#sometimes i write pieces of things just to get them to leave me alone | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mossy-rock-in-a-field · 4 months

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Several weeks ago, my retirement-age mother requested that I play Baldur’s Gate 3 for her because she has trouble with controllers/keyboards and wanted “to see what all the fuss is about with that cute wizard boy.” For context, my mother and I have done this sort of thing in the past with certain RPGs (dragon age, mass effect, etc.), but it’s been a few years since she’s personally requested a game like this. Basically, I control her Tav but let her make all the choices so she can determine how the story plays out without worrying about mechanics. She treats it like a choose-your-own-adventure book.

Anyway, here is a list of some of the things my mother has said and/or chosen to do throughout the course of BG3 in no particular order:

She is (obviously) romancing Gale. She is quite smitten with him and his passion for books and learning; she also thinks he’s polite and qualifies as “relationship material.” She also REALLY likes the things he’s said about his cat so far (my mom is a cat lady), so I know she’s gonna flip shit when we meet Tara in Act III.

She’s playing a normal druid Tav with a generally good alignment. Her favorite spell is Spike Growth because she thinks it’s hilarious whenever enemies walk into the AOE and die. I usually end up having to cast it at least once per battle per her request. Sometimes twice.

Contrary to her alignment, my mother tasks me with robbing every single chest, crate, barrel, and burlap sack we come across; this also includes people and their pockets. The party is always at max carrying capacity. ALWAYS. She doesn’t like selling things because “what if I need them.” The camp stash is in literal shambles. There is no hope of organizing it. She’s got like fifty seven sets of rags and a billion pieces of random silverware.

She MUST talk to every animal and corpse in the game. I think five hours of her total playtime so far (47ish) has been spent speaking to animals as many times as humanly possible. Like, I was thorough in my own playthroughs, but this is on a whole other level.

She did NOT get Volo’s lobotomy, but she did let Auntie Ethel take her eye in hopes of a cure for the tadpole. I did not understand the logic then. I still do not understand it now.

She is far more interested in fashion than equipment stats. Do you have any idea how much gold I’ve had to spend on dyes just to make things match? SO much. Same vibe as that “please someone help me balance my finances my family is starving” tweet but instead of candles it’s thirty thousand fucking bottles of black and furnace red dye.

We broke the prisoners out of Moonrise, but they got on the boat too early and bugged the fight by leaving Astarion and Karlach behind. Wulbren Bongle somehow got stuck in combat mode even after engaging the cutscene on the docks below Last Light; he he kept trying to run ALL THE WAY BACK TO MOONRISE nine fucking meters at a time while I frantically tried to finish the fight with the Warden, otherwise Wulbren would have run straight into the shadow curse. (I would’ve let him go; fuck Wulbren Bongle, all my homies hate Wulbren Bongle. But my mom didn’t know that, and she wanted to keep him safe. So.)

She had me reload a save like eighteen times to save the giant eagles on top of Rosymorn Monastery. Wouldn’t even let me do non-lethal damage just to get past things. I think getting that warhammer for the dawnmaster puzzle took us like an hour and a half alone. (Yes, I know you can use any warhammer, but SHE didn’t.)

She’s started keeping an irl notebook to keep track of her quests between play sessions. She writes down ideas and strategies when she thinks of them during the week, then brings them to her next game session at my house. I think she wrote about three pages on possible approaches to the goblin fortress alone.

She insists that I pet Scratch and the owlbear cub before every single long rest, no exceptions. Sometimes I have to do it multiple times until she is absolutely sure that the animals know exactly how much she loves and cherishes them. She has also commissioned a crocheted owlbear plush from a friend of hers and is very excited.

I’m sure there’s a bunch of stuff I’m forgetting, but those are some fun things I thought of. She’s enjoying the game and is telling all of her retired friends to get it and play it for themselves. She asked me “what is Discord” yesterday and I think my life flashed before my eyes.

anyway shout out to my mom for being neat

Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale #gale of waterdeep #astarion #gale dekarios #laq talks #I talk #she stares at me real hard after she makes a choice too #like squinting to see if my expression gives anything away #if it was a good or bad call #I keep my face blank as shit it’s hilarious #I have not told her I’m writing fanfic for this game #nor will I ever #jesus christ

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

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AITA for not having time to read my mutual's writing?

Met a mutual on here, bonded through fanfic, have been tight with them for a few years with pretty much no bumps in the relationship, just overall had a really good time hanging around them when I could. We both write a lot and share our writing, and occasionally we talk about that writing/workshop it in passing.

In the past few years I've gone through a ton of life changes. Most notably I went from a multi-person household to a single-person one, and I've been living alone in a prohibitively costly city for a while now working 40 hour weeks and barely scraping by. As soon as the transition started I spent the last of my free income on a shitty little laptop so I could still write, putting down words on my bus/train commutes in the morning and quite literally writing on my breaks at work because I feel insane when I can't create. I bring this up to really stress that I don't have the time for the hobby, I force myself to make the time and even then it never feels like enough.

The only thing I can really stand to do with my 3 hours of free time at night is hang out with my moots online. I'm an extrovert so being around people recharges me. If I don't have designated social time I get super depressed and can pretty much feel my soul withering away. I also feel like I should probably mention that I kinda have a slew of mental issues, personality disorders and PTSD and AuDHD and the works. Point being, shit is rough my dude, but I am a person who likes to work hard and face challenges head on and even though we strugglin, we doing it with a positive outlook.

But! I am an incredibly solution-oriented person and I have found what I personally believe to be a good balance. No one should have to live like this, but I do, and I have found a way to be happy. My writing and my social time is all load-bearing. It is not something I just choose to do on a whim, it's all planned and scheduled and I adhere to those routines very strictly because, I cannot stress this enough, I will go fucking bonkers if I don't.

I'm mutuals with a lot of writers obv, and I sadly don't have time to read their work anymore, unless I get some extra time on my days off or something gets cancelled or like, I end up taking a vacation. I carry a great amount of guilt for this, though, even though I logically know it's reasonable. I try to support them where I can, cheer them on when I see them writing and tell them how cool their ideas sound, hype them up even when I can't actually read & review.

One of the things I do is sometimes I leave a kudos on fic I haven't read. I'm not trying to be ingenuine, and if they asked me I'd tell them like 'Oh I didn't read it yet, just wanted to show support!' but to me it's kinda like ripping a paper tab off a poster so that other's feel inclined to do the same. Plus my pals get a little email and a hit of serotonin.

Except one of my acquaintances, the one I mentioned at the start here, saw that I left kudos on a couple pieces another mutual of mine wrote this year. They more or less blew up my DMs with a ton of accusatory (like, literally presented like a 'GOTCHA!') stuff about how I was selective in who's fic I read, more or less implying that I secretly held some sort of grudge or negative feeling toward them and was making the conscious decision not to read or interact with their writing because of. Something, I don't actually know what they were trying to say. They also told me they vented to their friends about this MULTIPLE times, but they never once approached me to let me know they were feeling paranoid or neglected, they literally just took the most bad faith reading of it possible and then presented that to me like it was something I intentionally did, while the whole time I was unaware.

I tried to explain to them the kudos thing, that I didn't do it to every story, just ones I caught/noticed in my busy schedule. And I laid all this out and asked, multiple times, what free time am I supposed to read with? They didn't answer, and doubled down, kept trying to show me 'proof' that I was shorting them and no one else. Once they started to realize how wrong they were they backed down, but they didn't really apologize, or admit they were wrong, and they tried to end our relationship and left every single server we were in together. Because of some other unrelated stuff going on in my life, I didn't really consider them to be a close friend, but they were someone I really held dear and would've walked through hell for if they'd asked.

I still feel like there is something I'm missing here, and that's why I wanted to ask if I'm TA. I'm a pretty good communicator but one of the things I told myself when talking down my disordered thoughts (guilt about this prior) was "no one in their right mind would use reading fanfic as a metric for friendship." Now that I've had that exact thing happen, I'm starting to think maybe those thoughts weren't so disordered. Maybe this IS a big deal, and I should think about it more, but I don't even know what the solution to that would be. I just. Don't have time to read something lovingly crafted and appreciate it for what it is. All the hours in my week are used up, I'd have to lose sleep for this and with my mental health the way it is that is not an option.

Feel free to be a brutal, my skin is thick. Thanks!

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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fluentmoviequoter · 24 days

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Lost Time

Requested Here!

Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!wife!reader

Summary: Jason comes home to you, his wife, after a mission and makes up for lost time.

Warnings: fluff and comfort! brief mention of the Lazarus Pit and human trafficking

Word Count: 1.3k+ words

A/N: I really want to write a lengthy oneshot for Jason but I don't know if I capture him well enough. I don't get many DC requests but I love them so much!!

Picture from Pinterest (WFA Jason >>>)

Masterlist | DC/Jason Todd Masterlist | Request Info

Jason Todd leaves, it’s what he does. Sometimes there are warnings, direct and indirect, but other nights he leaves while you sleep or simply doesn’t come home when he should. That’s who he is, what he does. There is more to Jason than meets the eye; he isn’t just Jason, Red Hood, or Bruce Wayne’s dead and nearly forgotten son. One piece of Jason makes him whole: being your husband brings him back, every single time. Jason leaves, but the time you spend alone is spent in confidence that he will come back to you, even if he’s broken and crawling.

While Jason is in Blüdhaven helping his brothers with a mission that Bruce doesn’t know about, you spend the time alone missing him. He hates leaving you, but you understand. That doesn’t mean, however, that you just wait for him to come home. Being married is supposed a 50/50 arrangement, yet you have given everything to Jason and there is not a single thing you wouldn’t do for him.

Tonight, nearly 96 hours after you last saw Jason, you make yourself comfortable with one of his books. The pages are yellowed from use, and highlights and notes fill the margins and the empty pages. Each word reminds you of Jason, and though you miss him, you refuse to look at his empty side of the bed. In the time since he left, promising to come back to you with a kiss and a tap to your wedding ring, you have read several of his books, cooked his favorite meal, and baked his favorite goodies. The distractions you created are all centered around Jason because despite what you tell yourself about needing to think about other things, Jason Todd takes up every single one of your thoughts. He’s captivating, and you never want to escape him.

Your phone beeps as you finish a page of Frankenstein. After taking a calming breath, you read the message from Barbara.

The bats are Gotham-bound.

The message makes you smile, and you rise from the bed to prepare for Jason’s return. He has come home without a scratch, drenched in blood, and everything in between. In sickness and health, you vowed, and you plan to keep it. With his favorite food already prepared and water heating in the kettle on the stove, you sit on the couch and wait for his entrance. The front door is behind you, and you watch as the Red Hood lands on your fire escape and expertly navigates into your home. His home.

The couch is empty by the time he turns from the now-closed window, and your arms loop around his waist as he moves. Jason chuckles at your immediate attention and pulls his helmet off.

“Miss me?” he asks.

You can hear his smile in his voice, and as Jason’s arms wrap around you, you sigh and release every fear and worry that had been pushed into the back of your mind.

“I need to shower,” Jason says, though he doesn’t move his hands from your back. “Blüdhaven is gross.”

“And Gotham is known for its cleanliness,” you argue.

“Get off,” Jason grumbles.

He raises his hands to your shoulders and easily pushes you back. You look at him as you raise your hands to hold his wrists. Jason’s gaze is soft and his touch is softer.

“Ten minutes,” he requests quietly.

“Someone needs pampering,” you tease. “Take your time. There’s food and tea if you want any.”

“Just wan’ you,” he murmurs.

Jason leans in and kisses your forehead quickly. He avoids your hands as you reach out for him. You laugh as he walks away, and the sound brings Jason home. He’s physically home, yes, but he is only home when you are completely and wholly with him.

The water echoes through the apartment as Jason enters the shower, and you prepare two mugs of tea before carrying them into the bedroom. You would wait forever for Jason, but as you lean back and close your eyes, content listening to him move through your shared home, you know that you’ll never have to wait long.

When Jason enters the bedroom clad in a pair of Wonder Woman sweatpants and smiles at you, everything seems better. The darkest Gotham day can’t cast a shadow on what you and Jason have. Before Jason left, he told you all you needed to know about the mission, and you won’t bring it up again. If he wants to talk about it, he will, and you’ll listen.

You raise the blanket as Jason approaches the side of the bed. He doesn’t hesitate to join you and pull you closer. After looping your arms over his shoulders, you push your fingers into Jason’s wet curls and twist them gently around your fingers. His white streak is closest to you, yet you concentrate your attention elsewhere to keep your eyes locked on his.

“You read it again, didn’t you?” Jason asks.

His eyes threaten to flutter closed, but he forces them open to talk to you.

“Read what?” you whisper.

“Tell me what I missed,” he requests.

You know he can see his books piled on your nightstand, but you enjoy the smile he gives you when you pretend not to know what he’s talking about. Jason pulls your hands away from his hair, opting to hold you against his side. You lay a hand over his heart and gently trace the bottom of a scar. You know his scars by heart, and each story behind them is ingrained in your memory.

“Not much,” you answer after a moment.

“Did you do anything? Because everything you do is important, and I want to hear about it,” Jason argues.

You lean closer and spread your fingers flat against his skin. His heart thrums steadily beneath your hand, and you think your heart beats in time with his.

“Maybe you just married me for the post-mission cuddles,” you say.

“Or maybe I just married you because I love you. I love you for accepting all of me and loving the parts that I don’t let anyone see.”

“Jason,” you hum.

“You didn’t tell me about what I missed,” he replies.

The first raindrop hits the window, and Jason is reminded that he’s back in Gotham. He’d move to Metropolis and listen to Clark as long as you were by his side, but being in your arms in his home town is a feeling unlike any other.

“I’ll take it you didn’t go to the manor,” you deflect.

“Why would I when I have a beautiful wife waiting at home for me and four days to make up for? Lost time with you will always be more important than Bruce.”

You sigh before you begin telling him about what you did. There isn’t much to tell. You read one of his books, cleaned, cooked, baked, and read another book.

“You baked?” Jason interrupts. “And didn’t bring it up until now?”

“I thought time with me was more important.”

Jason furrows his brows as he turns, pulling you to lay on top of him. When you first started dating, Jason was hesitant to initiate any sort of physical touch. Not long before, he had been Gotham’s most-feared crime lord and the rage caused by the pit was still present. Now, there is nothing to stop Jason from touching you: no fear of hurting you, no concern of scaring you away, and no doubt that you won’t love him once you see his darkest secrets. Jason’s scars, his past, and his nightly activities make him the man you love, and you love those parts of him, not the other way around.

As you cuddle with the man who recently scared human traffickers into turning themselves in to the authorities rather than running into him again, you simply enjoy being together. Your husband Jason and Red Hood Jason aren’t the same, yet you love them both equally.

“Do you really want to make up for lost time?” you ask over the rain.

Jason thinks your voice is more soothing and melodic than any rainstorm could dream of being. He pries his eyes open to answer, “Every second of it.”

You nod and lay your head against his chest. With your hearts pressed to one another and your fingers intertwined with Jason’s, you know that you are loved, and Jason knows you will always be here when he comes home.

You’re nearly asleep when you mumble, “’S a lotta time.”

Jason smiles but doesn’t move because he doesn’t want to disturb you. “Never enough time with you,” he whispers against your temple.

#hanna writes✯#jason todd x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd #batfam #red hood #red hood x reader #requests #fem!reader #dc comics x reader

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dearly-somber · 6 months

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It’s An Affectionate Thing | j.jk

-> pairing. wolf shifter!jungkook x human!reader (f)

-> genre. fluff, f2l (friends-to-lovers), pining, unrequited love, eventual romance

-> w/c. 2183

-> rating. 13+

-> a/n. this one was an excuse to write biting because 🤭

-> warnings. N/A

-> collection. mini-series

-> started. Jun. 30th, 2022 @ 18:21

-> fin. Jun. 30th, 2022 @ 22:23

-> edited. Jul. 5th, 2022 @ 00:46

-> divider credit. @mmadeinheavenn

Jungkook is… weird, to say the least.

He just randomly came up to you in class one day, sat his ass down on the edge of your desk, and started talking to you like it was a normal, everyday routine. Which it was not.

As you got to know him, he only got weirder.

If not for his clinginess (which was admittedly strange considering you’d never met a guy so touchy with a girl who wasn’t his girlfriend), you’d say his strange habit of rubbing his head against you was probably one of his weirder characteristics.

And it wasn’t even in a creepy If-you-don’t-get-away-from-me-immediately-I’m-going-to-call-the-cops kinda way, but more so a confused, what-the-fuck-are-you-doing kinda way. He’d hug you and not so subtly rub his cheek against yours, or he’d hold your hand and make up some dumb excuse to nose your wrist (he kept insisting that you were wearing perfume when he knew you didn’t).

One time—while hugging you—he pressed his face into your neck and just… inhaled. He hasn’t done it again after you unceremoniously shoved his face away with a warning not to do it again unless he wanted to keep both his eyes, but it was beyond weird and (dare I say) creepy (at the time)

He also quite literally growled at one of your classmates when he was being a misogynistic, sexist piece of shit and wouldn’t leave you alone. And sometimes, when he’s being a brat and moaning about how you pull away too quickly after giving him a hug, he whines. Like, back of his throat, puppy-begging-for-food kind of whine.

This in of itself would be somewhat bearable, if not for his friends. They were equally as weird, if not weirder.

There were eleven of them total, seven guys and four girls—all living in the same house near the edge of town. And despite already having such a large group, they were completely unwelcoming of outsiders, too tight-knit to allow others into their ranks. People had suspected that they were in a polyamorous relationship, or that it was some weird sex cult. They hadn’t ever specifically said that they were dating amongst themselves, and being the secretive group they were, they didn’t bother acknowledging nor denying any of the crazy school rumors.

You didn’t wanna bring the rumors up with Jungkook and make him uncomfortable, so instead you chose to ignore them and pretend they weren’t there. Jungkook tried to introduce you once, but you’d seen the way they looked at you—how they glared when you walked into the cafeteria with Jungkook glued to your hip. You’d come to the nifty conclusion that they did not like you, and as much as you wanted to make Jungkook happy by letting him introduce you to his inner circle, you didn’t wanna crush his little heart by being immediately rejected.

Coming up with excuses to avoid them was hard, but if they were anything like their youngest, it was probably for the best if you kept your distance, anyway.

How you wished you’d been able to stay away for longer.

“Jungkook, I really don’t wanna go to your house.”

“But we have to go somewhere, and you already told me that your parents don’t like me.” He whines, his big bambi eyes and pouty lips making you internally groan.

“That’s because they think you’re too clingy.” You state matter of factly, deadpanning your gaze to his arm, tightly wrapped around yours.

Grinning sheepishly, he tugs you in the direction of his housemates. “C’mon, it’ll be fun!” They walk a few meters ahead of you, shoving and pushing each other while talking, rowdy laughter echoing behind them. Your heart aches for a moment, watching them enviously. They look close…

“Are we gonna be able to get anything done? There’s like. Twelve of you in one house, thirteen plus myself.” You watch them retreat further and further ahead of you, your and Jungkook’s feet dragging as you fall behind. “They don’t exactly seem like the quiet type…”

Jungkook frowns at the (hopefully) unintentional dig, clearing his throat and hesitantly intertwining your hands. When you don’t pull away, he continues. “Just give them a chance. I know the rumors are weird, but they couldn’t be farther from the truth. I promise you you’ll like them once you get to know them,” he pleads, giving you his best puppy eyes. “Please?”

You sigh, nodding concededly and reluctantly letting him pull you along. “Okay. Can we at least do the assignment somewhere private? I don’t really think your friends—”

“Family.”

The correction throws you off guard, and you stare at him. Your voice betrays you, eyes soft. “Right, your family. I don’t… I don’t think they like me very much.”

He tsks. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. But,” he turns to you and boops your nose playfully. “If it really makes you feel better, we can do the project in my room.”

His room? Why his room? Why not outside, or in the kitchen, or anywhere else but his room?

You squint your eyes at him suspiciously. “What are you planning, Jungkook?”

He grins mischievously, batting his eyelashes in an effort to make himself look more innocent than you know he is. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You scoff. “Pervert.”

Jungkook giggles in response, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and leaning into you while not so subtly sniffing your hair.

…Brat.

Jungkook drags you upstairs to his room before any of his housemates can snatch you away from him, not bothering to listen to their rowdy complaints. He knows that they’ll overwhelm you the second they get their claws on you, and he’d preferably not scare you away just when you’re getting more comfortable around him.

He practically throws you onto his bed, followed directly by his overexcited body knocking the breath out of you. Jungkook huffs weirdly before pressing his forehead against your shoulder, hands laying curled up into your sides. Groaning, your hands shoot out to his shoulders, trying to push him off. “Can’t— can’t breathe—“

“Sorry,” he sheepishly grins, pushing himself up by his hands to look down at you with his hair flopping over his head. You catch your breath, feeling the immense relief at not having his full weight on top of you, too preoccupied to notice the compromising position you’re in—him hovering over you with his knees slotted on either side of your waist. Jungkook looks concerned when he asks, “Can you breathe yet?”

“Yeah… yeah, I can breathe. Can you uh,” your cheeks burn and you avoid meeting his eyes, your hands sliding from his shoulders. “Can you get off, please?”

“Oh, I— sorry, I’m sorry.” He gets off of you faster than you expected him to, sitting cross legged on the opposite side of the bed to give you some space. You copy him, staring at one another awkwardly. It’s your first time being in his house, let alone his room, and your heart stutters when you realize he closed the door behind you on your way in. Just great. You look at him, biting the inside of your lip. Jungkook has proven to be a very sweet boy, but he is still a boy—and you are a girl. Alone. In his bedroom.

You don’t want him getting the wrong idea.

“Listen, Kook…” He perks up, listening to you attentively. Taking an encouraging breath, you continue. “I hope you didn’t choose your room for ulterior motives, because I came here for school. I’m not going to have sex with you—“

Jungkook’s whole face turns red, frantically shaking his hands in front of you. “No no no! No, I’d never—I don’t, I don’t see you that way, I promise!” He rambles, scooting away from you in an effort to convince you that that’s not why he chose this location. Grinning stupidly, you reach over and pat his knee.

“Okay, okay, I believe you. Relax.” He pouts, crossing his arms over his chest and sulking. He just wanted to make you feel more comfortable… he didn’t think you’d take it the wrong way. Rolling your eyes at the cute pout on his lips, you ruffle his hair playfully. “Let’s get started, hm?”

You turn your back to him so that you can reach into your bag and grab your things, rifling through the books inside to look for your laptop. What you don’t notice is the weight of Jungkook’s eyes on your back—watching you and admiring the annoyed pout on your lips with a soft smile.

“Found it! So,” you cross your legs and situate the keyboard in your lap. “What do you wanna start with first? I was thinking we could start with, uhm…” Your voice dies in the back of your throat when you catch sight of Jungkook’s dazed, strangely affectionate half-smile. You clear your throat, cheeks heating up because why the fuck is he looking at you like you’ve hung the stars?

“Uhm… Jungkook?”

“Right, sorry,” he shakes his head as if to bring himself back to reality. “Why don’t we start with research first?” He’s hesitant, and you feel bad. He must think you’re going to say no.

“Sounds good. My screen is pretty small, though.” You bite your lip, thinking about how you could share the screen in a way that he wouldn’t hurt his neck.

“Uhm. I—I have… can you scoot a bit closer to the headboard?”

You look at him questioningly but give in to his hopeful puppy eyes. Sighing, you scoot back until he places a gentle hand on your knee to halt your movements. You try and look at his face but he looks down so that it’s hidden by his hair. “Jungkook?” You whisper, hesitant to increase your volume.

Jungkook either doesn’t hear you or he ignores you, clambering toward you distractedly and shifting in behind you. You suck in a breath, the hair on your arms raising. He slots his legs on either side of you, pulling you to his chest by your waist and hesitantly resting his chin on your shoulder. The closeness freezes you to the spot, and you swear you can feel him eyeing the side of your face for a reaction.

You exhale through your teeth and will yourself to relax in his arms despite your racing heart. Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook smiles, locking his hands around your waist and inhaling your scent as subtly as possible. You ignore him and clear your throat. “Shall we start with origin?” You whisper, unable to raise your voice due to the suffocating closeness, cheeks red and heart beating ten times too quickly.

Jungkook hums next to your ear. If he notices your racing heartbeat, he doesn’t comment on it.

Y/N yawns tiredly, apologizing in a half-asleep voice.

“Just take a break,” Jungkook pleads, trying to move her arms out of the way and biting back a growl of frustration when she swats his hands away from the screen.

“I’m fine.”

“You can barely keep your eyes open!” He reasons, pulling away to look at the back of her head. Stupid, stubborn girl. “Come on, Y/N. We’ve been working on this for hours. Let’s just take a quick break. Please?”

“We’re so close to finishing…” She sounds dejected, another yawn leaving her lips. Jungkook frowns at her, trying to figure out how to get her to put away her stupid computer and just take a nap, for gods sake. Knowing that this is the only course of action that’ll direct her attention to something other than this stupid class assignment, he determinedly leans forward.

You yelp in surprise, turning to Jungkook with wide eyes. Did he just—

“Did you just fucking bite me?” Your voice is filled with newfound life and energy, jaw hanging as you look down at your shoulder. Looking at him, you find no remorse in those chocolate brown eyes… only a smug, satisfied expression.

“Yes.” He laughs at the horror on your face, shaking his head as if he knows something you don’t. “It’s an affectionate thing, I promise.”

“How is you biting me an ‘affectionate thing’?” You hiss, watching as he shakes his head, hair flopping around his face cutely.

“It just is,” he shrugs. You squint suspiciously, setting the laptop down next to you while silently planning his demise.

Jungkook eyes you warily and yells when you punch his arm, rubbing the spot furiously. “What was that for!”

“Would you rather I bite you back?” You snap threateningly, sitting on your knees to look down at him. Jungkook’s eyes widen at the threat, his cheeks and the top of his ears going beet red. You grin to yourself evilly, crawling towards him. Your eyes squint in a silent threat, prowling like a bloodthirsty animal. “Just wait until I sink my teeth into you… c’mere!”

Jungkook yelps, jumping up from the bed and running away from you while incoherently yelling that no, only he’s allowed to bite you.

“Why?”

“I— I can’t tell you!”

“Guess I’m gonna bite you, then—“

“—Y/N NO!”

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itsbecomeblue · 30 days

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glue 002 ellie williams imagine

don't dare forget about palestine

sinopse: you might have a crush on your friend, college!au

cw: swearing, basically fluff, ellie plays soccer, puppy love again because that's my thing, slightly nerdy loser!ellie, reader and ellie are oblivious, not explicit if reader is fem or masc, not exactly proofread.

you had been up all morning, not up really, awake. it was 11:43 when you actually got up, sick to your core. niyah had checked on you before she left for her classes, leaving you some cash for lunch, it's not like you didn't have any but niyah just felt like a mom sometimes. she also gave you a forehead kiss.

you rubbed your eyes while your other hand hugged your aching stomach. you grabbed your phone and squinted at the brightness of the screen.

“shit fuck.” you hissed, boy did your head hurt. you had suspicions that ellie had made so much nervousness pile up in you that it was threatening to explode your head and your poor stomach.

you had always been a little… anxious and got nervous when you hung out with new people, especially without your best friends. they were your safe space, you smiled sweetly thinkin about them, so you read over the texts on your group chat ‘take ur meds’. never the instagram one, because it's just your friend luana spamming instagram reels.

you laughed at your phone, turning it off just to wait for your friends to show up, you knew they would. you grabbed a piece of fruit and sat down again.

you grabbed your little notebook where you did all of your journaling, you always read some pieces before actually writing in it, so you did that. ‘ellie’ this ‘ellie’ that, from just last night before you got sick. but maybe you had already been sick from the moment she stepped into the room.

sick in your stomach, crippling nervousness. you and ellie hung out so much 1 on 1, so you assumed that's what happens when two anxious people get together to talk alone, even though you had known each other for a while now. you didn't give it much thought, well maybe you did. you wrote in pink ink...

‘she's so cute’ ummm late night thoughts were so funny to read over, right? just hilarious. ‘ellie williams #8’ adorned with stars and hearts? you were already sick last night, for sure!

on the other side of campus, ellie was at class but her mind was on the same side of campus as yours. ellie was very much in tune with her feelings for you, she'd say. ‘we're so awkward, we need to get closer!’ that's all you two needed, right? just that. she sighted, you looked at her adorned name in your notebook, she imagined your face adorned with flowers and asteroids?

she needs to pay attention in class! she'll think about you later, she wants to text you but she'll see you at lunch anyways so she decides against the text. ellie tried her best to focus on her boring class, impatiently waiting to see you again.

abby had texted you a few to let you know she was coming over, she was your childhood friend, inseparable at that. caring and loving, gentle giant abigail anderson. she was now on your carpet in front of you bed.

“so, did you take your meds?” she laughed, abby was a med student and definitely a good one but damn her she didn't know shit about pharmacy.

they might’ve teached her some of it, but this girl had very selective memory, it's not like you know what they teach at med school anyway. but you still thought she should cure you everytime you got sick, all your other friends agreed too.

“yep, i looked it up. turns out my friend being in med school doesn't serve me anything.” you stretched my leg to touch her with your feet and she gave you a disgusted look.

“you're such a bitch to me, i came to see you, sick girl.” she grabbed you by the ankle and pulled you with no force.

“abbyyy!” you laughed and tried yanking your feet back and she used more of her strength. she laughed with you and you felt less sick.

you two kept it up until you were falling off your bed onto her, she grabbed your torso, manhandling you so you looked at her. she looked mischievous, she had something up her sleeve.

“how's our favorite soccer star?” she smirks and you look scared, head jumping up and hitting hers. “hey! ouch lil girl…”

she soothed her head before soothing yours, with harsh pats... you weren't sure if she was soothing you or actively making it worse. you both laughed again, what the hell was wrong with you? you had slipped out of her thighs and sat on the carpet, right next to her.

“she's…” you coughed. “she's alright, i saw her yesterday.” you nodded to yourself and abby nodded back.

“right… right…” abby stared at you, smirk still in her lips, waiting for something.

you thought of what she might’ve wanted you to say. you used your brain so much that you realized something, eyes widened and eyebrows furrowed.

"what? you look like you developed your first thought.” she chuckled and you looked frightened.

“i forgot to tell her i'm sick.” you searched for your phone around the carpet and the bed.

“why would you have to tell her?” abby leaned back, watching you look for you phone.

"you know, even if she was a nurse in your wet dream, i don't think she can help.” she added when you ignored her.

“abby.” you actually slapped her nape and she hissed. “we were supposed to have lunch together, i don't wanna be rude and leave her hanging.”

“oooohh you're bailing her on your lunch date.” abby loved pressing your buttons and she knew which ones to press.

“yeah, our date at the campus cafeteria, abigail.” you found your phone under a pillow, one that you were sure you checked before. whatever, you texted ellie.

“abigail is crazyyy…” abby got up and peeped your phone from behind and you pushed her face, the fat on her cheek smushed. “sweetness, let me see.”

abby had a big sweet tooth growing so when you became friends, her dad started calling you tooth and sweetness, since she could never get enough of you. she clinged to it even now, when she was being nice but really often when she pissed you off.

“fine, tooth.” you caressed the cheek you had pushed. she laughed and playfully bit your shoulder as you turned off your phone.

“it's fine, y/n. she'll understand, of course.” abby slurred, you turned to her.

“yeah, i know. i wanted to see her though.” you rubbed your nose sitting on the carpet again, followed by abby.

“you'll see her soon, it's alright.” she patted your head and you looked at her blankly. “what? don't wanna see me too?” she pushed you head and snickered.

“i do, stop abby!” you laughed, pushing her back.

“you gotta crush and now you're gonna abandon me and lua.” she shook her head. “you won't abandon niyah because you live with her, but who knows! you might move in with ellie.”

“what are you even talking about?” you chuckled at her while she tried to maintain a serious face. “i'm not abandoning anyone.”

"AHA! so you do have a crush on ellie, lil girl…” she laughed loud, slapping her knee, now it was your turn to maintain a serious face while she laughed.

“first, you’re not funny. second, i don't have a crush on anyone.” she arched her eyebrow you held her temples, pressing her eyebrows back to their place. “stop, i don't”.

“be for real with me, pookie wookie.” you cringed hard with her.

“you can leave.” you both laughed so loud until she stopped and tapped your lap. “but she makes me nervous.”

“i know she does, might be something, don't you think?”

“mmm, i don't think so, we're both pretty anxious people so…” you shrugged and abby did too, she'd never pry.

“you might be right, time will tell.” she casually says as gets up. “you wanna order some? “i'm hungry.” you nod and she takes her phone out.

ellie on the other hand, is frowning at your texts, she's upset she won’t see you and she's upset you're sick. she immediately texted her friends dina and jesse about it, asking to have lunch with them instead.

she'd waited for them to meet up with her on campus, holding her phone. she wanted to text you again, but you probably needed rest so she opted out to spam texting cat, who wouldn't reply to the groupchat texts. cat was a fucking ghost most of the times, even when they dated... girl gets busy. when dina and jesse finally got there they walked together.

“y/n bailed on you, damn.” jesse shook his head ironically and dina rolled her eyes.

“shut up, jesse.” dina tickled his ear and smirked. they were walking towards the local subway.

“yeah shut up, she's sick dude.” ellie replied, with little to no humor.

her friends noticed. her hands were in her jeans pockets and she was looking down, jesse and dina knew her all to well to know she was even just slightly upset. childhood friends are like that, you'd know. abby was exactly like that with you.

“what's wrong?” jesse asked, palming her shoulder. dina stopped walking but ellie kept going, making them get back to walking too.

“nothin’. it's dumb, i just miss y/n or whatever.” ellie slurred, looking at her sneakers. jesse and dina chucked and she snickered.

“okay, okay. my bad.” jesse looked sternly at dina so she'd stop laughing. “you had plans?”

“actually yeah, i was gonna invite her to see me play saturday.” she looked up.

“it's wednesday, man. you can ask her later.” jesse started. “right?” he looked for ellie's eyes.

“as in a date?” dina asked, not afraid to. ellie was always open with them, she wasn't embarrassed by her feelings even though sometimes she was confused.

“nah, not a date. and yes i can ask later, but i get nervous and… i dunno.” she held her fingers as she sighed.

“just say it, els.” dina chuckled, jesse and ellie chuckled back.

“yeah, alright. i want her to see me play but i get nervous to ask and i thought i’d do it today.” ellie laughed at herself. dina and jesse nodded, they understood her.

“it's alright, you will ask. don't worry, she's gonna be thrilled.” jesse slapped ellie's back and dina looked at him in disgust.

"thrilled" dina mocked jesse, holding her fingers up as quotes.

they all busted out laughing as they got closer to the subways shop, talking about the saturday game, but never distracted ellie from the thoughts of you.

taglist: @mikellie @amberputh @ellslvr @elliesactualgirlfriend @macaroni676 @onlinelesbo @aispike @kalyxvfx @ellieschair

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olderthannetfic · 3 months

Note

Genuine question: what's the point of writing fanfic? As in, what's the purpose? No one in the fandom I'm in comments on fics and I even got told off by one person for doing so, as it "encourages bad writers and makes them think they're good". So it seems that it's a lot like book writing, where people work hard and are creative, but instead of getting paid and getting comments on the work, you just sit there silently hoping someone will press the kudos button and make a number go up. I feel like that time and work could be better spent on making something you might get some kind of profit off of. Don't get me wrong, I love doodling fanart, but I don't post it, as I'm aware that there's no point to doing so, and while it's a nice way to fill the time on a commute, it's not something that takes me as much time and effort as fanfic does. So... why do people bother? Sometimes I describe ideas I have and people I know in my fandom will tell me I should write it, but I don't see why. I get more interaction from just saying "imagine if [thing here]" than I would by sitting down, writing for hours, editing and posting [thing here], so what would the point be? I'm not punching down or going "haha women and their fanfic lol!", I genuinely do not get what the point is and this blog feels like it might have someone reading who knows the answer.

Do you make art for profit? Genuine question.

There's nothing inherently wrong with being motivated primarily by external factors, but it's not actually why a lot of people create things, whether it's books or recipes or doodles in a notepad.

I enjoy the actual process of writing.

I think many people lose sight of that aspect in an era where tons of <500-word fics that are mostly outlines and "Imagine if..." posts get disproportionate attention for being easy to consume. But the satisfaction of doing a bigger art piece and doing it right is real and motivates a hell of a lot of creation.

I suppose you might be thinking "Okay, but why not just write it alone and never post?", but I like sharing. Showing off my finished creation is part of the joy, and sharing with other people like me is too. But those aren't quite the same thing as worrying about kudos. It's like dressing nicely when you leave the house because you feel great when you know you look good vs. needing another person to tell you you look good.

To be honest, though, this type of feeling has grown in me the better I've gotten at a craft. The closer my finished projects get to the vision in my head, the easier it is to find them fulfilling and to be excited to share them. When I fall short of my own ambitions, it's discouraging no matter how much attention I might get from others.

I feel like it's time for my regular reblog of Adam Westbrook's video essay series The Long Game.

vimeo

youtube

The third and least known in the series is all about this idea of who you're making art for if you're not getting material rewards in the short term. It talks a lot about autotelicity—being internally driven instead of externally.

But if you really just want clicks, anon, start a blog that accepts anon asks and posts about wanky stuff. Actually tag things, unlike me, so people can find you.

No, writing for attention isn't worth it.

The time investment is too great and your brain will always fixate on the times people didn't respond instead of the times they did.

But that's not actually why most people write.

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sociopathicartist · 16 days

Text

In case I don’t tell you enough, I love you.

a letter from sans directed to you, his lover.

y/n,

it’s been five years since monsterkind was freed from the surface.

it’s been four years since i’ve met you.

it’s april, and i’m still missing you.

maybe it’s stupid of me to miss you considering that i left your house only a few hours ago, and i’m laying in bed writing this on some loose paper i found on my floor while i think of you.

weirdly enough, the silence in my room is now unsettling compared to how calming it used to be. i guess the fan in your room blowing wind on your bed that i’ve yet to see turned off has grown on me. or maybe it’s the rain sounds you always have playing on your tv that clash with the fan that grew on me.

or maybe it’s you that's grown on me.

sometimes when i have a nightmare or i can't sleep i play fan and rain sounds on youtube to help me rest, not even thinking consciously about it anymore. it always just makes me feel like i’m back in bed with you with my eyes closed, waiting for you to come back from the kitchen with the glass of water that you wanted.

i wish that i could sum it up and say i can't find the words to describe how i feel, but that’s a lie. i know exactly how i feel about you.

tracing my phalanges along the little scars and nicks of your skin when i’m next to you never fails to entertain me. neither does running my hand through your hair, or twisting the rings on your fingers, or kissing you quickly for the 1000th time. i never thought i would be fond of that sort of stuff, i never thought i was a guy for any sort of romance.

i guess i just never realized that all i needed was the right person to give it to me. all i needed was you.

i’m not the best writer. even my lab logs from the rare times when i help alphys with her scientific tests are messy and short out. it’s almost like having all these thoughts about you is starting to eat me alive. i guess i have nowhere else to put them but on a piece of paper. if we ever get married one day like i hope we do, i’d like to give this to you. who knows when that will be though, so i guess this letter will just sit in one of my drawers collecting dust until i can give it to you. it kinda sucks to think about the fact that these words might never reach you, but that’s the way life is. it sucks most of the time.

i get this weird sinking feeling in my ribs near where my soul rests sometimes. it’s mostly when i think about how i miss you. sometimes my hand reaches up and brushes up and down my shoulder blade when i’m lying in bed alone, mimicking the motion that your hand does to me all the time when we lay together. i don’t even notice it happens anymore, but when i do and i realize you’re not actually there, that’s when that weird sinking feeling happens. it also happens on the rare thought of you not being in my future one day, even though i know that won't happen. i know you wouldn’t leave me.

i can’t help but wonder what this feeling was before i met you, and why i never got it.

was i just empty all the time?

even though i remember in great detail why my depression was so bad back then, back before i met you, i guess these happy years with everyone have slowly washed away that feeling. i felt so horrible for so long, and i didn’t care to ever try and get better because there was no point back then, but for some reason whenever i try to think of what was there in my life that i had like this, it’s almost numbed away from my memories. it’s like a bad nightmare that got washed away with the morning light.

that’s not to say i’m not thankful and glad i’m doing better now. sure, i’m still working things out, but who isn’t? i don’t think i wouldn’t have ever actually gotten help if it wasn’t for you, though. you’re really the only person who's ever seen me so clearly. i love how i don’t even have to tell you if something is wrong anymore, you just look at me and know. did you know that i’ve never had anyone take the time to notice the small difference between my genuine smile versus my resting and permanent one? the day you pointed that out to me was the day i realized i liked you.

i also thought it would take me a while to realize when i liked someone seriously. i think the last time i ever had a crush was… actually, i can’t remember. in the movies and books, it’s always the same scenario of ‘i like you but i haven’t liked anyone before so i don’t realize i like you until it’s too late’ but that wasn’t the case. i knew the moment i liked you.

it was this odd twinge in me that just kinda sprung throughout my bones. i think it’s the same equivalent of getting butterflies in your stomach, but without a stomach. i noticed your looks before, and i guess this sounds weird to say, but it was like after so long of friendship that i actually… noticed you.

you looked so beautiful, and you still do.

the shock at work and from other people was really funny when they found out we were dating. i don’t think they ever actually thought i’d find someone to settle down with. our friends knew better though. as shocked as our friends tried to act, it was pretty obvious that they were expecting it. i can’t believe it was that obvious that we liked each other.

there’s no big resolution to writing this. i just felt like writing it so that i could share the feelings i feel about you but that i forget to say when we are around each other. it’s not like i can get a single word in with how much you smooch on me though. not that i mind.

it’s not to say that if my puns ever get too much for you, or if you decide that i’m too lazy and you feel like you can’t leave, you can. i just really don’t want you to. i have a strong feeling that you don’t ever want to leave either.

i can’t wait to see how the rest of our lives turn out together. when we move in, get married, and just enjoy each other’s time. i know it’s crazy to hear from me, but i can’t wait to do the dishes with you and put away the laundry as you fold it. i can’t wait to enjoy your company every day one day. i know it’s a bit selfish, but i hope that things stay like this forever.

i hope that you get to read this one day, and in case i don’t tell you enough, i love you.

#undertale #undertale au #undertale alternate universe #sans #sans undertale #sans x reader #classic sans #sans x you #sap #sans headcanons

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 3 months

Text

The Missing Piece

A/N: Just to let you know, Steve’s scar story is a true story that happened to me when I was younger that I didn't realize was so awful until I told it someone. Halfway writing about Rosa, I realized that I was thinking of Rosa Diaz from Brooklyn 99. So, loosely based on her.

Steve doesn't like to talk about his parents much. It's not that he hates them or anything. They weren't around enough for him to have a reason to hate them. He doesn't really know them well enough. They don't hit him or anything, and they pretty much leave him alone when they are around, only talking to him to remind him not to embarrass them, which is fair. So, they're not terrible parents. Not really.

"Hey, I have to ask. How'd you get that scar on your upper lip?" Eddie asked.

Steve had invited Eddie and Robin over to hang out at his house. It was safe to say that Eddie was quickly becoming their best friend as well. Although there was this fuzzy feeling in his stomach that told Steve that Eddie might mean something more.

"I'm such a klutz," Steve said chuckling.

"It's true, he is," Robin said.

"So, you know the story," Eddie said.

"No."

"Okay, fine. Fine. When I was younger, I went grocery shopping with my mother, but the sounds and everything always overwhelmed me even now, but I like to think I'm better at handling it. Anyway, I used to scream my head off, it made shopping hard for my mother, and she quickly got tired of having to bring me to the restroom to pop me in the mouth. She finally came up with a solution to just leave me in the car while she shops. I was okay with it for a while, but I didn't like how sleepy the hot car made me, so I tried running after her. I slipped and fell on the pavement. Busted my lip pretty good. My mom ripped me a new one for not listening to her. I was a shitty kid," Steve said, smiling fondly.

There was silence as Robin and Eddie stared at him.

"What?"

"Did you know this about his mom?" Eddie asked.

"No! I would have killed her!" Robin exclaimed, horrified.

"Where was your dad in all of this?" Eddie asked.

"Away on business like always or cheating on my mom," Steve said.

"Why are you saying it so casually?!" Robin asked.

"You're his best friend, shouldn't you know these things about him?!" Eddie exclaimed.

"Excuse me, she knows plenty of things about me. Like my favorite colors are yellow, blue, and pink. She knows I like blueberries and snap peas. She knows I'm bisexual. She knows that I lost my virginity to a guy - "

"I do NOT! You're bisexual?!" Robin said.

"I told you in October!" Steve exclaimed.

"I thought you were talking about getting a new bicycle!" Robin exclaimed. "You lost your virginity to a guy?"

Steve leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"I told you about Tommy," Steve said.

"I thought you said Tammy," Robin whispered back, and then she waved her hands about. "Okay. Okay. Look, whenever Steve did talk about his parents, I always thought they were boring, stuffy, rich people, not abusive assholes!"

"They're not abusive. You have to actually be around for them to be abusive. I mean, honestly, they could be, but I don't know them very well," Steve shrugged.

"I don't think I was in this much denial when my own dad walked in and out of my life," Eddie said as he paused and placed his hands on Steve’s shoulders. "Steve, sweetheart - "

"You called me sweetheart," Steve said with a crooked smile, and he giggled softly.

"Yeah, I did do that. Focus," Eddie said. "How often did your parents leave you alone so often?"

"Oh, they decided that I didn't need a nanny anymore so. . .8! Yeah, eight. Although, I kept calling her mom up until I was about four. I cried like a baby when I found out they fired her, and a year later, when I found out she died in a car accident," Steve said, looking sad. "She taught me Spanish, you know, and she used to make me spaghetti with hot dogs. I loved it. You would have loved her, Robin. You remind me of her sometimes."

"Steve, why don't you talk about her?" Robin asked.

"It hurts too much to talk about. I do think about her. What would she think of me now? Would she be proud of me? Would she still love me?" Steve shrugged. "I wasn't even allowed to go to her funeral. I don't even know where she's buried."

"Sweetheart, what was her name?" Eddie asked softly.

"Rosa," Steve said, and tears came to his eyes. "Rosa Sanchez."

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose to stop the tears from coming. Eddie grabbed his hand and pulled it away.

"Let them come," he said softly. "No one is here to tell you not to."

Steve burst into tears and fell into Eddie's arms.

"He always told me that Harrington men don't cry!" Steve sobbed.

"Everyone cries. Your parents were abusive, uncaring, and the most awful people on the planet. Rosa was your mom, in everything but blood, Rosa was your mom, and you should be allowed to mourn for her," Eddie said.

Steve buried his face into Eddie's neck and let it all come out. Robin came up behind him and hugged him tightly. Eventually, it became hard to hold him up, so they moved him to the couch, where he fell asleep, crying into their laps. Eddie gazed lovingly at him as he stroked Steve’s hair.

"You're totally in love with my platonic soulmate, aren't you?" Robin asked.

"He makes it easy," Eddie replied.

"We have to find out where Rosa is buried," Robin said.

"And we know just the person to crack this case," Eddie said.

"Nancy," Robin and Eddie said in unison.

The next morning, Steve woke up to find Eddie snoring in his face. They were curled up on the couch, their legs intertwined. Steve could feel Eddie's hand pressed up against the small of his back. Steve's shirt had bunched up during the night, so Eddie's hand was touching his skin. The touch caused a fuzzy feeling to spread throughout his body, and it also made his head buzz. Steve bit his lip and brushed his knuckle against Eddie's cheek. It caused his body to shudder and Eddie to startle himself awake. He almost jumped right out of Steve's arms, but Steve threw his leg over his hip and pressed him back down on the couch.

"I don't think so. I'm quite comfortable," Steve grinned.

"Uh, so, how are you?" Eddie asked, his nose suddenly brushing up against Steve's.

"Good. . .better and much lighter, like there's a weight off my shoulders," Steve said. "It's all because of you and Robin. Thank you."

"Anything for you," Eddie said honestly. "I'm glad we can be of help. You should know that Robin left. She had to talk to Nancy about something."

"Anything that I should know about?" Steve asked.

"Not yet," Eddie said.

"Hmm, okay, I trust you," Steve said with a happy sigh as he nuzzled his nose against Eddie's. "Can I kiss you?"

"You want to kiss me?" Eddie asked, his eyes widening comically.

"Mm-hm," Steve said. "Very much."

"Okay."

Steve pressed his lips against Eddie's with another happy sigh. Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve's shoulders, pulling him deeper as Steve flipped him onto his back. Steve's heart was singing with how well their bodies fit together. . .how well they fit together like two perfect puzzle pieces. Steve broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against Eddie's.

"You make me so happy," Steve said.

"Ridiculous idea but I'll accept the fact that Steve Harrington says that I, Eddie Munson, makes him happy," Eddie said and paused. "You make me happy too."

The next few weeks flew by, and they were spending all their time together. It was complete bliss for the both of them and Steve was so glad that there wasn't the expectation of sex. They had both agreed that it would be better for their relationship, and it was. It wasn't hanging over their heads like they thought it would. They were just enjoying each other's company. They had already come out to the group so when Joyce and Hopper had a little get together there wasn't any pressure to hide their relationship.

"It's so nice that everyone can come together like this," Dustin said.

"Uh, you're missing someone, genius," Max said.

"Who?" Dustin said.

"Nancy isn't here," Steve replied, his arm wrapped loosely around Eddie's waist.

"Oh, shit," Dustin cursed. "Where is she?"

"She called and said she would be by later," Robin said.

"You know something," Steve said with narrowed eyes.

"It's good, I promise!" Robin said. "At least, that's what Nance said but she wouldn't say exactly what was good about it, just that it was good, and it was good for you."

"Okay, I'm trusting you guys," Steve shrugged.

Nancy didn't show up until an hour later, and Steve was now sitting on the porch with Eddie in his lap as he talked animatedly to Dustin. Steve's hands were firmly on his hips because if they weren't on his hips, Steve knew that if Eddie got too excited, he would start bouncing and he did not need that happening in the middle of the party.

"Steve," Joyce called out from inside the house.

"Be right there," Steve replied and got up before depositing Eddie back into the chair.

"Aww, my comfy chair is leaving," Eddie said and Joyce's head popped back out the door.

"You might want to come, too," Joyce said.

Eddie shared a look with Steve before taking his hand and walking into the house. Joyce was standing around the table with Hopper, El, and Nancy.

"What's going on?" Steve asked.

"Nancy told us about Rosa, your real mother. She also told us about your parents," Joyce said and hugged him. "I'm sorry but Nancy does have good news for you."

She squeezed his arm before pulling away. Steve turned and looked at Nancy with confusion.

"When Robin told me about Rosa, I had to find out where she was buried. With the help of Hopper and El, I was able to find her. When your parents fired her, she fought like hell to stay with you but finally, they threatened her by threatening you and so she left because she wanted to protect you," Nancy said, tears in her eyes. "I never found a gravestone, not even a death certificate. I didn't. . . because Rosa's still alive. . . Rosa?!"

Steve's heart stopped when the woman he had been missing every single day of his life walked into the room. . . the woman he thought had died. The last time he had seen her was when he was eight years old, and he had tried to get to her stay. He remembered the last word that he had uttered as she walked out the door, the word he had promised his parents that he would never call her. . . the word that came out now.

"Mama?!" Steve sobbed.

Rosa let out a strangled cry and rushed toward him, throwing herself into his arms. Steve put his arms around his nanny. . . no, his mother for the first time in years. He immediately began rambling in Spanish.

"Steve, Steve, slow down. You're going to make yourself sick," Rosa said as she brushed away his tears. "Oh, you've grown so much."

"Sorry, I know my Spanish is a little rusty," Steve said. "I haven't used it in a while."

"You will learn again," Rosa laughed. "My curious little boy, you've always had search thirst for knowledge. Always wanting to know the answer to everything."

"It took me forever to learn things. You know that I used to crawl backwards," Steve muttered.

"We learn in different ways," Rosa said. "You still learned and eventually you did start crawling forwards and who did you start crawling towards?"

"You, mama, always you," Steve said and she patted his cheek with a proud smile.

"I'm proud of you. I've heard you've got a big family now," Rosa said. "Introduce me."

"But first. . .," Steve said, looking at Eddie questioningly, and Eddie nodded. "I want you to meet my boyfriend, Eddie."

"Do you make him happy?" Rosa asked.

"That's what he keeps telling me," Eddie grinned. "He makes me happy, too."

"Then I am happy," Rosa said and hugged Eddie.

Steve grabbed his mother's hand and led her outside.

"Hey guys, you want to meet my mom?" Steve asked, laughing as everyone surrounded them.

Steve grinned as he told them the story, his heart filling with joy. The hole that had been left there was now gone as the most important person in his life was now found again. All the pieces had now come together.

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oncomingnight · 9 months

Text

Yandere! Theoretical Physicist

Hello everyone, I hope you've been having an amazing day and night as you deserve. Last night, I watched Oppenheimer and it's my favorite movie of the whole year. It's the type of movie you just have to see in the cinema when you have the chance, the cast is absolutely phenomenal and the soundtrack is beyond incredible, as expected from Christopher Nolan. Now, time to talk writing! I decided to make this very specific original character, I don't think this post will get a ton of recognition but i just wanted to experiment a bit. I hope you all enjoy and never hesitate to send me a request or talk to me in my ask box. I'm here for you all :)!

Every child is naturally curious, constantly grasping at everything and questioning subjects adults have long learned about. But Hans was a particularly curious little boy, asking extremely specific and quizzing questions, stunning his parents that couldn't even muster up a joking answer. This behavior perfectly explained the educational and career path he chose later on in life.

Your husband was a highly renowned man, but that never changed his outlook on life. He was still the charming and disgustingly romantic man that hid a surprise bouquet of roses behind his back each time the two of you had a date night.

Hans isn't ignorant towards his obsessive behavior, he's known for obsessing over his theories so being overly attached to you isn't something he's particularly concerned about. You're his wife...who isn't obsessed with their wife?

Well, other women and men have no effect on him romantically or egotistically, so, sometimes when other people brag about their spouses he's just sitting there like:

"Mhm. Well, yesterday my wife-"

His friends will invite him out for drinks and will try to get him to stay till midnight and he will immediately reject. "Yeah, no, I've gotta get home to the wife."

There's nothing he loves more than eating dinner with you in his office. The atmosphere is messy, ink-stained paper, pens misplaced, discontinued files, but you make it seem like the most peaceful room in the world with your presence. As much as he enjoys his job, it's nice to get away from thinking about such grand things and relaxing with the loveliest woman to ever live.

You.

As he's giving speeches in governmental spaces, he looks for your eyes to find a piece of solace. At times his thoughts can get a bit scattered when he's in front of large crowds, so, your companionship is everything he'll ever need to keep him in check.

There's a running rumor that all theoretical physicists eventually snap and go crazy. For him, this isn't necessarily true..?

I'm a liar.

Well, he has done questionable things to many people that he has and still considers threats. He's put them through extricating "experiments" in the basement at the bottom of your shared victorian home. Experiments aren't necessarily his forte but he'll take any excuse to teach those people a life long lesson.

One night, the two of you were at a birthday party in the home of another highly renowned scientist, a friend of his. Hans decided to leave your side for not even a full minute to go and grab a plate of food for you. He rarely leaves your side but when he just so happens to do so, a random nobody trying to make a name of themselves walks over and attempts to sweep you off your feet.

Oblivious to their flirting, you participate in the conversation with friendly, simple and curt dialogue. What you don't notice is Hans staring at the two of you from the kitchen that is on the other side of the room. He was absolutely furious. On the rare occurrence he leaves you alone, someone comes and takes advantage of the situation for their filthy desires.

He walks on over with a tray filled with tea cakes, tiramisu cubes, mini crepe cakes and cheesecake bars. He wraps his free hand around your waist, squeezes and sternly asks:

"And you are?" The way Hans purposefully makes himself look more intimidating than he already is results in the third party to feel like an immediate outsider, causing them to blurt their name then scurry away.

You harmlessly tease him about being a bit jealous which ignites his dimple ridden smile before he smoothly remarks:

"Please tell me, Bärchen, would that be so terrible? You can't blame a man for fighting to keep a woman like you."

He'd be so entranced as he watched you get ready for any occasion. Putting on moisturizing cream? He's sitting with his face in his palm and observing. Slipping a dress on? He's watching with a teasing smile before offering to help.

He'll see you getting ready, slowly walk up to you as he gently runs his veiny hands up and down your arms before leaning his head onto your shoulder and whispering:

"You look so beautiful, but I'm sure you know that already, hm? Let me help you." "You know how that ends, Hans. We can't run late this time, what about your speech?" "They can wait for me. Let a man show his adoration, m'kay?"

Even when the two of you live together, he finds a way to hide gifts around the house so he can surprise you with them at the right time. There doesn't even have to be a special occasion for him to show up with an edible arrangement, a beautifully boxed gift and a bouquet of yellow roses.

He had to work long and hard to get to the place he's in today, to get the recognition he deserved. He uses his money in an incredibly smart manner. Purchasing new decor for the house and...you might not guess it....booking trips and spoiling you with presents and trinkets.

He never really flaunts the amount of money he has in public, but, your wedding costed an immense amount and he was unapologetic about it. Hans knew you deserved the royal-like marriage celebration you'd always dreamed of, and he was eager to deliver.

This post was inspired by a German actor that I have an IMMENSE crush on. His name is Matthias Schweighöfer (the blondie)

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amentomensmut · 4 months

Note

hi! could I please request an angst piece for Mike Schmidt where he starts working longer hours and accidentally misses his date with the reader because he’s picking up extra shifts to make enough money to buy them nicer things like jewelry? I would appreciate it if they could talk about it and then he tries to make it up to them by spending more quality time with them :)

How can I make it up to you?

Mike Schmidt x Fem!reader wc: 1.8k

warnings: none, really! angst, fluff, pet names (baby, sweetheart)

note: SORRY i've been gone so long, part 2 for first time for everything WILL HAPPEN. however, loved writing some angst for a change :) enjoy <3

45 minutes.

Mike was supposed to be here 45 minutes ago.

You check your phone again out of habit and sigh. No new missed calls or texts. You scan the restaurant once again and you realise how pathetic you must look sitting here alone. You down the last of your chardonnay and call for the bill.

You know Mike works hard to provide for Abby, and you admire that. However, he promised you a nice night out tonight. You hold back tears as you leave the restaurant. Sometimes you feel selfish for thinking it, but you wish Mike didn’t have to work so much. You barely get to see him during the week, and when you do he’s so tired he can barely keep his eyes open. You shouldn’t hold it against him, you know that. But can’t he also make time for you?

Tears are spilling out of your eyes and down your cheeks by the time you get to and in your car, and you don’t care enough to wipe them away. The sting of mascara in your eyes doesn’t seem to faze you, and when you see Mike's name pop up on the screen on your ringing phone, you start to cry even more.

“Baby? I’m so sorry I’m late, but I’m on my way over now. I had to pick up an extra shift, and then I needed to make a quick stop at the store which took me way longer than expected.” You hear Mike's distant voice on the other end of the phone, and the sound of a turn signal going off; signalling he’s in his car.

You try not to make it obvious you’re crying, but the sound of his voice makes a broken sob leave your lips.

“Sweetheart? Please talk to me.” Mike calls, and his voice sounds so desperate for any kind of answer on your end.

“Just don’t even fucking bother, Mike. I left already anyway.” Your sadness has very quickly turned to anger from hearing Mike’s half-assed apology, and you couldn’t give a shit if your words hurt him. He hurt you first. You start your car, wiping your blurry eyes and pulling out of the parking lot.

“You left? But you’ve wanted to eat at that place for months.” And Mike was right. You had wanted to eat at that restaurant for months. It was some new Italian place that had sparked your interest, and when you had planned this date, the first thing you did was make a reservation. Too bad it had gone to waste.

“I guess I lost my appetite.” You said, hanging up the phone. You want to yell and scream at him, but what good would that do? You don’t have the energy, so instead when you get home you change into some comfy clothes and curl up in your bed.

You’re not one for big, dramatic gestures, but you do consider burning his hoodie that you currently wear. It smells exactly like him and that makes you cry even more. The one person who you want to comfort you right now, is the reason you’re crying. You’re not sure if it was fair for you to be so harsh towards him on the phone, but you can’t find it in you to care. You had the whole night planned, you wore Mike's favourite dress, you bought his favourite ice cream to share when you got home, all for it to be wasted.

The sound of your doorbell ringing jolts you awake, and you groan as you roll out of bed. You’re almost 99% sure you know who’s at the door, and you consider not even answering it. However, the part of you that still wants to see Mike wins, and you open the door. On your doorstep is a very guilty looking Mike holding a bouquet of your favourite flowers, and in his other hand a bag that holds your favourite candy. You almost want to forgive him right then and there. Almost.

“It’s late, Mike.” You say, crossing your arms like it's a defence mechanism. You take in his appearance. His hair is dishevelled, like he’s been running his hands through it, and you know that’s something he does when he gets anxious. His eyes are tired and his lips are bitten.

“Yeah, yeah I know. I just-, well, I got you these.” He says, handing you the bouquet of flowers. You consider not taking them for a moment, but you rule that option out as you look at Mike’s tired, sad eyes. You hold the bouquet in your hands, waiting for Mike’s next words. You know he struggles with voicing his feelings and emotions, but if he thinks he can just buy you flowers and candy as a way to apologise, he would be sorely mistaken.

“How’d you get these? The flower shop closed two hours ago.”

“It was closing when I got there. I kinda had to bribe the guy to let me in.” Mike says with a nervous laugh, and your heart warms at the sweet gesture. There’s a pregnant pause, and you can tell Mike is trying to find the right words to speak.

“I’m really sorry. I’m sorry for being late, that I upset you.” Mike starts, and you sigh.

“But we planned this, Mike. And you just didn’t come.” You know your eyes are getting watery again, but you’re hurt.

“I know, baby. I wanted to get you a gift, but there was a long line at the jewellery store, and the wait was way longer than I expected. I decided to wait because I’ve been picking up extra shifts for months to get you this necklace and-” You cut Mike’s rambling off.

“You got me a necklace?”

“The one that was in that magazine you showed me.” Mike said, and you furrow your eyebrows. If you’re thinking about the same necklace, it was one you had showed him on a whim a few months ago. You were reading a magazine when you had come across a necklace that was just to die for. You had shown him the necklace, gushing about how beautiful it was, but how you could never afford it. There was no way Mike had bought you that necklace, right?

“But I brought that up months ago.”

“I know.”

“You remembered?”

“Of course I did.” Of course he did.

“That’s too much, Mike.”

“I picked up some extra shifts.” He says with a shrug, like what he did isn’t a big deal.

“You’re making it really hard to be mad at you right now.” You say with your bottom lip between your teeth. Your head and your heart are saying two different things, and even though you do want to forgive him, you’re still hurt from tonight.

“Come in.” You say, motioning for Mike to follow you inside.

“Just so you know, I’m not letting you in because I forgive you. It’s just…cold outside.” You continue, putting the flowers on your dining table before leading Mike to your living room.

“I should’ve just forgotten about the necklace. You’re more important than that. I just really wanted to get you something nice.” Mike says as you both sit down on the couch. You can really see how anxious he is now with the way his leg bounces up and down rapidly and how he picks at his nails.

“Can I see it?” You ask, and Mike is nodding, reaching into the bag that also holds your favourite candy to pull out a box. He hands it to you with bated breath, his eyes scanning your face. You open the box, your lips parting in shock. You knew it was the necklace you had been wanting, but to see its beauty in real life was something else.

“Mike, it’s beautiful.” You say, taking the necklace out of the box to feel it in your hands.

“I thought it suited you.” Mike says. “Can I put it on for you?” He adds, and you nod, turning around so your back is facing Mike. Mike’s gentle hands push your hair over one side of your shoulder. He lays the necklace over the front of your neck, clasping it at the back.

“Let me see you.” He demands softly, and you turn back around. Mike’s lust filled eyes scan your neck and face, and you feel shy in his intense gaze.

“You’re stunning, baby.” Mike says, and the sincerity in his voice makes you melt. “Can’t believe I made my pretty girl cry. I’m so sorry.”

“I really wanted to have a nice night together, Mike. I feel like I barely get to see you anymore.” That selfish feeling bubbles up in your stomach once again, but you push it away. You need to have this conversation with him. Mike sighs, and you can see a look of guilt and sadness wash over his face.

“I know, sweetheart. And you’re right. I don’t mean to neglect you. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a while. You keep me sane.” Mike admits with a sad smile, and he reaches to grab your hand, squeezing it softly.

“I guess sometimes I get so caught up with work, wanting to be able to provide for you and Abby.” Mike continues, and he looks up into your eyes so you can see the truth and a genuineness in his tone.

“I love the necklace, I think it’s incredibly thoughtful, don’t get me wrong. But I'd just rather you spend time with me than buy me things. I know you’re busy, and I know Abby is your first priority so I’ll never ask you to sacrifice the time you dedicate towards her, for me. All I’ll ask is that when we plan a date, or when we're together, that’s the time you dedicate to me, and you're completely there in the moment. Okay?” You say, rubbing your thumb against the back of Mike's hand. You know how hard he works, and it’s one of the many things you admire about him. You’re not asking him to drop everything to be with you, and you know how much Abby means to him. You love him, and the time you don’t get to spend with him feels like time wasted.

“Okay.” Mike says, and he’s pulling you into a long embrace. His strong arms hug you and hold you tightly to his body. You wish that things could’ve gone differently tonight, but you know that this conversation was important, and you feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

“Do you want to watch a movie and dig into this candy that I bought for you?” Mike asks, his voice muffled from his face being tucked into your shoulder. You pull away from Mike and he presses a kiss to your forehead, something you know he always does to wordlessly say “I love you.”

“I’ll even let you choose the movie.” He teases, and you roll your eyes at him.

“How generous of you.” You tease back, and soon enough you’re curled up into his side, eating your favourite candy, watching a movie that you got to choose.

#josh hutcherson #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson smut #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt smut #smut #fnafmovie #fnaf

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pixiemunsons · 2 years

Note

hiii what about steve harrington x reader where steve with all of the girls he slept before he can't manage to cum -like he only cums when he's alone and like it feels kinda humiliating to him to cum in front of someone bc he's really noisy and it's reader's first time and she manage to make him cum 👀

stop the world (i wanna get off with you) sh

stevie learns that sometimes, you just gotta let go (3.1k words)

anon i'm so sorry i missed the part where u said first time however it is their first time together. my first steve fic!! also don't usually write dom!reader so v new for me. thank u for requesting<3 this is set sort of between s2 and 3

light sub!steve/dom!reader, caretaking, handjobs, vulnerable/embarrassed steve, mentions of him sleeping w other girls but no jealousy, first orgasm w a partner, p in v sex, gentle sex, lots of sweet talking and reassurance, this is a very sweet little thing w very very little angst. no use of y/n or appearance description. no spoilers

‘sorry, can you say that again?’

steve blushed bright red, running a hand through his messy hair as you stared at him, wide mouthed.

‘baby, please, it’s so humiliating!’ he threw his head back into the pillow, hiding his hot face in his hands, and it took almost all of your strength to gently prise his fingers away from his eyes.

‘no, s’not. just wanna make sure i heard you properly.’

steve sighed deeply, looking at you tentatively.

‘no one else has ever been able to make me cum before, just myself. happy now?’

───

when king steve harrington had first asked you on a date, you thought he was joking. you’d barely ever spoken at school; helped him get through a bio test once when he was in junior year and you were a sophomore taking an advanced class, but outside of that, you’d barely interacted.

that is, until you had nipped over to jonathan byers’ house to drop him and his mother a tray of mac and cheese and ask how the search for will was going and had found him, nancy and steve beating the shit out of an alien.

it had all sort of snowballed from there, really. nancy and steve started dating again not long after the incident, before she bounced on over to byers, and while you were really happy for your friends, it had been you that was left to pick up the broken pieces of steve harrington’s heart. well, you and the ragtag bunch of thirteen-year-olds that you had sort of acquired over time. you learnt a lot about steve over the months you spent together; he was a serial dater, though they never seemed to go anywhere - despite the girls seemingly chasing him for weeks after he’d turned them down. he loved ice cream and cheesy rom-coms and the songs from west side story. steve harrington liked driving the kids around, even when he denied it, and listening to dustin talk about d&d, and so it turned out, he really, really liked you.

he’d asked you to go on three dates before you started to believe that he really wanted you like that, and even then he’d had to ask twice more before you agreed to go. you had heard he was a bit of a fuck ‘em and chuck ‘em kinda guy, and the dynamic you’d built up wasn’t something you were willing to ruin for a quick fumble; even if you had heard that said fumbles were nothing short of magnificent. he’d done things properly though; picked you up and opened the car door for you, told your mother he’d have you home on time, taken you to enzo’s, the nicest place in town. he’d made you laugh with his stories all night, ignoring the way other patrons looked at you, and when you reached for the cheque at the end of the night he had brushed you off as if you asking was an insult in and of itself. and then he’d taken you home fifteen minutes before curfew and asked you permission before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, driving away and leaving you leaning breathless against your front door.

being with steve was a lot different to how you expected it might be. it was just like before, really, doing everything together like best friends. but you caught the way he looked at you now, really looked at you like no one else did. saw how he took in every scar, every mark and cherished it, loved it as a part of you. and even though you hadn’t quite said those words yet, hadn’t quite taken it there, you knew it was true for both of you. there were other things about steve that you hadn’t expected, either; how his room was still the blue colour he’d painted it at twelve, how he could cook a really decent spaghetti. and how, five months into your relationship, he’d never taken it further than making out.

you hadn’t intended to get onto the conversation. you were just talking about how tommy and carol were hooking up again even after their latest break up, and steve had said he thought tommy was dating paula morgan from their graduating class, and about how steve’d gone on a date with her once and she’d left a hickey so big he had to tell his folks he got hit with a volleyball in gym. you knew there was a reason paula kept giving you the shit-eye when you went into the grocery store where she worked.

‘tellin’ you, i got off lucky! danny rogers, you know from the year above me? he told me once that she gave him a handy and twisted it so hard he was bruised for weeks! scared me off of her for life.’

you laughed, half thinking as he spoke. he had hooked up with loads of girls at school, you knew that, but the more you two spoke about your histories the more you were finding out; secret rendezvous' with girls under the bleachers, in the back of his car. he’d even confessed that he let sheila richards give him a blowjob in mr davies’ empty maths classroom. but it’d been months and the most the two of you had done was heavy petting over the clothes and making out before he’d push you gently away to get back to whatever movie you’d rented that weekend, even if you could feel how hard he was under his jeans. you hadn’t really meant to bring it up at that point, but surely it was better to tell him how you were feeling?

so you’d asked what was going on, and he’d stared at you for so long you thought you might burst into flames of embarrassment, desperately worried you’d said the wrong thing, when he came out with a whisper so tiny you almost didn’t hear it.

almost.

───

‘but-but what about all the other girls? you’ve been getting it left right and centre by every girl in your year, and i’ve certainly never heard any of them complaining.’

steve looked at you and drew a deep breath, shrugging his shoulders.

‘no, babe, they’ve been getting it from me. i mean, i’ve had a few… favours, but i’ve just never, like, finished. i find an excuse, like that i can hear someone coming or whatever, and then i go home and… sort myself out.’

‘so, you can come? just not when other people try?’

he nodded his head, seemingly more calm now that it was out there in the open.

‘is it a physical thing, you think? or a mental block?’

steve shrugged his shoulders again.

‘bit of both, maybe? i think part of it is that i’ve never been that bothered about cumming? i know it sounds silly, but i’m not usually in the sex for myself, and when you end up with a reputation like mine, you gotta find a way of keepin’ it up. so i just do what i need’a do to get her there, then deal with myself later.’ he felt silly now that he said it aloud, wringing his fingers in front of him. it had been part of the reason he’d never moved on you; he was too worried you’d think he didn’t find you attractive, didn’t want you, and the thought killed him.

‘you ever fucked someone you really care about, before, stevie? who really cares about you?’

he looked up at the change of tone in your voice, and saw that you were climbing up his body so your faces were level. he was going red again, gulping as you leaned down over him.

’n-no? never.’

you cocked your head to the side, frowning. ‘what about nance?’ steve shook his head solemnly.

‘no, w-we never… what are you doing, babe?’ he asked as you crawled onto his lap, thighs now either side of his hips.

‘stevie, i think the reason you were never bothered is because they weren’t. they just wanted to fuck the king, have a piece of him. but i don’t want the king.’ you laid a soft kiss on his lips, smiling as you pulled away and steve followed you for more. ‘i want steve harrington. and i wanna make him feel good. y’gonna let me do that?’ you were almost purring, playing with the hem of his t-shirt, and steve couldn’t even find the words to express how he felt other than god, baby, yes please.

you started by kissing him real, real slow. moved your lips over his languidly, tongue running gently over the seam of his lips in soft, caressing strokes that had his head spinning and his chin jutting forward for more. his mouth opened, and you slipped yourself in, running your tongue over his own. steve moaned gently into the kiss, grinding his hips up into yours, and you pushed them back down gently.

‘not yet, baby, tryna make this good for you. just calm down, take it slow. we got all the time in the world.’ he hummed against your mouth, settling his hips down while his hands explored your body slowly. you sat with him like this for a little while; one hand playing with his hair whilst the other sat on his stomach, pressing tender smooches to his lips, his nose, his cheeks, ears, forehead, eyes, until eventually you worked a trail of lip gloss down his neck. your teeth came out at the base of his throat, only gently, marking him inconspicuously as yours, and he almost whimpered under you.

it wasn’t often that you took your time with steve. it was hard to show your appreciation for him sexually when he was always resisting, refusing to let you in. so you were definitely having a lot of fun taking your time tonight. you stripped him of his t-shirt, straddling his hips and feeling his hard cock pressed against you through both of your jeans as you leant forward. your lips shifted from his neck to his chest, nipping at his collarbones as you moved down his stomach.

‘stevie, y’ so pretty,’ you whispered from his happy trail, nose nudging at the curls that lay there as he whined under you.

‘you’re so beautiful, babe, so gorgeous.’ his hand dropped from his chest to your face, stroking at your cheek gently with a thumb. you turned to kiss his fingertips gently, and he moaned when you took the very tip of his index finger into your mouth and sucked gently.

‘’m gonna get you all ready for me, stevie, use my hand and get you worked up, then i’m gonna get on top like you like it and make you feel good. no pressure, if y’can’t cum it’s all good, we’ll just try again when you’re ready. i jus’ want you to know you’re safe with me, nothin’ bad’s gonna happen, i’m gonna take good care of you, yeah?’ you were running your fingers over the top of his jeans, dipping into his boxers ever so gently, and he nodded, fingers grabbing for your t-shirt.

‘yeah, but can you take this off, too? please? don’t wanna be the only one sat here naked,’ he half-chuckled, half-moaned when you stripped the garment away, bra following so you were clad in your jeans alone.

‘can you go in the drawer, babe, get the lube please?’ you asked sweetly, and he passed it down with a kiss pressed to the top of your head. you manoeuvred your position so you were sat facing steve, his face level with your boobs as you straddled his thighs, giving you enough room to pull him out of his jeans and boxers. and, wow, was he hard. and big. his red tip was leaking, almost painful looking, and you pumped some of the lube into your right hand before rubbing it together in your palm, warming it up. he let out a hiss when you finally made contact, hips bucking up into your palm. you simply eased him back down again, pressing a kiss to the bicep of his right arm.

‘shh, baby, i said i got you. how do you usually like it?’

steve cocked his head to the side, blushing red. ‘what do you mean?’

‘you said you make yourself cum,’ you grabbed his hand, guiding it on top of yours. ‘so show me how you do that. maybe it’ll help you relax a little.’ he was nervous, you could tell, so you kissed him gently on the mouth, nodding gently to encourage him. slowly, his hand tightened your own around his cock, moving at a much slower pace than you anticipated he’d like. not that you minded; having him show you how intimately, gently, he liked to be touched was getting you wet, and it was taking a lot to keep your mind on the task quite literally at hand.

steve removed his hand once you seemed to be getting the hang of it, letting his head flop back against the pillows behind him.

‘o-oh, baby, just like that,’ he was writhing under you, leg bouncing up between your thighs in a way that made them clench. steve noticed, reaching out to touch you, but you carefully brushed his hand away.

‘not right now, stevie. we’re gonna think about you for now, we can worry about me later, ’s okay,’ you whispered up at him, flicking your thumb over the very head of him and watching as his head dropped back once more, eyes rolling into his head.

‘f-fuck, that’s so… fuck.’ he seemed to be relaxing, finally, letting you make him feel like he deserved for the first time.

‘you’re doin’ so good f’me, babe. such a good boy,’ you hummed, and steve’s fingers were white knuckled and wound into the bedsheets. he moaned, high-pitched and needy, and the sound went right between your legs.

‘’m gonna c-cum, babe, fuck, stop,’ he whimpered, and you cocked an eyebrow.

‘why stop? everything okay?’

‘wanna- fuck, wanna cum in you.’ his words sent a shiver down your spine, and you swallowed the moan making its way to the surface.

‘you sure? you won’t lose it if i stop now?’

steve shook his head vehemently, pushing your hand away from his leaking cock and reaching to undo your jeans, yanking them down to your knees. you leant forward to kiss him, gently pushing his arms back to his sides.

‘there’s no rush, steve, we can take our time. here, keep touching yourself f’me. there you go baby, just like that.’ you stripped yourself slowly, pushing your lace underwear down your hips and kicking them off with your jeans so you were bare in front of him. you’d usually be nervous, first time a boy saw you like that, but steve? he was something different. his hand was pumping up and down his cock just like he’d shown you he liked it, eyelids drooping as he revered your naked form above him.

‘want me on top? or d’you wanna do it?’

steve groaned again. he had no idea how he’d managed to swing you, but right now, he definitely wasn’t complaining. ‘can you do it, babe, please?’

his puppy dog eyes were so disarming, so loving, you couldn’t help but to lean forward and run a thumb over his lips, watching as he ran the very tip of his tongue over the pad of your digit.

‘i just want you to know that there’s no pressure, honey. if it doesn’t happen, we don’t force it, we try until you wanna stop and then we try another time, okay?’ the concern in your eyes had him almost in tears, so he just nodded as you lowered yourself onto him for the first time.

the sting was uncomfortable but not unwelcome, his thick cock stretching you out just enough for it to hurt whilst still feeling good. you moaned together when you finally had him all the way down to his thick base, buried so deep you could feel it everywhere.

‘’m not gonna last long, sweetheart,’ steve grunted, hips meeting yours mid-thrust and you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him, not when he was bumping up against a spot that had you seeing stars.

‘stevie, so good, so fuckin’ big and perfect for me,’ you were half-crying on his cock, trying to keep a rhythm going.

‘where d’you - fuck - want it? s’comin’ babe,’ steve was grunting through gritted teeth, and you just had time to cry out ‘stomach, shit’ when he was pulling out, head poking out from his hand as he fisted his cock, warm splashes of cum spurting out to paint your tummy.

‘oh baby, oh my love, fuck, so good!’ steve was almost shouting through his orgasm from under you, and he was the most beautiful person you’d ever met. head thrown back, hair messy, chest red and mouth forming an o as he rode his orgasm out in his hand. you were still hovering above him, up on your knees, when he covered his face with his hands once more.

‘stevie, what’s wrong?’ you asked, worried you’d taken it too far. he peeked out from between his fingers, eyeing you.

‘that was so loud, s'embarrassing,’ he whispered, and you pulled his hands from his face like you had not half an hour earlier.

‘you kidding? that was so hot!’

‘shut up, don’t be a dick.’

‘steve, i’m being serious!’ he peered over at you, intrigued, as you started ranting. ‘fuck, i can’t believe i’m the first person to see you like that! i mean, i’m glad i was, because holy shit, that was a religious fucking experience!’ the look of wonder on your face soon became something a little more teasing. ‘i can’t wait to make you do that again.’

it was your turn to be surprised when steve looped his arms around your thighs, yanking you forward so you were still on your knees, now situated with your pussy directly over his mouth. a smirk spread across steve’s face at the look of wonder on your own.

‘well, not right now, you won’t sweetheart.’

he pressed a trail of kisses down your right inner thigh, short nails scraping at the skin of your ass.

‘you’ve shown me what a good job you can do. now it’s time to show you what i’m famous for, baby.’

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balkanradfem · 1 month

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So, I'm going to tell you an unusual story, and you do not have to believe me that it's true; I urge you, in fact, to disbelieve it, and to conclude I simply made it all up. But, if I write it now, it might be proven right at one point in the future, and then I can say 'I was right, I called this.'

As a child, I used to have a favourite tree. It was a big oak tree, with the lowest branches just low enough for me to grab and climb on. The ants were always crawling up on it. I would climb this tree and watch the sunset trough the frame of its branches.

I also often felt lonely and troubled as a child, so I would sit with my back leaning to the tree, and I would tell stories, things I couldn't say to people. Sometimes I would come there seeking advice, not knowing how to go about life. The tree was, as all trees are, a great listener. I can't tell you what the tree was thinking, but I was sure we were becoming friends.

One day, I wondered what the tree's story was. And I was a weirdo little child, okay, I was convinced I could communicate with anything, that I could feel anyone's emotions. And it was not a magical thing, kids sometimes develop some extra senses when they're in an environment where they have to watch out for other's moods. I was convinced that me + tree communication was possible. So that one day, I wanted to hear the tree's story. I pressed my entire body to the trunk and concentrated. I could almost feel energy flowing trough the tree, I could swear that I felt it. I imagined what must be in there. And then I saw something interesting. The trees roots continued underground, far beyond what I expected they would, and they had a way to connect and communicate with other trees down there. They could tell what was happening to the other trees that way. They were all connected underground.

This wasn't all I saw, but I'll come back to it.

I was impressed and fascinated by this new knowledge. Trees could share information. Trees knew if you were nice to another tree, especially if it was the same species. Word got around. They knew where other trees were growing too, and how many. I was happy to know that my tree was not alone and was in contact with all other trees, even when it grew alone. I didn't share this knowledge with anyone, as it would be impossible to explained how I gained this information.

Years later, it was discovered that trees do communicate underground, using mycelium as their communications network. 'Hm', I thought, seeing those news. 'I already knew that. It seems they only figured it out now'. I didn't know about the mycelium though, I just knew they were communicating. So I did get correct information back there as a kid, it was just too unusual for me to believe it.

However the discoveries didn't encompass everything I'd seen. There's another piece of information I got back then, that isn't yet – and maybe it won't be discovered at all.

I didn't just see the trees communicating down there. I saw them having conferences.

It wasn't constant and ongoing communication, the trees had set times where they would all focus, share their information, and they made decisions based on the information they gathered. So the trees are not only communicating, they also problem-solve and make decisions together. It makes me think of the communal sharing of forests – if one tree is weak and isn't getting enough nutrients or light, the other trees, or the mother tree would send that tree enough nutrients to survive, which makes it more likely that a tree would thrive in a forest, than alone. I feel like that's the kind of thing they might be deciding on their meetings, which trees need the most help and how those resources are allocated to them. I think this is a correct way to hold a community.

They also share the information about when predators or pests about to attack, and some trees are able to change the taste of their leaves or the chemicals in their trunks, in order to deter the enemy. Which I think is really cool for them to be able to do. Again, I have to conclude that the trees are superior to us.

So, I haven't been able to build another close connection to a tree like that (maybe you have to be a child in order to attain such special things), so I can't go ask another tree more about it, but that's what I have. Underground tree conferences. If in 10 years scientists come out with research supporting this, you knew it first. If not, well hey, we can theorize about trees, it's not illegal.

Again I do not claim I accrued this knowledge trough magical means, and maybe I'm just lying. But, if you're still reading, I can tell you that trees growing in close proximity to humans, are much more friendly to humans, than those in wild, abandoned forests. Some trees have a wacky sense of humor and will attempt to make humans laugh. Some trees show certain levels of concern over humans – we're very soft, squishy and fragile in comparison to them! And we get stressed a lot, while trees get stressed during droughts and pest pressure, which doesn't happen all the time. Trees have a greater sense of acceptance, there's things above their power to change and they make peace with it easier than we do.

So there's the information I gathered trough unusual means, and I while I cannot promise its reliability, I do think it's all good fun. And be nice to your trees. Because all other trees will hear about it.

#trees #forbidden tree knowledge #mycelium network #forest #nature #environmental #story #tree story #favourite tree #i miss you tree #i wish i could go there again and check up on it

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thisismeracing · 6 months

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King of my heart | extras | Mick and Yn create a playlist together

― Summary: Yn and Mick are still threading through their feelings, none of them yet aware of how deep it is. Some say that actions speak louder than words, but guess songs do too sometimes. ― Word count: 1.3k ― A/n: This can be read as a stand-alone, but it’s better when you’ve read the series. ― Warnings: mention of food; tooth aching fluff.

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“I created the playlist,” Yn shares once she finds Mick in the garage. It’s close to lunchtime, and some of the crew are already leaving to eat at the paddock cafeteria. George is pointing something to Mick on the computer to which he simply nods before turning to Yn. “I just sent you the Spotify link,” she adds.

His eyes take her in and he nods again. He wants to say a lot of things, how beautiful she looks, how he missed her the whole morning, how boring it felt without her laugh, how happy he is that she created the playlist, that way he’ll have yet another excuse to text her, but he just nods. A lot of the things that are going through Mick’s mind are making him choose to keep his lips sealed. He knows each little thing can and will be pointed to by his friends as catching feelings.

The worst thing is that he believes that maybe it is true.

Maybe he is falling for Yn.

His friend’s sister.

His co-worker's sister.

“What playlist?” George asks, poking his head in their direction and Yn rolls her eyes playfully.

“It’s nothing, you’re a driver, not a reporter, you don’t need to know everything,” her retort makes Mick throw his head back in laughter and even Russell himself can’t contain the snicker.

“You’ve been walking too much with Lando, you’re getting sassier,” the British points while taking off the headphones from around his neck.

“As it happens, I’ve actually been walking a lot with you, George.”

Mick snickers watching the whole interaction the way you watch a tennis match, head going from one side to the other to catch the faces the duo is making.

“Anyways, I gotta go have lunch, you two have fun,” Russell patted Yn’s and Mick’s back before leaving them alone in front of the computer.

“Are you having lunch in the cafeteria with everyone?” he asks but what he really wants to say is: would you like to have lunch with me?

Yn shakes her head, “I ordered lunch.”

“Oh-”

She adds before Mick can say something else, “I ordered two…you said you wanted to try that salad last time, and I thought-”

“Awesome! So we go through the songs while we eat lunch,” Mick has a small smile on his pink lips, whereas he’s jumping up and down inside.

Yn nodded, starting the track to one of the meeting rooms she used to work while in the garage. Mick is right behind her, and the silence until they reach the door is peaceful. Yn left the package by the table along with two bottles of water, but they settled on the couch sitting in front of each other. Shoes discarded on the ground, legs crossed.

“I already added one song, I’m sorry,” Yn starts and Mick nods, silently asking her to continue. “Die Hard, by Kendrick Lamar.”

“This song is amazing!”

“Do you like it?” Yn asks, smile wider this time, and Mick nods.

“Can I add Lost by Frank Ocean?” the blonde asks and Yn jumps up and down while still sitting.

“Yes!! Absolutely!!”

She digs her fork into the food before taking a bite. Mick sips his water, and then asks, “So, you add one I add one? And we only add the ones we agree on or? How’s this gonna work?”

“I think we can make a mix, no need to agree, we will listen to everything afterwards and then we can talk about the ones we never heard before… that is if you agree.”

“Well, I’ve never made a shared playlist like this before, so yeah, I agree.”

Yn smiles, “I do them all the time with Lewis, he hasn’t surrendered to Taylor Swift quite yet, but I always try,” Mick chuckles. “Anyways, I think we should add some classics like It Wasn’t Me, we were listening to it that day in the car, you remember?”

“Yeah, you sang that Mick song too.”

“Oh, Mick, you’re so fine, so fine you blow my mind,” she sang teasing him and the German rolled his eyes playfully, a flush creeping from his neck to his ears.

“Does she actually sing Mick?” he’s truly curious.

Yn shakes her head, “But I do,” the way she winks at him makes his stomach roll and feel cold in a strange yet good way. “She sings Mickey, but I think Mick fits better, don’t you think?”

Mick is at a loss for words, so he chooses to stuff his mouth with lettuce and shrug instead of answering. How could he answer? Were they flirting? What the hell was this feeling in his stomach?

“I propose we add the songs and go through it in real-time. Open the app there,” she points to his cell phone and Mick does as she says.

“You just added Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls,” he states and taps his fingers on the screen adding Tennessee Whiskey, watching Yn as she furrows her brows.

“I’ve never heard this one.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I don’t know much about Country music,” she confesses.

“I’ll add my favorite ones for you.”

Yn smiles at him.

They go about eating and adding songs to the playlist. There’s a smile and a giggle here and there, sometimes laughter, and frowns with the unknown songs.

Yn is sipping her water and looking at the phone, when she sees a new song pop on the list, “What does ‘schön’ mean?”

“I’m adding some German songs for you,” Mick explains, but Yn is not satisfied with the simple answer.

“‘Mkey, how do you say this?”

“Sch-ön,” he slowly mouths and she giggles.

“With kissy lips?” Mick nods. “Man, you Germans are kinda cute. You make kissy faces every time there’s a word with this thingy?”

“Umlaut,” he explains, holding back a chuckle. “And yeah, kinda.”

“So…what is this song about?” Yn asks, hitting play.

Mick watches as Yn bops her head to the rhythm, a grin on her plush lips and her eyes closed.

Du bist schön und es macht Spaß, dich anzuseh'n

(So schön)

Du bist schön und meine Augen sind verwöhnt

(Verwöhnt)

Du bist schön, uh, du bist schön

“What is he saying, Mouse?”

“You are beautiful, and fun to look at. You are beautiful and my eyes are… spoiled,” he tries to focus on the lyrics, but the second her eyes open and they find each other the song becomes mere background noise. “You’re beautiful,” this time his voice is a bit softer.

“Did he sing that again?”

Mick shakes his head, notices what he just did, and then nods.

“Yeah, it’s… it’s a simple song, it’s a good choice if you want to start learning some words in German.”

They go about adding songs in silence again, until Yn jumps from the couch hitting play on yet another song, “Oooh, this one’s good, you’ll like it!”

“Taylor Swift?”

“You were able to identify, that’s a good start. Yes. This one’s called Karma, it totally has your energy, Mouse.”

Mick furrows his brows in confusion and Yn starts walking around the room while explaining to him the story behind the music which took them over twenty minutes, but the Schumacher wasn’t bored, quite the opposite, he listened to everything, asking one question here and there, and chuckling at her enthusiasm.

It’s only when Lewis texts Mick telling him lunchtime is over that they wrap up their conversation, agreeing on adding songs to the playlist whenever they find something the other might like or should see.

“Thanks for lunch. Guess I owe you dinner now, huh?”

Yn sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, and Mick’s eyes drop slightly following the motion.

“Yup,” she nods. “See you in a few, Mouse.”

And when the door closes behind the blond Yn sighs. Her brother would have to forgive her. Not liking Mick was getting harder and harder.

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi, besties! I hope you guys like this piece! A huge shout out to my ☕️anon for proofreading this piece so quick ❤️ Don’t forget to reblog and comment, and follow me if you liked it!

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#komh #millie writes #mick schumacher #ms47 #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher x black!reader #mick schumacher x reader #f1 fandom #mick schumacher fluff #f1 x you #f1 fanfiction #mick schumacher fanfiction #hamilton!reader #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fanfic

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pillow-anime-talk · 1 year

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life with chrollo.

request ; @roseamie01: can i have some chrollo x reader? it’s up to you to write about anything and i am fine with nsfw stuff so i leave it to your imagination!

# tags: headcanon; current relationship; simple day with chrollo from morning to night; romance; a bit of fluff and soft!chrollo; sfw & nsfw

warnings: mention of sexual activities, nasty sex with chrollo, spanking, hair pulling, spitting, slutty names, deep throat, blood and bruises mention

includes: gender neutral reader ft. chrollo lucilfer {hxh}

author’s note: sorry for waiting so long! thank you and have nice day/night :)!

→ sfw part ←

↘ Chrollo is husband material for me. He’s a really calm man who cares about the person closest to him if he truly loves them, and not just manipulates them and forces them to do bad things.

↘ Always puts his partner at first place and gets angry when someone tries to “steal” you or is too pushy with you.

↘ I’m also sure he likes to show off your relationship and always stays close to you in important meetings; he always has his hand on your shoulder or hip and often gives you kisses on the lips or hands. He also likes to tease all his male friends who are still single.

↘ He’s a gentleman. He loves all those smooth situations, like letting you through the door or paying for a fancy dinner. I also think that Chrollo likes to pamper you materially and never spares his money for a new gift for you: new shoes, a pretty cotton sweater, jewelry with beautiful gemstones, and is even willing to buy you a small pet if he sees that you will be a good future owner and take care of the animal appropriately.

↘ Chrollo is understanding and patient, though often overprotective and gets angry when you don’t listen to him or do stupid/dangerous things like going on missions with him or playing with Pakunoda’s weapons. However, he never raises his voice at you because your smile is apology enough for him. He’ll just take that knife or gun from you and give you a popsicle or your favorite bag of candy in return.

↘ He’s really cute and the rest of the Troupe are surprised by his behavior because Chrollo without you and with you are two completely different people.

→ nsfw part ←

↘ In bed, however, Chrollo is... different.

↘ Just as he seems loving and affectionate with you around people, in your bedroom he’s not afraid to use more insulting words towards you. He loves to be rude, demanding and fast, sometimes too fast that orgasms go through your body one by one and you choke or cry with pleasure.

↘ During sex, Chrollo loves to bite you, pull your hair, spit on your face red from exertion, or slap your butt with such force that you feel pain for the next two or three days.

↘ Sometimes he is so crazy and strong that the pressure of his hand causes bruises, even scratches and light blood stains on the light-colored sheets. He loves to make you agonize and bliss at the same time.

↘ Your boyfriend is a monster who always sets the pace, control and position (of course he sometimes grants your requests, but mostly he decides about your sexual activity). He loves to fuck you from behind and standing up against the wall, he also loves sex sitting down and one where he can bind your body with a tie, a piece of string or even his own T-shirt.

↘ He’s not a fan of sex toys and you both know that his tongue or fingers alone are enough to satisfy your needs. He also loves oral sex, or rather a strong deep throat. When he sees your face turn purple and more saliva drips from your mouth than usual, he’s so satisfied.

↘ A loving relationship with dirty sex is the perfect description of your relationship.

#— 🍓#hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter headcanons #hunter x hunter headcanon #hunter x hunter x reader #hunter x hunter x you #hunter x hunter x y/n #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo lucilfer headcanons #chrollo lucilfer headcanon #chrollo lucilfer x reader #chrollo lucilfer x you #chrollo lucilfer x y/n #chrollo #chrollo headcanons #chrollo headcanon #chrollo x reader #chrollo x you #chrollo x y/n

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random0lover · 1 year

Text

Open Wounds and War Paint

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x GN!reader

Word Count: 1,614

Warnings: Angst/no comfort, SFW, reader death(?), proclamation of love, blood, emotional shit, reader gets called dove and love, reader calls Simon baby one time.

Things to know: Should be POC friendly! If you notice anything that makes you feel otherwise please let me know! I never want anyone to feel excluded with/in my work ♡, Also a warning to anyone that decides to follow me- if you do not have your age in your bio or a pinned post I will block you… just a fair warning.

Notes: This has been sitting in my drafts for like two months now and I’m having writer's block on the main piece I’m writing and I had motivation for this so here we are! I might write a second part to this and maybe two different types, one that continues that angst/no comfort and one that is a happy ending and fluffy. This isn’t my best work and honestly I don't know how to feel about it :/

Part 1 (You’re here!) Part 2

You’re laying with your head in Ghost’s lap just thinking about things. Letting your mind wander into some saddening thoughts.

“Ghost”

“Yeah love?”

“Sometimes I’m scared I’ll never find real love.”

He doesn’t say anything but you know he’s listening, he was always listening when you spoke.

“I know I have you and the rest of the team and that we all see each other as family and I absolutely adore that, I really do.”

You pause thinking about what you want to say.

“I want someone to love me. Not my body or who I am at work. I want them to be in love with my soul and I want to love their soul right back.”

This whole time you had been picking at a loose string on Ghost's cargo pants but finally risked looking up at him and for once he’s not looking at you instead he’s staring up at the ceiling.

You look away again.

“I want to be so comfortable with the love that we have that when we wake up in the morning my first thought isn’t about how if I look okay or if I looked like I was attacked by a pack of wild dogs,” you push air out of your nose in an attempt to laugh, “I want to make myself a cup of coffee and bring them a cup of tea exactly how they like it and there be a comfortable silence. I want to watch the sun rise with them and know that they love me as much as I love them.”

You look up to find him already staring down at you, his pupils dilated to the point of almost pushing the soft molten out completely.

His thumb drifts across your cheek gently memorizing every line from the ones around your eyes from how much you always laughed to the ones that settle between your eyebrows from the amount of time you’d stressed over everyone’s safety.

The moment is interrupted though with pain filled coughs wracking your body causing your head to jostle in his lap.

The hand that’s holding your tightens.

Once the coughing stops you wipe your loose hand across your mouth and find dark red liquid on it that almost looks black.

“Simon.”

He blinks hard.

This was the first time you had used his name during a mission.

You’d only start calling him that when you were both alone on base having early morning conversations while he drank his tea and you your coffee.

You reach a hand up and slide it underneath his mask to rest it on his cheek.

“Simon promise me you’ll find a love like that.”

His eyes search yours and all he can find is love and adoration. You had lost enough blood that you were starting to go numb, your body finally taking mercy on you in your final moments.

His hand reaches up to cover the one you still have under his mask and grips it tightly almost as if he’s trying to ground himself.

You two were not alone in the room but you had already said your goodbyes to everyone else leaving Simon for last. You were worried about what your death would bring for the team, not about the consequences of anyone’s actions but the emotional stability of everyone. They already had hard times dealing with when one of their own were taken but you had yet to see their reaction to anyone that they were close to dying but you’d always imagined that you would be there for them. You would be but they wouldn’t be able to see you, you promised that you would still watch over them in death just like you did in life. You’d become their guardian angel.

Ghost never showed any weakness, he wouldn’t allow himself to after what happened to his family but somehow you wiggled your way into the heart that he thought he had locked and thrown into the deepest darkest parts of the ocean. But Ghost wasn’t the one that was present in this situation, it was Simon.

Simon, the man who knew your exact coffee order, the one that knew how annoyed you’d get at the smallest things when you were tired but you’d never take it out on anyone, the one who knew your real past, the only one you had shown your real full self too.

He knew it was dangerous to fall in love with you. Not because of your work but because he knew if he let you in he’d never be able to let you go and he was fucking terrified of that. He didn’t know who he’d become when you died and even the rest of the team was worried about that. They’d never seen him become so vicious in the field before but once he found out that you’d been hurt, it’s like all he could see was red. He took 8 men all by himself with just a combat knife and his fists. He walked away covered in blood, none of it his.

He blinks again, focusing on you, finding you smiling softly at him.

“You think too much Simon.”

He ignores that.

“Dove,” He runs a hand-covered glove across your cheek.

You drum your fingers against his hand gently at the pet name giving a soft hum.

That was his name for you in the soft moments. He claimed that you were too good, too pure, too caring to be in this line of work.

“But I already found a love like that.”

You let out a choked laugh mixing with the sound of a sob at the same time.

“I know, baby.” Under different circumstances you would’ve never let that term of endearment slip out of your mouth but in this moment you didn’t care.

You can’t help but cough again making blood splatter onto his vest, you try to wipe it off but he just grips your hand and shakes his head gently.

“I got lucky enough to find the love I was always looking for but was too chicken shit to say anything about it.” You attempt to laugh again but it only comes out in a heavy wheeze and your eyesight is starting to go slightly blurry.

You’re starting to panic. You don’t want to die. No no no no. You weren’t ready.

Another sob leaves your chest and you can see the pain in Simon’s eyes, one tear comes out sliding down his cheek and under your hand that is starting to go slightly slack.

“Simon I’m not ready,” your words are becoming slurred, “I don’t want to leave you yet.”

For once Simon didn’t know what to say, he never expected to be in this situation. You weren’t supposed to be bleeding out on a random bed in a shitty safe house waiting for evac that most likely wouldn’t make it in time. He had promised himself he would die for you, die before you. No matter what, you were supposed to be the one to outlive him, make it out of the military life to maybe one day start a family or maybe open that little bakery where you also took in cats to help them find new homes. You were supposed to make it out alive, not him. Not ghost.

He leans down pressing his forehead to yours, “It’s okay love, you don’t have to stay for me. It’s okay to let go.”

You shake your head violently trying to keep yourself awake. Keep yourself away from the warm comfort your mind was offering up to you. To focus on the man that you love.

“But Simon.”

He shushes you gently and you can feel the tears running down his cheek and under your hand. It causes the makeup around his eyes to run slowly, cleaning away the black stains, washing Ghost away and letting more of Simon be revealed.

You didn’t want to do this to him. You had finally started to see Simon come alive and you didn’t want to rip that from him.

Urgently you blink your eyes even though it’s almost like you’re staring out a foggy window and can really only see his eyes now. But that’s all that mattered, you could read everything Simon was thinking and feeling just from his eyes alone.

Pain. Anger. Sorrow.

Love.

“Simon, I need you to live for me.”

He breathes deeply, “Love—“

“No, Simon I mean it,”

“Don’t let yourself fade away.” You take a deep breath.

“I need you to find that love again.”

For some reason you remember the conversation you had only hours ago, sitting on that rooftop. Before you knew you wouldn’t make it to the next morning. You had asked him what he wanted to do after the military and at first he just shook his head. He wasn’t supposed to make it out. This was his life and it was going to be his death. You knocked shoulders with him though, you knew what he was thinking and you always threatened to kill him yourself if he ever thought of dying in the field. You told him he wasn’t allowed to die, he had to help you find the perfect spot for your coffee shop and his pub.

“Oh, and that pub you talked about opening? You should really do it.”

You smile at him gently, your eyes starting to slide shut and you can see the panic in his eyes. You didn’t want him to panic, everything was going to be okay.

You tried to tell him that, saying the words in your mind but your lips didn’t move once.

Hi my lovelies, I hope you liked this little fic! Feedback is appreciated but not necessary. Anyways I hope you all have an amazing day <3

Requests are open! I can not promise when or if I will write them but I do prefer requests that are slightly more specific as I find them a little bit easier to write but it’s not required. Thanks for reading my darlings ♡

#random0lover my writing #angst/no comfort #cod angst #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #mw2 #call of duty #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #Simon ghost Riley x GN!reader #ghost x gn reader #cod x reader #cod x gn!reader #modern warfare ii x reader #modern warefare 2 #ghost angst #hurt/no comfort

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cvlutos · 9 months

Text

EVEN IF WE AREN'T SOULMATES, I LOVE YOU!!

✦ | 08.12.2023 | —K | PG

✦ | Leona Kingscholar X GN!Reader |

✦ | A/N: Slowly trying to ease myself back into writing fanfic, with this. Perhaps work on some AU stuff or Yan!Kalim and OCs, but lemme start off slow |

Perhaps I’ve already met my soulmate and loved them as much as one could love.

Like wilting flowers that blossom then fade into nothing, unable to remain within his palms and turns into bitter sand. I loved them with my everything. They were mine and mine alone. My soulmate. With a love so passionate and so burning, everything that could be so right, was right. And arguments just as heated, yet filled with so much love and desire that the fight turned into nothing between heated kisses.

A soulmate with an expiration date.

There is no doubt that they were my soulmate… His hands shove into pockets and angry goodbyes are given, tears unshed until alone, anger that fizzled into heartache. He sighs, blowing out a puff of hot air. Days molding into months, and months into years. Dates that lead to nowhere and paths that truly had no meaning.

Perhaps he’ll move on.. Maybe one day, in every person he meets he’ll stop trying to find his soulmate in those new faces. Stop searching for their features, their laugh, their humor, their everything. Maybe he'll let go of the love he lost, and find something—someone to stop his desperate search for a piece he lost and can never get back.

“Leona.”

You call his name, your voice so clear and true, so different yet so enjoyable that the lion beastman eyes flutter open, awake from his nap. You are so different from them, for if they are loud, you are silent, and if they were silent, you were loud. He thought he’d never find love in you. Someone who shares no resemblance, no traits, nothing that existed within his soulmate. You are you, and they are them.

He lets out a yawn, rolling onto his side to watch you talk about whatever you wanted, moving around your shared bedroom with familiarity. Picking through his clothes that he laid haphazardly when he got undressed, tossing them into the hamper without bothering to look. Actions you've done before several times. He watches you walk, the sound of your feet pressing against the cold floors—floors you often complain about whenever you get up. There’s an invisible smile across his lips, so very familiar with this scene, to the point everyday he looks forward to it. Waiting eagerly to hear your voice, to watch you go on about your day as a silent observer.

I’ve already met my soulmate and loved them as much as one could love. He calls your name, tearing your gaze from the bathroom mirror, toothbrush hanging out of your mouth and toothpaste decorating your lips. You give a muffled ‘yes’ and the lion beastman can’t help but laugh under his breath, whatever he planned to say, he keeps it to himself. He finds love in the little moments—the simplicity that came without a rush, something he never enjoyed before.

There is no doubt that they were my soulmate…

Yet you. So different and unique you. There is no timer, no race to make every moment memorable, no chance that you’ll leave him. This is not fleeting. Your hugs do not hold fear nor restraint that one day you might not hold him again. Your eyes stare so openly honest and hold no hint of regret. There is no end.

In truth, it is a interesting thing. I loved them with my everything. And they loved me with their everything.. but what if I was nothing...

Sometimes he is nothing. Several feet from where he wants to be, from where he should be—when I am nothing, you will love me. I know you will.

And together we are something.

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