a bright smile. Killian can’t look away from the sight. Sweet as honey -- just like the day he first met you in this very booth. You meet Killian’s gaze and flush. Your free hand fiddles with the trinkets on your necklace. David notices and gives Killian a knowing look, but it seems to go unnoticed by you.

“Can I get you anything else, David?”

“I’m good. Thank you.”

You give them both one last smile and get back to work. David simply looks at Killian and raises a brow.

“So, I noticed you’re missing some hardware.”

David points to his chest, where Killian’s necklace used to rest every day, before continuing.

“Anything you want to tell me?”

“Shut up, mate.”

David smiles and takes a sip of his coffee, leaving the topic alone for the time being. The two friends settle into their usual, comfortable banter. Eventually, David has to head to the station. Killian tells the man to head out without him, motioning toward you at the counter. David raises his eyebrows suggestively which earns him a very dramatic eye roll in return.

Killian saunters to the counter and leans against it, waiting for you to finish with another customer. He rests his arms on the cool laminate and attempts to look nonchalant. You give the kitchen the latest order before making your way over to him.

“Hey there, pirate. No work today?”

“Aye, princess.”

“Have any fun plans?”

“Maybe. What are you doing after work?”

The smile that lights up your face is infectious. The question pulls at your heartstrings. The fact that Killian Jones wants to spend his day off of work doesn’t surprise you at this point -- he has become a staple of your everyday life -- however, it does make you feel special.

“Nothing as of right now.”

“Thinking about taking my bike out for a ride today. Want to join?”

You nod your head excitedly.

“I’ll pick you up after your shift ends, princess.”

With that, Killian slides his leather jacket over his muscular frame, flashes you a smile, and exits the diner. You groan, knowing that the next several hours are now going to feel like an eternity.

You hear his motorcycle before you see him. You’re wiping down the counters as you see Killian pull up on his bike and stop right outside the diner.

“Ashley, you good to finish up here?”

Ashley pops out of the kitchen and is about to ask you what has you in such a rush. You’re never one to leave early, in fact, you’re usually the last to leave the diner after your shift; however, the minute she spots Killian parked outside, everything clicks.

“Go on. Tell loverboy I say hi.”

You roll your eyes at her as you grab your jacket -- or, more accurately, Killian’s heavy hide jacket that he let you keep after your birthday party. You wave goodbye to Ashley and the kitchen staff, before making your way out the door. The sight before you takes the breath right out of your lungs. Standing before you is Killian in his usual dark jeans and leather jacket, sporting a pair of black aviators. His hair is swept back from his ride over here. Everything about him should scream danger, but to you, he just feels safe.

“Ready?”

“Absolutely.”

He turns around and pulls a helmet out from the side of his bike. Without a second thought, he takes a step closer to you and places the helmet gently on your head. You hold your breath as he buckles the strap under your chin and checks if it fits snugly. Once he’s content, he takes a step back and flashes you a charming smile.

“You ever been on a motorcycle, love?”

You shake your head at his question. This only makes his smile grow wider, almost devilish. He climbs on his bike and then turns to look at you over his shoulder.

“Just hang on to me. You’ll have fun. I promise.”

That’s all it takes to get you on the back of his motorcycle. At first, you hold onto the back of Killian’s jacket, but once Killian starts the bike and starts down the street, you move your arms to wrap around his waist.

“That’s it. Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

Killian’s words calm the nerves bubbling up in your stomach. Instead of fearing for your life, you start admiring the passing landscape around you. Maine is beautiful, especially now that trees are beginning to bud and flowers are starting to sprout now that the last of the late winter snow has melted. The air wiping past you both is crisp, but not bitter like it would have been a week ago. It truly is a perfect day.

You lose track of time as you hold onto Killian, taking in his warmth and the comforting scent of leather and spiced rum. Eventually, he slows down once you are met with the state line between Maine and New Hampshire. Killian pulls off to the side of the road next to the sign that reads: “Now Leaving Maine”.

The sun is beginning the set as Killian turns off his bike. Brilliant oranges, yellows, and violets paint the sky. You take off your helmet and shake out your hair. You follow Killian as he walks toward the state line, but stops just before crossing.

“This is where I come when I need to just get away.”

The vulnerability in his voice does not go unnoticed by you.

“Why here?”

“I can’t go any further.”

Your brows pull together at his words. He says it so matter-of-factly.

“What do you mean?”

For the first time since the diner, Killian turns to face you.

“David is my parole officer.”

The words come out rushed and from the flush that arises on Killian’s face, you can tell he’s embarrassed. You take a step closer and urge him to continue.

“At least that’s how it started. Now, he’s family. But it wasn’t always like that. But that’s why I can’t cross the state line. Why I meet with Dr. Hopper every week. Why I have to work at the docks. They’re all conditions of my parole.”

You nod at his words, letting him know that you’re listening and you understand. You’re not surprised by his confession. There was always something different about Killian -- something darker, than everyone else you had met in Storybrooke. And you have noticed by now how some people in town seem to avoid him at all costs: crossing to the other side of the street when they see him walking down the sidewalk, moving seats at the diner when he sits down too close, taking the long way around town to steer clear of the docks during his shifts. Killian Jones is treated like the plague of Storybrooke.

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“I want to. You deserve to know and I trust you.”

Just like the night that Killian bailed on his date to pick you up and told you about his brother, you feel honored to have earned the trust of the man standing before you.

“I got into a lot of trouble out of high school. I was following Liam and his friends around, just doing whatever they said. Liam was the only family I had so I trusted him with my life. It started out small, just petty theft, but Liam kept wanting more. I knew it was wrong and I wanted to get out, but I couldn’t just leave him and I didn’t have anywhere else to go. We started doing bigger jobs and I ended up getting caught. I took the fall, did my time, and got lucky enough to earn parole. I’d had some run-ins with David before I was locked up and even after that, he offered to be my parole officer. That guy is just too damn good.”

“He saw something in you, Killian.”

A small smile tugs at Killian’s lips, but he avoids making eye contact with you.

“Well, love, I don’t know what he saw. I’m not proud of the man I was when I met David.”

“I’m proud of the man you are now. You’ve turned yourself around and made a life here -- a life to be proud of.”

“I’m still a criminal, princess.”

“What’s criminal, is Will tipping me less than twenty percent after having to listen to his incessant rambling all morning.”

This earns a chuckle from Killian, who looks far less somber now that you’ve cracked a joke at Will’s expense. You close the gap between you both and wrap your arms around Killian’s broad shoulders. He lets out a sigh of relief at the contact. All this time he’s been saving himself from a rejection that never came. You’re just too damn good, just like David. Killian returns the hug, holding you close.

“Thank you for telling me.”

Your words are mumbled into his shoulder, but they are crystal clear to his ears. His arms tighten around your waist ever so slightly, letting you know he heard. Eventually, you both pull away from the embrace. The sun has set by now. The brilliant sunset is now replaced by a luminescent night sky.

“You want to head back?”

You move to stand next to him, shoulder-to-shoulder. Your head turns up to look at the stars above you. They’re brighter outside of city limits.

“Not yet.”

You bump your shoulder into him playfully. Killian simply hums in response before wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. He’d happily spend all night here with you. You somehow make his little hideaway from Storybrooke feel a little bit safer. A little bit cozier. A little bit like home.

Tags: @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @alexa-fangirl-forever @mossnomori @captainamericasinnocence @fictionalhoomanofnowhere @ceruleanrainblues @lily-d247 @victoria-a567 @drinkfantasy @thisismelayla @its-not-too-late-for-coffee @rinymichelle321 @aesteticthotiere @popcrone818 @helplesslydevoted @limelightliterature @unlikelyandrogynousghost @theslytherinwriter

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skiesofrosie · 1 month

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his heart, in the silence - eugene roe

genre: fluff, angst

a different pov to all is fair, but matters of the heart.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Eugene Roe has never known love through words.

Perhaps, born of the way he's never heard his father bid I love you to his mother aloud; at least not in his presence. But that's not to say their home is one of somber silence.

His father breathes adoration for his wife; a woman who rambles just enough for all three of them at painstaking family gatherings. Love is the way Ed Roe wakes up at exactly 5:45 a.m. everyday, using the extra fifteen minutes, all hazy-eyed and dark circles, to brew two mugs of black coffee, before slipping back into bed and gently prodding the household lioness for a morning in solitude. He lets his lips curve into a smile when he kisses her forehead in greeting after work, eyes falling shut in in relief and shoulders loosening when he wraps around her warmth in the dim kitchen light.

No, his father doesn't need to say anything at all.

Eugene likes to think he follows his footsteps pretty well, saving up pennies from the granny across the street who paid him to mow her lawn in junior high (though, he insists he'd do it for free), to buy chocolate bars or flowers for his crush. He'd leave them on her desk with no indication it was his doing, just an act to see her light up and smile. The easy part is doing—offering to wait for her at the bus stop right at dawn, taking her to the drive in, or studying late nights at the library.

But when romance mounts into the moment of confession, the fact that he blubbers like a puffer fish always manages to send him tumbling right off the peak.

(He's still bitter that she ends up accepting another boy's hand to the junior high dance, right in front of him.)

So for the most part, he allows himself to feel but refrains from acting on it, and even more rarely so speaks. He convinces himself that someone as comfortable with silence will barge through his doors, take reign of the whirlwind and stomp it beneath her foot, offering a glimmer of peace.

But Amy Calloway doesn't barge through his front door. She taps him quietly on the shoulder after noting the red cross on his sleeve, finding a comrade in Easy Company.

Christ, is the one thing that flashes in his mind. Eyes of tranquil blue bore shyly into his own, a contrast to the steadiness in her voice.

"Hi! Eugene Roe? I'm a new medic with the company."

He blames the way he stutters on the fact that Sobel is about to kick their asses up to Currahee, and not because of how heavenly beautiful she is. Almost like a flower, petals fluttering through the dirt and rough edges in Camp Toccoa.

But she's patient, undeterred by the long stretches of silence at the lunch table. She travels through his mind by peeling gently at his layers, instead of trying to stab his heart with a fork right out of his chest. The only time it takes immense effort to dwindle boisterous excitement is when she catches him reading Hemingway on his bed, overly enthused poking to find out what his favorite books are.

She's thoughtful too, sacrificing sleep to help him memorize medical terminology when she notices his ridiculously poor memory. Ever since clocking in on his addiction to chewy treats, she makes sure to leave a packet of licorice twists on his bedside when her mother mails her a treasure tove of candy.

She’s not like his own mother, hardly chatty enough to speak for the both of them. But perhaps, that’s a good thing, because it wears him down into starting conversation first.

“Do you,” Eugene starts, “do you ever get fucking tired of this?”

She pauses her movement; wrapping a bandage around her hand back in their bunk after nearly slicing it at training with a scalpel. “What, of waking up at 5am and crawling through pig guts at some point until 10pm?”

He rolls his eyes, quirking his lips ever so slightly, but it falls just as quickly. “Do you wish, you would’ve stayed out of the war. Keep yourself from having to keep people alive?”

“I don’t spend too much time thinking of the what ifs doc. It only weighs you down, when you start thinking of the life you could be living, but can’t anyway.”

“Kinda disagree.” He mulls over her words, “yeah…I disagree.”

“Okay…” she slows, continuing to wrap her bandage. At his silence, she perks up, tampering down a teasing laugh as he looks at his bed as if it’s offended him.

“Gene, I’m waiting for an explanation.”

He flinches a little. Bending down to grab a new set of clothes from his chest, he ponders over his words, before replying.

“I just think,” he says, “that I wouldn’t make it through, if i didn’t let myself…dream, a little bit, of what my real life, outside of all of this would look like. Remember who i am.”

“We’ve got a little dreamer in ya, doc?” She teases, but her eyes soften. “I don’t think there’s anyone who’s gotta grip on who they are, better than you. You’re a trooper.”

Blood rushes to his ears to send a traitorous flush down his neck.

It's easy to like Amy Calloway, because she lets him just be. She doesn't ask for more than what he's ready to offer. A soothing breeze to the scorching heat, every time he catches wind of her laugh it prompts his lips to twitch into a smile. He's comfortable, taking his time to muster up the courage to really say something about what he feels for her.

But time, is a fragile concept in the face of a full-blown war. It will not wait for those who are too careful in their tracks.

They find solace in each other's company, moments of stillness against jarring machine guns and screeching soldiers. But, while it means the world to Eugene, Amy's heart is slated for something more.

Because while he seeks the quiet, she chases the fire.

He realizes that the easy smiles and giggles that drift through their words, are no match for the way that Joe Liebgott, a reckless man, crackles in all his fire and brings the sun to her eyes. And despite their unwillingness to admit anything to each other, Eugene can see the way a rascal like him softens tremendously at her touch, finding his world in the humility she stands her ground with.

"Gene!" Amy calls out, seated by Liebgott's bed in the Toccoa medical wing, with a teasing lilt. "Do you know this man reads classics? Like, he knows how to read more than a picture book?"

The man in question pinches his eyebrows, mildly offended, saying, "what the fuck is wrong with Dick Tracy?" But Joe knows it's all in good fun, failing to hide the amusement tugging at his lips.

Eugene manages a single nod to Joe, trying to pay no mind to the way they're clearly winding down from exuberant fits of cackles. But, he can't help search his memories to figure out if she's ever laughed that freely and loudly in front of him. The last time she'd asked him about his favorite books, he offered no more than their titles and author names, out of pure, dumb shyness.

"How's that ankle, Liebgott?"

Lieb sighs, leaning his head against the wall. "Pain in the fucking ass. Can't believe it. We're not even in Europe yet, and I'm already supposed to be glued to this fuckin' bed."

Amy snorts. "Yeah, well, maybe if you didn't try to beat me to the top of Currahee, just accepted defeat—"

"Fuckin' defeat?! I fell, that doesn't say shit," he protests.

"Just your big inflated ego—"

"As if you don't have one!"

"When clearly, I'm just the better runner—"

Liebgott cuts her off by tossing a pillow to her head. For all their relentless bickering (though it's mostly one-sided, mostly from Joe), there's always the affection that morphs their words into shared laughter, and levity in their eyes. Eugene sees the way she slowly begins to lean more and more into his side, Lieb already finding himself planted as close as physically possible to Amy from the bed. There's an intimacy in the nuance, the way she tends to let her gaze linger a little too long into Joe's as they look at each other with matching, tender smiles.

Eugene takes his leave then, because he suspects if he stays there any longer, he'd be able to hear his own heart break in his lone, deafening silence.

"Gene, wait up!" Amy frowns at his departure, rising to her feet.

But he doesn't turn around, sparing only a glance and a wave.

Because for Eugene Roe, love after all, means saying nothing at all.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

i'll give him a happy ending one day.

xx Sal

#band of brothers #eugene roe x oc #eugene roe #joe liebgott #amy calloway

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batmanrogues-scenarios · 1 year

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Your blog is very interesting, keep up the good work! Also is it ok if you do riddler, scarecrow, and mad hatter (seperately) who has a childhood friend who protects them cuz they have high morals and "a true hero never leaves the helpless behind." Quote they just made.

S/o has adhd (like me) so despite they're not as smart as them, they would praise them and even their inventions cuz they think it's cool. Their s/o wanted to be a hero growing up despite it sound ridiculous but that doesn't stop them from achieving their dream.

Then they all grown up and they became a villain while s/o became a new hero in gotham city and sometimes team up with batman cuz they think his cool. So what happens if they realize it's their childhood friend due to their attitude, having difficulty on solving things that only they could understand, and their cheerful, silly yet strong hearted nature. It's ok if you don't want to.

Aww, it's so sad. I honesty love this trope. Also S/O means Significant Other so I'm not sure if you wants platonic or not. I'll try to make it so you can read it either way.

Scarecrow

They were only good thing about his childhood, he hung out with them when he could.

He wanted to learn more about their ADHD, it fascinated him how it effects Y/N.

It might be partly why he got into psychology.

Their cheerful attitude make him smile after great granny punished him.

Still doesn't think they would go far with this ideology, especially the more he grown up and saw more.

Still couldn't help missing them.

And the fact that new hero acted like them really played tricks with his brain. Especially since he thought they were too familiar.

Couldn't believe it was them.

Ha. Of course they would end up on opposite sides.

He will give them a chance to back away. For the old times sake.

Unburied! Riddler

Ah, sweet Y/N. He always remembers them fondly.

They were only ones to listen to his ramblings. They pulled pranks on his bullies life was good.

He thinks their ideology wasn't really working but he wouldn't say bad things about them.

When the new hero showed he thought they were similar to his old friend so he got soft spot for them. Then he realized they were TOO similar.

Basically stalks them and get's every info he can get and soon he figures it out.

Isn't sure how to react. Decides to meet them face to face to say hi.

"It's kinda awkward isn't it?"

Would let them win from time to time.

While he doesn't like them fighting him he can see it being a game.

Arkham! Anarky

They were probably reason why he started the whole Anarky thing.

He looked up to them, would like to be hero with them. They could be partners.

Y/N was angel in his eyes.

When he saw hero acting like them it make him interested, he must have work with them.

He suspected who they might be but he only got confirmation once they called him his old nickname.

So happy! They can finally be partners just how they wanted to be-

.... what do they mean by, no?

Why? He make sure that scums of Gotham will be dealt with. He does the same thing as they. Why they don't see it?!

TWOJAR! Kiteman

Always thought they were better than him.

Looked at to them, might even learned to get up again again because of Y/N.

He recognised their attitude when they showed up as hero but he pushed the thought beside thinking it's stupid.

But then it's turn out he was right.

It's a shame they have to see him in that state.

"... hey Y/N. I knew you were always better"

#pati writes #jonathan crane x platonic!reader #jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow x platonic!reader #twojar kiteman #unburied riddler #riddler x reader #edward nygma x reader #arkham anarky #anarky x reader #anarky x platonic!reader #kiteman x reader #kiteman x platonic!reader

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fivefriedtofu · 2 years

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↳ ❝ ahoy there! ❞ | #thoma headcanons ; normal + modern au.

thoma w/ chubby cheeks? his fav petnames?? simp rambling??? & more!

ft. gn reader, the kamisato siblings, +1 bonus childe.

cw: none! completely sfw. only cringe romantic scenerios & maybe lots of mentions of kisses because i'm in love w/ him.

♡. edit: the link to the tiktok i added to the last headcanon (normal au) got deleted oh my god 😭

an: thoma go brrr. had to squeeze my brain like a powdered orange just so i could make this coherent enough to post.

i also wanna apologize if i've written some things that are suspiciously familiar to other works before. i only just noticed. i swear i don't know how it happens!! i've just never had an original thought i think _( ༎ຶ⌑༎ຶゝ∠)_ please forgive my sins.

pics: 🐶 🍡 🌿 (fun fact: the shiba's name is marutaro!!)

NORMAL AU!

we are married.

please consider... thoma with chubby cheeks.

irresistibly cute and soft.

ge ntly h olds... 🤲

the grannies at the market like to pull on them from time to time whenever he goes for groceries.

by the end of those days, he'd come home whining with aching cheeks.

"whining" i.e asking you for healing kisses? 🥺👉👈

he does not know how to swear.

thoma: "gee wilikers...", "oh to heck with it!", "gosh diddly darn it!"

ayato, tears in his eyes: pls,,, ju,,st say fuck,,

"he's a grown man with a job and pays taxes" ok maybe he does and just chooses not to BUT listen—

he says bejeebers in one of his voicelines 😭😭😭.

a cheesy romantic, the type to greet you with hand kisses. however ☝️👀

turn the tables and kiss his hands and he'll be reduced to mush.

secretly it's actually one of his favorite places for smooches. such hardworking hands, they deserve all the loving, don't they?

speaking of favorites, his favorite nicknames!

pretty boy, my prince, handsome — casually, politely, LOVINGLY he will pass away.

to be fair, he's a sucker for any sort of praise you give him but something about being called those just makes him feel so special.

BECAUSE HE IS. MUMUMU BESO MUUUWAH—

he makes me feel so soft and happy, he's like the song 'cloud 9' but personified.

this goes with any genshin character, but i'm a thoma simp. just,,, p,, please just imagine.

let me tell you, as a short person, i started screaming. rolled around my bed even, clutched my phone to my chest. at this age of mine. absolutely no shame, embarrassing ✋.

MODERN AU!

modern! thoma would probably enjoy the waitress musical.

his fav songs are 'what baking can do' and 'you matter to me.'

cried the first time he listened to the latter. cried again the next time he listened to it. they... were emotional days 😔.

enjoys musicals in general.

thoma/kamisato siblings theater kids canon i'm the left shoe of one of hyv's soundtrack artists.

he likes listening to them whenever he does chores and ends up singing along when he gets really into it.

doesn't really have the best singing voice, but he doesn't care. all that matters is that he's having fun 💪 king mentality.

and if you, as his s/o, decide to sing along with him ESPECIALLY IF IT'S A LOVE SONG DUET— shee, he just might propose to you then and there.

idk why but i feel like he'd be a swiftie. loves almost every one of her songs but lives for her 2010 era songs. gets so hyped for sparks fly.

his favorite animal crossing character is goldie and i will die on that.

i think he'd be a horror fan. specifically for spooky folklores and cryptids.

(based on that one voiceline of his - thoma's hobbies. also occasionally, he'll utter 'spooky stories...' if he's in your teapot.)

his youtube feed reccomends stuff like 'creepy urban legends from around the world' or 'inazuma's terrifying monster stories.'

when he's not in the mood to listen to music, he lets those vids play in the background instead.

thoma just vibing in his apron and cleaning gloves, waxing and polishing the floor with earphones in, listening to horror podcasts.

he is ANNOYING if he ever gets in a playful mood before going to bed.

both of you could just be peacefully cuddling, innocently talking about whatever until you fall asleep when he'll suddenly bring up a scary story he just learned. and as a result, ends up scaring you a bit.

too creeped to sleep now, you give his chest a soft smack, whining his name.

but then he just laughs! 😡 he's quick to apologize, but he's still laughing!!

as if pulling you in closer against himself, burying your face in his neck, and nuzzling into you will easily let that slide — nah, scoot away from his mean ass. ignore how he whines for you to come back.

he rolls across the bed and follows you. immediately wraps himself around you once he reaches where you placed yourself by the edge.

"noo, 'm sorry." he mumbles, lips brushing against your skin, you could feel him smile. "i'm sorry."

he sighs then plants a kiss against your temple. "here. this way no monsters will get you."

like an inconvenienced cat, you huff, burying your face into his chest. "cringe."

...

you turn back up and quickly press a kiss on his collarbone, before shoving your face back to where it hid.

ok but on the topic of the waitress musical, 'never ever getting rid of me' gives me huge childe vibes.

sorry if this ain't much, i'm fighting demons (ง｡•╭╮•｡)ง plus school just started.

#[ 💘 ] — thoma.#genshin thoma #thoma #genshin impact headcanons #thoma headcanons #thoma x gn reader #thoma x reader #genshin headcanons #kamisato ayaka #kamisato ayato #childe #kamisato siblings #— i hope the way this is formatted doesn't look confusing.#— i'm really sorry if it's too hard to read 😭!

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calliecstuff · 20 days

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Writing Patterns Tag Game

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

Thanks @i-can-even-burn-salad for the open tag!

I post lots of short things (over on @calliecwrites), so let's see:

TooPowerfulException: program terminated. (Self-Sacrifice)

Final transmission from scout on Planet Theta-B-49. Priority: ultra. (The Stuff of Nightmares)

We had lived in fear of the angels since the earliest times. (The Angels)

Once upon a time, the wolf looked out from Granny’s window. (Little Red Writing Hood)

Every year, winter came earlier, and the snows fell further south. (The Final Ice)

They called him evil, in the beginning, when he seized control. (Father Time)

I was last out of the building. I shook my head. “Still no sign of what happened.” (Ruins)

I slipped through the cracks. It was still my city, but, somehow, not my world. (Remembering)

Humans are weird. (Attraction)

“So you’re probably wondering why I called you in. I’ll cut to the chase. Firstly, we want to promote you for your exceptional work. But – and please don’t be alarmed – you should know that, technically, no one who works here is human. Except for you.” (The Dark)

Being a bit loose with 'first line' here (first sentence? first paragraph?) - but I'm not seeing much of a pattern. Except that they're short? And maybe that I've been posting more sci-fi than fantasy recently.

Tagging @leahnardo-da-veggie @bodoramzap @frostedlemonwriter @taleweaver-ramblings and anyone else who wants to have a go!

#writeblr #tag game

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thepeculiarbird · 6 months

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youtube

I love that song and I think that fits almost perfectly Jacob in the first book

the lyrics :

My Grand-pops was a man of respect, had to sweat Just to cash checks working from sun-rise to set Every day he'd get challenged, no trades or talents Barely scraped by, he found faith to balance the straight line And pace feeling worn and grey Poor with four seeds, one more on the way It was hard days indeed all work and no play He made sure things on the surface were okay, but Something disturbin' within his mind was lurkin' A slight twilight breeze would ease in through the curtains at night

It's like the sermon of a twisted apparition Was urging him to listen to the train in the distance At first it wasn't intense, just one little instance Sure, it didn't occur, he turned to resist it As if it wasn't much more than just a figment Of his imagination but for days it was persistent And it went, "follow me, follow me. follow me, follow me" then it got louder "Follow me, follow me, I have something to show you"

With time people noticed he was actin berserk Granny got a call saying he was absent from work And that was a first She ran to the pastor at church To ask him what was up with this disastrous curse But bad went to worse

He came back three days after, no money in his wallet and his shirt on backwards Stumbling, walked awkward he called out for his daughter Right before he split the last lesson he taught her was this "If you ever have a son let him know that his granddad loves him But by the time that he's grown Be sure this seed is sown deep down into his dome Don't ever ever walk to the train tracks alone"

With that he backed up reached out for his jacket Told her not to act up and cracked up laughin' After all that happened he left never to be seen Fifteen years later is when my mother had me Her dad lived a life people can't understand Went from a, family man to rambling man A gambling man that burned both ends of the candle Folded his hand in it was too hot to handle

Sitting on the tracks waiting for the night train Looking down the road ain't never gonna go back Listen for the whistle through the wind and raindrop Who's gonna ride the devil's train tonight? Sitting on the tracks waiting for the night train Looking down the road ain't never gonna go back Listen for the whistle through the wind and raindrop Who's gonna ride the devil's train tonight?

When I was a tot my mom dropped fables and stories To warn me of the dangers that were layin before me To keep it interestin' she would hide the lesson To guide my direction, provide the right message In time I developed a sense of her embellishment Since I was rebellious against what she was tellin' me When I was a teen I pretended that my demons were friends I defended the place. yo and that was the case Slurred speech drippin' off of my face The world creeped as I slipped to the awfulest place you could imagine

Not the average things you see on acid My granddad bloody hovering on a speaker cabinet Laughing in a rasp, he turned covered in maggots That snacked on his ass with a bone, I couldn't grasp it Did a double dismount off of the couch, flipped out Broke the closest window I found, then I dipped out Suddenly, I discovered little voices mumbling up in my head It had me wondering what was it my mother said Back when I was younger it had my brain ragged As I stumbled off of the night towards the train tracks

So there I was, stalking through the dark with a buzz I figured I should walk that'll ease me off of these drugs It's like a shark had to keep movin' it's that or be ruined If I sat still I was doomed and that wasn't doin' So I marched through the park slow gone like Donnie Darko The sparkle of the starlight, glowed like charcoal Despite my demeanor The night seemed more serene than a morphine fiend in a morgue scene Like I lost it, that was when my grand-pops carcass emerged from the dark Gurggling his words of carnage, but he couldn't talk

Something about the birth of sadness I scurried off, I was on the verge of madness I raced fast pace in the landscape was strange Like a plane parallel to this one but rearranged Came to a slope to a steep, beggin' for sleep As I climbed up taking my focus off of the creeps Within the foggy distance I saw a silhouette that got bigger as I stepped The train tracks were wet, I saw a shiny grin from afar like it was happy This is what he said as he started to walk passed me "It's a nice night for a walk, would ya mind if I joined you?"

"Do what you wanna do" "Well that's great cause I'm going to And not to annoy you but see I really have to ask What a young dude like you doin' out by the tracks? "you waiting on a traaain?"

"Nah man let me explain I'm mindin' my business so maybe you should do the same I just been a witness to something sick and sadistic So twistedly disgusting you should feel real lucky you missed it."

"Ooh easy with the tongue son, try to listen carefully What you seen's scary but nothing can compared to me I could show you things that paint all your dreams haunted Or I could make you scream if I wanted Or I can be the bee in your body, your best-friend forever And you never have a need to beg work or steal If all this sounds worth it then lets make a deal All you want in life for price of your soul All the money you can fold, power that you can hold I'll put you in control, only if you're down to roll down these train tracks tonight."

"But where we gonna go?" Sitting on the tracks waiting for the night train Looking down the road ain't never gonna go back Listen for the whistle through the wind and raindrop Who's gonna ride the devil's train tonight? Sitting on the tracks waiting for the night train Looking down the road ain't never gonna go back Listen for the whistle through the wind and raindrop Who's gonna ride the devil's train tonight?

Edit :

#mphfpc #jacob portman #song #the lab rats #devil's train #Youtube #the vibe in general fits him

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kotos-and-smiles · 1 year

Text

Ch.122 Rambling

As I often am, I’ll be referring to tessenpai‘s rough tl which you can find here

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR CH.122 OF KOT!

Finally got around to reading the newest chapter of kot last week (brainrot for another thing has been taking over my life) and it’s just so amazing. Had some thoughts I felt like sharing and also remembered some of the Discord discussions about this chapter too. So, some things that stuck out to me: Granny (Shizune) is still so iconic, just being like oh yeah, thought I heard some people making a ruckus, makes sense it’s the Tokise kids, but also those are her grandchildren. Chika just loves being a grandkid and I can’t handle it. Like, he was so damn happy to be called Shizune’s grandkid, and he literally can’t really have that with actual familial relations anymore at this point. Chika deserves every good parent/grandparent figure he can find. Love Satowa joining the hive mind of the Sane, Kota, and Mittsu, though she still probably has a braincell to herself. That moment where Sentarou’s grandma mentions being in the hospital and just how obvious Chika’s reaction is when you know his thoughts just immediately went to his grandpa, it’s just so painful, and Satowa noticing is so significant.

There are so many instances, especially earlier on in the manga, where we have Chika noticing little emotional reactions from Satowa when something affects her, and so I love seeing that Satowa is also tuned into Chika and notices his reactions too. It’s all coming full circle. And I’m hoping this is also setting up Satowa actually asking Chika about his past. She’s wondered about it before, but a lot of what she knows is from other people, friends who have known Chika for longer, telling her things or things she learned with the whole Uzuki situation. I’d love to see a conversation where Chika opens up to Satowa about it, also because I think it’d be nice if she knew the whole story and for Chika to be able to share that with someone, much as she shared her story with him. It helps to understand one another better, as well as being able to ease the burden of the past a little.

Sentarou’s grandmother almost immediately melting at Chika’s offering to help because she sees the pure intentions despite the bad manners. He’s so eager to do what he can for her, especially once he notices how it might be harder for her to maneuver around a crowd to find a seat. Love that Satowa steps in after he leaves and thanks Sentarou’s grandma for understanding Chika’s feelings. Like, I just so love that, it’s like she’s trying to smooth it over a little and show manners while at the same time genuinely thanking her for not just judging him and actually understanding his feelings. I just, ugh, them. It’s an understanding from Satowa of just how much interactions like this mean to Chika. And Kota looks so serious when he says “true!” to Sane’s statement about how Chika’s such a granny’s/grandpa’s boy.

Tomoe needs to snap the hell out of it, cuz she witnessed Chika being the cutest doing such a pure, innocent thing, helping someone and waving to a young kid as he was doing it, like girl needs to get over it, and I’m excited to see her come around sometime. Just let Chika live and be the sweet grandchild he is in anyway he can be! She seems to be getting it a little, but hasn’t completely broken free of her prejudice. Her memories of seeing Chika interact nicely with people did give me an excuse to look up this moment again though, so that’s nice

Akari deserves all the love and support he’s getting from his friends, both in and outside the club. His friends that came to see him are so sweet! They’re there not knowing anything about koto, having traveled all that way, purely to see their friend play, and that’s so sweet. And love the teamwork of the club and how much they’re supporting each other and especially Akari. Takinami has been such a mood lately, and I love it so much! Like, him trying to buy alcohol a couple chapters ago, and now him overhearing Keishi talking to Akari’s friends and just thinking disdainfully “extroverts” or as is pointed out more accurately “monsters of communication” which I think feels very accurate. Like, I don’t want random people to communicate with me. (Usually well intentioned) monsters indeed.

I love, as always, seeing commentary on the music through Tokise. It still gives little tidbits of the characters while focusing on the music. Even Momoya seemed like he liked the performance so far.

Think it’s cool that Sentarou, even playing alongside 2 17-stringers, has the power and presence to not get drowned out. Like, that was a cool moment. I really don’t want to discuss the last pages. They were simply so painful after such a nice performance and the chapter that got us to care about Akari. This just isn’t fair and my heart aches. Hope for the best resolution next chapter, but it could go either way. He’s a very new player and we’ll have to see if he can recover from this mistake. But just, oof, it hurt to see that. Akari is just so genuine and trying his best, and I hate to see him mess up like this especially when I know he’s gonna feel like he let down his Senpai. It’s just something you never wanna see happen. Especially with his friends watching too. Amazing storytelling though. I’m way more attached to Eidai than I thought I’d be honestly.

So yeah, that’s just a little collection of thoughts that got way longer than I expected.

#kono oto tomare #kono oto tomare!#kono oto tomare manga #kono oto tomare spoilers #kudou chika #kot #kot!#houzuki satowa

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