#not entertaining counter arguments or rationalizations

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [5] - Unyielding

A.N: Here’s the new chapter my loves! ❤️ Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Certain arguments can’t wait.

Word Count: 3600

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, drinking. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

For a couple of seconds, you could do nothing but stare at him with wide eyes, frozen in your seat.

“Excuse me?”

“Just hear me out before you grab your gun, it would—” he started but you scoffed and stood up from the lounge chair, the familiar anger rushing through you so fast that it almost made your head spin.

“Do you think this is funny?”

He shook his head fervently. “I’m completely serious.”

A dry laugh spilled from your lips. “Oh really?”

“Charm…”

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but my stupid little crush on you went away years and years ago,” you growled, glaring daggers at him. “You made sure of that, so if you dare assume for even a moment—”

“Oh my God, that was the wildest bachelorette I’ve ever been to!” Becca’s voice cut you off as she pushed open the door and stepped into the rooftop. “Also I’m pretty sure I’m in love now, so…” she stopped when her eyes fell on you two. “Uh, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you said after a beat and threw your shoulders back. “Did you just say you’re in love?”

“Yeah!”

Bucky stole a look at Becca. “Who did you fall in love with?”

“That’s a long story. What’s going on in here?”

You pursed your lips together, your heart still beating in your ears as you tried to focus through the fury, then cleared your throat.

“We were—”

“Y/N, we’re leaving!” you heard Ian’s voice and your head whipped around, then you cleared your throat.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” you said, pressing a kiss on her cheek in a rush. “Let’s get coffee at the usual place?”

“Uh, sure?” she said slowly and you walked out of the rooftop like someone was chasing you, without sparing Bucky so much as a glance.

The road back home was considerably quiet but it did nothing to silence the chaos in your mind. You had excused yourself to your room as soon as you got home, but after an hour of tossing and turning in the bed, you huffed out and kicked the covers off of you, sitting up in the bed.

This was nonsense.

There was no scenario in which you’d marry Bucky. You weren’t even sure you could spend more than half an hour together without being at each other’s throats, let alone being an actual couple—

Not that you had thought about it.

Much.

Fine, back when you were younger and Bucky hadn’t ripped your heart out yet, you used to spend a lot of time thinking about you and him ending up together. He was your best friend’s cool older brother and you were both heirs to your families’ empires, so your little crush let your imagination run wild.

And then he had broken your heart but after everything, even now, your imagination still liked to conjure him up in your dreams some nights.

But unlike before, you weren’t an idiot. You knew what kind of an asshole he was, so there was no way you could even entertain that stupid proposal, no matter what kind of a promise of power it held.

You rubbed at your eyes and got up from the bed, then padded your way down the hallway, then went down the spiral stairs. You stretched out your arms over your head as you followed the hallway to the kitchen where the light was coming from, as you knew it would, then peeked your head in.

Oh good.

It was just Jennifer, your genius chef who was now busy with making a sandwich on the counter while Ryan sat on one of the chairs, his hands clasped together, his back completely straight. Ryan was Ian’s right hand, -ex military, as much as you knew- but unlike Ian, he was much calmer and rational. He was tall and very muscular and didn’t like to talk much, and that added more to the air of mystery he held, considering no one seemed to know much about his past, or his personal life.

“Hey,” you knocked on the door, making both of them turn their heads. “Is this a bad time?”

“Not at all!” Jennifer said as Ryan stood up from his chair.

“Ma’am.”

“Oh don’t!” you motioned at him. “Please don’t stand up, I just…I couldn’t sleep so I figured—”

“Warm milk with honey and cinnamon?” Jennifer finished your sentence for you, making you smile and nod your head.

“Yes please,” you said and pulled yourself a chair, resting your elbows on the counter. Ryan eyed you, then sat down as well.

“There you go!” Jennifer said, putting the plate in front of him, then smiled at him. “Chef’s special sandwich.”

“Thanks Jen,” Ryan said, his voice gruff and Jennifer turned to you.

“Would you like one as well?”

“Ah no, thank you,” you said and heaved a sigh. Jennifer stole a look at you.

“Are you alright?”

“Too many thoughts,” you muttered, leaning your chin on your fist. “Ryan, are you married?”

Ryan’s head shot up as he chewed on his bite, then cleared his throat.

“No ma’am.”

“Any partner?”

“No ma’am.”

“He’s single,” Jennifer said with a grin. “And all my friends are very eager to change that.”

Ryan offered her an almost abashed smile and shifted his weight on the chair as if he was uncomfortable with the sudden attention while Jennifer put your glass of honeyed milk with cinnamon in front of you with a couple of cookies on the plate.

“Thank you so much,” you said as you took a sip, then bit on the cookie.

“Jen, you’re married and in love, right?”

“And I’m also the luckiest woman in the world in addition to all that,” she said, making you smile.

“Do you think people could get married to people they hate?”

“Why would anyone get married to someone they hate?” she asked and Ryan took a huge bite of his sandwich, looking between you.

“Common interests,” you said. “I don’t know, I had this strange thought…”

Jennifer tilted her head. “What?”

You heaved a sigh, then shook your head.

“Nothing,” you said. “Don’t mind me. Just some late-night thoughts, that’s all.”

                                                 *

By the time you met up with Becca, you still couldn’t stop thinking about last night and Bucky’s proposal, if you could even call it that. It was nonsense, you knew it was, but considering Becca was your best friend, the mere thought of keeping it from her was simply absurd.

“He proposed?” Becca asked, gawking at you. “He actually proposed?”

“Well it was technically a business proposal.”

“And a marriage proposal at the same time?”

You shrugged your shoulders while the waiter filled your coffee cup.

“You know…” Becca trailed off. “Hypothetically speaking—”

“You cannot tell me this is a good idea.”

“I’m not but think about it,” she insisted. “You and Buck already hate each other kinda, so you’re technically already married. You just skipped like ten years into it and got to the resentment part.”

“Becca!”

“You fight like a married couple.”

“If some married couple is fighting like me and Bucky, they should get a divorce,” you pointed out, leaning back in your seat. “I blocked his number, and just…ugh the nerve of the guy, can you believe him?!”

“Mm hm.” Becca said, sipping her matcha before checking her phone. “Oh thank God!”

“What?”

“Sarah is coming to the club this weekend,” she said and pointed at you. “So are you, right?”

“Yeah, me and Ethan.”

“What?”

“I’m bringing Ethan with me,” you explained. “I had to ditch him today, we were supposed to meet for lunch but as you can tell, this couldn’t wait.”

“My brother asking you to marry him even if you hate his guts? Yeah, that beats lunch with the cute ex.”

“And you know, since we’ve been texting a lot, I figured…”

“Yeah yeah, bring him over!” Becca said. “It’ll be fun—oh my God, so my brother’s audacity and ego aside, I need to tell you about the girl I met last night.”

“Yeah, I was going to ask you!” you said. “You said you were in love?”

“I am!” she said with a smile. “You know, I was thinking I could invite her and some friends as well, but now that I think about it, maybe I could just take a page from Bucky’s book and open with a marriage proposal.”

“Becca!”

“I’m just saying, we can just skip to the happily married part, flirting is a waste of time at this point and—”

“You’re not doing that!”

Becca let out a laugh.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Just because it didn’t work for him doesn’t mean it wouldn’t work for me.”

“It wouldn’t work for anyone, Becca,” you told her and she hummed.

“I’ll just say one thing about this, then I’ll talk about the love of my life, alright?”

“Alright,” you said and she turned her cup in the saucer, then clicked her tongue.

“You and Bucky being married is an absurd idea yes,” she said. “But he did have a point.”

“How is that?”

“Well, I’ll ask you the same thing my aunt asked me when I took my civilian boyfriend to my cousin’s wedding, and I have a feeling your answer will be different than mine.”

“Which is?”

She smiled at you mischievously.

“Do you want love poems, or do you want power?”

Your eyes shot up to hers before you shifted your weight, then motioned at her with your hand.

“Come on,” you said. “Enough about that. Tell me about the love of your life.”

                                                     *

You and Becca ended up spending the whole day together, and by the time you decided you would go back home, it was already dark outside. Watching outside as the driver drove you home, you leaned your head on the window, then felt your phone buzzing in your purse so you grabbed it, smiling slightly at the name before answering it.

“Hey there.”

“Hi,” Ethan’s voice reached you, and you could tell he was smiling as well. “How was your day?”

“It was good,” you said. “Full of romance.”

“Romance?”

“Becca is in love,” you said and he let out a whistle.

“Your best friend Becca?”  

“Oh yeah,” you said. “I had to talk her out of looking at bridal shops, but we still went cake tasting.”

“Does this person know they’re getting married to Becca?”

“That’s just a small detail,” you joked, making him chuckle. “She invited her to the club for the weekend, I’m pretty excited to meet her. How about you?”

“Do you find data analyzing romantic?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then it was less romantic than your day.”

“And the hospital?” you asked and he took a deep breath.

“Oh everything is fine. Should be free of the bandages next week.”

You bit inside your cheek. “I still feel responsible—”

“Don’t,” he cut you off. “Seriously. The incident had nothing to do with you.”

“Mm hm.”

“Besides, you can’t really blame the rollercoaster if someone gets hurt on one.”

“No one is supposed to get hurt on a rollercoaster,” you pointed out and he thought for a moment.

“Okay in hindsight, it wasn’t the best analogy…”

You pulled your brows together. “Wait, am I the rollercoaster?”

“No! No, you’re sitting next to me on the rollercoaster,” Ethan explained. “We’re both riding it.”

“That’s not—” you started but a black sports car wheezed past yours and sharply drifted sideways as soon as it got in front of your car so that yours would have to stop.

“I’ll call you back Ethan,” you said and hung up the phone, your heart skipping a beat as you grabbed the gun from underneath the seat, looking to your right to see your bodyguards’ car stopping as well. The driver lowered the partition as the bodyguards stepped out of the car.

“It’s Mr. Barnes’ personal car, ma’am,” he said. “I know the plate.”

“Oh Jesus Christ…” you murmured as you put the gun back to where it was and opened your door, then stepped outside at the same time Bucky left his car. Your bodyguards hesitated as soon as they saw him, looking between you and you waved a hand in the air.

“It’s fine guys,” you said and turned to Bucky. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Bucky shrugged his shoulders as if nothing was wrong.

“You blocked my number,” he said. “It’s not like I can text you.”

“And what, it wasn’t enough of a clue?” you asked tersely and Bucky nodded in the direction of his car.

“Come on, get in. We’re going to talk.”

You crossed your arms. “Nope.”

“Charm for fuck’s sake…”

“I’m not going to talk to you, and I’m certainly not getting in your car.”

“You seriously want to do this right here on the road?”

You threw your hands up in frustration. “You are the one who’s blocking the road, motherfucker!”

You could see the petrified expressions on your bodyguards’ faces before one of them gazed up at the sky while the other one put his hands into his pockets and kicked at a tiny pebble on the road, both desperately trying to look like they weren’t hearing you two.

“Listen—”

“I will not,” you retorted. “What is your deal, seriously?”

“We need to talk about last night,” Bucky said and out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the bodyguards exchanging glances, so you gritted your teeth and grabbed Bucky’s arm to pull him to the other side of the car in an attempt to get more privacy.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you said through your teeth and Bucky ran a hand over his face.

“No I’d say there’s plenty to talk about,” he said. “I mean you didn’t even give me an answer—”

“That poor excuse of a joke doesn’t deserve an answer.”

“It wasn’t a joke to me.”

“Well, it was to me.”

He shook his head slightly.

“Just—” he said. “Why not?”

You raised your brows, gawking at him in disbelief and a look of realization dawned on his face before he heaved a sigh.

“Charm…”

You shot him a mocking smile, crossing your arms.

You and Becca sneaking into nightclubs wasn’t a new thing, and now that you were leaving for college in a month, you were trying to spend as much time together as possible. Becca threw her arm over your shoulder as you walked through the crowd to the bar.

“Two martinis please,” she told the bartender and he took a look at you two, but before he could say anything the other bartender muttered something into his ear, then motioned at you.

“Coming right up,” he ended up saying as you turned to Becca.

“So you were saying?”

“Yeah like, he keeps saying he’s too busy but I’m not buying it—ugh, you gotta be kidding me!”

You frowned, then followed her line of sight to see Bucky and Steve stepping outside from the other exit that led to the back alley behind the club, your heart starting to beat faster.

“Where are they going?”

“They’re probably gonna beat someone up, who cares?” Becca said with a shrug of her shoulders. “He’s in such a mood nowadays, I’m not even gonna let him know I’m here. Arrogant asshole.”

You tilted your head. “…Oh?”

“He and daddy had a huge fight the other night,” she said as she took the drink from the bartender while he put the other one in front of you. “Like my mom had to step in because they were at each other’s throats, that kind of a fight.”

“Why?”

Becca shrugged again. “It’s probably about business. The golden heir made a mistake I guess.”

You took a sip of your drink. “Interesting.”

“Yeah and then he went and broke up with Laura.”

Your head shot up. “They broke up?”

“Yeah!” Becca said. “Which, I’m not sorry at all because she was so annoying, but no girl in the world deserves to get dumped by Bucky so I have mixed feelings about the situation.”

You could feel the small glimmer of hope warming your chest and you pursed your lips together, then cleared your throat.

“I just—I forgot I was gonna call my dad, he gets so mad when I don’t let him know,” you said. “I gotta step outside for a moment, I’ll be right back.”

“Okay!” Becca said and you made your way through the dance floor before reaching the second exit, but before you could open the door, Steve had already beaten you to it.

“Y/N,” he said when he saw you. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you smiled at him. “Um—have you seen Bucky?”

Steve looked over his shoulder, then turned to you with an apologetic smile.

“He’s not…” he trailed off. “He’s not in the best mood.”

“Oh that’s okay,” you said and pushed the door open before he could say anything else, then stepped outside, holding your phone for the sake of appearance. When you saw him, Bucky’s bodyguards were dragging a nearly unconscious man out of the alley while he wiped the blood off his knuckles with a tissue, then lit a cigarette.

You could feel your heart beating in your ears, but you bit down on your lip, fixing your dress before clearing your throat.

“Bucky?”

He turned his head when he heard his name, then exhaled the smoke.

“Hey Charm,” he greeted you, making your heart skip a beat. “Is Becca here too?”

You bit inside your cheek, trying not to get discouraged by that, then nodded your head.

“Um, yeah we just got here.”

“Great,” he murmured. “Tell her not to drink too much, will you?”

You nodded again and smiled at him, your hand shaky a little as you fixed your dress again, desperately hoping it looked good on you.

“I didn’t know you would be here.”

“Yeah well, here I am,” he said, taking a drag of his cigarette, leaning back to the brick wall and you licked your lips.

“And are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“Oh, just...” you stammered. “Becca mentioned you and Laura.”

Bucky shrugged his shoulders. “Happens. I’m fine, it was my call.”

Dear God, he was so handsome that you could just stare at him for hours.  

“Are you going to that gala thing as well?” you asked, nervousness pulsing through your system. “My dad is basically dragging me there, is George doing the same?”

His jaw clenched at the mention of his father, and he nodded quietly, exhaling the smoke.

Your voice was trembling a little, your throat incredibly dry because of the nervousness mixed with anticipation, but you still managed to get the words out.

“So I was thinking, do you—um—do you wanna go together?”

That managed to get his attention and he pulled his brows together, then let out a dry laugh.

“Jesus Christ…” he muttered. “What, you rushed here as soon as you heard about me and Laura? Seriously?”

You pulled back slightly, your stomach doing a flip and you shook your head.

“No, I just—”you stammered, tears stinging the back of your eyes already. “I was just thinking—”

“Listen, I know you don’t see it right now, but this little crush of yours is just…” he trailed off with a small chuckle, motioning between you. “It’s kind of adorable, but it’s not going to happen. If I go to that gala with you, you’ll get your hopes up, so will everyone else around us and I’ll end up trapped in something serious—which is out of question. I can’t trust you with the business, not when you’d probably report everything back to your own family and I can’t afford a mistake, not right now.”

You tried to blink back the tears, staring at him as he threw the cigarette butt on the ground, then put his hands in his pockets and shrugged.

“Not to mention,” he said. “I don’t go for daddy’s spoiled whiny princess type, and you’d be better off with a nicer guy anyway.”

You could feel the sobs threatening to climb up your chest, so you sniffled and turned around to rush back into the club, leaving him there before he could say anything else.

“Don’t tell me that’s the reason,” Bucky’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts and you arched a brow.

“I said nothing.”

“It was what, almost ten years ago?” he asked. “I was an idiot—”

“I am really not interested in whatever this bullshit is,” you told him. “And I’m going to be late for dinner, so…”

“Just hear me out first—”

You looked over your shoulder and motioned at the driver.  “Turn the car around please!”

The driver did as you asked but before you could step away from Bucky, he grabbed your arm.

“Charm, I can help you get the power you want,” he insisted as you rolled your eyes. “You might hate me right now, but you know I can do that. Just let me get you that crown.”

“We’re done here.” You yanked your arm out of his grip and walked to the car but stopped when you reached it, turning your head to look at him.

“I’m not going to marry you Bucky,” you called out, fully aware that the bodyguards could hear you, and the mere thought gave you a strange sense of satisfaction. “I would never marry you. I don’t go for the arrogant asshole type, and you’d be better off with a nicer girl anyway.”

 With that you got in the car, and the driver started driving as soon as you slammed the door shut, the car gliding down the road smoothly.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered to yourself and leaned your head back, closing your eyes. “The fucking audacity.”

Chapter 6

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky x reader #mob! bucky #mob boss!bucky #mob bucky x reader #mob bucky barnes x reader #mob bucky #mob bucky barnes #bucky x reader #mafia bucky x reader #mafia!bucky barnes #mafia!bucky #mafia bucky barnes #mob au

[actual-changeling]

i think it's funny that whenever i post something about aziraphale not caring about individual humans—only humanity as a concept—the ONLY counter argument everyone always throws at me is 'he gave his flaming sword away'.

mate.

that was six thousand years ago. LITERALLY fresh out of heaven, to the only two humans in existence, who were the entirety of humanity at that point.

let's look at what he's like in more recent years, yes?

ah yes, telling a person living in an alley that her girlfriend is going to hell with a smile. what a kind person. and the wonderful follow-up which sounds like it is straight out of some conservative, capitalistic asshole's mouth.

and fun fact, someone like that has said THOSE EXACT WORDS to me at some point.

crowley asking the real questions here like always

but hey, that was 1827, maybe he was just having a bad year. or decade. or century.

what about the present day? see, crowley is terrified of gabriel and hates his guts, but do you know what he does? he answers his questions very patiently. he is kind. once he realises gabriel isn't pretending he makes him hot chocolate and tries to help him remember, he empathizes.

aziraphale's patient is non-existent. he yells at him immediately, gets frustrated with the most simple questions, refuses to interact with him and leaves crowley with him after crowley told him "what i NEED is for him to be nowhere near me". how considerate. but hey, maybe he was just having a bad time.

job! he was kind in job, right?

except that he doesn't care about job losing his house, his farmstead, all of his animals being slaughtered and only has a problem with the children dying; which he then tries to rationalize away with his fucking "that's not what god wants" shtick.

meanwhile crowley already has plans to protect the animals AND the children AND job and sitis as best he can.

the flood? perfectly alright to drown everyone, including innocent animals and children! it is god's plan, and what do a few humans mean in god's great big ineffable plan, huh?

then again, he doesn't show much empathy for god's son either when he's being nailed to the cross. french revolution and people being beheaded? oh yes, sure, dreadful—anyway i'm just here for the crepes, the dying humans are just background noise, let's not do anything about that even though it is literally my fucking job as an angel. but noooo. he got peckish and then had lunch. what a fucking hero.

'accidentally' killing a dove because he just had to shove it up his sleeve for a magic act.

someone getting shot and dying? because i was careless? don't care. anyway.

armageddon and all of humanity dying? don't care either until i realise what i personally would lose and then i suddenly give a shit.

centuries upon centuries of aziraphale piling up money and he rather terrorizes poor people than entertain giving them a single dime. crowley has to remind and talk him into it, and as thanks he gets dragged down to hell and tortured.

aziraphale is dripping kindness, isn't he? and all of this doesn't even take into account the ball—human puppet show for his own amusement, this is supervillain shit and you know it—or all the other times he ignored human suffering so he wouldn't be personally inconvenienced.

and ALL OF THAT does not take into account how fucking horribly he treats crowley before time even existed.

aziraphale is not unkind. on a big scale, he cares about humanity, he cares about being nice, being good. he wouldn't intentionally harm someone, but he does not care enough to not be careless—he IS careless, and does NOT care if it kills creatures or humans.

his own personal wants and comfort trump everything else, and that is canon, it is text, it is fact. if you have any canonical examples of aziraphale being genuinely kind simply to be kind, not to be selfishly altruistic, please do add them, i'm serious! if you think i'm wrong, prove me wrong. everything i just listed exists in canon, so please, do the same in return.

giving his sword to adam and eve six thousand years ago does not magically erase everything that came after and it does not give him a free pass to behave however he wants, no matter the cost.

#alex talks good omens #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable wives #ineffable spouses #ineffable divorce #the final fifteen #good omens meta #getting ready for the hate in 3 2 1 #it's a monday and i'm being overly sarcastic but i'm fucking tired of everyone always yelling at me and giving only one example #as if that invalidates everything i say #just fuck off instead of harassing me babes

[mistydeyes]

HIIII CONGRATS ON 1k!!!!!!!!! “crystal glasses” w kyle maybe?? ur angst prompts r so good as an angst lover it’s so difficult to choose🫶🫶 THANKS💕💕!!

thank you so much anon! and ahh I love that everyone enjoys these prompts the angst ones are just TOO good

link to the prompt list and 1k celebration!

prompt: crystal glasses - a fight ends with shattered wine glasses and someone is left to pick up the pieces

pairing: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x fem!reader

warnings: SWEARING, violence, angst, kyle highkey being a dick when you call out his savior complex

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

Fights with Kyle were rare. In fact, they seldom happened as you both would logically worked through the argument and find the root of the issue. However, that all went out the window when you both had been drinking. Something about alcohol fueled your anger and all the repressed feelings came to the surface. What had started as a nice night of drinks with friends, had ended with you both arguing and slamming the flat door as Kyle angrily went on about someone who had hit on you. He did this every time, you grew embarrassed at the amount of screaming matches he had gotten into with other patrons. You poured a glass of wine as he continued his fruitless tangent.

"Why the fuck would you entertain them? They were clearly trying to shag you," he yelled as you choked down the bitter red liquid. You looked at him angrily as he turned the argument to you. "Oh so now it's my fault?" you challenged back, "it's my fucking fault for just talking to someone and having them get the wrong idea." Normally, Kyle would relent and apologize for his accusatory behavior but he was too forgone with his opinion. "Then why did you just look at me blankly then when I said I was your boyfriend?" he continued and now held the wine bottle to his angered face. "God, Kyle," you said bitterly, "way to go fucking blaming me for some asshole." You laughed cynically as he just stared and breathed heavily. "You always make it a fucking issue when you can't come in and be the hero," you mumbled and the air grew silent.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he countered and you swallowed as this had opened up another hidden sentiment you held. His words sounded slurred as the amount of liquor from the night began to hit you both. You looked at him through a harsh gaze before you replied. "You fucking heard me," you started and took a step back to establish some distance, "You always get so riled up when I'm not bowing to your feet and thanking my savior." He was about to speak up before you stopped him. "Don't even try to argue with me, you always find a way to make me feel bad about shit like this!" You secretly hated going out with Kyle as no matter what the context, he always found a way to flaunt your relationship and his military status. "God you know I thought I actually was helping but maybe you want to go home with one of those pricks," he replied and what he continued next made your blood boil, "maybe I'll just let them take my whore of a partner."

At the utterance of the term, you stood there in shock. "What did you just say to me?" you practically screamed at him and he had a sick smile on his face. "Just saying what I see, a fucking whore," he replied and that was the final straw. You looked down at the half drank a bottle of wine before angrily throwing the liquor in his face and the glass on the ground nearby. He jumped back slightly and held his jaw as he felt the wine soak his chest. A string of swears followed as you grabbed your things in haste and ignored his shouts. Grabbing your phone, you blocked out his continuing conversation and attempt to rationalize his opinion. "Just stop fucking talking," you screamed back and stepped around the shattered wine glass. You hastily grabbed your coat as he stood with clenched fists at the kitchen counter. "Oh so what you're gonna call me a whore and then fucking hit me?" you asked sarcastically and he held his hands to his side. "Where are you going?" he said more quietly than before and you started to see maybe a semblance of sobriety from him. "I'm going to fucking let someone take your whore of a partner," you replied and flipped him off before walking out the door and heading to a friend's house.

#kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #call of duty #mw2 imagine #madebyizzie #gaz imagine #kyle garrick imagine #mw2 #izzie is writing #izzie celebrates 1k

[futureplayboibunnie]

‘Sincere’

Dr Strange x fem! reader

- OH MY FUCKING GOD. this is the longest smut fic i’ve ever done and i think it’ll remain my fav forevermore. dom!Stephen has me feral no joke. enemies to lovers is my niche. it’s my baby and i’m feeding y’all bc i spent so damn long on this one. enjoy u sluts x

he’s so fine i just wanna bake for him

Who's fault was it?

No one really knew.

It was simply one of those things the universe designed even though it was completely manufactured by you and Stephen alone. Resentment is a funny thing, it was a hilarious thing when you and Doctor fucking Strange were involved - how can two people who work together hate each other on such a cellular level? You weren't even sure how he even had the grounds to hate you, to be so sure of something when you couldn't even place how he even got to this conclusion. Well...that's a lie. It was something that you couldn't even get into. It wasn't even about petty insults or arguments anymore. Stephen was seriously messing with your head in ways you simply didn't have the time to comprehend.

Stephen was always so fast. Obnoxious. Relentless and an aphrodesiac.

He honestly thinks he has the skill set to fuck every woman he sees, it wasn't unheard of. Stephen Strange believed himself to be this sauve master of pulling women, knowing what makes them tick, knowing how to get them down and dirty for him. Prince fucking Charming...well…without the sunny personality and gentlemanly persona. Did he even know what object permanence was? Stephen was never one for relationships, this was something everyone knew and believed. His work, his duties always came first but he was prone to entertaining sometimes. Everyone knew he wasn’t one for relationships.

He literally believed that himself. Relationships were never really on the cards for a guy like him. But now, you were the card counter, skewing his game, cheating the game he himself made up.

You were stubborn. A tick under his skin. Born to hang on, born to win, born to never give up or change your opinion and the one he's come to expect the most from you- you were born to never finish an argument. Arguments between you and Stephen can brew out of lot of things, stupid things, casual things- anything. Mission plans. Choice of weapon. Coffee. Fucking laundry. You would bicker like an old married couple and it was becoming distracting to the point where it would make people talk- at Kamar Taj, the Sanctum and the Avengers Compound. You both weren't safe anywhere. The last time he fucked you over it had gone too far, he exploited his photographic memory to point out every single thing you did wrong on the battlefield. Stephen can mock you, judge you for your rotten personality but he could never ever insult the way you carried out your work- he couldn't take that away from you. What made it worse is that he literally did it infront of everyone, your friends, peers and the people you respected.

The whole situation made you frustrated. And when the frustration builds and you think you could explode- you take a deep breath. You want to shout at his face, have a tantrum and beat your hands on the ground like a spoiled brat or rich kid that always get what they want. You want to vent, find the softest parts of him and just twist the knife. But do you really want to stoop to his level? It's just so easy to be cruel in the moment and then after that the damage is done- but that's the pussy way out, something someone with better judgement would obviously do. You weren't feeling warm and fuzzy about him at all, it was time to turn the tables on Stephen.

It was your turn to do your own sleuthing. It was more than he deserved.

Stephen was out of the Sanctum and you had nothing better to do...so you decided to do some snooping. A man always hides his secrets in his room and Stephen was no ordinary man so whatever he's hiding will defintely be worth your while.

Angry isn't a rational look on Stephen. He felt that there was a ghostly cord hanging upon his spine and pulling him back like a puppet on a string. You were the puppetmaster. As with most primitive emotions, when anger is directed by the logic, empathy and creativity of the higher brain, it becomes an element of the hero personality. Stephen often questioned if he was a hero sometimes, he definitely wasn't the hero in your story...he couldn't be after everything you've both been through. Women weren't a mystery to him. You weren't a mystery, you were a whole goddamn conspiracy. It's weird and it's like you took a small bite out of his brain and it sent him in a permanent zombie state. Stephen was at his wits end.

The Sanctum was like a barren landscape, no one was there and a sigh of relief escaped you. You were at Stephen's bedroom door and you actually felt a twinge of anxiety sever your nerve endings. He was so cunning, you were sure he could jump out at you at any moment.

The door was fucking solid, etched in ancient oak and runic markings. You were surprised when you tried for the door handle and it opened, creaking it open you were happy to see that he wasn't there. Your first thought when you viewed his room that it was so fucking Stephen. Perhaps you had paid a little more attention to him than you had realised. The thought was startling. Spellbooks were strewn all over the room, did he even take care of his sacred relics? They were priceless. The walls were artifact adorned and priceless paintings were hung and championed like trophies, you couldn't stifle your eye rolling at his pompous nature. It was like he was dedicated to being pretentious. Other than his books, his room was immaculate. He was such a clean freak and it obviously it had to come out in a place that he was supposed to be the most comfortable in. Stephen's bed was massive, it was so regal and royal. You wondered how many women he fucked in this very bed. The kind of positions he put them in, how many times he made them cum. You frowned at the thought.

Why should you even care?

Your legs instantly gravitated towards his bedside table. Men hide all sorts of things in their bedside table. You had to be quick, you had a mission briefing in like twenty minutes and you were sure the rest wouldn't be happy if you showed up late. Stephen's bedside was neat but it was freakishly neat, too neat- you knew he was hiding something. You opened it up and you damn near stopped breathing.

Your heart stopped. Full throttle.

The drawer was full of sex toys? You scoffed, eyes paling at the sight. Your fingers traced over the velveteen and you had to bite your lip to conceal your shit eating grin- now this was interesting. You pulled out and examined the silk blindfold. Blindfold? Jesus Christ. Stephen was into kink? Of course he was, it was glaring, clear as day but you couldn't really contain the extent of your surprise. Why was this pleasing you so goddamn much?

It's so telling.

What really caught your attention was these silver metal balls that were strung together by a thick woven string. Oh? You were curious as to what these did...how did Stephen- what did he….? Absolved in your own thoughts that you simply couldn't bridle, you couldn't even hear that Stephen was at the door.

He was stood there, bewildered at first to see you in his space, in his room. Stephen should've been mad- seething actually especially at you but he just let you do your snooping. You were such a curious little thing, curiosity was your on button and he honestly thought it could get you killed. But in this case he'd allow it, considering that look. He was pleased.

Very pleased indeed.

Why isn't he angry with you right now? Why isn't he screaming and yelling at you to get out? He was gawking at you like a fool but he was enjoying it, seeing you come to so many new revelations about him and what he was really like and what he really wanted.

‘’What are you looking for?’’ Stephen finally cracked through the silence with a condescending question. He knew what you were doing and you felt like you were being scolded by the principle for cheating.

‘’Uhm…dirt.’’ You said with a fake plastic dazzling smile.

‘’You find anything?’’ He raised a quizzical brow, already knowing what you were looking at.

‘’I'm finding out things about you that you'd rather go unseen.’’

‘’Are you blackmailing me?’’ Stephen asked as he was treading over to you, hoping to intimidate you slightly but you weren't backing down.

‘’No. I'm threatening you.’’

‘’Oh you're cold.’’ He smirked down at you, attempting to pysche you out to make you feel off your game but you were at your wits end, you were simply not prone to his mind games anymore.

‘’And you're a masochist. You get off on this?’’ You smirked at him as you dangle the silver balls inbetween your faces.

Stephen scoffed. ‘’You're probing on my private life and now you're morally policing me?’’

You had a puzzled look on your face and Stephen revelled in it. He took the time to look at you in this resolve and he simply couldn't resist applying a label on you- stunning- when you weren't pelting him with insults and ransacking his room, but it did build his adrenaline when you finally saw the real him. Passionate. Rageful. Intimate. You had a pretty face, a banging body...why not make you squirm and have fun in the process.

‘’What even are these?’’ You recoiled as you held them, genuinely confused as to what they did. How did you even wear them? What did they even do?

A devious idea was mentally forming in his head, although he wasn't sure if you'd agree to it, especially considering your feud. But you were here, peacefully discussing the use of sex toys. You'd definitely leave if you didn't want to be here. You were smirking up at him and he let a sly smile form on his face. God. He wanted to fuck that stupid smirk off of you. It'll happen soon enough.

‘’What, you want me to give you a crash course or something?'’ Stephen stared down at your glassy eyes, so unclear of what you were thinking.

Come on, you needed to give him some sort of direction, you were awfully distracting. He didn't have the time to bend you over now.

Your mouth was running itself before your brain could even check it.

‘’Yes. Actually.’’ You confirmed and Stephen couldn't really fathom you saying those words. Yes! ‘’Surprise me.’’ You chided, you seemed way too chipper about this idea.

Fucking hell. You felt the density of the air changed immintently, it thrummed against your brainwaves. Flirting? With Stephen Strange? Now he was going to show you...whatever those balls do.

Shit. He could make or break you right now.

‘’Open your mouth.’’ Stephen ordered softly. Your face paralysed in shock at his request and you found yourself mindlessly obeying his command-your curiosity outwon you again.

Your mouth popped open and Stephen was satisfied that you actually did what you were told for once.

Fuck, that mouth of yours. Your lips. Your body. He had blinders on it before but now you were flaunting yourself off for him, only him- even if you were disguising it at as an educational opportunity.

Stephen thought that you were as dirty a he was. He slipped the balls in that sweet wet mouth.

‘’We need to get them wet. Suck.’’ Stephen hummed, completely satisfied with himself. Although that was shaken when your eyes just widened and you weren't actually doing anything.

‘’I'm not gonna ask again.’’ His head tilted down, eyes darkening as he warned you again. He didn't have time to. You actually took his warning though, wich he was equally as surprised by.

You began suckling on it, they were smooth and cool and your mouth had a bizarre reaction to it. Jesus Christ. Images of you down on your knees sucking him off, choking and gagging around him made his dick twitch in his pants. What was he, fourteen? You flashed him a brazen look, giving him those fuck-me eyes, batting your lashes as if you were this innocent little thing- all lies. Sweet lies. Stephen dragged them out of your mouth and you let them go with a pop, letting out a shaky exhale afterwards.

‘’What was that for?’’ You asked and blinked up at him dumbly. You didn't even realise how pathetic you sounded.

‘’You'll see.’’ He quipped and that just made you even more nervous. ‘’Now turn. Bend over.’’ He said under his breath, attempting to conceal his obvious smile. You tensed yourself when he thought of you as that breakable. You were not breakable. Hell no.

Stephen Strange asked you to bend over. Fucking bend over. What was he going to do? What did he want to do? You never once imagined yourself doing what he asked, but once again you did. Lust can be fun, not trustworthy, but you didn't have time to think it through properly, no time under that dark deceptive gaze.

You bit your lip and perched yourself on his bed, arms holding you up. Wiggling your ass too to show that you can flirt. You shot him a teasing look and Stephen just wanted to take you now but you both had a mission briefing in about ten minutes.

Watching in pure disbelief, Stephen lowered to his knees and it was such an unexpected sight- you were sure you were dreaming. He had this stupid smug look on his face and it was so irritating, the anticipation and suspense was killing you. It was driving you mad. You shivered when Stephen pulled down your pants, it was fairly easy- you had no objections. He was face to face with your sweet ass, your underwear was cute, black, simple. Stephen wondered what you would look like in fine lingerie and sky scraper Louboutins. Nothing but Louboutins.

"Stephen... what-?’’ You were shaking, you couldn't even get out what you were trying to say without stammering like a jittering fool.

‘’Shh…Keep still for me.'’He cooed at you as he brought the balls up against your skin and it made goosebumps break out in hives.

Stephen pulled your underwear to the side with one finger and positioned the balls on your clit. You let out a breathy gasp as you felt him put them there, it was such a different sensation. It felt so heavy. So good. Your eyes widened at the feeling, mouth agape like a pathetic idiot. Any other day you would've reprimanded yourself for acting like this...but today was different. He was basking in the glory of the sounds you made, whimpering and whining even though you were trying to bite them back.

Stephen smiled when you let out a dry chuckle, he planted a kiss on your asscheek to show his appreciation. He pulled your pants back up and you were honestly feeling faint, the sensation of those metal balls on you finally showing up.

‘’Stand and turn around.’’ He demanded again.

You swallowed as you picked yourself back up and turned around. The look painted on his face told all, sly smile, bright eyes- he was up to no good. He hasn't even told you what they do yet. You let out a shaky exhale as the proximity between you was growing smaller and smaller.

"So Dr Masochist...floor me.’’ You teased.

‘’Oh just you wait and see.’’ He taunted and you frowned.

What the fuck? Was he seriously about to hold out on you? You had a fucking mission briefing in five minutes.

‘’Are you kidding?’’

‘’Let's see how you feel after the meeting's over.’’ You wanted to bash his face in.

You let the words settle in you and even then it never fully registered. this had to be some sort of practical joke, just another way to embarrass you. Now that was something he got off on. When you stared back into his eyes, it only confirmed he was deadly serious- but then again when was he not serious? Even when he was trying to flirt he was all serious and hard features.

There's no way this could end well...but you wouldn't be you without taking a few risks.

‘’Stephen, you can be so obtuse sometimes but I didn't think you'd be actually fucking crazy. For all I know, maybe this thing you put on my pussy is actually a fucking bomb or something.’’ You said breathlessly, contemplating whether or not this toy was actually a secret torture device- it would just twist the knife within you and you wouldn't be able to live it down.

Stephen would be able to hold this against you forever.

‘’A bomb? I haven't reached that level of kink yet but I'm sure we'll get there eventually.’’ He bit his lip as his eyes thinned down on you, completely enjoying himself and how these events may actually unfold.

Stephen grabbed your arm after conjuring a portal to the Compound and his touch made you shiver, your body had a viceral reaction to his touch and it honestly just left you confused as he pushed you through the portal alongside him.

‘’We?’’ You questioned as you raised an intense brow. The gall. The cheek he had to say we. It surprised you- in the best way.

‘’Mhm. Let's see how you fare.’’ Stephen muttered as the balls of your feet hit the Compound marble, trodding your way to the meeting room to be briefed for tomorrow.

‘’You really have no faith in me and I think that's the main reason why we don't get along.‘’

‘’That confidence is going to shatter soon. See, I'm being nice and I'm warning you about it.’’ He scoffed and you honestly felt everything within you shaken up.

Stephen couldn't wait to see the look of excrutiating arousal on your face during this whole debacle; he'd simply treasure the moment and taunt you for it later but for now he just wanted an outline of what your beautiful face looked like when you came. Just a morsel of what's to come, this switch in dynamic was...different. Heavier than hate. He liked it. A lot. When other people and other agents in the Compound saw that you and Stephen were walking together. You weren't arguing or having a screaming match you were both just walking. Their mouths were agape in shock and any other day you would have been joining them in their disbelief, he was smirking and smiling at you like an idiot and that was more than enough to make other people think and question.

‘’Stop smiling at me. You look like a psycho.’’ You mumbled at him under your breath but you couldn't say anything either, you were smiling too. You let out a giggle and your pussy started clenching, a gasp fell through when you felt the balls actually on you. You swallowed and Stephen obviously caught onto it.

You entered the room and you were met with Tony's incredibly unsatisfied frown- you were both late and you felt like you were being scolded at by the principle for your tardy behaviour but Stephen didn't find it in himself to care. However, Tony's frown dropped and his mouth popped open in shock: you and Stephen were sitting next to each other. Like, actually next to each other without clawing each other's faces off. How fucking high are you two right now? Tony had a rule for this shit- no drugs before meetings, get high later preferably with him. He wondered if you had been smoking a fat blunt or took some shrooms or something- there's no way this could possibly be happening, it was simply one of these things that shouldn't be happening.

‘’Oh thank you for finally showing those cheery faces, we all missed you. Now pay attention: this is important.’’ Tony reprimanded but you genuinely couldn't pay attention. Perhaps you had underestimated Stephen's word, the thought was startling.

Throught the meeting, you were just in this zombie like trance, all hypnotized, you couldn't pay attention to any word uttered by Tony or Steve, Natasha or whoever. Your eyes were just fixated on the plain beige wall, lips parted as you gazed off into the distance like you've just been hit in the head with a baseball bat. Stephen stole a few glances at you, you were finally beginning to crack and he had to pretend to be devastated even though it was something he was expectant of. He could barely contain his delight; Stephen was right, he was always right and this was just another example of that- he didn't like the way you always doubted him, he'd show you soon enough. He just had to keep a straight face, but he let himself slip up a little: the corners of his mouth were tugging up slightly and he was trying his hardest to surpress it. You looked so whistful, so pretty, so restless and he was enjoying every second of it; Stephen had never felt himself be lazer focused on any woman but it was always different with you. Always. His eyes widened slightly when your perfect lips parted and you let out a shaky exhale, your breathing was becoming heavier and you obviously tried to hide it by the way your head was darting off to the side, your palm met with the back of your neck and it was heating up so quickly, so rapidly.

Stephen watched intently as you ran your hands along your thighs, he didn't think you'd break apart so quickly. What really did him in though was when you bit your lip to conceal your shallow breaths. It pleased him to an immeasurable degree, although he could read your body, he wished he could read your mind.

You couldn't hide your shaking. You were actually giving in and you hated it, you couldn't embarrass yourself like this. Especially infront of everyone.

You were so damn horny. So fucking wet and tense. Aching for a release.

What exasterbated things though was the way Stephen was looking at you, it was like he was waiting for you to slip up, to catch you out and prove that you were weak. Impatient wasn't even in the ballpark of what you were feeling, so many emotions and sensations were coursing through you, thighs clamped and feet thrumming on the ground. Your leg was jolting up and down and you couldn't control the way your body was reacting.

So that's what those silver balls did.

Washes of arousal throbbed at your pussy and all you could think about was Stephen fucking Strange. You couldn't lie to yourself any longer, you'd be cheating yourself if didn't want him so bad right now. So so impossibly bad. Pain stakingly bad. So bad it's good.

You knew you were done for when Stephen put his large hand on yout jittering leg. His hands were actually on you. In that moment that's when you knew you wanted him to fuck you dumb. Fuck you dizzy. Fast. Hot. Rough. Intimate. Crazy. You were seriously about to lose your mind.

Shooting Stephen a startled look, he knew he got through you and with that in mind he clamped onto your thigh harder. You darted your face away and then you met Natasha's cool and inquisitive expression. Shit. She was onto you. You stifled an agreeable smile but it made her raise an eyebrow, though she finally looked away. Stephen was amused by it all, mostly with the fact he got you like this. So uptight. So tense.

Stephen leaned into your ear and mumbled at you. ‘’Relax. You're going to give yourself away.’’

You wanted to scream a very needed 'Fuck you! I know!' but you couldn't.

When you looked at the clock, only seven minutes have passed. Seven measly minutes. Fucking seven. This fucking meeting was fourty-five fucking minutes fucking long.

It was like fucking was the only word in your vocabulary. You couldn't help yourself, all you could think about was fucking. Preferably fucking Stephen.

Time went on. Time ticked by, it's clicking becoming louder and louder as it pounded through your eardrums. Focus wasn't on the cards for you, but that was a good thing- you didn't realise that the meeting was over. You were thanking the God you didn't even believe in, praising the lucky stars above you for this heavenly moment of mercy. You were about to explode. It wasn't healthy. Heart hammering beneath your heated skin.

Everybody scattered out and now you had Stephen all to yourself, you'll deal with the confused looks and the tangled web of outside judgement later, needing him was the only thing you felt. Stephen made you hang back from the others when you exited the room, his hand on your forearm as he gave you a cunning calculated look. Tingles electrified your body and your heat pulsated at the minor touch- God you felt so pathetic but it was all his fault.

You sighed in relief when he twirled his fingers and made a portal back to his room; Lord, the yearning was impenetrable, unbreakable. It was all so secretive and provacative. Sexy and desperate. Stephen tugged you through the portal as if to hide you away from the rest of the world, shield you from wandering eyes and gazes from men who didn't deserve to even look at you. After finally getting you through safely and closing the portal back up, Stephen loosened his grip on you and let you stand alone as he leaned on his bed frame.

Now. What to say to you? What to do to you? Stephen had you all to himself now and he felt like a kid at Christmas. What a shame, you were so confident you could get through this but yet again he proved you wrong.

He always wondered what you looked like all fucked out and desperate and on days like this, he was so goddamn grateful to have a photographic memory. You stood there, breath shallow and heavy all at once and you were waiting for him to do anything but Stephen's eyes bore into yours intently. Waiting. Watching. Observing. Imagining the array of things he simply could do to make you cum- which wouldn't be too hard to do after what you were experiencing. Stephen got the hard bit out of the way, getting you all horny for him but now he was overthinking the easiest bit: what to actually do.

‘’So. How'd you feel?’’ Stephen's face brightened and you weren't happy. He was just pandering now and you were way too impatient for that- it was clear enough.

‘’Restless.’’

‘’Expected.’’

‘’Impatient.’’

‘’Getting closer.’’

‘’Hot.’’

‘’And?’’

‘’Wet.’’

You gave in, you gave him what he wanted: the cracking, the breaking, the realisation that he shattered you, Stephen was trying to draw this out and it finally dawned on you. Although, you began to question that fact when he made his way over to you, you beat him to it however when you charged at him like a raging bull and just wanting to feel his hands on you. Stephen smirked when he caught onto your wrist in your trajectory and tugged you into him. Your breathless gasp was palpable.

‘’Very determined to fuck aren't you?’’ Stephen pointed out the obvious and it made you roll your eyes.

He gripped onto your jaw to make you realise how serious he was. What kind of man would that make him if he tolerated such rude behaviour! Absolutely not.

‘’Don't be dumb. You're smarter than that. Being dumb won't get you anywhere. So if you want me to put you out of your misery don't be callous and hard-hearted.’’

‘’Are you hard?’’ You asked sensually, already knowing the answer, eyes big and wide and so desperate.

Stephen scoffed down at you.

‘’I said don't be dumb. You're asking the obvious.’’

‘’Don't patronize me.’’

‘’Don't make me punish you for that snotty little attitude’’

‘’I'm not impressed.’’ You scolded even though you were simply on no grounds to.

‘’You're not impressed? Really?’’ You were shocked to see that he was offended.

You nodded at him and it made Stephen's jaw tick, you could hear the bones crunching and grinding together like grit and sandpaper.

‘’Your body tells me otherwise.’’ His voice was low and husky- as if he had never been sure of anything else in his entire life.

‘’You cheated that's why.’’ You stepped closer to him and his grip on your wrist tightened.

‘’Touche.’’ A keen and entirely true obsevation, disarming as always and but he couldn't even care. ‘’You want me to take those balls off or keep them on and edge you?’’

The latter scared you. Him fucking you with them on would make you hornier than ever and to edge you as well? Out of the question- you weren't in the mood for glute jokes.

Your mouth shattered into his, lips capturing lips to capture each other's essence and to say it was bliding and heady was an understatement- you tasted bountiful, fruitful and excessive. There was too much of you, too much sweetness to comprehend, too much sweetness to taste. You were rotting his teeth beautifully. Your distinct taste was making him drunk and it only reinforced that when your tongue tangled with his. Stephen's arm loopholed and travelled around your body when he let go of your wrist, you smirked against his lips when his hands were wandering down the planes of your back to the curve of you ass. You fit his hand perfectly it was insane, like you were designed just for him.

‘’I wanna know what kind of torture you've been going through this evening. You really held your own during the meeting.’’ Stephen was mocking you when you ripped your lips away from his.

‘’You know exactly what.’’ You breathed tirelessly.

‘’Tell me or I'll go slow.’’ Stephen's threat made you pout slightly. ‘’I don't think that'll be fun for either of us.’’ He smiled and you just had to give into his incessant requests.

‘’You. Stuffing me full. Making me leak for you.’’ You exhaled before you leaned in and bit his lower lip and tugged it back. Hard. Stephen was surprised by your gall, you were so desperate to get in his pants you were actually doing what you're told. ‘’ That explicit enough?’’

Fuck this.

Stephen thew you on the bed careless of where you landed, so rough and hasty with his movements; like the need outweighed the practicalities. His body dominated against yours as he fawned over you, he looked like a God. He quite literally felt like a God: omnipotent and omnipresent in his stance. His mouth instantly went to your jaw and he bit down on it so hard you were sure he left teeth marks on you, it made wildfire zip down your core. Fucking hell. This man.

Now… what to do with you.

Stephen grabbed at your shirt and ripped it in two, the fabric tearing apart in both hands and he was happy to see you weren't wearing a bra. Your tits spilled from your top and he threw the discarded remanents to the other side of the room. You clawed and barbed at his back to get his shirt off and for once, he took you by law and did as you motioned. You relentless, tireless thing. Unyielding. Remorseless. He pinned your arms above your head and he ducked down to ghost at your lips.

You were at his beck and call. Under his mercy.

‘’You know what? I never really got the chance to scold you for rummaging through my things. Going into this very room, being perspicacious and then having the gall to threaten me.’ ‘

‘’If it get's you like this then maybe I should do it more often.’’ You bit your lip as you whispered against him.

Stephen didn't like that. At all.

No, no baby.

He had to put you in your place.

Stephen let go of one of your arms and his thick fingers clamped around your neck.

‘’You do not disrespect me, okay? I've been lenient today but you were actually being very impolite. I can't have that.’’ His voice was heavy, gruff and severe.

‘’An astute observation.’’ You sneered up at him. ‘’So you expect me to be under your thumb?’’

‘’Yes.’’ Stephen stated simply, so casually.

‘’You're so brainy Stephen. You're right all the time. I'll wake you up with breakfast and a blowjob. But right now I need you to fuck me. Hard.’’ You vilified and it made time stop in his palm. How dare you? He was livid. He was indignant. Stephen clamped onto your waist and he suddenly flipped you onto your stomach and spanked you.

‘’I don't think that was very sincere.’’ Stephen rebuked as he straddled your ass, his dick pressing into you and it made those silver balls act up again. ‘’You wanna try again?’’ He gave you the chance to redeem yourself and be polite.

You turned your head and looked him dead in the eye as you mouthed the words that would set your course. ‘’No.’’

Stephen's face contorted into an exasperated scowl, you bit your lip trying to be cute and flirt but he simply wasn't in the mood anymore. As a response he just shoved your face back into the pillow as he worked your pants off and discarded them to the floor. Your skin was flawless. Not a single fault on that perfect body.

‘’Stephen…’’You whined as you wiggled your ass against his clothed crotch.

He didn't respond, he just ripped your underwear off and you gasped at the feeling.

Fucking hell, the feel of his hands on you were too much to bare; your brows tensed when he finally pulled those silver balls off of you, your sigh of relief wasn't even one of relief- it was of pure freedom and unbridled bliss. The amount of wetness he had to work with was making him so insanely happy, you were soaked and so ready for him. He smacked your ass again and it was becoming difficult to control the direction of your whimpers and whines- you didn't even know what you were begging for.

The sound of him undoing his zipper made an absurd amount of electricity fall through you, like a number of concrete blocks falling upon you. The air was so heavy and dense- all you could do was wait for him.

‘’You look...pretty almost...like this.’’ Stephen chuckled to himself and head around and you shot him and angry glare.

‘’Fuck you!’ You screamed, voice going hoarse in the process of forming

‘’Isn't that what you've wanted me to do all day?’’ He cocked his head to the side as you smirked at his depravity. You opened your mouth to speak but you genuinely couldn't get the words out.

Stephen registered your silence as a response and he couldn't help but laugh down at you. How cute. He shoved your face back down again and it made you whine into the pillow.

He tugged his cock out and you felt him slap against you...and...uhm. Wow. You didn't even have to look at it to feel how big he was, you were actually worried he would split you in half with something like that and you wondered how you'd be able to walk after he was done with you. Stephen was pleased with your reaction: it was clear you were excited.

‘’Show me how much you missed something you never had.’’ You lifted yourself up again to challenge him and he was more than willing to oblige.

‘’You're dangerous.’’ He whistled and you honestly took that as a compliment. It made you blush.

Stephen was rock solid and he slid into your pussy with an ease he was hoping and striving for. You clenched around him so perfectly, so tight, so well fitted. You felt as good as you looked. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, moaning as he tugged you back into his torso- it was like he was a wall of pure muscle. He liked that you squirmed beneath him, to make you clench around him harder he bite down on your shoulder blade and peppered delicious kisses on that unimpaired skin.

He rutted into you relentlessly, with passion, with a hunger and ferocity you'd only wish other men would have. You were feral for him, a wild cat under him as you arched against him, he clenched his teeth as he saw beads of sweat fall down your back. A symphony of sounds erupted in the dense air surrounding you both, you felt so lewd and naughty- you could only imagine what the others would think if they walked in on you like this. You smirked at the insane thought.

The hopeless amount of pleasure you were feeling was insurmountable and overwhelming, a cyclone of desire began building within you and it was idomitable to bear. Unconquerable. Stephen felt invincible, of course all this hate had to lead to this- fucking you crazy. It was such an intense realisation. With that thought, he pinned your arms behind your back. Shit. He was going faster, brutal, he was unbeatable and it made you whine like a lunatic. How did he do that? How could he do that?

‘’Come on, baby. Be sincere, no one else can see you break...just me.’’ He cooed.

‘’S-Stephen…..Please...I can't h-hold on any longer.’’ You stammered like a jittering fool.

‘’Oh, you can't? Didn't think that was in your vocabulary.’’

"You're w-wrong! Just shut up!'’

‘’Come on rocks, buy my silence. Cum for me.’’ The baritones of his voice sent you into overdrive- his voice alone could make you cum.

The sheer grip in which he held you was enough to drag you to the edge, you couldn't keep it in anymore, your body had given out. Stephen felt your warmth coat him entirely, you were so wet and slick and it made him so happy that he was the cause of that- well, with the help of those balls of course. And with that delighful sound you made as you came undone, he filled you up entirely in thick white ribbons. Jesus Christ, this was the fastest he'd ever came; he was embarrassed by the way he felt like a teenager- he was really questioning his stamina, you wore him out and he wasn't sure if it was for good.

He panted as he rolled off of you and tumbled next to you, completely spent and done for in a matter of sheer moments. You went limp as your body lay flat against the bed, trying to bridle the thoughts swirling in your head.

‘’Did I buy your silence? Was that sincere enough for you?’’ Your mouth was running itself a whole goddamn marathon, honestly just trying to keep up with the brutal pace he set beforehand.

‘’Yes. But be snippy with me like that again and I'll keep those silver balls on you for months.’’ Although he was completely serious of his threat, he did have to admit, he loved your smart mouth- it was so disarming and incredibly charming. He liked this flirtatious banter, he wanted it to continue.

‘’They did all the work for you it seems.’’ You insulted with a bashful smile and a blushed face, already going against his threat.

‘’Oh…that mouth. What am I going to do with that?’’

#dr stephen strange #dr strange angst #dr strange fluff #dr strange x fem!reader #dr strange x y/n #stephen strange smut #dr strange smut #stephen strange #doctor strange x female reader #doctor strange smut #doctor strange one shot #marvel smut

[anxiouslyfred]

Argumentative

Summary: Logan and Roman are debating Thomas's work again. Janus interrupts trying to make it a full argument.

/\/\

It was an old argument and Logan was certain it would continue to occur given the world and Thomas's own focus on constantly improving or making bigger better videos. Sometimes he wondered if Thomas would focus on this debate as consistently if he wasn't American where bigger is better always seemed to be more focused on than in other countries Thomas heard about.

He still nodded along with Roman's points before countering, “I'm telling you Thomas needs to focus on making sustainable content with the funds coming in. We cannot afford to consistently make this big productions that cost a lot and scarcely make back what we've paid.”

“What about passion, Logan? Surely Thomas needs to be free to express his passion!” The argument still remained the same, but Roman was likely to focus on what the current passion needing to be explored in the video was soon enough.

“Which he would be able to do so without spending exorbitant amounts given the early years of his forays into Vine and YouTube. Tone your ideas down for a while.” He did bring up one of the still loved vines on his phone to demonstrate his point.

Roman in counter, formed images and sketches of video ideas around himself. “You cannot limit my majesty. Perhaps we should try developing our editing abilities and Thomas can perform multiple roles. We already know he can do that.”

“Yes, but your ideas literally involve characters being on screen together which is achieved most easily by having other actors.” It was easy enough to gesture at the sketches demonstrating that action.

“Oh of course, Logan. There's definitely quality in avoiding effort to make a more interesting video.” The words come even as Janus is popping into the room, tone deliberately condescending as if aiming to rile him up further.

Logan straightens his shoulders for a moment before breathing and turning to him. “Janus, comparing having an extra actor to having Thomas play multiple roles is not avoiding effort or likely to impact the quality we produce.”

“Besides we can easily produce these ideas. They really aren't that complex.” Roman immediately added, hands flinging up as if that made his ideas easier to create.

As if to prove that he helped no side but his own in the debate, Janus very sarcastically replied, “Of course not Roman, they're completely reasonable for Thomas to achieve. They don't require obscene amounts of effort at all.”

Clearing his throat and preventing the immediate argument he could see Roman wanting to say, Logan simply corrected, “That wasn't the point Janus. I was already explaining that it's aiming for the sustainable, not dismissing the more difficult ideas completely.”

“Hasn't Thomas already tried for consistently uploading and floundered in place instead? Are we sure that Thomas has the passion for such a schedule?” Another remark intended to make Logan and Roman argue for Janus's entertainment. Even Roman was looking to the deceitful side in confusion now, realising the arguments provided weren't aiding their discussion of Thomas's work at all.

“Stop being eristic and trying to change our debate into an argument, Janus. Let those of us actually doing the work to form ideas and make Thomas's schedules do our jobs and focus instead on the ways you're going to look after Thomas's self-care and the steps you believe might be useful to expand his earnings.” Logan decided, gesturing to the doorway to emphasis his desire for the other to leave.

“Eristic?” Roman asked after a moment, looking to Logan curiously where he'd been about to support the statement. He couldn't very well create a dismissive insult without understanding what had already been said.

Straightening his glasses, Logan simply defined. “Argumentative, inclined to specious reasoning. Knowingly wrong or circular arguments seem to be the ones Janus is using.”

“So as rational as the snake eating it's own tail? How fitting.” Roman nodded.

#logan sanders #janus sanders #roman sanders

[dramaticbackstory]

I just walked out of a party at 2:30am cause this dude was interrogating my atheism and asking why rape is always bad if there is no God or Christian moral code. And then he segued into anti-government + anti-masking to make some point about how government over reach. So it was at that point that I realized my previous understanding of this person as a regular guy was totally naïve and that I was entertaining his arguments on the pretense that he had rational, humane thoughts or a rational, humane way of understanding. And I was being passive and tolerating it. But really, he was searching my every sentence for logical inconsistencies to prey on from his rotten perspective.

But I realized I was getting baited into a soul-sucking, dumbass argument and stood up to leave. And my friend asks “what’s going on?” And I just glanced back at the dude and then said to the party, “oh, we’re falling out” and picked up my shit to go.

Point being, I can leave at any time and establish boundaries for the next time so that hopefully I realize earlier in a similar situation. I don’t have to outwit or outargue this insipid drunk. So much of these extremely harmful beliefs exist under the pretense of tolerance, in which one party wants to maintain respect and understanding and the other has a false equivalency to respect and understanding with their manipulative, bulldozer ideology. Multiple times I iterated that I have no guiding ideology on these topics; I just learn or deduce that certain things are harmful and others aren’t, but he kept trying to place my ideas inside of a category of leftism or other isms I can’t remember because I’d never heard of them before. Like, no I don’t “believe” in X philosophy because an idea of mine happens to line up with its tenets, so no you can’t unseat my belief based on your prepared counter to X philosophy.

Ultimately, I chose to exit the situation without even a final word. He will probably take that for evidence of my intellectual failure, but it is evident that he had no actual respect for what I believed and I, to be honest, had none left for him. That is not an environment for dialogue, so there is nothing to be gained except showing him that I won’t tolerate what he believes.

#thoughts

[moony-jamie]

In an honest attempt to answer your question :)

I can only speak for my self of course, and not other Max fans, but for me whenever I read something like “what do you see that’s appealing about this guy” I feel reminded about the way people talked about Music back in high school.

I’ve always listened to a lot of punk, metal, and a variety of somewhat extreme rap music, and with that came “how can you listen to something as ugly/noisy/terrible/vile” etc. And to a degree, I get all these arguments, I see how someone else would maybe dislike it, or even find it scary or outright morally wrong, but the answer to the question of why I listen to it is simply “because I like it.”

What I’m getting at is that people vibe with different moods, different qualities, and different personalities. We all encounter things that we instinctively like, and things that we don’t. We are attracted to different things, and I personally think thats very nice.

Something to keep in mind maybe, is that our likes and dislikes don’t say alot about who we are as people. Like, someone can enjoy gritty, disturbing things and be a wonderful and kind person, and someone can only reblog flowers and sunshine and be really mean to their friends. You know? It’s really not any deeper than that.

Obviously, when it comes to real people like with Max, there is an element of “how far do we actually condone someone’s real life actions.” It’s definitely a bit deeper than just what music someone likes, but I also don’t think it is ALOT deeper. Formula one isn’t ethically sound no matter which way you turn it. I don’t think a lot of people who really feel like “i’m only going to consume things that can 100% get ethically behind” watch Formula 1. We know theres a lot of shitty things about it, but we can still enjoy it, no matter which driver we vibe with. We don’t have a problem with that, so I don’t see it as very far fetched that we can also go “well that was pretty shitty of him to say, but I do enjoy his shithousery in the race.” And keep going enjoying it. The “well that was shit” is the rational knowledge, the “I do enjoy the shithousery” is a personal vibe, personal taste. It doesn’t mean we go around acting like that and start bullying people.

You can always find a counter argument to this. You can always go and say “it’s ok to like x, but THAT crosses a line.” And then the question is, where is the line. Is it when people say shitty things? Is it when they potentially endanger people because they are racers? They all do that to a degree, it’s in the nature of the sport. So starting where does it become problematic? I personally think someone saying “I find motorsports as a whole a disgusting thing because it makes entertainment and competition out of somatjing potentially deadly and excludes anyone who isn’t rich and I don’t understand how anyone cpuld ever watch any of it, ever” to be as valid as someone saying “Max is terrible with the way he races because it’s dangerous. I do enjoy Lewis though.” It’s both ok to feel like that, it’s just drawing a line at different levels of discomfort for 2 people.

So people like different vibes, and they get made uncomfortable by different things, and that’s ok. It’s part of being human having to deal with that. No one said it was easy to accept. It’s also difficult, because the lines for when we find something completely unacceptable and unforgivable are also individual, sometimes cultural, but we as a society have to agree on some of them to make it work as a community. These are questions that humans have thought about since centuries, it’s supposed to be difficult.

With Max though, I don’t think it goes quite as deep. I just find the guy likeable, and enjoyable to watch. I’m not blind to his shittyness as I’m not blind to the shittyness of F1 as a whole. Simple as that.

Sorry for ranting anonymously into your inbox. I just found it an actually interesting thing to think about, and I hope you don’t mind.

Have a nice day :)

First of all thank you for taking your time to tell me this without telling to just fuck off. Like I said in the previous post I'm generally trying to understand why people like someone that goes against everything I personally stand for.

I understand the argument in comparing it to music taste but I don't think I can agree, at least not fully. Sure everybody has their own taste and I get that a lot of people a drawn to the I don't give a fuck attitude, it's fun to not care. But if you still don't care after multiple people ask you to speak out, after a world organisation and a literal nation ask you to open your mouth and just say something for once. And you still refuse? Is that still the fun not caring attitude, is that still "not just some PR bullshit"?

There are a lot of things wrong with Formula 1 but instead of fighting to make it better people praise the person that doesn't care and wish the guy that tries to raise awareness to horribly crash. Is that right?

Why do people jump on Lewis for everything he says but Max can get away with much worse time and time again because that's just how he is? Does that count as an excuse?

If it was just the driving I couldn't care less except for the part where he is literally breaking rules and the FIA just doesn't care it doesn't make sense. But trust I would absolutely call every other driver out as well for this because that's simply what rules are for. For me it's not an argument, clean racing it's what the sport is about because the minute it gets dirty it's so much more dangerous than it has to be.

You ask me where the line is, it's right there.

#anyway I'm not going to tag this because I have enough angry Verstappen fans in my notifications for now #but thank you for that ask that's what I wanted when I made that post earlier #i would love to hear more opinions if they're nice and not just some 'get your hate out of the tag' crap feel free to send me more asks #ask #anon

[quixotic-writer]

She’s in My Head I Must Confess

Song inspo: Whatsername — Green Day

A voicemail from a very drunk Q is coming through in real time, he hasn’t spoken to you in about 2-3 months since you guys broke up but it seems he can’t get over you. Seems as though you haven’t gotten over him too.

———————————————————

You sat on your couch with a wine glass in hand channel surfing to find something to kill your boredom on yet another unfulfilling and lonely Saturday night. You flick through growing more frustrated when you realize every channel has nothing to provide that will crave your entertainment hunger. Your pace quickens as you continue blasting through channels reading titles as the flash by, nothing quite catching your eye. However, you quickly stop once you see a familiar face on screen.

“This makes Q today’s big loser!” You hear Murr’s all too familiar voice fill the room. Your eyes bulge out of your skull and it feels as though in a matter of seconds you went through the stages of grief. It had been almost 3 months since you both silently broke it off in a heated argument you don’t even remember. All you remember is the anger you felt that made you so heated that it felt like your skin could melt off, and all you did was walk out and didn’t even try to talk. Neither of you tried texting or calling each other. As you stare at the screen before you, you can’t seem to take your eyes off of him and something inside you stirs. Guilt? Loneliness? Longing? Your eyes deviate from the TV and glance over at your phone. But you quickly shut yours eyes and shake your head snapping yourself into a slightly more sober state of mind.

“No. You can’t do this. You’ve been on Wine o’clock for too long to even do that.” You give yourself a pep talk and hold yourself back from making a call in a drunken state that you know you’ll regret. You finish off the wine in your glass to take off the edge and turn the TV off not wanting any more influence for a potential bad decision.

Just then the landline phone for your house rings. Weird, no one ever calls that line. The only reason you have it is for grocery stores rewards memberships. Also it’s kinda funny to give creepy guys that number knowing you never answer that phone. It’s even funnier when they try and text it.

“Ah. Just let it go to voicemail.” You say letting the phone ring until it stops. You bring the half empty bottle of wine back to the kitchen counter and go to wash up your glass. As you begin turning everything off for the night, the phone finally goes to voicemail and you almost crap yourself the moment you hear who’s on the other end.

“H...Hey uuuumm. I didn’t want to call your cell. A stupid decision. So I... I thought to call your landline... no surprise you didn’t answer, I know you never answer this phone. You only give that number to grocery stores and weird guys.” Oh god Q is surely intoxicated. It’s strange though, seems like he had the same idea as you, but obviously had enough to drink to make him brave enough to follow through and abandon rational thought before taking action. You finish cleaning up and stand by the phone to listen as the voicemail continues rolling in real time.

“I thought I saw you here at the bar. I was wrong. Terribly wrong. She slapped me in the face when I tried talking to her. I think she thought I was a creep. I don’t think I am. I probably looked insane though. Listen, I called because that made me realize that god I... I miss you. I found a bunch of old photos we took in a box the other day too. I had told myself I would get rid of them after that blow up we had, but we just looked so happy. It was the picture we took together when we went on that picnic. You looked so pretty in that dress and with that smile that kills me, we looked so happy. It was a better time and I just miss you so much. I messed up, i’ll admit it. I.. I don’t even remember what we fought about. I think maybe we might have been too quick to just part. We... we didn’t even really get to talk, you just left. You disappeared so quickly out of my life, and geez did that scare me. I didn’t know it was possible for someone to just leave like that and disappear without a trace. I’ve been messed up since. I’ll be frank i’ve tried talking to other girls, it just doesn’t do it for me. I don’t feel the spark like I did with you. I’ve been thinking and drinking... mostly drinking, that you’re just someone I can’t seem to get out of my head. I recall everything we’ve done together, it’s been difficult trying to forget you, but the memories just don’t go away so easily and I think i’d rather do something about instead of becoming a raging alcoholic. I just want to talk to you again. I want to fix things.” He pauses and it was enough for you to finally reach for the phone and pick it up.

“Brian?” You say quickly interrupting his monologue of emotions.

“Fuck I didn’t think you were listening. I can’t believe you actually picked up.” He says, fear filling his voice.

“Yeah. I did. I’ve been doing some thinking and drinking of my own. Where are you right now?” You ask as your heart thumps out of your chest. Was this a good idea? But he sounds so genuine... he never was really bad, the argument was bad, the lack of communication, the lack of understanding.

“From your apartment? Like... couple blocks away.” Hearing his voice come through the phone was almost sobering. You knew you missed him, but you didn’t think hearing his voice talking to you again would make you so happy. Had it been a month ago, the circumstances would have been different. You decide to jump the gun like he did and make a crazy decision of your own. It’s time to grow up. It’s time to talk.

“Nothing can change what happened, but maybe what can change is the outcome. Maybe come over and we can talk things out?”

“I think i’d like that. I’ll be over soon.” You smile to yourself and end the call. You turn some of the lights back on and stand at the kitchen counter only to stare at the phone replaying all that had just happened in the theater of your mind. It all happened so suddenly, a spur of the moment decision, it made your palms sweat and your stomach tie into pretzel knots.

Soon enough a knock echoed at the door. You walk to the door, take a deep breath, and rip the band aid off. And there he was with his puppy dog eyes that made your heart melt looking a lot more sober than he sounded minutes ago.

“Hi.” He says quietly with a faint smile. You felt your heart skip a beat and heat rush in your cheeks. When you looked into his eyes, you could see a fiery passion burning behind them. Though you two were apart, you could feel the soul ties you had stringing you back together.

“Hi.” You step away from the door allowing him to step inside.

A new chapter in your lives was now being written together and intertwined again.

#brian quinn #impractical jokers #brian q quinn #q #q x reader #brian quinn imagine #brian x reader #suki writes #fluff

[sanguiniusreborn]

Angel of Revenge (Drabble)

Inspired by the song of the same name! A self indulgent drabble where Sanguinius rallies his traitor (?) brothers to destroy Erebus once and for all. This is in no way shape or form canon (We all wish it was tho)

@luwupercal @ask-the-crimson-king @sunny-sideblogging @ask-the-sensual-primarch , @purephoenician @stresseddemon  and @incorrect-primarchs-quotes (Again, tagging for the satisfacton of seeing this) @tired-space-politician !! (also @commoner64 and @magicmuses)

Under the cut!! TW: Heresy, some serious emotional torture, Erebitch dies

The Great Angel paced, trying to rationalize his plan. This would be difficult. Getting his brothers to agree to this wouldnt be hard. They all had an intense hatred of Erebus for the sins that had lead to their downfalls. What he worried about was the disputes they may find themselves in. Finally, he made up his mind with an uncanny fury.

It was time for revenge. Time to unite his brothers once more

“-Now, I want these turned in by the weeks end.” Magnus finished his leccture. Seeing his brother brought a smile onto his face, as all of the young Aspirants grew excited at seeing their uncle, distracted as they swarmed him for cuddles and to show him things.  “Sweet ones, me and your Father need to speak. I promise you’ll get your cuddles soon. Start your homework first.” Sanguinius instructed, and tthe youths nodded, scrambling off. Then he and Magnus went somewhere private to speak.

“You’re serious?” Magnus looked shocked. Should he be? Sanguinius had been furious at Erebus since his rebirth. But a direct attack?! “I’m very serious, Magnus. I want him dead.” Sanguinius hissed. “Very, very dead. Like even deader than someone turned to warp dust dead.”  Magnus’s eye grew wide, and he nodded.  “One condition. Lorgar gets involved.” He stated, and Sanguinius nodded. “I’m going to get Fulgrim too.” Sanguinius stated. Magnus grinned “Then its a party.” Magnus stated before opening a portal for Sanguinius.

“One moment please!~” Fulgrims singsong voice echoed throughout the crystaline palace as Sanguinius patiently waited outside the door to his bedroom. Finally, the door opened, and the serpintine Daemon Primarch looked delighted. “Sangyyyyy!~ You’re here! Come in, come in.” Sanguinius obeyed the order with a bemused smile.

“So you’re telling me that you, Maggy and Lorgar are going after Erebus?” The clatter of yet another piece of jewelry sounded as Fulgrim sorted through his treasures. Sanguinius stood, now dressed in purple robes, allowing his brother to dress him. “Yes. I wanted to know if you’d like to get involved. Magnus has cleared usage of the sonic weaponry. None of our nephews or myself will be harmed.” Sanguinius stated. Fulgrim paused, looking at him with an almost lecherous look of delight. “I’d adore it!” He stated.

It had taken planning, and admittedly a few arguments to finally settle on a plan of action. Sanguinius would lead the attack, with Magnus, Lorgar, and the entirety of the Thousand Sons behind them. Then they’d shield and let the Noise Marines and Fulgrim have their fun. This way they could cut though Erebus’s defenses and ensure that nothing could stand in the way of their prize. The intent was not to kill Erebus right then and there, but to whisk him to a secured location where they could without interference, as the initial attack would no doubt draw Abbadons attention.

Sanguinius appeared on the planet first. Erebus had left Sicarus, and he was currently on a separate world, giving the Traitor Legions he’d rallied and himself an opening. They hadn’t used ships, and thus there was no warning. Kine shielded by Magnus, so that no bullet or sword may touch him, Sangunius summoned his holy fire, and begun the burning of the world

The others were not far behind, for the Thousand Sons and even some World Bearers came after, joining in burning and attacking the defenses en masse alongside Sanguinius. A low bass rumble alerted the attackers to the presence of Noise Marines, Fulgrim, Lorgar and Magnus, and they produced a mass kine shield, raising conjoured glowsticks as well. Then the party started

Within minutes Erebus’s compound had been decimated, and the Primarchs had subdued their quarry. The Thousand Sons present bolted as well, alongside their collective Rubricae. Sanguinius took no joy in killing his nephews from Lorgar, but it was a nessecary evil. Erebus woke in a dark room, held by chains that both Fulgrim and Magnus had created collectivley to ensure he could not break free from them. Sanguinius looked unimpressed as Erebus sputtered and hissed at him. “You were dead! Horus killed you!” Erebus struggled against his chains. That wasn’t true, the four Primarchs in the room knew it. Magnus’s lip twitched in annoyance. “Yeah. He did. Unfortunately, I figured out a way to come back. His effort was in vain. But I didn’t wrangle you just to chat.” Sanguinius noted. Fulgrim smirked, idlly stirring the glass of wine he held. The air in the room turned murderous quickly, four Primarchs intending to make him suffer. “Abbadon will find out!” Erebus insisted “My nephew doesn’t scare me Erebus.” Sanguinius countered. Upon seeing Lorgar, the trapped heretic was filled with hope. “Father, please! This is unjust, I didn’t-” “You did. You corrupted Horus. You caused all of this. Do not deny your involvment!” Lorgar snapped. Erebus gained a look of genuine fear, which only seemed to entertain Fulgrim more. “N’awww....Is the widdle hewitic scawed?” He taunted in a baby voice, irritating the World Bearer. “Do not bring in heresy, hedonist!” Erebus snapped. Fulgrim growled, but before he could move, Magnus raised a hand to stop him. 

Sanguinius grinned, a terrifying sight as his fangs extended, though he had no desire to bite the other, let alone consume the tainted blood within. Erebus winced. Sanguinius approached him, and touched the World Bearer, who instantly started screaming and crying. Letting him feel the pain and anguish of 10,000 years. Erebus begged for him to stop, but it fell on deaf ears. Magnus pur his hand on Sanguinius’s, transferring his own emotional pain. The Rubricae, everything. Fulgrim and Lorgar followed suit.

By the time they were done, Erebus was breathing shallowly, sweating, and clearly still in pain. Sanguinius summoned his holy fire, and Magnus’s eye started glowing. Fulgrin held out one of his four arms delicately, and Lorgar also held out an arm. Then, they blasted him, destroying Erebus permanantley, all the way through to his very soul, so he could not be reanimated as a daemon prince. Within mere minutes, he was gone, destoyed, his very being obliterated.

The brothers took some time after to chatter, and comfort Lorgar. Each hugging him tightly and loving on him, after all, killing a son was no easy task for a genesire. Sanguinius understood this the best....

After all, he’d done it before

#OOC #Drabble #I hope this is satisfying

[fatedefy]

haku has been staring very thoughtfully at nothing at all for the past few minutes. “I think I could tame a wild bear,” they say suddenly. “I really think I could. How would you feel about a pet bear around the house?”

sharing moments of extended silence with haku had never unnerved neji.  quite contrarily,   it seemed cathartic to be able to cling to the quiet, near-meditative state so innate to his reticent existence  ───   a courtesy rarely spared towards him in other interactions of a social nature.   so enraptured in the healing experience the twining of their serene energies evoked,   he fails to note haku’s vacant expression.   that glassy-eyed, parted-lip kind of deep contemplation that often spoke volumes of the danger ( read: mischief ) forming its genesis in the boundless lands of their lush inner world. 

as such, their zany question falls hard and unexpected against the shell of his ear.  it draws a long pause from neji,  chopsticks placed elegantly atop his rice with furikake,   cheeks yet full of his snack and moonescent features impassive even as his mind struggles to grasp at least the essence of what had just been spoken.   the moment extends like the lethargic,  unfurling tendrils of a bud’s new roots reaching down towards the earth for stability and nourishment when he swallows and actually begins to entertain the whimsical notion.    this is far from the worst or weirdest thing haku has ever suggested,    yet even in moments where the oddity of what their lovely warble emits far exceeds the boundaries of his patience,   beliefs,    or rationality,    neji could never deny them the attempt to at least consider whatever wild thought their brain had decided to spring upon him this time. 

with the softest of sighs,  he places his elbow against their kitchen counter by which he sat and leans a hollowed cheek against his worn palm.   he doesn’t doubt that haku had the potential tame a bear because they were among the most capable people he had ever come across,    to the extent where their talents rivaled and,   at times,   exceeded his own.    ( a rarity for someone as prodigal as neji,   who had struggled for most of his life to find people or situations that could truly challenge him )   ever practical,    the predicament this venture posed upon his logic now was   a.) how they would even manage to care for such a beast   b.)  what amount of paperwork they might be mired with to officially register a pet of this caliber.

from some aimless direction within their nearby living room,   neji heard susumu sniff forcefully in her sleep.    the reminder that they already had his therapy dog to suffice them in whatever furry companionship they might crave sobers his introspection,    making finite the decision he should have made from the very start.  his deep drawl softens,   monotonous tone low and gentle with inflections of kindness the same as when he would explain a new concept to his nephew.

  ‘     what purpose would having a bear as a pet serve in our daily lives ?   we are two of the strongest shinobi not only in this village but among the rest of our kind so we hardly need a wild animal for protection.   and as far as pets go,   isn’t susumu enough ?   the fact it would be “cool” to own a pet bear frankly doesn’t count,  my heart.   would you like to suggest a counter-argument ?     ’  

#icecurse #neji calling haku 'my heart' will ALWAYS fuck me all the way up #also neji learning more about how to express kindness and compassion from spending time with his niece and nephew and being forced to use it #more w them....he's so gentle when he talks to children not condescending or sugar-coating hes still firm and sensible but very gentle #sometimes he pulls that kind of voice out on haku when they're being crazy/weird/chaotic sjkdnfkj #also i gotta write one day abt how grateful neji is that haku approved of him getting susumu despite how scared of dogs they are #bc susumu rlyyyyy changed things around for him in terms of bettering his mental health issues #im rambling but i love them and only them v.v #◈ ╱ ICECURSE. ˊ do you know what emptiness you’ve killed just by existing? #◈ ╱ POST WAR. ˊ i’m coming back for my wings.

[third-man-mimura]

Completed Utsumi’s test. Looks like she doesn’t just have a good taste in skirts that show off her legs, she’s got a great taste in interesting tests, huh?

Type “The Debater” (ENTP-A) 

Traits 

 Extraverted - 75%

 Intuitive - 88% 

 Thinking - 83%

 Prospecting - 64% 

 Assertive - 100% 

 Role - Analyst 

 Strategy -  People Mastery Introduction

   Introduction

No one loves the process of mental sparring more than the Debater personality type, as it gives them a chance to exercise their effortlessly quick wit, broad accumulated knowledge base, and capacity for connecting disparate ideas to prove their points. Debaters are the ultimate devil’s advocate, thriving on the process of shredding arguments and beliefs and letting the ribbons drift in the wind for all to see. They don’t always do this because they are trying to achieve some deeper purpose or strategic goal, though. Sometimes it’s for the simple reason that it’s fun.

An odd juxtaposition arises with Debaters, as they are uncompromisingly honest, but will argue tirelessly for something they don’t actually believe in, stepping into another’s shoes to argue a truth from another perspective.

Playing the devil’s advocate helps people with the Debater personality type to not only develop a better sense of others’ reasoning, but a better understanding of opposing ideas – since Debaters are the ones arguing them.

This tactic shouldn’t be confused with the sort of mutual understanding Diplomat personalities seek – Debaters, like all Analyst personality types, are on a constant quest for knowledge, and what better way to gain it than to attack and defend an idea, from every angle, from every side?

There Are no Rules Here – We’re Trying to Accomplish Something!

Follow the path of the unsafe, independent thinker. Expose your ideas to the dangers of controversy. Speak your mind and fear less the label of ’crack-pot’ than the stigma of conformity. And on issues that seem important to you, stand up and be counted at any cost.

Taking a certain pleasure in being the underdog, Debaters enjoy the mental exercise found in questioning the prevailing mode of thought, making them irreplaceable in reworking existing systems or shaking things up and pushing them in clever new directions. However, they’ll be miserable managing the day-to-day mechanics of actually implementing their suggestions. Debater personalities love to brainstorm and think big, but they will avoid getting caught doing the “grunt work” at all costs. Debaters only make up about three percent of the population, which is just right, as it lets them create original ideas, then step back to let more numerous and fastidious personalities handle the logistics of implementation and maintenance.

Debaters’ capacity for debate can be a vexing one – while often appreciated when it’s called for, it can fall painfully flat when they step on others’ toes by say, openly questioning their boss in a meeting, or picking apart everything their significant other says. This is further complicated by Debaters’ unyielding honesty, as this type doesn’t mince words and cares little about being seen as sensitive or compassionate. Likeminded types get along well enough with people with the Debater personality type, but more sensitive types, and society in general, are often conflict-averse, preferring feelings, comfort, and even white lies over unpleasant truths and hard rationality.

This frustrates Debaters, and they find that their quarrelsome fun burns many bridges, oftentimes inadvertently, as they plow through others’ thresholds for having their beliefs questioned and their feelings brushed aside. Treating others as they’d be treated, Debaters have little tolerance for being coddled, and dislike when people beat around the bush, especially when asking a favor. Debater personalities find themselves respected for their vision, confidence, knowledge, and keen sense of humor, but often struggle to utilize these qualities as the basis for deeper friendships and romantic relationships.

Opportunity Is Missed Because It Looks Like Hard Work

Debaters have a longer road than most in harnessing their natural abilities – their intellectual independence and free-form vision are tremendously valuable when they’re in charge, or at least have the ear of someone who is, but getting there can take a level of follow-through that Debaters struggle with.

Once they’ve secured such a position, Debaters need to remember that for their ideas to come to fruition, they will always depend on others to assemble the pieces – if they’ve spent more time “winning” arguments than they have building consensus, many Debaters will find they simply don’t have the support necessary to be successful. Playing devil’s advocate so well, people with this personality type may find that the most complex and rewarding intellectual challenge is to understand a more sentimental perspective, and to argue consideration and compromise alongside logic and progress.

Debater Strengths

Knowledgeable – Debaters rarely pass up a good opportunity to learn something new, especially abstract concepts. This information isn’t usually absorbed for any planned purpose as with dedicated studying, people with the Debater personality type just find it fascinating.

Quick Thinkers – Debaters have tremendously flexible minds, and are able to shift from idea to idea without effort, drawing on their accumulated knowledge to prove their points, or their opponents’, as they see fit.

Original – Having little attachment to tradition, Debater personalities are able to discard existing systems and methods and pull together disparate ideas from their extensive knowledge base, with a little raw creativity to hold them together, to formulate bold new ideas. If presented with chronic, systemic problems and given rein to solve them, Debaters respond with unabashed glee.

Excellent Brainstormers – Nothing is quite as enjoyable to Debaters as analyzing problems from every angle to find the best solutions. Combining their knowledge and originality to splay out every aspect of the subject at hand, rejecting without remorse options that don’t work and presenting ever more possibilities, Debaters are irreplaceable in brainstorming sessions.

Charismatic – People with the Debater personality type have a way with words and wit that others find intriguing. Their confidence, quick thought and ability to connect disparate ideas in novel ways create a style of communication that is charming, even entertaining, and informative at the same time.

Energetic – When given a chance to combine these traits to examine an interesting problem, Debaters can be truly impressive in their enthusiasm and energy, having no qualms with putting in long days and nights to find a solution.

Debater Weaknesses

Very Argumentative – If there’s anything Debaters enjoy, it’s the mental exercise of debating an idea, and nothing is sacred. More consensus-oriented personality types rarely appreciate the vigor with which Debater personalities tear down their beliefs and methods, leading to a great deal of tension.

Insensitive – Being so rational, Debaters often misjudge others feelings and push their debates well past others’ tolerance levels. People with this personality type don’t really consider emotional points to be valid in such debates either, which magnifies the issue tremendously.

Intolerant – Unless people are able to back up their ideas in a round of mental sparring, Debaters are likely to dismiss not just the ideas but the people themselves. Either a suggestion can stand up to rational scrutiny or it’s not worth bothering with.

Can Find It Difficult to Focus – The same flexibility that allows Debaters to come up with such original plans and ideas makes them readapt perfectly good ones far too often, or to even drop them entirely as the initial excitement wanes and newer thoughts come along. Boredom comes too easily for Debaters, and fresh thoughts are the solution, though not always a helpful one.

Dislike Practical Matters – Debaters are interested in what could be – malleable concepts like ideas and plans that can be adapted and debated. When it comes to hard details and day-to-day execution where creative flair isn’t just unnecessary but actually counter-productive, Debater personalities lose interest, often with the consequence of their plans never seeing the light of day.

More info

#Interesting.

[weirdochick56]

Mr. Evans II- Chris Evans AU

Teacher!Chris Evans x Student!Reader

Warnings: SMUT. Angst. Infidelity. Forbidden love.

Disclaimers: I don’t condone relationships of this kind, this is for entertainment purposes only.

Word Count: 3, 208 words

Read the Summary here!!

PROLOGUE-

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Your hands tremble as you stare down at the small card in your hands. 

Your presence is kindly requested at the wedding of Y/f/n Y/f/l/n and Kennedy Capuano

On June 10th-

You inhale sharply, putting it aside with shaky fingers, unable to look at the tacky floral design of the shiny exterior any longer. 

“Your presence is kindly requested at the wedding of Y/f/n-” you cut yourself off with a roughish, humorless scoff-laugh, barely able to keep a lid on your anger. 

“Is he fucking serious right now?” Despite your greatest efforts, your voice trembles with raw outrage and you run your fingers through your hair, licking your lips frustratingly. 

A habit you wished you’d never picked up from your time with him because it reminded you of him every goddamn time you did it and the thing was, you did it anytime you were upset. And thinking of him every time you were upset...it wasn’t helpful. 

“This is bullshit,” you huff under your breath, screwing your eyes shut and pinching the bridge of your nose to keep the onslaught of tears currently prickling the backs of your eyes. “Fucking bullshit.”

You didn’t know what hurt more, the fact that your own goddamn father didn’t have the basic human decency to give this to you himself or the fact that he was getting married at all. 

Everything about it was wrong. The fact that you didn’t even know he had met someone new, most of all. Was a phone call that fucking hard? 

Granted, the last time you had talked things didn’t end too well. 

He’d been endlessly complaining about you leaving and how you were “abandoning him”. When you’d used that (completely rational) “I’m eighteen now and can do as I please” card with him, he’d screamed even louder. So you started screaming back and his screams only got louder from there, so yours did too until eventually, you were just screaming so loud, it blocked out any rationale in your argument. 

You just said fuck it, picked up your stuff, your mom’s journal and left because you were so fucking done honestly. 

You thought you’d be free of everything in that little town if you just picked up and moved. 

But here it was. Here it was. 

This fucking card. This fucking invitation to a wedding you should’ve been a part of from the very fucking beginning but weren’t. As to whose fault that was? Honestly, you gave up trying to figure that out the moment you stepped foot outside of your town. It wasn’t your responsibility to decipher the complex depths of your relationship with your father anymore. And of course, you tried avoiding thinking about him as much as possible.

It was time to look forward, not back. Looking back meant letting yourself sink and you sure as hell were not a goddamn sinker. 

Not anymore, anyways. 

Because when you sunk, your instinct was to claw your way to the surface as hard as you could. You clawed and clawed, hoping you could eventually feel the warmth of the sun on your skin again. 

Hoping, clawing, hoping, clawing...it was a vicious cycle but the truth was, the water was too much, too strong, too overwhelming, too consuming-- it’d swallow you whole inevitably. So no matter how hard you fought, clawed, hoped... it'd gobble you into its dark abyss. 

Eventually, you’d tire out. your muscles would ache with the weight of your hope resting so heavily on your shoulders and you’d give out. The water was infinitely insistent though, it never ceased to tug and each time, it’d get stronger and stronger. 

You decided to stay away from the water altogether. No sense in getting close to something so dangerous. The last time you dipped your toes in...look what it got you.

But now...the water was beckoning, calling you its depths. 

This fucking card. 

*

Margo twirls the card in her fingers, humming pensively. “And you’re not even a little tempted to go?”

“Nope,” your matter-of-fact response is muffled through your mouthful of cereal, as you perch another sock-clad foot on the stool you’re seated on.

Margo, looks at you, deadpanning. “Y/n, he’s your dad,” she starts and you already know where this is going. 

You quickly swallow your mouthful of cereal, shaking your head. “Doesn’t mean I have to go to his wedding with what’s-her-face.”

“Kennedy,” she corrects.

You roll your eyes. “Whatever. Point is, I could care less about his stupid wedding and Kennedy and I sure as hell have no burning desire to go back to that stupid little town.”

“Why?” she blurts suddenly. 

You look up at her incredulously. “What do you mean why?” 

She raises a brow. “No seriously. Why? You keep saying it’s because it didn’t let you reach your full potential but why do I get the feeling there’s more to it than just that?” she peers carefully at your face.

You never could keep anything from her.

Looking down, you pretend to be interested in your fuzzy Christmas-themed socks because you can’t face her right now, petrified that she’s going to pry the truth out of you. That she’ll eventually know the real reason you left. 

So you do what you do best; you deflect. “I was just tired of it. Tired of all the superficial gossip and small-minded people that lived there, you know?” you shrug, looking at her with a small smirk. “And you're going to tell me you don’t agree?”

She sighs, trying (and failing) to conceal a small grin tugging at her lips. “No, I’m not. But- I mean c’mon, Y/n! You seriously don’t want to see your dad get married?”

You think about it, your resolve faltering in the slightest because despite wanting to be selfish like he’s been, despite wanting so badly to be able to say ‘I don’t care’ with all certainty, you can’t. You fucking can’t, because just the thought of your dad possibly being happy--it warmed your heart. 

Because maybe he’s finally found someone that could fill that hole your mother’s death left. And you hated that.

“N-not really,” you hesitate only a little bit, but she notices. Of course she does. Sharp-eyed Margo, always on the hunt for the smallest tell-tale.

Snorting lightly, she takes a sip of her steaming mug of coffee. “Yeah? Well doesn’t sound like it, baby girl.” 

You look at her. “Margo,” you warn in a snarl. 

“Y/n,” she titters, smiling sweetly. 

You huff, as of to say ‘you’re impossible’ before wordlessly taking another spoonful of cereal into your mouth.

Her face flattens out into a serious expression, lips pursing in understanding. “I know you left that stupid little town to leave behind your past, but it’s about time someone told you that that’s pretty much impossible to do.” She waves her finger in your face jokingly. “It’ll always come back~” she sing-songs.

The weight of the truth in her words hit you like a ton of bricks. Still, you swallow harshly and try really hard to keep your composure with a raised brow because you knew she was right and it irked more than you were willing to admit. 

“No? Watch me.” 

You walk over to the kitchen sink, throwing your empty bowl inside to wash later. Just as you go to pull back, Margo ceases your wrist. 

Your eyes jump to hers instantly, brows furrowed. Her face is pulled into a tight expression; concern. 

“I’m worried about you, b. Ever since you left you’ve been weird. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

You stare into her earnestly worried chocolate orbs for a second before breaking down. With a reassuring smile, you pat her arm. 

“Hey,” you mumble softly. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll figure it out eventually.” You don’t try to act like you’re okay, because you know she can see right through you and it would only hurt her more to see that you weren’t willing to admit even just that.

She looks at you for a second longer, as if debating whether to say anything to you before ultimately deciding not to. She smiles softly. “Okay.”

You hold back the overwhelming urge to let your shoulders sag in relief and go to move away before she stops you again. “And Y/n?”

“Hm?”

“At least promise me you’ll think about it. I know it’s been hard for you, but coming from someone who’s seen what grudges can do to a person firsthand, you might want to at least consider it.” 

You open your mouth to answer hear but are interrupted by a pair of strong, tanned arms grabbing you from behind and picking you up with ease. He twirls you around, hugging you close to his chest. “I fucking missed you.”

You immediately recognize the smooth, masculine voice and the familiarity of it makes you smile.

You yelp, gripping onto his arms for dear life. “Daniel, for fuck’s sake put me down!” 

His arms tighten around you, nearly crushing you to death. “Never!” he declares dramatically. 

Fits of laughter escape you as he puts you down. You clumsily stumble around to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Why are there two of you?” you slur slightly, dizzy from all the spinning. 

His arms instinctively wrap around your waist as he pecks your nose. “Why are there three of you?”

You both laugh, and he leans down to whisper. “Not that I mind, truthfully.” 

You snort, playfully shoving his face away. “You’re so stupid.” 

He winks, sweeping a long strand of blond hair away from his face. “Only for you, babe.” 

You go to retort something (let’s be truthful; probably as cheesy as him) when Margo interrupts with obnoxious and overly-dramatic gagging sounds. 

You turn to look at her and she sighs, “you guys are too cute. It’s disgusting.” 

Daniel smacks your ass as you walk over to her. You yelp, glaring up at him as he winks at Margo smugly. 

“Don’t hate on us just ‘cause you can’t get any, M,” he sing-songs.

Margo rolls her eyes, picking her keys off the kitchen counter. “I will have you know I get plenty, Addington,” she emphasizes the last name, smirking. 

Margo had picked the nickname the moment she laid eyes on Daniel, a reference to the move Surfer, Dude with Matthew McConaughey.

Because Daniel was, in all respects of life, a typical surfer dude. 

You couldn’t help but snort, using your hand to hide it (very poorly, by the way). 

Daniel turns to you, horrified. “Hey! Aren’t you supposed to be on my side, babe?”

You shrug at him, barely holding back a grin. 

Margo shakes her head at you two, a small smile tugging at her lips. “K, well I’m out bitches. See ya’ tomorrow.” She walks out of the apartment, closing the door behind her. 

“God, I hope not,” Daniel whispers under his breath. 

You immediately smack him on the arm, glaring daggers into him. “Daniel!”

He grunts, rubbing at the sore spot on his arm furiously. “Ow! What the hell, babe!? I was kidding!”

You smile with sickly sweetness, gripping his jaw in your hands firmly. “I sure hope so, because that girl is my best friend and I owe her a whole lot. I better not hear you talking about her like that again.” 

He rolls his eyes playfully, wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you closer to him. “I fucking love when you get all bossy, you know that? You’re so hot.” 

You can’t help it when a devious smirk slips out. “Is that so?” You whisper, leaning to barely kiss him. Teasing, as you’d come to find out later, was something you enjoyed far too much. It was especially so with Daniel. 

His eyes grow dark and half-hooded with desire and you can already feel his hard-on pressing against your lower half.  

“It is,” he rasps, hands gently kneading at your hips. 

You moan lowly, leaning in to kiss him, slow and heavy. He kissed back immediately, hands wrapping around your ass to lift you up. You wrap your legs around him to steady yourself, hands gripping his strong tan shoulders. 

His hands find their way under your tank top and his fingers lightly trail over your stomach. You shiver under his watchful gaze, trying to get lost in his touch as it sneaks closer and closer to your breast.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes huskily against you, kissing your chin, then your jaw before trailing down to your neck where he kisses you roughly. 

You try to make your body feel intoxicated with the mere brush of the pads of his fingers, rough from polishing boards all day, from being in salt water for too long. You try to get dizzy with the mere scent of his hair, which lightly smelt of saltwater and sweet shampoo, you try to get your heart to race with every caress of his hands on you, with every kiss he softly planted on your skin, but-

“Stop,” you rasp breathlessly, shoving him away.

He doesn’t stop though, only continues to kiss your neck. “Why? You smell so fucking good, all I wanna do-”

“Daniel, stop. Seriously.” You shove him again, a little harder this time.

This time he stops, thank God. But he’s clearly pissed. 

“Why?” he insists, this time with more conviction than before.

You purse your lips, rubbing your arm nervously. “I’m just not ready yet,” you mumble sheepishly, feeling kind of bad about leaving him high and dry when he was so clearly, um...excited.

Scoffing, he shakes his head. “Then when will you be ready, huh!? We’ve been together for a whole year now, for chrissake! You always do this to me, dammit. You always tease me and-”

“I know!” you yell. “Fuck, I know, Daniel okay? I don’t do it on fucking purpose, though. And I’m not going to give up my virginity if I’m not completely sure it’s what I want!”

He laughs humorlessly, stepping away from you as if you’ve burnt him. “Are you sure it’s not on purpose?”

Your anger sizzles low in your stomach and you raise your brow challengingly at him. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

He purses his lips and shakes his head. “Nothing. You know what? Forget it, Y/n.” 

You reach out for him, guilt squeezing at your heart. “Dan-” you mumble softly.

He evades your touch, glaring at you. “I just need some air,” he mumbles, stalking away. 

He walks straight out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. 

You jump at the sound, sighing tiredly. 

You hated to admit it, but he was right. You’d been together for a little over a year but every time you tried to have sex, you just couldn’t go through with it. 

Something about it just didn’t feel right. 

Daniel was nice enough, tall blonde and hot in that sun-kissed surfer dude kind of way. Plus he was charming and fun. 

And yet...

 And yet- funny phrase isn’t it? It implies that even though everything about someone may be everything you should want, it’s still not what you want. 

He’s virtually perfect and yet, you haven’t been able to fall in love with him. Haven’t been able to feel what he made you feel. Not even a little bit. 

Because fuck, that’s what it all came down to isn’t it? 

Daniel just wasn’t him. His touch was nice, but it wasn’t his. His personality was warm and friendly, but it wasn’t his.

He wasn’t Christopher Robert fucking Evans. 

And you hated yourself for comparing everything Daniel did to him. Detested yourself for thinking that his kiss could never heat your skin the way his did. That his gaze could never have the power over your very being that his did.

You absolutely abhorred yourself for not being able to forget him, not being able to erase his mark on your heart, no matter how hard you’d been fighting against it. How hard you continued to fight against it.

You constantly had to remind yourself that it wasn’t okay to keep holding onto the past. Every day, for the last two years, you’ve had to remind yourself that you chose this. That even if it was what was supposed to happen, you didn’t have a right to want more than you got. That moving on with your life was what was for the best. 

So then why didn’t it feel like it?

You had hope, though. You believed that if you wanted to love Daniel enough, you eventually would. You just needed time. 

More time and you’d be able to get Chris Evans out of your system. Forever.

You sigh again, deciding you weren’t going to think about that anymore. It wasn’t going to get you anywhere, anyway. 

You had no classes today, so you decided to get ahead on your work. Walking over to your couch, you pull out your laptop.

This was Daniel’s parents’ apartment. He was pretty well off as his dad was a software developer for some huge tech company you can’t remember the name of and his mother a successful criminal psychiatrist. 

They got him this apartment a while ago and when you’d started dating, he asked you to move in. Of course, you said no initially, that was insane. You explained this to him, conveying exactly why it’d be a bit too much to move in together after only just getting into a relationship.

But eventually, he'd managed to convince you. I mean, honestly, it wasn’t that hard. A huge apartment you didn’t have to pay a whole bunch of rent for and also get to share with your hot boyfriend wasn’t the worst deal.

You just wish you could love him as much as he loved you. You’d get there eventually, you had no doubt.

You try to work, you really do, but the words are blurring together, interlocking, becoming knotted with each one you tried to type. It was far too tedious to try to focus now and quite pointless too.

Your mind is so clogged with messy thoughts, you decide it’s better for you to go for a jog, let off some steam and come back with a clearer head to reassess. 

You change into your jogging clothes- sports shorts, bra, and a sweatshirt. You tie on your running shoes and tie your hair into a high pony, grabbing your bottle of water on your way out. 

You decide to take on a few laps around your local park, plugging your earbuds in. And because life just hates you like that, of course the first thing that comes up on shuffle is I Hate Myself For Loving You by Joan Jett & The Blackhearts. 

Despite the heaviness the mere initial cords bring to your heart, you don’t skip to the next song and the gritty rawness of Jett’s voice more or less setting the tempo of your jog. Your feet hit the pavement beneath your feet in sync with the beat of the song. 

Something in the lyrics hits a nerve a bit too close to home and you gasp for air, the words puncturing you straight in the heart. 

“I hate myself for loving you Can't break free from the things that you do I wanna walk but I run back to you That's why I hate myself for loving you” 

You run harder, trying to sweat off the heaviness in your chest. Running away from the haunting ache that resonates from deep within you or trying to regain control of yourself, you don’t know for sure. 

You do hardcore sprinting for a few more laps before eventually deciding to slow down to a light jog, rethinking what’d occurred today as you took a sip of your water bottle. 

That invitation jolted something in you, a container you’d spent a long time trying to keep a tight lid on, and popped it open, spilling about your goddam guts.

The past was rushing back to haunt you and now the ball was in your court. Were you going to let it in and have it disturb the present’s peace, or were you going to lock it out and lose the chance at closure?

The real question was; did you even have a choice?

Read Chapter One Here!!

***

Are you excited? Cause I sure as hell AMMMMMMM

A Special Thanks to:

@star-spangled-steve​

@tomoyaevaans​

@pepsicolailovedogs​

@whereeverythingisbetter​

@fallenoutofrose​

@plutonium-m​​

An of course my incredible forevers!

@jessikared97​

@ladyofletters67​

@lilypalmer1987​

@sammykb1994

#Mr. Evans #mr evans 2 #teacher!chris evans x student!reader #teacher x student #teacher au

[untilnolongerprofitable]

PERSONALITY TYPE: ENTP-A

[ FOR MORE DETAIL, CLICK READ MORE. ]

Introduction

No one loves the process of mental sparring more than the Debater personality type, as it gives them a chance to exercise their effortlessly quick wit, broad accumulated knowledge base, and capacity for connecting disparate ideas to prove their points. Debaters are the ultimate devil’s advocate, thriving on the process of shredding arguments and beliefs and letting the ribbons drift in the wind for all to see. They don’t always do this because they are trying to achieve some deeper purpose or strategic goal, though. Sometimes it’s for the simple reason that it’s fun.

An odd juxtaposition arises with Debaters, as they are uncompromisingly honest, but will argue tirelessly for something they don’t actually believe in, stepping into another’s shoes to argue a truth from another perspective.

Playing the devil’s advocate helps people with the Debater personality type to not only develop a better sense of others’ reasoning, but a better understanding of opposing ideas – since Debaters are the ones arguing them.

This tactic shouldn’t be confused with the sort of mutual understanding Diplomat personalities seek – Debaters, like all Analyst personality types, are on a constant quest for knowledge, and what better way to gain it than to attack and defend an idea, from every angle, from every side?

There Are No Rules Here – We’re Trying to Accomplish Something!

Follow the path of the unsafe, independent thinker. Expose your ideas to the dangers of controversy. Speak your mind and fear less the label of ’crack-pot’ than the stigma of conformity. And on issues that seem important to you, stand up and be counted at any cost.

Taking a certain pleasure in being the underdog, Debaters enjoy the mental exercise found in questioning the prevailing mode of thought, making them irreplaceable in reworking existing systems or shaking things up and pushing them in clever new directions. However, they’ll be miserable managing the day-to-day mechanics of actually implementing their suggestions. Debater personalities love to brainstorm and think big, but they will avoid getting caught doing the “grunt work” at all costs. Debaters only make up about three percent of the population, which is just right, as it lets them create original ideas, then step back to let more numerous and fastidious personalities handle the logistics of implementation and maintenance.

Debaters’ capacity for debate can be a vexing one – while often appreciated when it’s called for, it can fall painfully flat when they step on others’ toes by say, openly questioning their boss in a meeting, or picking apart everything their significant other says. This is further complicated by Debaters’ unyielding honesty, as this type doesn’t mince words and cares little about being seen as sensitive or compassionate. Like-minded types get along well enough with people with the Debater personality type, but more sensitive types, and society in general, are often conflict-averse, preferring feelings, comfort, and even white lies over unpleasant truths and hard rationality.

This frustrates Debaters, and they find that their quarrelsome fun burns many bridges, oftentimes inadvertently, as they plow through others’ thresholds for having their beliefs questioned and their feelings brushed aside. Treating others as they’d be treated, Debaters have little tolerance for being coddled, and dislike when people beat around the bush, especially when asking a favor. Debater personalities find themselves respected for their vision, confidence, knowledge, and keen sense of humor, but often struggle to utilize these qualities as the basis for deeper friendships and romantic relationships.

Opportunity Is Missed Because It Looks Like Hard Work

Debaters have a longer road than most in harnessing their natural abilities – their intellectual independence and free-form vision are tremendously valuable when they’re in charge, or at least have the ear of someone who is, but getting there can take a level of follow-through that Debaters struggle with.

Once they’ve secured such a position, Debaters need to remember that for their ideas to come to fruition, they will always depend on others to assemble the pieces – if they’ve spent more time “winning” arguments than they have building consensus, many Debaters will find they simply don’t have the support necessary to be successful. Playing devil’s advocate so well, people with this personality type may find that the most complex and rewarding intellectual challenge is to understand a more sentimental perspective, and to argue consideration and compromise alongside logic and progress.

Strengths & Weaknesses

Debater Strengths

Knowledgeable – Debaters rarely pass up a good opportunity to learn something new, especially abstract concepts. This information isn’t usually absorbed for any planned purpose as with dedicated studying, people with the Debater personality type just find it fascinating.

Quick Thinkers – Debaters have tremendously flexible minds, and are able to shift from idea to idea without effort, drawing on their accumulated knowledge to prove their points, or their opponents’, as they see fit.

Original – Having little attachment to tradition, Debater personalities are able to discard existing systems and methods and pull together disparate ideas from their extensive knowledge base, with a little raw creativity to hold them together, to formulate bold new ideas. If presented with chronic, systemic problems and given rein to solve them, Debaters respond with unabashed glee.

Excellent Brainstormers – Nothing is quite as enjoyable to Debaters as analyzing problems from every angle to find the best solutions. Combining their knowledge and originality to splay out every aspect of the subject at hand, rejecting without remorse options that don’t work and presenting ever more possibilities, Debaters are irreplaceable in brainstorming sessions.

Charismatic – People with the Debater personality type have a way with words and wit that others find intriguing. Their confidence, quick thought and ability to connect disparate ideas in novel ways create a style of communication that is charming, even entertaining, and informative at the same time.

Energetic – When given a chance to combine these traits to examine an interesting problem, Debaters can be truly impressive in their enthusiasm and energy, having no qualms with putting in long days and nights to find a solution.

Debater Weaknesses

Very Argumentative – If there’s anything Debaters enjoy, it’s the mental exercise of debating an idea, and nothing is sacred. More consensus-oriented personality types rarely appreciate the vigor with which Debater personalities tear down their beliefs and methods, leading to a great deal of tension.

Insensitive – Being so rational, Debaters often misjudge others feelings and push their debates well past others’ tolerance levels. People with this personality type don’t really consider emotional points to be valid in such debates either, which magnifies the issue tremendously.

Intolerant – Unless people are able to back up their ideas in a round of mental sparring, Debaters are likely to dismiss not just the ideas but the people themselves. Either a suggestion can stand up to rational scrutiny or it’s not worth bothering with.

Can Find It Difficult to Focus – The same flexibility that allows Debaters to come up with such original plans and ideas makes them readapt perfectly good ones far too often, or to even drop them entirely as the initial excitement wanes and newer thoughts come along. Boredom comes too easily for Debaters, and fresh thoughts are the solution, though not always a helpful one.

Dislike Practical Matters – Debaters are interested in what could be – malleable concepts like ideas and plans that can be adapted and debated. When it comes to hard details and day-to-day execution where creative flair isn’t just unnecessary but actually counter-productive, Debater personalities lose interest, often with the consequence of their plans never seeing the light of day.

Romantic Relationships

If there’s one thing Debaters are good at, it’s coming up with a never-ending stream of innovations and ideas to keep things moving forward, and this is evident in their romantic relationships as well. For people with the Debater personality type growth is key, and even before they’ve found a dating partner, they imagine all the ways that they can experience new things together, to grow in tandem. This can be an overwhelming process if their partner doesn’t match up, but when Debaters find someone who shares their love of intellectual exploration, watch out.

Show Me a Satisfied Man, and I’ll Show You a Failure

From the earliest dates, Debaters test their partners’ limits for this kind of potential, pushing boundaries and traditions, looking for open-mindedness and spontaneity. Dating Debater personalities is hardly a boring experience, and they make use of their enthusiasm and creativity by delighting and surprising their partners with new ideas and experiences.

Debaters’ idea of fun is often rooted in self-improvement, and people with this personality type bring their partners along the way, as much in a spirit of sharing as in a spirit of expectation. Debaters see either growth or stagnation and don’t buy into the idea of a happy status quo, making them demanding as much as they are exciting.

Some may tire in the face of this constant improvement – while Debaters’ vigor can be attractive, it can also wear down even the most patient partners. A little time to breathe and a chance to rest on one’s laurels for a moment is necessary for many people, but not something Debaters are likely to appreciate. However, if their unwavering enthusiasm is met in kind, it can lead to a magnificent relationship characterized by its strength, depth, and spark.

Genius Is One Percent Inspiration and Ninety-Nine Percent Perspiration

This is perhaps most evident as Debaters’ relationships progress into more intimate situations. All that exploratory curiosity and enthusiasm has a chance to be expressed in new ways when Debaters and their partners come together, and they readily encourage their partners to try new things, to enjoy their intimacy without preconceived limitations.

For people with the Debater personality type, this phase of their relationships is a chance to improve and develop in areas that are outside the realm of academia, though they approach it in much the same way – as a physical and intellectual process of striving towards excellence, rather than a spiritual or emotional expression of affection.

Debaters’ desire to improve in this department makes them fantastic partners when the relationship reaches that point, but their attitude towards this process is also evidence of their most glaring shortcoming – their emotional obliviousness. While Debaters are more open-minded than other Analyst personality types about others’ perspectives, they are also more likely to express their disdain for such things as emotional sensitivity in cuttingly well-phrased and clear terms, easily hurting their partners’ feelings without realizing it. Debater personalities may even ignore their partners’ feelings altogether, instead immersing themselves entirely in some distant idea or opportunity, inaccessible.

Where Debaters’ unwavering desire for self-improvement comes in most handy is in their emotional development, as they may actually be willing to work on areas such as sensitivity and emotional communication with their partners.

Debaters’ best compatibility rests with other Intuitive (N) types, with one or two opposing traits which help to create both balance and opportunities for growth. If they are with a more sensitive partner, this can be an excellent way for them to find another quality that they can work on together, making this weakness yet another opportunity to be creative, challenge themselves, and to deepen the attractiveness that this sense of progression brings to their relationships.

Friendships

Loyalty, support, emotional feedback – these are not what Debaters look for in their friendships. The last thing people with the Debater personality type want to hear is “you’re right”, not unless they have absolutely earned the distinction in a heated round of intellectual debate. If they’re wrong, Debaters want to be told so, and they want every detail of the faults in their logic to be laid bare, partly in their quest for oftentimes arbitrary truth, and partly just so they have to work to defend that logic with counterpoint and parry.

It’s often easy for Debaters to test compatibility with a potential friend – they just need to test combatability. Debater personalities are quick-witted, and their primary means of expressing this is in the form of arguments and discussions, where they will easily spend an entire evening debating an idea they may not even believe in.

The epitome of Debaters’ friendships is when someone can hold their ground in these arbitrary debates with valid, rational arguments.

These debates are never taken personally, no matter how heated they become or how striking the disagreement. Much as an athlete competes for the physical exertion and the spirit of competition itself, Debaters debate for the sake intellectual stimulation and for the debate itself, and even in overwhelming victory or crushing defeat, it’s never about dominance, only inspiration to try harder next time.

When You Play, Play Hard

They know how to relax and have fun too, it’s just that “fun” to Debaters – a bottle of wine and a discussion about the causes of and solutions to the European migrant crisis – could be described as “an evening from hell” by many other personalities. But Debaters are a genial and enthusiastic personality type for the most part, and pretty much any situation that allows for conversation and a little wordplay is an enjoyable outing.

Debaters are actually remarkably good at communicating with friends and acquaintances of other personality types. Their natural tendency to argue as effectively as possible means that Debaters are accustomed to communicating in other people’s language and frame of reference, and this translates well into normal conversation. Where people with the Debater personality type do have difficulty relating to others is in emotional expression, the Achilles’ heel of all Analyst types.

The Worst Thinking Has Been Done in Turmoil

Being inclined to suppress their emotions and feelings, when Debaters are faced with a friend who, figuratively or literally, needs a shoulder to cry on, they have no clue how to handle the situation. They are perfectly willing and happy to offer a series of rational, reasonable solutions to the problem at hand, as Debaters do for any situation where a problem needs to be fixed, but they are certainly not known for their sensitivity or outward affection, no matter how intuitively they may understand another’s position.

Worse is when Debater personalities try to turn these emotional situations into something they find more comfortable: a debate. Given how remarkably good Debaters are at arguing both sides of a point, they are remarkably bad at putting themselves in someone else’s shoes from an emotional standpoint. Debaters should avoid at all costs the temptation to turn a discussion about the causes of a friend’s recent breakup into competitive intellectual fodder.

So long as everyone understands not to take their words too personally, anyone who isn’t afraid to discuss new ideas – and have them converted into so much confetti – is likely to find stimulating and thought-provoking friends in Debaters. It’s not a compatibility that clicks with everyone, but Debaters don’t really care about being liked by everyone anyways. As long as they get to alternate between being the sounding board and the megaphone, Debaters and their friends are bound to enjoy each other’s company for a long, long time.

Parenthood

One might think that the blustery and flighty nature of Debaters would make parenting a particular challenge for them, and in many ways, they’d be right. However, one thing people with the Debater personality type love more than just about anything is a good challenge, a problem to fix, even if it comes to addressing their own weaknesses. Debaters take their roles as parents seriously, and they are bound to be affected profoundly by this development in their lives – if anyone is able to take an outside influence, like their children, and use that influence to address their own faults, it is Debaters.

Be Brave, Have Faith, Go Forward!

From the beginning Debaters’ distaste for rules and regulations is evident, and they are likely to give their young children the freedom necessary to explore on their own. Independence is one of Debaters’ greatest needs, and they feel that no person is complete without an independent mind.

Debater personalities create relaxed, unorthodox environments for their children, founded on enthusiasm and the joy of discovery through the development of reason, not heavily structured settings designed merely to be safe.

As their children grow and develop, Debaters encourage them to think independently and voice objections, opinions and alternatives. But unlike Diplomat parents, who encourage their children to express their thoughts in terms of feelings and needs, Debaters teach their children to approach these options from a position of impartiality and logic, to state what is more effective rather than what would make them feel good. As in other relationships, this quality of emotional inaccessibility is where Debaters struggle.

As their children grow into adolescence and learn to find a balance in healthy emotional expression, people with the Debater personality type may find themselves exasperated. While always up for a good debate on just about any subject, Debaters often need their partners’ help in managing more emotional outbursts and arguments. Debaters are more able than most, but even they have their limits and rules when it comes to vocal conflict.

There’s a Way to Do It Better – Find It.

Luckily, Debater personalities recognize what’s at stake: they want their children to grow into smart, independent, honest adults. To convey those values, Debaters know that they need, like with any other debate, to communicate in terms that are accessible to all sides. If that means learning how to use the tools of emotional expression and appeals, and in so doing becoming more emotionally expressive in real, personal terms as well, so be it.

Career Paths

In the world of careers, Debaters have the benefit of being naturally engaged and interested in being productive and helpful. But rather than the sort of people-oriented helpfulness that Diplomat personality types bring to the table, Debater personalities are focused on developing solutions to interesting and diverse technical and intellectual problems. Debaters are a versatile personality type, and while it may take time for them to get to a point where they can fully utilize their skillset and qualities, they are likely to find that those qualities translate well into pretty much any career that so much as piques their interest.

If there’s anything Debaters love, it’s flexing their mental muscles, and any environment that lets them devise new approaches, new ideas and new projects, that allows them to push the limits of their creativity, will benefit strongly from what Debaters bring to the table.

Not every career allows this level of unbridled brainpower, but there are those that demand nothing but: entrepreneurship, engineering, even acting and photography. So long as Debaters are honest with themselves about their strengths and weaknesses, they can thrive in most any career that is in need of a new line of thinking.

The Value of an Idea Lies in the Using of It

All this intellectual power can be intimidating, but unlike their Introverted (I) cousins, people with the Debater personality type have the added benefit of being excellent communicators, in the written word but especially in face-to-face conversation. Though they dislike the constraints of managing others (and of being managed), this social adaptability allows Debaters to be natural leaders, showing the way forward and inspiring others with sound logic and intellectual prowess. While others may object to these plans with emotional considerations or general resistance to change, things Debaters place little value in, these competing comments are usually outmaneuvered by Debater personalities’ deft arguments and subtly shifting goals.

The best careers reward intellectual competency and curiosity, allowing Debaters to utilize their never-ending flow of ideas productively by affording a degree of spontaneity in how they engage their intellectual pursuits. People with the Debater personality type value knowledge, rational thought and insight very highly, and they make brilliant lawyers, psychologists, systems analysts and scientists. It’s even possible for Debaters to thrive as sales representatives, as they rationalize purchase decisions that may otherwise seem discretionary – so long as their managers know to give them the space they need to work their magic.

Being Busy Doesn’t Always Mean Real Work

Really it all comes down to a sense of personal freedom, for Debaters to know that they are allowed to apply themselves fully to understanding and solving the problems that interest them, without getting bogged down by social politics and trying to figure out what makes other people “tick”. Routine, structure and formal rules all feel like unnecessary hindrances to Debaters, and they may find that their best careers yet allow them to engage their intellectual pursuits on their own terms, as freelance consultants or software engineers.

The key for Debaters is to have the patience to get to a position that allows for these freedoms, to be in an environment long enough that not just their colleagues, but their managers and, in time, their subordinates, recognize what it is that they bring to the table. Debaters have exceptional qualities – it’s quantifying their achievements and skills that presents the biggest challenge. But once they’ve got their foot in the door, once they’ve got a willing ear higher in the hierarchy, the sky’s the limit.

Workplace Habits

Debaters have straightforward expectations in the workplace, but ones that aren’t always easy to meet. Strong believers in meritocracy, people with the Debater personality type expect their ideas to be heard by those above them, expect robust debate among their peers, and demand that those they manage offer up new solutions and ideas regardless of their positions. While this isn’t always how things play out in reality, Debaters know what to look for, and can avoid those strictly hierarchical institutions that they would otherwise struggle with.

Debater Subordinates

This dynamic is clearest with Debater subordinates, as they are comfortable challenging their managers’ ideas and have a strong (and well-expressed) dislike for restrictive rules and guidelines. Debaters back this unorthodox behavior with their keen minds and curiosity, and are as capable of adopting new methods as they are of suggesting others do so. If something can be done better, it’s as simple as that, and Debater personalities gladly take criticism, so long as it’s logical and performance-oriented.

The biggest challenge for Debater subordinates is that it is often the fate of the “lower” positions to implement the details, do the dirty work and follow through on plans set out by their managers. This couldn’t be further from what Debaters prefer to spend their time on – they can’t stand simple, routine work, and monotonous tasks are the stuff of nightmares. Things go over much better if managers are able to properly utilize Debaters’ preference for tackling complex challenges and diverse projects.

Debater Colleagues

It is as colleagues that Debaters prove most polarizing, as their passions for brainstorming, debate and over-analysis drive more practical, task-oriented colleagues crazy, but serve as stimulating inspiration for those who appreciate the innovation Debaters bring. Nothing bothers people with the Debater personality type more than getting out of a meeting where everyone agreed with the first plan presented, only to hear everyone complain about how stupid the plan was ten minutes later – but they “didn’t want to make waves”. Debaters strive for honest, direct and objective assessments of these ideas, so much so that they often earn reputations for their insensitivity and condescension.

Luckily Debaters know how to relax too, and their witty wordplay, healthy sense of humor and outgoing nature win new friends quickly and easily. Always willing to draw on their repository of knowledge, conversations with Debater personalities are informative and entertaining, which makes it easy for them to be the go-to person for tough problems that stump more rote approaches. Peer-to-peer relationships with Debaters aren’t always easy, but it’s tough to argue that they don’t work.

Debater Managers

While not always their goal, management is often where Debaters are most at home, allowing them the freedom to fiddle with different approaches and come up with innovative ways to tackle new challenges without having to handle the tedious step-by-step implementation of these plans. Debaters are open-minded and flexible managers, not just granting but also expecting the same freedom of thought that they themselves enjoy. This can lead to disorder, conflicting ideas and approaches being put forward, but Debaters are also great at accurately and objectively assessing which plan is likely to be most effective.

This doesn’t always make friends, but being liked is less Debaters’ goal than being respected and seen as intelligent and capable. And liked or no, people with this personality type hold firm ground in rational debates, making them fearsome advocates for their teams. The challenge for Debaters is focus, as they may find themselves jumping from project to project in a quest for challenge and excitement before their teams are able to wrap up the details of their existing goals and obligations.

Conclusion

Armed with a powerful intellect and vivid imagination, Debaters can overcome or outmaneuver obstacles that seem unbeatable to most. At the same time, their many quirks, such as often unconstrained rationalism, lead to many misunderstandings. Those misunderstandings end here. You are really not used to being understood, even by the people you’re closest to.

Chances are, you’ve accepted that as part of who you are, and maybe even grown proud of it. But embracing that disconnection isn’t a requirement for Debaters. It’s a misused defense mechanism, leading you down a lonely, inefficient path – gaining insight into yourself and others is so much more rewarding.

#|| he values virtue and vice; both are profitable in their turn || { about hondo } #// This is terrifyingly accurate #// It is also terrifying that anyone can be 99% Extraverted #// How in the hell

[maskedprepperkid]

Send in 🔮 to see my muse’s Meyer-Briggs Result

Send in a symbol to find out what my muse’s results were and whether I think it’s accurate or not.

Okay, so this is interesting. What happened here, what did I do.

Nvm this is Higgs.

There Are no Rules Here – We’re Trying to Accomplish Something!

The strengths and weaknesses are on point. I rest my case.

Knowledgeable – Debaters rarely pass up a good opportunity to learn something new, especially abstract concepts. This information isn’t usually absorbed for any planned purpose as with dedicated studying, people with the Debater personality type just find it fascinating.

Quick Thinkers – Debaters have tremendously flexible minds, and are able to shift from idea to idea without effort, drawing on their accumulated knowledge to prove their points, or their opponents’, as they see fit.

Original – Having little attachment to tradition, Debater personalities are able to discard existing systems and methods and pull together disparate ideas from their extensive knowledge base, with a little raw creativity to hold them together, to formulate bold new ideas. If presented with chronic, systemic problems and given rein to solve them, Debaters respond with unabashed glee.

Excellent Brainstormers – Nothing is quite as enjoyable to Debaters as analyzing problems from every angle to find the best solutions. Combining their knowledge and originality to splay out every aspect of the subject at hand, rejecting without remorse options that don’t work and presenting ever more possibilities, Debaters are irreplaceable in brainstorming sessions.

Charismatic – People with the Debater personality type have a way with words and wit that others find intriguing. Their confidence, quick thought and ability to connect disparate ideas in novel ways create a style of communication that is charming, even entertaining, and informative at the same time.

Energetic – When given a chance to combine these traits to examine an interesting problem, Debaters can be truly impressive in their enthusiasm and energy, having no qualms with putting in long days and nights to find a solution.

But also.

Very Argumentative – If there’s anything Debaters enjoy, it’s the mental exercise of debating an idea, and nothing is sacred. More consensus-oriented personality types rarely appreciate the vigor with which Debater personalities tear down their beliefs and methods, leading to a great deal of tension.

Insensitive – Being so rational, Debaters often misjudge others feelings and push their debates well past others’ tolerance levels. People with this personality type don’t really consider emotional points to be valid in such debates either, which magnifies the issue tremendously.

Intolerant – Unless people are able to back up their ideas in a round of mental sparring, Debaters are likely to dismiss not just the ideas but the people themselves. Either a suggestion can stand up to rational scrutiny or it’s not worth bothering with.

Can Find It Difficult to Focus – The same flexibility that allows Debaters to come up with such original plans and ideas makes them readapt perfectly good ones far too often, or to even drop them entirely as the initial excitement wanes and newer thoughts come along. Boredom comes too easily for Debaters, and fresh thoughts are the solution, though not always a helpful one.

Dislike Practical Matters – Debaters are interested in what could be – malleable concepts like ideas and plans that can be adapted and debated. When it comes to hard details and day-to-day execution where creative flair isn’t just unnecessary but actually counter-productive, Debater personalities lose interest, often with the consequence of their plans never seeing the light of day.

#higgs monaghan #particle god #t: ask #Anonymous

[collecting-stories]

Anger - Alfie Solomons

Prompt 97 with Alfie Solomons please. I'm picturing them getting into a fight and Alfie losing his temper enough to yell.

Anger - Alfie Solomons x reader

“Don’t yell at me!” You shout, voice breaking through Alfie’s gruff tone and causing him to stop abruptly, mid sentence.  

Both of you had gotten caught up in the argument, Alfie so much that his voice had risen to the point of shouting, booming over anything that you had to say. You’d heard him yell before, you were no stranger to the intimating voice of the gangster but that tone had never been directed at you before. One of the men in the factory maybe, a business partner he was particularly upset with, but never you. He always had patience with you. An unending amount of patience that he gave freely anytime the two of you disagreed on something.  

It was the shock of hearing him yell the way he did that forced you to take a step back. The red of his face and the deep-set frown were not usual sights, it wasn’t like you never argued with Alfie. You were both opinionated and stubborn but even that bull-headedness had never led to an argument like the one you were having tonight.  

The fight had started well before you had gotten home. It began in the club that the Peaky Blinders owned. You’d gone for the night with Alfie, invited there by Thomas Shelby himself. It was meant to be a rather enjoyable night, both men had sworn off talk of business but even still Alfie refused to relax. He sat still in the back of the club and watched the patrons around, scrutinizing everyone that came through the doors.  

“Are you gonna do this all night?” You’d asked, bored as hell as he pulled out his third cigar of the evening.  

“What? I’m relaxing, as you requested I do.” He replied, glancing at you over the top of his glasses as he puffed out a breath of smoke.  

“You’re impossible Alfie.” You laughed, leaning over to kiss his cheek before getting up. Since Alfie was uninterested in dancing with you or doing anything other than staring at people menacingly. You made it to the bar and ordered another whiskey, finding the familiar face of Tommy’s brother Arthur a few people down.  

You were well aware of the feud that was ongoing between Arthur and Alfie. Just because business had improved between the Shelbys and Alfie did not mean that the relationship between them personally had resolved even in the slightest. But you didn’t mind Arthur so much, he was a bit thickheaded but he was nice. So you said hello, which was exactly what set off the foul mood that had Alfie yelling at you.  

“How’re you?” Arthur asked, smiling as he offered you a hug. He was drunk enough, and high on a little bit of Tokyo, that he didn’t have any qualms with being friendly to you. “Tommy mentioned you coming round tonight?”  

You hummed and nodded, hugging him back. “It’s good to see you, are you in London long?”  

Arthur captured your entire attention as he spoke to you and you leaned against the bar counter to be closer so that you could hear over the bustle of the other patrons. He spoke loud, gesturing and smiling as he recounted some of the past weeks events. There was nothing Arthur enjoyed more than bullshitting a story to someone and you were easily entertained when you were tipsy, enough so that the story was all you were listening too. You were completely unaware of Alfie, watching from across the club, puffing on his cigar with a grimace.  

He had noticed you say hello to Arthur and he’d not been thrilled with that, let alone the smile on your face as you listened to him talking. Then you were throwing your head back, laughing at something that he was telling you and he leaned in closer and suddenly Alfie was on his feet.  

The cigar was forgotten in the ashtray on the table His face was scrunched up in a prominent frown as he made his way towards the pair of you. When he reached the bar he came up behind you, hand closing around your wrist as he leaned into the space that you and Arthur had created.  

“I’ll be taking my girl home now Arthur.” He announced, loud enough for even the surrounding patrons to hear.  

“Alfie, glad to see you!” Arthur greeted, smiling and too drunk to recognize the look that Alfie was fixing on him.

“I’m not done.” You argued, trying to pull away from him. “I’ve just started enjoying myself.”

“Well we’re going.” He gave a tug and you tugged back.

“I’m not ready.”  

Alfie was not a patient or calm man by any means but he rarely mishandled you or ignored your wishes. Occasionally, when he was in an especially awful mood he would and it always resulted in an argument. Tonight was no different. And while Alfie didn’t usually yell at you, you had done your fair share of yelling as he followed you down the street toward your home. You walked faster than you knew he was able, trying to distance yourself, and yelled back at him that he had embarrassed you in front of the entire club. While that wasn’t entirely true he had embarrassed you in front of Arthur Shelby, which he knew was what you actually meant and that set him off.  

“The fuck do you care what that gypsy thinks of you?” Alfie had called after you as he tried to keep up, so angry that the pain in his back and leg felt like nothing as he walked.  

“I care because we do business with them! And what then? I’m just your weak, meager wife who coils up when you raise your voice? I was chatting with a business partner not fucking him! You’re so dramatic!”  

“I’m dramatic?” He scoffed, “that’s rich. I wasn’t the one throwing myself at the fuck Shelby like I was hoping he’d take me home.”

“Oh please!” You’re already exasperated by this line of accusations from Alfie and you aren’t surprised that you chatting someone up translates to him as you thinking about another man. If you were more sober you’d calm down and have a rational discussion with Alfie, one that pointed out his insecurity but didn’t accuse him of being dramatic or, worse yet, paranoid. “You’re absolutely delusional! All you wanted to do was smoke that stupid fucking cigar and what? I’m supposed to sit there next to you and waste my evening!”  

“If ya thought it was a waste maybe ya shouldn’t have gone!”  

“Oh yeah of course, don’t bring me out anywhere for fear I’ll find someone better while you sit in a corner bringing down everybody’s mood and sulking.” You shouted.  

“I shouldn’t bring you out. You’re a fucking tart when I do!” He yelled back, slamming the door behind him as he crossed over the threshold of the house.  

You practically jumped at the sound of his booming voice. “Don’t yell at me!” You had tears in your eyes that seemed to bring Alfie back down from the high of the argument and he took a step toward you when you took a step back. “I hate when you yell.”  

“Hey,” Alfie’s voice is quieter but still commanding and you look at him. The way he yelled had certainly worked to sober you up some, has had the walk home through the cold London air. “You’re screaming at me through the streets. “You think I like that?”

“You shouldn’t have gone off like that! I was only talking to Arthur. It was the Shelbys that invited us out, as a way to make amends. Whatever displeasure you share with Arthur is not mine. I’m allowed to speak with whoever I want.” You reply, arms crossed defensively.

“I know, I know.”

“No, you say I know but then you turn around and your scolding me like a child in front of people for being friendly. I’m not interested in Arthur Shelby Alf. And if you don’t know that by now, that I’m fully devoted to you, then when will you?”  

“I know you are love, it’s not that I don’t trust you.”

“But I can’t constantly reassure you Alfie. I can’t only speak to you and only spend time with you for fear that you’ll turn sour every time I smile at someone else. And if that’s it, if my role in this relationship is nothing more than having to constantly make sure you aren’t suspicious of me than you don’t trust me. If you did I could have talked to Arthur without a problem.”

Alfie sighed, scratching at his beard out of nervous habit as you spoke. He leaned himself against the railing of the staircase, his back hurting from walking so quickly after you. “I can do better. I trust you, honest, it’s just sometimes I can’t help feeling a little territorial.”

“Let me help you with that then.” You replied, taking off your coat and hanging it at the door. “I’m not your property. So the next time I’m speaking to someone think to yourself how embarrassed and humiliated you would feel if I stormed up to you and dragged you away as if you were a child who had no say in what you could and could not do.”  

“Love.”

“Don’t ‘love’ me Alfie. I don’t want the same apologies and excuses. I want you to stop doing it and I want you to never raise your voice to me again. Understood?”

In true Alfie fashion he gave a little chuckle and replied, “now I’m the one being scolded.”

You shot him a displeased look as you helped him take his coat off. “I’m not joking with you Alfie.”

“Alright. We’ll discuss it in the morning, my back is killing me. I have to get off my feet.”

“There’s nothing to discuss. It’s either yes, you’ll treat me with the respect I deserve or no, you won’t and I’ll take my coat and go.” You replied. You’d had this argument with Alfie a hundred times and you were exhausted by it. You would’ve loved to have had a nice evening out followed by the both of you coming home and relaxing further but he’d made it impossible. He had made you feel stupid in front of people who knew you and you were determined not to let this time slide.  

“I’m sorry. I love you and sometimes I don’t act the way I should. It won’t change overnight but I’ll work on it.” Alfie replied.  

“I expect you to. This is the last time I have this discussion with you. Next time I’ll leave.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Alfie knew how stubborn you were but also how insistent on being respected you were as well. You wanted to be treated equally and he admired that about you, loved it deeply, but sometimes he let himself get worked up and being treated equally was traded for trying hold some type of ownership over you. He knew it was wrong, he had known the moment he pulled you from the pub that he was in for a lecture but up until now all he could think was how cheerful you looked with Arthur. Which was more about himself and his concerns than about you and what you actually wanted. “I’m truly sorry.”

“Let’s go to bed,” you slipped an arm around his back and walked carefully, a step behind him, as you helped him manage the stairs. “I’m sorry for making you chase me through the street.”

“Yes, next time hail a car will you? Yell at me in the backseat where I can recline myself.” Alfie joked. The seriousness of the argument seemed to wash away as you reached the bedroom though the implications of it still weighed in the back of both of your minds. There would have to be change moving forward, Alfie would make sure of it.  

_

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[mintseesaw]

Prompt: “I thought you left.”

Pairing: namjoon x reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Word count: 1.3k

*not edited*

Shit, Namjoon mentally cursed. The keys in his hand fell, creating a noise to the awfully quiet apartment. He didn't care.

He rushed towards the bedroom to confirm his assumption. He was met with darkness, like the rest of the flat, a sign of a lacking presence of the woman whom he’s been sharing the place with. He scurried his phone through his pocket, dialing your number. Please pick up, baby.

A series of profanities left his mouth when the call went straight to voicemail.

His face met his perspiring hands harshly in agitation, suddenly being filled with remorse for stirring a fight with you over the phone awhile ago. After you ended the call, the intensity of his emotion was rapidly replaced by guilt. Since then, it has been eating him out to the point where his in progress tracks are left untouched although he’s never left his chair in front of his computer. He wanted to apologize, and perhaps, he should’ve called you to make amends.

The damage he created would have been fixed immediately. Not only that, he could’ve prevented you from leaving, as well. He was harsh. For someone as delicate and sensitive as yourself, words can be as painful as inflicting physical injuries for you.

Are you gonna come back home, tonight?

He sat down helplessly on the bed. He needs to find you. But where does he start?

The eerie silence in the apartment was cut short as Namjoon heard the door creaking which obviously indicates someone has got in. He sprinted out and towards the living room to be met by his surprised girlfriend.

Purely startled, you look at your boyfriend who you noticed is breathing heavily, you’re not expecting to see him at home.

“You’re here…” You glowered, mostly to confirm it for yourself as opposed to what you have assumed.

You concluded you’d be alone tonight after the little fight you had with him.

He didn’t say so, but there is no confirmation needed when it became a common occurrence for him to skip home when he gets upset over a fight. He’d rather spend the night in his studio. And you understand, that he needs to comply to the demands of his work. Going home would only distract him, instead of accomplishing his tasks.

“You’re not home...where have you been?” He distressed.

You eyed his features. He looks worried. “Just...anywhere...out. I thought you have no plan to go home.”

His eyes fluttered closed for a second, exhaling a long breath. In relief, maybe?

When he opened them, he spoke. “I thought you left.” His voice croaked. A lot of emotions dance in his eyes. His lowered head allowed you to see it. His vulnerability.

“What?” Leave him? Where is that coming from?

He heaves a sigh before answering, “You’re upset.”

“So are you.” You quickly replied.

“I was. I’m sorry.” He means it. He should not speak with his temper taking over his rational mind, again. Because there’s no way he couldn’t have hurt you from the words he threw over his phone which is why he needed to check up on you— to see you with his own eyes, regardless of the load of his work.

“You shouldn't be, I was being dramatic.”

He groans, hearing you echo his own words. “You’re not being dramatic.”

“I realized you’re right.” You admitted.

He shook his head violently. “I didn’t mean that.”

“It’s fine. I was being selfish.”

“No, I’m sorry. I regret saying those things to you.”

“Namjoon, I understand now. And I went out to think, and I have considered of giving you the space you want—“

“No, baby. Listen, I don't mean everything I said. It was not me talking but my temper.” He croaked.

You heave a sigh, not wanting to talk about it further. You could feel your eyes water. So you moved to the kitchen, randomly opening the cupboards and pulling the drawers to distract yourself.

“Do you want coffee?” You asked as you took two mugs out without taking a glance at his direction.

He was silent.

“You’ll work on your tracks here, as well?” You continued. You heard a low humming sound from him, taking it as a yes even though his reply sounds uncertain.

“I should make you one, then.”

Your movements halted when you felt him, his arms finding their way around your waist, hugging you from behind—to your surprise. His lips pressed flat on the skin of your shoulder.

“I love you, y/n.” Namjoon whispered, tenderly.

Your chest constricted right there and then. His words have hurt you, but at the end of the day, you still love him and you knew his feelings for you remains the same. Tears hurriedly pooled in your eyes until it was too much, too late to stop it from flowing down your cheeks.

He didn’t realize it, until he heard you sniffed.

“Hey, are you crying?” He spun you around, “Y/n, baby…” His thumbs brushing both your cheeks, wiping the tears off of your face. It seems useless for a second because the tears won't stop flowing.

“I thought you didn’t want me anymore,” You sobbed. His heart made a painful tug.

“You seemed so upset over the phone. And I felt bad for insisting you to go home. I just wanted to surprise you… I learned to cook your favorite food and I couldn’t tell you because it would ruin the surprise. I’m sorry, I should be more considerate—”

“You did? Where is it?”

You tilted your head to the side, “It’s gone.”

“You threw it out?” He concluded in dismay.

“No, I gave it to our neighbor. You know, the old man.”

The agony he feels only intensified at your confession. If he hinted something behind your sudden request during his lunch break… no argument would take place between you and Namjoon. Unfortunately, he’s too stupid to sense that you were up to something.

“I’m sorry—“

“Stop apologizing, Joon.” You let out a small laugh. Pressing a kiss on his cheek on your tiptoes before turning back to the counter to continue your task. He remained still, calculating his moves.

“Will you cook it again for me?” He discreetly queried, while watching you getting pretty occupied on the Nespresso machine he recently purchased just for you.

You took a quick glance at him before turning your attention back to the machine in front of you. “Perhaps, if you want to.”

He didn't move, he stood still, watching your every move as if it entertains him more than the books that he reads.

“Take a seat, you’ve been standing there for too long.” He did as he was told, taking the closest high chair across from you. His eyes, however, have no intention to leave their gaze on you.

The tension has subsided. Although he remained cautious. He would’ve cracked a joke by now, only if he didn’t make you upset just a while ago.

Few minutes later, you placed a searing mug of hot coffee in front of him.

“You should start working on your tracks, it’s getting late.” You suggested, sincerity hinted in your tone.

He took a sip in his mug, wincing a little as the tip of his tongue gets burn at the sudden contact of the hot liquid. “I should, but I will probably rush it tomorrow. I want to spend the night with you.”

You gave him a smile, “You always do. I’m here, Joon. I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s exactly why I should. You’re always by my side. Im sorry, baby, I should never take your presence for granted.”

You went to the other side, drawing closer to him. He was watching you, anticipating your every move. Despite hinting your intention, when you close the distance, hugging him over his neck, his mouth fell opened, as well as his heartbeat accelerated. “I love you,” he heard you whispered in his ear.

He genuinely smiled, “I love you, baby.” He drew forward, sealing it with a sweet and breathtaking kiss.

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