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#you don't actually WANT to leave it long enough
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Behind Closed Doors - Max Verstappen
Dark fic - if you don't like this or the warnings/themes make you uncomfortable. I can't stress this enough, DO NOT READ THIS
Summary: Max has a secret girlfriend, she might not have been happy about it at first but she'll warm up to him. He just has to keep how he got into the relationship secret. Or he'd lose everything, including her.
Theme/warnings: Abduction, stockholm syndrome, smut (dub con kind of, she's initially asleep but never attempts to stop him), manipulation
No part 2 requests please - Also bc of this not being my usual content I haven't put the taglist on just incase someone who usually reads my fics would rather not read darker content
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There's perks to being a millionaire. Perks to the power that comes with being Max Verstappen.
Including facilitating the kidnapping of the young woman lying in his bed right now.
She looks so peaceful. So perfect.
Y/n has been with him for a couple days and she is never happy to wake up to him. But he can see he's slowly breaking her down by actually treating her with love and care.
It's just...he's forcing her to accept that love and care.
He isn't silly. He did everything he needed to in order to make sure she quit her job, by emailing her boss her notice. Thankfully she doesn't see her family much anywhere so sending them small messages here and there was enough for them to not be a bother.
Y/n finally wakes up and immediately looks to check, then practically sighing in defeat when she looks at Max. She seems to wake up every morning wishing it was all just a horrible dream.
"Good morning, beautiful." Max smiles while she just keeps herself quiet for a few beats seeming to consider her words and actions carefully.
"Morning." Y/n mumbles before she finds herself pulled over into a hug and his lips press to her cheek.
Her body tries to fight off the fact she's feeling a lot of comfort from the close proximity but eventually her body can't fight it, relaxing down against him.
"Are you hungry?" Max asks softly making her swallow.
She'd tried a hungry strike, but Max very quickly managed to get her to eat and he wouldn't even say it really took much effort. He just got her what happened to be her favourite meal and that quickly proved to get her to cave into her hunger.
"Not right now." Y/n mumbles earning a nod.
One thing Max wouldn't admit to anyone but himself, y/n is hard to read. She masks her thoughts well and while it annoys Max, he's still on a mission to change her thoughts about this. To make her see how good she has it with him.
He's breaking her down and making progress. It's not going to be long before she's lost her fight and succumb to his advances. Then they can be really genuinely happy.
-
Y/n sits sitting with Max's cats who have taken to loving on her about as quick as Max has. She is sitting at the locked door of the balcony.
It's been a couple weeks now.
Summer break for Max is almost over and she's actually a little fearful to ask what will happen when it comes to him leaving for the races. Some of them he can't just leave her there.
"What are you thinking?" Max asks suddenly but she doesn't turn to face him, just keeping her gaze trained outside on the sunny outdoors.
"Are you leaving me when you go to races?"
"Planning your escape?" Max jokes making her finally turn.
"No." Y/n admits and actually she's really not, but she even seems nervous about admitting that. Teeth chewing on her bottom lip like chewing gum.
Max can't even help the twitch of a smirk on his lips as he moves over and crouches down, finger hooking under her chin as he looks at her, eyes invading her soul with his gaze.
"Do you want me to leave you?"
"No." Y/n swallows almost feeling hypnotised as he speaks.
She can feel her heart absolutely pounding in her chest as she tilts her head up more when he leans in and closes the space between them, his lips pressing to her own.
She doesn't realise it's a test, seeing what her reaction is. Disgust, fear, or compliance?
When she kisses him back, not flinching from it or even fighting it for maybe more than a slight hesitation before she moves her lips to match his own. Max breaks the kiss feeling there's certainly progress made but he's not stupid. He's also not taking a risk that y/n could easily use as a means of escape even with her willing to kiss him and denying the suggestion.
"You'll have to stay here for the next race. If you're good and don't cause any trouble. Maybe I'll think about bringing you to Monza." Max lies. He won't be, that's still too soon and he thinks that leaving her alone might be the finally nail in the coffin to her breaking point of completely accepting her fate.
He'll probably decide after Monza to see how he feels about taking her to Baku. Testing the waters with Singapore might be the best option.
"If you prove I can trust you to not be difficult while I'm gone. Then I'll consider you coming with me."
Y/n wants to argue that she's been good.
"You'll have the cats. They love you." Max smiles making her look down at the cats who are basking in the warmth of the sun through the window. Their silky coats glimmering under the rays shining down on them.
"I thought you loved me." Y/n mumbles then biting her lip.
That has got to be a new low. She sounded pathetically needy but there's something chilling about the thought of being left locked away by Max while he's away.
"I do love you. Why else would you be here if I didn't?" Max smiles hooking another finger under her chin and kissing her again which he is happy to feel her returning the gesture of. "I'll make sure there's plenty of food and you'll be completely fine. It will be a few days and you can watch me on the TV."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, of course." Max nods with a smile then sighing as he finally sits down. "I wouldn't watch you watching something else when you could be watching me."
Y/n nods obediently to his words then somewhat leaning over to him, resting against him as they sit in the sun.
-
Max had left for his home race, and he kept to his word making sure the fridge and cupboards were fully stocked with all the food she could think of wanting.
And she did watch Max in the race with the cats laid with her on the sofa. Despite her efforts to keep herself busy there was a longing whenever she saw Max on screen. She wants him there.
But she shouldn't want him there. Logic, common sense, rationality, it all tells her that she shouldn't want the man there.
Not that any of that changes the truth.
That y/n misses Max.
Being left on her own for days, locked away is going to sure be justification for feeling like this and she knows he's her only chance at not being alone anymore.
It doesn't help that he didn't tell her that when he'd be back. He didn't even tell her when he'd be back after the weekend. Not an idea of what day or time.
He actually returns while she's asleep, having left for the airport as soon as the debrief was done. Having his jet at the ready to leave for Nice within a couple hours of the race finish.
He returns to find her laid out on his bed, the tv on in the background as she sleeps. She's only in a t-shirt and her body is so exposed, having been away from her for days and not having ever actually had even the smallest taste of her. His self-control is wavering.
Taking off the thick of his layers of clothing, he leaves himself in his boxers and creeps up onto the bed, gently pushing up the t-shirt to expose her stomach.
Y/n's not wearing underwear, and positioning himself between her legs. Max can see her in all her glory and she looks needy and neglected. At least that's how Max sees it since he knows she's had no sexual attention from a man for weeks now.
A sudden thought of another man being the last to have fucked her makes his heart rate pick up and that cements what he's about to do.
As soon as he licks his tongue over her hole up to her clit, there's a gasp and her body jumps at the sudden pressure. He does even bother to check if she's woken up before he dives in, eating her out like a starved man.
Y/n wakes with a start at the feeling and a moan escaping her own lips before she pants desperately.
"M-Max?" Y/n chokes out, groggy and unsure of if this is really happening or not.
Not that Max replies with any words.
He wants to give her an orgasm but the overwhelming need to be inside her trumps the need to aim for multiple orgasms. He'll tackle that another time. For now she's slick enough that there shouldn't be so much issue in getting inside her.
"Max." Y/n mumbles as he moves up pushing his boxers down and teasing the tip at her pussy before pushing into her. Sliding smoothly into her while she groans at the feeling.
She's tight, and maybe understandably tense from still not being sure entirely what's happening.
"Fuck." Y/n whines as he pushes till he's fully seated in her heat. "Don't stop."
And Max doesn't need to be told twice for that. He withdraws from her before pushing back in setting a pace that is feeding some primal need that he's really never felt before.
His grip on y/n's waist tightens giving him complete control as he almost mercilessly pounds into her. Her moans and fists clutching at the sheets being enough for him to know she's taking pleasure from rough sex. Noted for future reference.
His pubic bone is knocking her clit just right and she's feel her body build up with tension and heat as she nears her own orgasm. One particularly nudge at her g-spot sends her over the edge and he continues thrusting into her through her twitching and tightening around him, impossibly tight before he finally spills into her. His heavy pants while she presses herself back on the bed.
Y/n swallows thickly before she just holds herself there. Her body sticky and she's looking at Max with hooded eyes as he slowly eases out of her, the cringe on her face giving away that the slight rougher treatment after going untouched for however long.
He'll just have to make sure she doesn't go too long again.
"Are you ok?" Max asks softly pulling his gaze up from seeing his cum leak out of her onto the sheets.
"Yeah....just a bit sore." Y/n nods biting her lip.
To say the least she looks disheveled and a little dazed.
"I would ask if you enjoyed that but I think I have all the proof I need." Max smiles then looking at her for a moment. "How was your time on your own?"
Y/n swallows, she assumed Max may have been watching her. She suspected he may have cameras. Whether they usually act as just securities cameras or not, they were certainly watching her. She just doesn't know where they are.
Of course she's right, Max was always able to check in on her when he had the chance.
"...Can I come with you for the next race?" Y/n mumbles making Max look at her with an expression which certainly feels like he's about to deny her. "Please. Please. I'll be good. I promise. I swear. I'll not even talk, you-you can pretend I'm mute."
Begging and promising to "be good" to the man who kidnapped her just so she can get be with him and not alone might be a new low.
"I'll think about it." Max states letting his gaze flick back down to her pussy. "Come on, let's get cleaned up."
-
Y/n didn't end up going to Monza.
Max decided that it would only benefit him more if she was so openly needy with him after being left for the Dutch GP. By the time he came back from Monza, y/n practically wouldn't leave his side and she was almost holding onto Max the whole time.
So finally he decided she'd be joining him for Singapore.
Her appearance is a surprise to everyone. Literally everyone. No one in Red Bull knew about a girl in his life, no one had a whiff of a rumour of a woman in his life. The team, the fans, the media and the rest of the paddock were all shocked when they saw Max appear with a timid looking y/n by his side.
"Max...who is this?" Daniel questions catching the champion as he stands in conversation with Lando and Oscar. "Where have you had her hidden away?"
Y/n unintentionally tightens her grip on Max's hand but it's not noticeable to the other drivers who seem in awe of seeing her with Max.
"This is y/n, she used to work for one of the sponsors." Max explains earning small intrigued nods. "You can talk y/n." He plays it off as a joke, chuckling which earns smiles from the other drivers.
"Sorry, hi. It's nice to meet you all. It's cool actually. Meeting you and not just watching you on a screen." Y/n states since Max said she doesn't actually have to pretend to be mute.
"Well it's always fun. Make the most of it." Lando smiles looking her up and down, which makes her smile a little awkwardly while Max frowns at him.
"We need to get moving. See you boys on track." Max grumbles looking very much annoyed at the fact he just watched Lando check y/n out.
The rest say their goodbyes before she is pulled along with him to the Red Bull unit. Y/n swallows as she follows him all the way to his driver's room.
Max has been torn about where he wants her to sit while he is out doing media or if he wants her as close as possible so he can keep as close an eye on her.
"What do you think? Can I trust you to come around with me, or should I keep you in here?" Max asks, obviously his question is rhetorical. Her answer won't influence his decision. So she doesn't bother. "If you can behave you can come around with me. We don't do a lot of media so it should be alright."
"Really?" Y/n smiles perking up a little. "I'd rather stay with you than be on my own anyway."
"Good." That's exactly what he wants her to say and he's trusting that she's not just saying it.
He's gotten better at reading her emotion, or maybe she's just gotten worse at hiding it as she's been broken down in her isolation and desperation for Max to let her out from his apartment.
She also just sort of, doesn't feel that urgent need to not be near him anymore. Pushing him away is a foreign though and concept by this point. In fact, things have shifted with Max's presence and how it effects her. She feels safe, his kisses make her feel intoxicated with a need for more of him.
Y/n moves closer, smiling as she looks up at Max. She has gained some confidence with him.
"So what do you do on Thursdays if you're not in the car?" Y/n asks making Max smile as his hands hold her waist.
"Media stuff, we do some stuff for fans on stage. Just talk, answer some questions. Nothing too exciting." Max states earning a nod. "So long as you keep behaving and don't say anything you shouldn't. This is going to go well for you."
He sounds sweet with his voice but the intention behind his voice speaks for itself. Things might be going well, but he's not going to fail to remind her that she is still on thin ice with trust. One wrong move, saying one thing wrong that might raise alarm with someone else is not a wise move. Even if it's accidental.
She's sure she'll be handcuffed to the bed and left there while he is busy as a means of making sure she can't possibly do anything else wrong out of his control.
Y/n just smiles lightly trying to hide her nerves, but Max sees the emotions behind her eyes and he'd be lying if he said he felt no satisfaction in still having the power. He never wants to lose the ability to make her fear him, purely as a means of making sure she never feels like she can leave him.
"Did I tell you how much I like this dress?" Max asks brushing a hand up her inner thigh after raising the hem.
She's only in a silky white slip dress which just about hits her mid-thigh in length and the back is exposed with just a tied string to give it some structure.
"I want you to stay away from the other drivers when I'm not with you." Max states as she feels his fingers pushing the thin and flimsy material of her thong out the way as he teases her as she looks up at him for a moment before dropping her head with a gasp as his finger plunges into her. "Do you understand?"
"Yes." Y/n whimpers before almost pouting when he pulls his fingers back from inside her.
He doesn't even say anything as he moves her to bend of the table in his room. Pressing her upper body down against the cool surface as she feels her dress flip up and he's thrust into her with no need for warning because just the teasing of his fingers and his touch was enough for her to feel more than ready for him.
"You need to stay quiet. Wouldn't want someone hearing you." Max states making her whimper and actually move her hand over her mouth.
This angle is letting him poke at her g-spot with scary precision and she's not even certain he's meaning to. Usually he'll somewhat rely on her clit, but honestly this time with this angle and maybe the thrill of being at his place of work. There's something just pushing her quickly to an orgasm.
Neither of them last long, her tummy tensing before her whole body tries to fight through the orgasm which almost feels like she's trying to push him out rather than suck him in. Not that he lets up, in fact he gets more brutal absolutely pounding into her, picking up her upper body while extending her spasming orgasm around him.
Her hand has fallen from her mouth which has dropped open a little and the beginnings of a loud moan makes his hand clap up and over her mouth, blocking the noise as he slams into her a couple more times then spills his cum into her, so much so that it leaks out around his dick held deep inside her.
He doesn't move them for a moment before he rubs her waist for a moment then returning her to lie her upper body down. Her lips let a small whimper pass at the feel of this angle pushing against her g-spot yet again. But he slowly pulls out taking a moment to appreciate the view before he scoops some of his cum leaking from her onto his fingers.
"Open your mouth, baby." Max instructs, knowing she'll do what she's told he reaches his hand around to her face and pokes his fingers between her lips. The obedience he's perfectly instilled into her meaning she sucks the warm cum from his fingers before he feels it cleans from his skin and pulls his hand back. "Don't move. I need to clean you up."
And she doesn't she lies there just waiting.
Max can definitely get used to this and he's certain there's been enough damage to her that he has got her exactly the way he wants her. She's been moulded into the exact girlfriend he wanted her to be from the moment he saw her and knew he'd make her his.
Was it the most morally righteous method of getting a girlfriend? No.
But did he get exactly what he wanted and will he change anything? Yes he did, and no he won't.
Y/n will be his and only his and she's never ever getting away from him. If she plays up, she'll be back in Monaco locked in that apartment for as long as he deems necessary.
But he has a feeling she's learned that her place is by his side or waiting for him so she can be by his side again.
Max cleans her up and smiles as she seems to try and readjust everything making sure her hair is tidy and her dress doesn't look creased or sitting wrong.
"You look beautiful."
"Thank you."
"Try to keep to yourself. I don't want you talking to drivers, but really I'd rather you didn't talk to anyone much. Avoid talking too much." Max states watching her smile waver as he sighs gently moving his hand down from cupping her face to holding her around her throat with some light pressure. "Just because I trust you to come with me and not cause trouble. Doesn't mean that you're free to do whatever you want. You get my permission to do anything. I don't want to see you talking to people."
"Ok." Y/n nods though only slightly thanks to his hand at her neck.
"I do this because I love you, y/n."
"I love you too, Max." Y/n smiles, because despite being scared of the man. Hearing those three words brings an annoying effective warmth throughout her body.
He uses the hold on her neck to pull her forward slightly kissing her heavily, his possessiveness communicated perfectly. And his warning will stay with her.
Max is the one in control. He's got the power between them and he'll use it if she doesn't live by his rules.
He literally kidnapped her and he's got away with it and now, she says she loves him without an ounce of doubt in her body even when he makes clear threats to her.
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prtymnstrr · 3 days
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high for this
pairing: best friend!coriolanus snow x fem!reader
summary: coriolanus’ first smoke sesh.
warnings: smut (no actual sex), mentions of weed, high!coriolanus, high!reader
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knock, knock, knock
three frantic thuds to your bedroom door awaken you from what was about to be, as far as you were concerned, the best nap of your life.
"what," you breathe out sharply, clear agitation in your voice. you didn't bother opening your eyes, let alone getting up and opening the door.
"y/n? it's coriolanus," now that grabs your attention. "i can come back if it's not a good time."
you reluctantly roll out of bed to open the door for your best friend. he looks different, not like his usual self. disheveled clothes, messy hair, blank look on his typically focused face. something wasn't right.
you open the door just wide enough for him to enter, then immediately close it behind him. he awkwardly stumbles into the room, same demeanor of that of a lost puppy. "coryo? are you okay?" you turn to face him, placing a gentle hand on his arm.
your touch seems to startle him back to reality. he looks at your hand then up at your face, his eyes struggling to remain contact with yours. "i- i don't know." his entire face softens for the first time since he's gotten here.
"sit," you instruct, gesturing towards the foot of the bed. he complies, and you seat yourself right down next to him. "what's the matter?" you ask, keeping your voice as warm as possible, not wanting to upset the boy any further.
"it's just," three long digits rub his temples, "school and the games and everything at home... it's just too much, y/n, it's too much" he confesses with a sigh, head falling onto your shoulder.
"oh coryo," you coo, running supporting fingers through his blond locks, "i hear you."
"i just need to relax" his words come out so quiet you almost don't hear them.
"what do you need cor?" you lower your voice, matching his, "anything" you add.
"perhaps some of that green plant you keep in that drawer over there," he eyes your dresser knowingly. you'd be lying if you said his request didn't surprise you a little bit. coriolanus knew you were a smoker. and you knew he certainly wasn't.
"really?"
"really."
"alright then," you didn't question him any further. given the state he was in, a joint sounded like a perfectly sound idea.
you hop off your bed, suddenly hit with the realization of your outfit, or the lack thereof. tshirt and panties. it doesn't bother you much, not nearly as much as it bothers coryo. his lips part slightly, all the air leaving his lungs while he silently adjusts himself on the bed.
your back is turned to him, giving him the perfect view. his eyes start on your bare calves, slowly droning up to your plush thighs, then finally the exposed part of your ass peaking out from your lace underwear.
he thought he could die right there and then. but fuck, it got oh so much worse as you bent over, reaching into the bottom drawer.
coriolanus finally snaps out of it when you stand at your full height once again, turning around with your lazy smile now accompanied by a small plastic bag in one hand and rolling papers in the other. "let's light up!”
-
it didn't take long to kick in.
you and coriolanus now found yourselves seated on the floor, opposite to each other. you stared right at his face, too pretty for his own good. especially with red hooded eyes and a soft lively smile on his pink lips, making them look even more yummy.
"what are you looking at?" there's humor in his once tense tone.
"you,"
"oh," he breathes. a moment of silence passes by until broken again. "come here... please" it comes out way more desperate than he anticipated, but that exactly what he was. desperate.
you waste no time crawling onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck and tangling your hands into his curls. god, he loved when you did that. it drove him absolutely crazy and you knew it. that and the fact that there were only limited pieces of clothing separating his cock from your heat. he was done for.
you straddled him, each of your legs on either side of his. you sink down on him, gasping when immediately met with how hard he is.
coriolanus looks up at you with big, pleading eyes. “y/n,”
you intervene with a hungry kiss and he doesn't hesitate to reciprocate. it's hot and sloppy. you can taste the weed still on his tongue along with a faintness of mint.
you continue working your hips on him, causing him to moan into your mouth, sending vibrations throughout your whole body. he grips them tightly, rough enough to leave marks, forcibly aiding your movements. his need even drives his hips to buck up into you, meeting you halfway. but it's not enough.
you get off him suddenly and he whines at the loss of contact. "up," you order, coriolanus blindly complying. without a word, you undo the buttons of his shirt one by one. he watches you, his eyes full of lust and burning holes into your skin.
after discarding the shirt, he leans back in, craning his neck to adjust to the height difference, and tries to kiss you. you dodge him with a smile, your focus on his pants that need to go too. your hands slide under the waistband, his hard core tensing at the sensation. you look up to him for permission. he's quick with a nod, so you proceed. your eyes locked on his as you move down with his pants.
finally satisfied, you point to the bed. he sits in his previous spot, right at the edge. you take your shirt off, revealing your perky tits, before following after him. he bites his lip so hard he could've drawn blood. by this point, there's a huge dark patch on his boxers from precum and his leg bounced in anticipation. you placed a hand on his thigh, steadying him as you practically jumped back on him.
his lips are rough against yours and his hands roam all over your body. like he couldn’t get enough. he places kisses down your jaw and neck before reaching your bare chest. they started soft, but the louder your moans got, the harder he sucked. so eager to please.
with that, the grinding resumes. as you find your rythym, coriolanus lets out a string incoherent curses his breath. “oh my god,” he rambles. with one hand on your ass, the other finds its way inbetween your legs. he reaches into your panties, making you gasp when he finds your clit. “fuck, you’re so wet.”
you can only moan in response, completely lost in sheer pleasure as he rubbed you just the right way. “i’m gonna cum, coryo,” you manage to squeak out. you’d never came from dry humping before but then again, it never felt like this.
the knot in your stomach finally burst and you felt it everywhere. with another moan, you threw your head back, nails scratching red marks into your best friend’s chest as you ride out your high.
“fuckkkk,” the feeling of you coming undone on his fingers had coryo cumming right after you, hot white strings flooding his underwear.
neither of you moved, catching your breath and realizing what just happened. "...i think i like smoking."
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an: guys i actually quit smoking like half way thru writing this bc i felt like i was being watched by the government every fucking time ok bye love u
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captain-mj · 2 days
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Hello lovely,
Here is a random request for you to write one of your High MJ's ideas. Whichever takes your fancy, whenever you feel like it, if you so please
Duet~
High MJ is so thankful, I humbly present King!Ghost and his Courtesan!Soap
Also a portion of this was deleted and I had to rewrite
Ghost sighed softly as he came home. After a few long months at battle, he would kill for a bath, a nice meal and some nice company.
Soap wasn't in his castle. According to the maids, he had left with a message that he'd be back by noon.
Ghost glowered and pouted, but he took a good bath to get clean and ate his fill before waiting for Johnny to get back. He thought since Ghost liked him, he'd let such an a grievance slide. So he waited in his bed, leaving all of his armor and clothing to the sides so it left him in only his robe. He lit a few candles and relaxed.
Soap reentered the castle and immediately brightened. "Simon!"
"Johnny." Ghost growled, watching how he tensed. "Where's your ring?"
Soap looked at his hands and looked sheepish. "I worried I'd lose it." He smiled at him coyly. "I didn't know you'd be home."
Ghost gritted his teeth. "Undress."
"Yes, sir." Soap said softly, hands reaching up to open the laces of his shirt. He pulled it over his head slowly to show off all of his beautiful body. Lean muscle with a good amount of fat. Hips like honey, so thick and so addictive. Soap removed his pants next, not wearing anything underneath. His cock was a nice size but the real prize was his ass. Perfect to squeeze or smack. Even better to leave a few bruises on. "Got something in mind? You know, based on everything, I think you want an excuse to punish me."
Ghost grinned. "You know me so well. I had some oil heated up. Now come here."
Soap crossed over to him, looking a bit shy once they were close to each other. "If I had known you were going to be home so soon, I would've waited in bed. Spread out, ready for you to fuck me." His thick Scottish accent drove Ghost crazy. He grabbed him and tossed him to the bed, grinning when he looked flustered.
"I prefer you tied up. Maybe I'll start telling one of the guards. They can tie you up in all sorts of new positions. Leave you all exposed and opened up." Ghost tied his wrists together and then to the bed post. He made sure he wouldn't be able to leave, planning to keep him there until he had wrung him drive.
Ghost yanked his legs open, but didn't actually touch him. It took a moment before Soap squirmed to get his attention. He lightly pressed his fingers to his hole, feeling how tight he was. His thumb barely breached him and Soap was already trying to press back against him.
Ghost made like he was trying to grab the oil before grabbing the candle. With a quick movement of his hand, he poured the melted wax on to Soap's chest.
Soap mewled, back arching harshly. He tried to thrash away from the falling wax, but he was tied up just right that he couldn't. The candle was perfectly safe, and it left such pretty red marks. His cock twitched every time it dripped on that pretty skin.
The next drop fell right on his nipples and he groaned, hips yanking up. "Simon, please I need you. Been weeks."
"Need me huh? Beg a little more." He moved his hand so the wax fell on to his stomach instead. "You could've had me this morning."
Soap huffed at him but he did beg. "Please, Simon? You know how much I need you. I know you've missed me. Want to please you. You deserve it after so long out there."
Ghost kissed him passionately, feeling the way his lips trembled against his own. The wax flowed over his skin and down his v-line. It managed to get to his inner thighs, narrowly missing touching his cock.
"Simon, careful. Don't want to burn me do you?"
Simon quickly set the candle to the side. He smeared the red wax over his chest and propped his legs further open. The oil had cooled slightly but it was still warm enough that he could comfortably prep him.
Soap laid back and mused a little as Simon worked. He knew well enough by now that Ghost liked the idea of being big and bad and punishing Soap, but he was a lot softer than he acted. Even now, he treated Soap gently. Working him open with a reverence that was never there with Soap's previous partners. All the royals that paid for him and none had ever treated him like he was also important.
Ghost had warned him that he was rough and horrible but that he'd pay Soap a lot for his troubles.
He'd never done more than leave a few bruises on Soap's skin.
Johnny moaned with the stretch, exposing his throat. "I'll be good. I'm sorry for taking off the ring." It was a piece of ownership. A claim to Johnny that Simon always had. So close to a wedding ring.
Ghost growled and gave him a rather sweet nip to his thigh. His eyes were so soft. Sweet. He looked at Soap and had to look away, too overwhelmed with how much he lo- adored him. Once he could easily take all three fingers, he pulled his fingers out slowly, careful to drag right against his prostate.
Simon sat up and pulled Soap closer, careful to not yank his arms too bad since he was chained up. He kissed him passionately, pressing him into the mattress. His teeth sank into his shoulder before he sank in.
Soap groaned at the stretch. No matter how good he was prepared, it still burned.
"There you go, love. Taking all of me so well." His voice dropped lower. There was a growl in his voice that sent shivers down his spine. Ghost rolled his hips into him and whined, pressing in close. He cradled Soap as he kissed him. Soap whimpered as Ghost rolled his hips, not giving him quite enough time to adjust. He groaned as Ghost pulled out.
"So big, sir. I promise I'll be good next time." He smiled, clearly being a little sassy.
Ghost huffed at him and kissed him to keep him quiet. He rutted into him, feeling him groan and arch up into him. As he fought to conquer all of Johnny's mouth with his tongue, he sped up, giving it to Soap exactly how he wanted it.
Soap moaned and tried to yank his hands down to grab him. He wanted to touch him. To reassure himself that Simon was right here. That he came back just fine. But his King had been taking care of so many people. Soap didn't mind taking care of him first. Or at least letting his frustrations out. His body pressed against him. It felt so good that he struggled to keep looking at Ghost as his eyes tried to roll back in his head.
"I missed you so much, my King. Wanting nothing more than for you to come home." Johnny whispered to him as he kissed Simon's throat.
Simon shuddered and thrusted in harder to drag out some more whines. He wanted to never leave this bed. To never have Johnny leave his side. The pleasure of just being with him after so long. After weeks of not having him, he missed him so much.
They kissed for a moment, desperate and hard. Simon fucked him harder, slamming into Johnny's sweet spot. He wanted to please him. It also felt so good. Simon whimpered in his ears. "Thank you. You feel so good. So fucking tight."
Johnny panted into his ear. "Anything for you." He clenched around him as tight as he could and moaned when Simon thrust in hard.
Simon sucked bruises in his neck as he groaned softly. He closed his eyes tight and thrust faster and faster into him. His stomach started to tense and he started to shake. Simon started to kiss him deeply. He pressed closer and closer, tracing his fingertips over his ribs and then down his hips. "I adore you. You're perfect. You really are. My love. Mine. Just for me."
Johnny whimpered and tried to get their lips together again. Simon teased him for a moment, letting him get desperate for it before leaning down.
Johnny came first, shuddering against him as he came on Ghost's chest. He sped up until he came inside him, filling him up until the cum mixed with the wax between his thighs.
Ghost unchained Soap and checked his wrists. He decided they were okay and kissed each one. Then he collapsed next to him.
Johnny engaged in his favorite pastime. Looking at Simon. They watched each other quietly.
Soap knew Ghost would ask if he could. For them to be more. And Soap would say yes if he could.
Simon stared at him with so much love in his eyes. There were boundaries though. Things they couldn't do.
Simon kissed him and pulled him in close, letting Johnny run his hands down his sides. He pulled Johnny so his head was laying on his chest. His rough fingers running along the shaved parts of his mohawk.
Simon was horribly sweet and he'd do anything Johnny asked for. Ghost was a more practical person.
But Johnny's head was on Simon's chest. And he knew that he'd be home for a good long while so they'd be able to catch up.
They kissed softly and Simon thanked the gods he had Johnny in every way he could.
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sissylittlefeather · 2 days
Text
Your Love's Been a Long Time Coming: Chapter 1
A/N: Ahhhhh a new series!!! This is the one that won the poll, so I hope y'all love it! Also, I decided to play with POV on this one, so I'm telling it from Elvis's perspective. Please let me know your thoughts in the comments!!
ICYMI, this is the Elvis x OC Vivian Choquette series. Want to learn more about her? Here.
PS- I love you @ccab for loving Vivian as much as I do before I even write the story!
Warnings: Not much, this is gonna start slow, but trust me, it'll heat up. Kissing, cussing, alcohol use, smoking
Word count: ~2.4k
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By September of '59, Elvis was used to the army. He was used to the routine, used to the work, used to the people, used to the fans, and used to looking for a good time wherever he could find it. On this particular night, he found it at a party at his own house in Bad Nauheim. All his friends were there, along with a plethora of girls to keep everyone interested. Elvis moved through the party easily, making small talk and keeping everyone stocked on drinks, despite the fact that he didn't have any himself. Sometimes he imbibed, but usually he didn't. Although his beloved mama was gone, what he learned from her still lived in the forefront of his memory. That is, unless he found himself at the Moulin Rouge. But that was different. Here at his own house, he preferred to remain in control.
Despite having a girlfriend back at home, he moves through the house looking for a girl to talk to. That's when he notices her in a corner, her dark hair swept into a low ponytail and blue eyes glancing lazily around the room. She almost seems bored. So much so that she turns to the bookshelf that came with the house and pulls a book down. She opens it and begins to read. Elvis is intrigued by the kind of woman who reads at a party. He begins to walk over to her and realizes that the book is in French. He panics for a second and then remembers that the guys taught him a phrase in French. Surely he can figure out how to communicate with her. Besides, most of these French girls speak a little English.
He swaggers up to her, ready to try out his French. He stands there in front of her for a minute before she looks up at him.
"Bonjour."
"Mhmm." She looks down at her book, but he doesn't leave. He's suddenly nervous, but he decides to risk it. She's pretty enough that it might be worth it.
"Uhh, est-ce que tu aimes le sexe?"
She looks up at him suddenly and laughs.
"What? Did I pronounce it wrong?" She laughs even harder. When she finally catches her breath, she holds up a hand.
"First of all, I speak English. Second of all, please don't ever say that to anyone ever again."
"Oh. Why?"
"You just asked me if I like sex."
"What?! Those motherfu- I mean, those jerks. They told me it meant 'how are you'."
"And you believed them? It literally has the word 'sex' in it."
"Well, I don't know! I don't speak French!"
"Obviously." She looks back down at her book. He's not ready to give up, though.
"Hey, if you speak English, why are you reading in French?"
"My mother was French. I speak and read it because of her." She answers without looking up from the page.
"Was?"
"She's been gone for a while now. I live with my stepdad. He's an officer in the army." He feels the pain of having lost his mother too soon and looks at her with even more softness and affection than he did before.
"I'm Elvis." She looks up at him.
"I know." He nods and she notices the look he's giving her. "You know, I'm actually here with someone."
"Oh?"
"Mhmm." She points across the party to Charlie, who's making his way to her with drinks.
"Charlie?!"
"Yes."
"Well, goddamn." Charlie makes it over to them and hands her one of the drinks. He throws his arm around her casually and looks up at Elvis.
"Hey buddy. I see you met my lady."
"Well, not officially..." She holds her hand out to him.
"Vivian Choquette. Nice to meet you, Elvis Presley." He takes her hand and has the strangest urge to kiss it, but he'd never do such a thing with Charlie right there. He's been a good friend to Elvis, so no matter how much he likes her, he won't risk their friendship. Instead, he shakes her hand like he would if she was a man.
"Yeah, likewise." Elvis nods awkwardly and then turns to go back to the party. It's too bad that she's there with Charlie. He wanders around a little more, before he sees a girl that will change the trajectory of his whole life. Still, he never forgets the girl he met first.
******
The next day, Elvis sits at lunch with Charlie.
"So what did you think of my girl?" Elvis chokes a little on his food and tries to think of how he can answer without letting on that he hasn't stopped thinking about her.
"Oh, she's... she's somethin' else."
"Ain't she? I saw you talking to that cute little thing though. She seemed like somethin' else too."
"Priscilla? Oh, yeah."
"Little young, though."
"Yeah..." Elvis tries to focus on Priscilla, but all he can think about is Vivian. If she wasn't with Charlie, she'd be exactly what he's looking for. He's not sure how he knows that based on the half of a conversation they had, but something about her just draws him to her. Maybe it's the fact that she seems deeper than most of the girls he's encountered. Maybe it's because she didn't fall all over herself to talk to him. Maybe it's because she understands the pain of losing a parent. Whatever the reason, he can't stop wishing that she hadn't met Charlie first.
******
About three weeks later, Elvis is walking around town and he passes a cafe. He doesn't think much of it until he sees someone he recognizes sitting at one of the little tables. His heart jumps a bit at the thought of talking to her again. Then, he remembers Charlie with his arm around her. He decides to keep walking, but as he gets a little closer, he notices her shoulders are shaking. She's got her long, dark hair in her face, so he can't see her eyes, but it looks like she might be crying. He can't let her sit there alone if that's the case.
He cautiously approaches the table and realizes he was right. Her sniffling is quiet, but he can hear it. She's got a lit cigarette in one hand, and it looks like she's forgotten it's there. Her other hand fiddles with her coffee cup on its saucer. When he gets to her, he's not exactly sure what to do. He didn't have much of a plan beyond walking to the table. After hesitating for a second, he pulls the chair across from her out to sit in, but it makes a horrible screeching sound and she looks up startled.
"What the f-"
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry. It's just me."
"God, Elvis, you scared me."
"I'm sorry, honey, can I sit down?" She wipes her face and nods.
"Yeah, sure, I guess so." He sits down across from her and watches as she puts out her cigarette and continues trying to wipe her face clean.
"Are you... are you alright?"
"Ha! Yeah, I'm just fine." She pulls out another cigarette and lights it. They sit in silence for a bit while Elvis tries to think of what to say.
"You sure?" Vivian takes a puff of her cigarette and blows it straight up into the air.
"Do I look alright?" Elvis hesitates. He wants to say that she looks beautiful, but it doesn't feel appropriate.
"You seem upset."
"You're very observant." She responds spitefully. He looks down at his hands in his lap. "I'm sorry; that was rude. You're not the one that cheated on me and abandoned me."
"No... Charlie?" She takes a drag and holds her breath, nodding. Finally, she has to exhale, so she does and then starts to cry again. It's killing Elvis to sit there and watch her cry without doing something about it. He stands up and offers her his hand. "Come on."
"What? Where are we going?"
"My house is only a block from here. You can cry in private." She looks up at him and he can tell she's thinking about saying no. "I won't hurt you. Come on."
She puts her cigarette out and grabs her purse, taking the hand he offered her. They walk in silence to his house, but they continue to hold hands. When he finally gets her settled on the sofa, he sits next to her and leans back, spreading his legs wide. He's trying to indicate that she can relax and sit comfortably too. To his utter shock, she slips her shoes off and tucks her feet up under herself, also getting comfortable.
"So, he cheated on you?"
"Well, I guess that's not exactly fair."
"What do you mean?"
"I was the one he cheated with. Turns out he's been writing letters to another girl for a while."
"Ohhhh... and you found out about it." He thinks about the girl he writes letters to at home. What would she think of him here on the couch with this girl.
"Yes. I didn't want to be the other woman. Besides I thought he... well... it's stupid."
"What did you think?"
"I thought he wanted to marry me." Elvis's eyebrows shoot straight up before he can stop them. He never thought of Charlie as the marrying kind. Then again, he can understand not wanting to let Vivian go. "See, even you think I'm stupid."
"No, I don't. I think you just had hope. There's nothing wrong with that."
"There is if you're me." He sits up and looks into her eyes. The sadness rolling off of her is about to kill him.
"Why do you say that?" She looks up trying to keep herself from crying, but it doesn't work and fat teardrops slide down her cheeks.
"Everybody leaves me. My father left me. Then my mother left me. The first boy I loved. And now Charlie. Why does everyone leave? What's wrong with me?"
He scoots close to her and pulls her into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder. She doesn't object. Instead she lets herself be comforted as she continues to cry. He strokes her hair and kisses the top of her head. The pain of loss is something he's all too familiar with. He takes her face in the palm of his hand and looks into her eyes.
"Viv, this is not your fault. There's nothing wrong with you. I know what it's like to lose people too soon and it hurts. But it's not because of you."
"Why does it feel like no one wants me?" This smashes his heart into a thousand pieces. He wants her so badly it hurts.
"That can't possibly be true." Just tell her. Say it. Say 'I want you.' He wills himself to tell her the truth, but he just can't.
"You're sweet, Elvis." He smiles awkwardly and tries to ignore the fact that she pats his thigh. She leans her head on his shoulder again and snuggles into the side of his body. He knows she's just seeking comfort, so he tries to stay focused on being that. But he is a young man and she is a girl with her hand on his thigh and his imagination is running wild with what would happen if he carried her to his bedroom. He swallows deeply and begs his body not to respond physically to what's in his mind.
Still, there's an electric charge in the air that she has to notice too. Almost at the same time, they pull back and look into each other's eyes. He puts his knuckle under her chin and looks down at her lips. When she closes her eyes, he knows he has the green light, so he leans in and softly presses his lips to hers. Something bubbles up inside him and his hands begin to tremble. He backs up slightly and hovers just above her lips. They both smile and he dives back in for a deeper kiss, dipping his tongue into her mouth to slide against hers. She nibbles on his bottom lip a little and he groans. His hands rest on her hips in an attempt to get them to stop shaking and he eventually lifts her into his lap to straddle him. The intensity of their kissing increases as his hands roam over her body.
Suddenly, she pulls back breathlessly.
"Wait. Elvis, do you have a girlfriend back home?" His mouth pops open. He's not sure how to answer. Yes, he has Anita at home, but for the right girl, for her, he'd end that in a heartbeat. "Answer the question."
"Well... I-I-I..."
"That's all I need to hear." She peels herself off of him and stands up, smoothing her hair.
"No, honey, wait-"
"No. You're basically doing the same thing that Charlie just did. All you G.I.s are the same."
"Hon, please-"
"My name is Vivian!"
"Viv, just, don't leave..." she tries to put her heels back on and stumbles to get the second one on. He uses both hands to steady her as she does.
"Elvis, no. Good luck with Priscilla."
"Wait-?"
"You know she's 14."
"She's 14?!"
"So, you know, have fun with that." Vivian stomps towards the door with him close on her heels. He doesn't know how to make her understand that she's all he wants. Priscilla, Anita, none of them compare to her. But he doesn't know how to say that, so instead he watches as she walks out his front door, catches a cab, and disappears from his life.
******
Or so he thinks. In 1961, Elvis is home from the army and back to his film career. In March, he leaves the continental US to get ready to film Blue Hawaii. He arrives and goes to a cast meeting on set where the director is excited to introduce his costar. His first view of her is from behind and his heart skips. Surely it can't be?
"This is Vivian Choquette. She'll be playing your girlfriend, Maile Duval." She turns to face him and smiles awkwardly. Elvis tries to hide his excitement, hoping his trembling hands won't give him away.
"Hello again..."
******
Until chapter 2. Thoughts so far?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Taglist (let me know if you want to be added or removed):
@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax
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animeyanderelover · 2 days
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Hiii love your work! Can I request Akashi, Murasakibura, Himuro, and Kuroko with a darling that doesn’t like pretty boys?
Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, stalking, clinginess, manipulation, blackmailing, isolation
I don’t like pretty boys
Tetsuya Kuroko
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👤If you would have called him a pretty boy in literally every other situation, Kuroko would have been over the moon. You have to consider that he is often overlooked due to his natural talent to just not be noticed by people even if he is standing right next to them. Instead you decide to go straight for his feelings by telling him that you have no interest in pretty boys like him. You might as well have just punched him in his gut and it would have probably hurt less than your instant rejection. You didn't even give him a chance... Tetsuya doesn't even try to say anything back as he instead quietly leaves the scene. He is visibly gloomy for the rest of the day though and has never been more glad that people don't notice him as he just needs some time for himself to work through his pain. He feels unfairly treated as you just judged him only based on his looks without considering his personality. He's sure that if you were to know him better, you would realise that too.
👤​Then again, he has spent more time stalking you and following you around than actually spending time with you in person. Maybe that is where the problem lies? He spends the next few days trying to gather the courage to approach you again but he always gets cold feet as there is always this clench of his heart when he tries to do so, scared that you will send him away again. Plans are made during those days where Kuroko follows you around, observes you and thinks about what the best way is to face you once again. He knows your routine by heart as he waits for you in the places he knows you will stop by eventually. Kuroko isn't the most social person by a long shot but he thinks that maybe that is the problem right now. You just haven't gotten the chance to know him well enough which is why you made this unfair assumption about him. Hopefully he will be able to change your mind because if you reject him once more, he might get a bit desperate.
Atsushi Murasakibara
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🍭​I don't think he has ever given it much consideration that he would be considered quite good-looking by many others. So you can probably imagine his major confusion when you tell him very clearly that you aren't into pretty boys like him. Are you confusing him with Himuro right now? Because his friend is usually the one who is considered the pretty boy in the team. Don't worry though, you won't hurt his feelings in the slightest bit with your rejection. Because Atsushi just decides to ignore it as if it never happened in the first place. Ignorance is apparently really bliss after all. He genuinely doesn't understand what your problem is with him and because he can't understand he just brushes it off as something not important and continues to seek you out. So there you have him, a giant man who is acting like a giant baby as you decide to vehemently avoid him whenever he approaches you. Murasakibara is just as persistent though as he chases you around whenever you try to disappear.
🍭​He eventually starts to feel irritated as well as frustrated with your behavior. Why are you being so difficult? He just wants to spend his time with you. The lack of attention and care you decide to give him really upsets him to the point where he becomes uncooperative in other aspects of his life as he isn't in the mood and doesn't see the meaning behind it if you aren't around. He starts getting desperate pretty soon and attempts to somehow get your attention back on him. From following you around whilst whining like a spoiled child to trying to bribe you with his candy. It is all annoying and exhausting for you, at least until his thinning patience finally snaps and he starts getting angry with your difficult attitude. That's when he starts being physically forceful as he drags you around with him or just lifts you up as if you are a toy and carries you to a place where he can be alone with you. He even starts scaring your friends as he starts feeling very jealous that you ignore him but pay so much attention to them.
Seijuro Akashi
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🏆​You're playing a very dangerous game by telling him just like that to his face that you have little to no interest in a pretty boy like him. Especially if you two are around people you can probably audibly hear the crowd around you gasping for air as you reject him as quick as you do. Even Akashi didn't expect this and for a while he is genuinely baffled as he stares at you with a surprised look. This shock quickly dies down though as he regains his composure. He feels genuinely offended which is a first for him as no one has ever dared to greatly disrespect him due to his influence and the fact that most people are at least a bit afraid of him. He lets you get away with it though. For now at least. There is only the slightest twitch of his eyebrow and the displeased glint in his eyes that gives you the chills for a short moment before it all disappears behind a neutral look he puts on. He'll ignore this for now but it isn't very nice to just judge him based on his physical appearance.
🏆​A tiny part of him still manages to feel amused by your proclamation as it is usually his appearance that earns him adoration from fans. It's almost nice that you don't fall into the same category of all of his fans but that doesn't mean that you can just reduce him to a mere pretty boy and be done with. If you do that with others, he doesn't care but don't you dare do it with him. He is much more than just a handsome face and if you allow him to prove that to you, you would do the both of you a favor. You are going to spend an increased amount of time with him from that day on and if you don't want to do it by your own free will, Seijuro can simply arrange a thing or two behind your back. Mind you, he is being considerate right because despite the manipulation he uses to influence your own life, he is still allowing you the choice of freely choosing to get to know him better. If you decide to remain stubborn until the bitter end though, he may have to show you why people are so scared of him.
Tatsuya Himuro
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◾​Himuro is the definition of a pretty boy and he is absolutely adored by all of his fans who send him love letters all of the time. Perhaps he can understand your sentience somewhere as he is aware of the bad image people as attractive as him tend to have. Putting all of this aside he is definitely not very appreciative that you tossed him aside by merely judging his looks because he is not like you imagine him to be. Tatsuya has his pride and you damaged that by throwing him out without giving him the chance to even allow him to get closer to you. That is definitely a tough pill to swallow but Himuro won't give up that easily. Now his own pride is on the line which makes him even more determined because he won't allow you to just think of him in a bad light without even getting to know him properly. Have you ever considered that your way of judging people might be quite shallow? God, does he turn more arrogant after your rejection as he starts harshly judging the people you choose to hang out with instead.
◾​Despite all of the brooding emotions he doesn't let anyone else know about how he is feeling. His sole focus is on you know after all as he is determined to change your mind about him. Himuro does opt for the more reasonable route at first as he tries to interact more with you and to show you that he is more than what you think of him. If you still choose to be ignorant, he starts getting more manipulative in return. He will start guilt-tripping you then in an attempt to make you feel bad for treating him the way you do. Don't you feel bad for judging him so quickly without even knowing him? Tatsuya will even infiltrate the circle of people you spend your time with to pressure you even more by using them. The charm that you despise works on others quite well after all and whilst he feels a tad bit guilty for using your own friends against you, you aren't exactly nice either for just ignoring him only because he happens to be physically attractive either. Let's just try to get along and give him a chance , okay?
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daytaker · 1 day
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Could you perhaps write something where gn!mc is just,,, a complete asshole. Fully standoffish and rude, I think it'd be hilarious [bonus points if they have a traumatic backstory for WHY]
No bonus points for me because my asshole MCs exist in a state of suspended animation and they're just like this Because They Are.
Now, I go on and actually explore my idea from an earlier prompt that MC being standoffish would derail the entire plot of OG Season 1 since it requires them to help Belphie get out of the attic.
And if you're wondering, yes, Solomon is quoting KJV Book of Revelation at the end there.
How Your Year-Long Vacation In the Devildom Ended in the Apocalypse
or; Asshole Standoffish MC says what?
Ship: None Word Count: ~1.3k Triggers: Uhhhh... (points to the title)
-----
You're not here to make friends.
And you're definitely not here to date any million-year-old demons who look like they stepped out of the pages of Esquire.
You're here because you're Fate's favorite bitch, and apparently you haven't been suffering enough lately.
So you go ahead and announce all that to your host family the first time you all sit down for dinner.
"...Are humans like that?" asks Asmodeus, looking between you and his brothers. "...I...I don't remember humans being like that."
"Wow. Okay," says Leviathan, staring at his Switch. "First of all, what's your damage. Second, you should probably find the demons who are interested in dating you and let them know, lmao." He fist-bumps Mammon without looking up from the screen.
"What's Esquire?" asks Beel.
"I'm gonna go eat in my room," you say. "Goodnight."
As you leave, you hear Mammon mumble, "Well, they were right about being a bitch."
------
Things aren't any less irritating at that stupid school. Honestly, who names a school after themselves and the fact that they're royalty? Was he just trying to make an easy acronym? Seriously. 'Royal Academy of Diavolo'.... It makes you cringe, hard.
So you sit in the back of all your classes and doodled your favorite sleep paralysis monsters getting closer and closer to the foot of your bed over the course of the day. You're just getting to where you can see the empty white scleras staring up at you when Dumb, Dumb, and Dumber turn up, A.K.A. the other exchange students, A.K.A. Simeon the Angel (dumb), Luke the Baby Angel (also dumb), and Solomon (dumber), the immortal human sorcerer and also the ancient king of Jerusalem? (Like, that Solomon? What the fuck, why does he look like a twenty-three year old anime boy?)
"You must be the newest exchange student," says the tall angel.
"Yeah, and?" you answer.
"Hey, you don't need to be so rude to him!" says the baby angel. His voice makes you want to throw yourself into a furnace.
"Yeah, and?" you answer again.
"Haha! So the new student has some spunk! I like that," says the Biblical king.
"Why are you all bothering me? I was drawing my sleep par--"
"We should all hang out at Purgatory Hall sometime," suggests Simeon, proving he hasn't been paying attention. "By the way, why did Diavolo end up putting you in with the brothers instead of situating you with us?"
"Because I walk around naked at night and I don't care who sees, and there's a child in your dorm."
"Really?" asks Simeon, covering Luke's ears. "Why do you do that?"
"Because fuck you, that's why. Leave me alone."
"I don't remember humans being like that," murmurs Simeon to Solomon as they walk away.
------
"I'm a human too," says the demon in the attic.
"Uh-huh," you say with undisguised skepticism. "And you want me to forge pacts because...?"
"Because then you can release me. Us humans have to stick together."
You let that hang there for a few seconds before dropping the ax.
"...So I know you're Belphegor. Because your fucking picture is up in the house. You absolute moron."
His expression drops.
"You idiot. You lying shit. Don't waste my time like this again. I'm not forging pacts with any demons. I know you missed my first dinner here, but to sum it up: I'm not here to make friends."
"I don't remember humans being like this," he mumbles to himself. "Wha- hey! Wait! Where are you going?! Come back! Come- come back!!!"
-----
It's Diavolo's birthday party, and Lucifer forces you to come.
By that, I mean he physically picks you up and drags you there while you struggle and rage.
"I don't remember humans being like this," Diavolo says to Barbatos with some concern as he sees you carried thrashing through the entry.
"Oh, they absolutely are," argues Solomon. "I only calmed down after I'd been around about a hundred years. But for their stage of development, I'd say they're pretty much par for the course."
Barbatos stares blankly at Solomon as Diavolo nods sagely. "I see, I see... I suppose I'll have to keep that in mind when selecting our next exchange student."
-----
"Finally! The year is almost up, which means this loser's going back to the human world, and Belphie's gonna come back home!" cheers Mammon.
"Very expository of you," Satan replies dryly.
"Oh, Belphie is Belphegor, right? Your youngest brother?" you ask, looking up from the knife you've been sharpening. It's one of the chores you reluctantly accepted over the course of your stay here. You're taking care of your knife duties while brothers 2 and 4 cook dinner.
"Uh, obviously," snorts Mammon. "Why, what do you care? You'll be gone before he gets here."
"I forgot I never mentioned this to any of you. He's in the attic."
Mammon and Satan stare at you. Mammon chuckles nervously. "Whaaa? Don't be stupid, there's nothing up in the attic. Lucifer doesn't even let us go up there."
You stare back at him, unblinking. The two brothers glance at each other.
-----
You sit on your suitcase in the front hall of the House of Lamentation as the place goes up in flames.
Beelzebub is in a mindless rage, cursing Lucifer and breaking down walls. Every now and then, the entire house rumbles, indicating its structural integrity is just that much less solid.
Leviathan summoned Lotan in a moment of panic when Mammon kicked his door in and announced that Belphegor was going to war against the human world and Lucifer and Diavolo and he'd better pick sides before he got drafted, so the entire ground floor is soaked in a few inches of water and tentacles keep reaching out from the depths of the house. You swat them away whenever they get too close. You're not sure where Levi is now, but based on the fact you can hear Mammon screaming and pounding at the bathroom door, you can make a good guess.
Asmodeus released Cerberus from the basement after charming him, and when he realized the dog was too enraptured to obey Lucifer, the pressure got to him and he fled. Now the two are on the war path to Majolish, because 'all this drama is stressing [them] out' and 'this is how [they] cope, okay?'
Lucifer is grappling with Belphie and Satan, who, upon hearing that Belphie intended to rebel against Lucifer, joined his cause. He keeps trying to bang their heads together; you can see it happening in front of the fireplace down the hall. But Satan's tail keeps slashing at him like some sort of prehensile melee weapon and it's clearly at least somewhat effective.
Looking up, you see what appears to be a pair of dragons grappling in the sky, and all around you are the sounds of screams and sirens. The earth rumbles around you, and even the stars seemed to be falling from the sky.
"I can't believe you did it!"
You turn around in surprise as the door opens. Solomon stands there, beaming at you like a proud father. "You really did it! You broke the sixth seal!"
"Sorry, what?"
"'And I beheld when he had opened the sixth seal, and, lo, there was a great earthquake; and the sun became black as sackcloth of hair, and the moon became as blood!'"
"Sorry, what?"
The roof begins to cave in, so you step out of the way, and Solomon laughs maniacally.
"It's still going! 'And the great kings of the land said to the mountains and rocks, "Fall on us, and hide us from the face of him that sitteth on the throne!"'" Another chunk of the ceiling crashes directly in front of us.
"Are you high?"
"Yes!"
"Share."
So we smoke a joint, staring up through the broken roof into the starless sky, watching demons and brawl, awaiting the breaking of the seventh seal: silence.
26 notes · View notes
dumplingsjinson · 3 days
Text
an update on cat guy because it's been a hot minute since i've done one, i think. i don't remember if i've talked about him lately so here goes.
i had a date with cat guy on monday night; met his extended family again for his cousin's birthdy party (which i was informed about ON MONDAY MORNING SO I WAS LIKE HUH), was somehow roped into being in some of the pictures as well so i'm like- oh. they remember me, but i don't remember their names lmfao weflnewklnf
i ended up staying over (like i've been doing literally every date now lmfao).
ANYYWAAYYY, we've been having this thing where tickle fights (started by my menace self) would turn into his face being so close to mine, and i'd have to resist the temptation to kiss him just because i love playfighting with him (because i know once i give in, he'd kiss me hard and wouldn't let me go for a damn while) even though it ends up with me losing EVERY TIME.
and i also just love hearing him laughing. like, sometimes he'd try to kiss me and i'd pretend to give in and then be like HAHA no- we STILL HAVE MORE OF THIS TO GO!
whenever i actually give up because i lowkey tired myself out with all the resisting, he'd move in closer and... well, yeah.
FORGIVE A GIRL FOR GIVING INTO THE TEMPTATION OF RELIEVING THAT SEXUAL TENSION OKAY.
(TMI below the line, if you don't want to see me share the details then spare yourself lmfao)
now that's out of the way.
things would get pretty hot and heavy (my question to him last night, verbatim, after we calmed down a little: "how do we always end up like this?" and mfer goes "is there a problem with that?" in his usual teasing tone while holding me even closer to him EVERY GOD DAMN TIME.
and no, i'm not complaining, because i have needs and wants and i am not someone who's afraid to admit that and usually i want that to happen which is why i start the tickle fights HAHAH
so that night, let's just say i was being a very needy lil shit (his thigh was involved) and i was like blabbering and being all like "this is so embarrassing" in a soft whine, and this man goes:
"it's so hot," in that husky voice of his.
FUCKING EXCUSE-
he also called me his good girl once again AND IT NEVER FAILS TO MAKE ME FEEL SO SHY LKWENFWEKN
anyways.
after that first session (yes we had another one afterwards, stfu-), i was telling him how i wanna make him feel good too (he's always the one making me feel good and i felt so selfish for receiving so much and giving so little).
he proceeds to tell me, "you make me happy. i like making you feel good and as long as you feel good and you're happy, then i feel good, too."
and me, while stroking his hair and feeling guilty with the knowledge that he's usually the one giving, "but are you happy?" (and when i asked that, even though he already said i make him happy, i meant like... is he really happy?? considering how, in my head, he was giving so much and i wasn't returning much. not because i don't want to but because he never asks for much even when i straight up ask him what he wants me to do with him. i'm just someone who very easily doubts things).
and motherfucker on a truck (the sweetheart that he fucking is onrgklfnw), goes: "yeah. i'm happy when you're happy, because i love you so much" and lays his head on my chest and i'm likeee HELLLPPPPPP ofnewklnfw 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
after like a moment or two because my brain is a piece of laggy shit, i mutter a soft "i love you, too" and hold him closer to me bECAUSE I'M BAD AT EXPRESSING MY AFFECTIONS WITH WORDS AND SAYING I LOVE YOU IS NOT SOMETHING THAT NATURALLY COMES TO ME EVEN WHEN IT'S SAID TO ME FIRST OKAY, LEAVE ME ALONEEEEE
i've asked him plenty of times prior to this time what he wants me to do with him and it all boils down to this: he's someone who likes to please, rather than to be pleased.
which is fair enough, but i did tell him if he ever wants me to do anything, he can tell me.
but yeah. all this happened.
and i can't wait to see him again for his friend's birthday party, which he invited me to wlknfe
it's so funny bc i feel like i'm slowly entering his world and i'm part of his comfort zone now.
he's also an insufferable piece of shite and a right old prat at times, but i love him either way <3
he also did suggest something he's wanted to try but never got around to doing so after that talk of ours, which lead into the second session SAURRR
:))) i love him-
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themadlu · 1 day
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A Simple Thing – Pt. 1
Astarion x Zélie
It's done. Cazador is well and truly gone, Astarion is finally a free elf and his first desire is to give all that's left of his body and soul to the one who saved him from his master and from himself.
Not out of need, but of want. He wants his Zélie so bloody (pun intended) much that he takes her to his grave, and on top of it too.
So when she leaves him behind, when she realises Cazador is only one of the endless troubles plaguing him and her human life is too short to fix even a fraction of those, he breaks. Like the pathetic child he's always been.
TW: Nothing much, mentions of Astarion's past, self-worth issues, very unreliable narrator (he's still working on himself, it'll take time). Some light smut, emotional hurt/comfort.
WC: ~2,5K
Not really proofread, and written with little time, so sorry if it sucks.
Part 2 should come out sometime next week (but it's Easter, so don't quote me on that).
Taglist: @spacebarbarianweird (thank you for the idea as always!), @amywritesthings
The room is stifling, heavy, with red brocades and somewhat pretentious ornaments covering wooden walls and glass windows with a funereal flair. Dim light from the moon and the outside streets filters through thick curtains in skeletal rays, outreached towards ghostly pale fingers hanging off the side of a bed. Astarion’s dark eyes stare, unblinking, chest still in the stale air and skin so pallid he looks more dead than usual. A pretty corpse sprawled on an unmade bed, ready for burying or taking. 
He hates this; despises how the first civil accommodation they could find in weeks was so reminiscent of his own coffin, of the last two-hundred years of torment. Phantom pain grips him as unwelcome memories of bloody fingernails and mossy grave dirt invade his mind. He opens and clenches his fist to dispel the rising panic, the only sign of life coming from his prone form, and holds what’s been the one meagre comfort during the last centuries to his chest. The elf curls into a ball around what is left of his burial shroud, a once refined cotton cloth now reduced to tattered rags. 
Dirty and disgusting, but his. 
Where the hells is she?!
Cazador was waiting for his new spawn in the cemetery that night, but Astarion relishes in knowing that the vampire lord will not claim him again anytime soon. Never again, actually, as unbelievable as that was. His little hero made sure of that, a couple days before; thorough and proper as always, even in front of a hell-sent ritual, merciless as he’d never seen her before. Only for him. She cut with his dagger through the flesh and bones of her (his, theirs) enemies using techniques he taught her, marching through the horde to free him from his prison. She momentarily let her “oh-so-holy” ideals loosen enough to keep him safe and the thought stirs something wild and warm in the pit of his stomach and his chest. 
Hunger for blood is familiar enough, but hunger for another, that restless longing is still foreign to the elf. Being with others meant manipulation, sweat, sex, pain, a performed debauchery, but not with Zélie.
(Even though he’s been a whore longer than he’s been anything else.)
Living with her is…simple. Scarily so. Natural, even when his (perfectly sensible) selfishness clashes with her (absolutely infuriating) courageous generosity. They disagreed and fought so intensely at first, in the wilds (well, he fought her while she stayed next to him in silence, cutting him a look that could make an Aasimar fall.)
Astarion picks up a discarded book from the bed, trying to resume his reading. It’s a childish collection of Faerunian fables, yet he finds himself drawn to it whenever his fears resurface.
If he were capable of honesty, he would admit that he reaches for that dusty volume whenever Zélie is not with him, because she gifted it to him at the grove as she turned down the offer of an unforgettable fuck back at that pitiful excuse for a party. The elf can still remember the onslaught of contrasting emotions all at once: relief, annoyance (because, really, when otherwise would someone looking like her ever manage to bed someone like him?), thankfulness and fear. 
If sex was not on the table, what else could he give her? 
What would it take for her not to discard him when his limited usefulness runs out?
And what now, that his tormentor is nothing but a pitiful heap of ashes and the pale elf is doomed to remain a useless spawn forever more? 
That same fear slithers through Astarion again, wounding around his chest so tightly he almost snaps the book in two. Justice was served. The evil vampire lord was killed and the pathetic spawns were freed. He is free, and yet he is confined in a stuffy room that makes his skin crawl with past nightmares. Astarion groans and tries to concentrate on the words on the page again, even though he’s already finished the book twice, with little success. Barely two nights have passed since he took Zélie to the cemetery and claimed his rebirth by laying with her on top of his grave. Warmth fills him at the image of his stern, solemn hero paying respects to the patch of dirt he crawled out and to the long-forgotten elf who did not survive the centuries of horror. That night, Zélie knelt and bowed so deeply her forehead touched the cold ground, murmuring something he couldn’t understand. His ruined soul trembled so strongly at that act of reverence he cupped her cheeks to lift her face away from his burial, noses bumping together. Grave dirt stuck to her forehead and he gently wiped it off with his thumb while tutting in mocking disapproval. “Honestly, darling, no need for the theatrics,” his usual smirk faltered a little as a sudden wave of affection surged through him at her misplaced respect. She, holier than any of them, was whispering prayers to some useless deity on his behalf. He felt anger and shame lodge in his throat. 
You’re the only creature deserving of worship, my love.
“Not to seem ungrateful, but prayers never did me any good. Do not waste precious time,” her chapped lips were raging fire against as took them between his own. “Not when death could find us tomorrow.” His passionate kiss morphed into a loving peck when Zélie raised a finger between their faces, solemn as ever. “I am praying for the Astarion Ancunin,” she brushed her fingers on the tombstone and the undead shivered as if he could feel her touch in his very bones, “who was left behind. May he find peace in seeing his resilience finally rewarded.” 
She then trained her gaze on him in that way that made him squirm. He used to hate her for it, back when he lived in terror of what she’d do to him after all his masochistic pushing and prodding; now, he craves it evermore. Her palm splayed on his chest and he cursed whatever entity kept her away from him for so long. “And I pray to my god for the strength to guide this Astarion,” she tapped her index finger against his dead heart, “to see his worth in this world. To me and to others.” Astarion barely noticed his mouth parting in stupor at his lover’s words. 
Infuriating, precious woman. 
Astarion fully abandons his book, letting it fall on the bed, as the weight of her sentiment nestles inside him with disturbing ease. As if he were made for it. Her stalwart presence has the downright annoying capability of robbing him of his masks and his snark and his spite—the foundation of his entire being. He is left entirely exposed to her assessing eyes, yet he has never felt safer, more alive. He never wants to be out of her sight again, he decides. Never wants her to lose herself as he once did. Zelie’s spirit is near unbreakable and stupidly just (She would never agree with him on this, but he witnessed it first hand, after weeks of failed temptations and rancorous conversations), and Astarion will happily murder and steal and torture their path through the world if it means she can hold onto her ideals a little longer. He already did, when she was but a weird stranger to charm, as he finished off the enemies she so generously spared. 
Astarion lets out a strained chuckle, because he cannot believe he fell so irreparably for such an idiotic creature, let alone an honourable one. And now—now that she has saved him in any way a person can be saved, she leaves him in a stale tavern room. The elf covers his eyes with his pale hands in frustration. The voices in his head—Cazador’s taunting timber—tease him that his Zélie has finally come to her senses and seen him for the wretch he is. He will never be more than a lowly spawn, and leaving him in camp is her polite and proper way to ensure he doesn’t hinder their world-saving mission with his selfish ideas and his weaknesses. 
The world can rot. 
Astarion has already decided. the moment things go awry he’s dragging Zélie away from Toril itself if he must. She can glare and hate him all she wants, but he will not let the only one who ever mattered to him to protect a bunch of ungrateful, unknown bastards (The same bastards who took any part of him for themselves.) Gods, he sounds—is—so disgustingly desperate. 
He claws at his biceps with his hands, and tryings to distract himself from his worries again. It’s almost evening and Zélie hasn’t returned from the city. So haven’t Gale, Lae’zel and Jaheira, but Astarion is not a selfless being, and he only wants his precious hero to come back to him. He focuses on the night at the cemetery, on how he all but pounced on the woman who just destroyed his last defences with few thoughtful, honest words. He crawled on top of her like the monstrous thing he was, and she held his face so gently, caressed his ears and hair so devotedly he couldn’t contain a laughing sob. 
He gets hard at the memory of her letting him take the lead—trusting him, a vampire enamoured with her blood, so completely that he flipped them over and almost begged her to take him in any way she wanted. In her mouth with his back against his tombstone, clutching the stone as he moaned in the moonlight, in her core on top of his grave, where his coffin was laid, trying not to shout his name too loudly. Astarion, the one in the Elfsong, shuts his eyes as he feels himself and discovers a growing wet patch seeping through his trousers. 
He groans, tender and ready. 
But Zélie is not with him this time, so the familiar disgust at his defiled body and soul grips him again and makes him gag with the certainty that night was a one off, a way to celebrate a successful rescue and nothing more. It’s not like they can reach those peaks of pleasure at will anyway—Astarion is still too broken for that, too pathetic to offer his only saviour the one reward he can give her. He can hear Cazador’s laugher echo in his mind. 
No! She would never—she loves me! She doesn’t lie, it was real, what we have is real!
The laughter doesn’t stop, forcing Astarion to curl on his side and press his hands against his ears. Zélie loves him—he knows this, because she told him twice, even though she’d rather throw herself off a cliff than deliver declarations of affection so openly. 
“Shut up, shut up, just shut up!” 
“Astarion? Are you talking to that awful book again?” His little human’s voice cuts through the nightmarish laughter and the pale elf clings to it. 
He schools his relieved expression into a more neutral mask and sprints off the bed towards Zélie, his Zélie, safe and whole and… stepping backwards to put some distance between them. Astarion cannot stop his dark eyes from going impossibly wide at her behaviour. He panics for a moment, fearing Orin used her skills to take his leader from camp, but the vampire would not be fooled by a cheap imitation—he would recognise his love anywhere, her minute idiosyncrasies and the smell of her and her blood engraved into his memory evermore. This is definitely Zélie, keeping her distance and studying him as if he were a ghoul (He is.) 
Then, her gaze shifts downwards and her brows arch. 
Shit.
The cooling wet patch on his crotch stares back at him in mocking. “Ah, darling, I…” 
Fuck.
Astarion has been thoroughly trained on keeping up a flawless, polite, desirable front over the centuries, but he cannot think of how to best express his utter mortification at this moment. Pathetic, a consummate lover—a prostitute—like him wetting himself at the mere thought of–
“Astarion, are you—well, are you—well, uh, are you...well?” It would have been extremely satisfying to witness the rare sight of a discombobulated Zélie—something he seemed to be the cause of most times, a point of pride for him—if only he did not find himself in the same predicament. 
Say something, you wretched imbecile!
“I…I was…thinking of my brave, perfect hero,” he inched closer to her, seductive act shackling his creeping terror in the dark corner of his mind he hasn’t escaped to since the woman in front of him accepted him into her life. “And I just could not stop myself from remembering your delicious cries from the other night…and how you took me so well—” 
He should know by now that his Zélie can see him better than he’ll ever see himself. “That’s very, uhm, flattering, Astarion, but it does not answer my question. Are you well?” She is focusing on his face, keeping her gaze averted from his crotch with that impossible, utterly incomprehensible respect (They have already slept together and he all but threw himself at her in earnest.) and how could she just not understand?!
“Am I well? Oh, why darling, I’m simply marvellous! I’ve had the pleasure of lounging in this fine establishment the whole day, laying on a heavenly soft bed and staring at this tasteful walls,” Astarion’s frustration and insecurities bubble up his throat and he cannot stop himself. He is lashing at the one person he reveres, again. Proving he does not deserve her (He never will, but he is a selfish monster of the night after all.). “And all this while you were out on your merry way, gods know where, with a senile druid, a joke of a wizard and a murder-happy Githianky!” 
“You are ‘murder-happy’ too, Astarion. And more senile than Jaheira, if we’re talking about years and not physical ageing—”
But they’re not me! 
“That’s not the point! You swore you’d be guiding me or what meaningless, shallow promises you made, then I let you fuck me on my grave, then—” 
Then you left me behind. As I knew it would happen. 
“Are you quite done, my love?” Astarion stills, then sniffles in indignation. His—Zélie has only called him “love” twice so far and both times she did so to call him back from whatever spiralling thoughts sent him cowering in the furthest corners of his mind. But she clearly has no interest in having him at her side now, so hearing that so-rarely-used term of endearment makes a pained rattle come from his still chest. She is going to end whatever fever dream was between them. The certainty is so encompassing his hands shake from it, and he promptly hides them behind his back. 
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musings-of-a-rose · 2 days
Text
Falling Slowly - Chapter 9
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Pairing: Tommy Miller x f!reader
Word Count: 3500+
Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!
Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 
Notes: So I thought this may be the last chapter. It's not. Because I'm me.
**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!
❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)
→Tell Tumblr this should be shared with others by reblogging! That's what the algorithm loves (it's how it works here. I don't make the rules!)
**Reader is not described
Main Masterlist
Falling Slowly Masterlist
Tommy Miller Masterlist
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Raiders. I’m honestly surprised it’s taken this long for someone to find us. But I thought, or assumed we’d be mostly ok, hidden as well as we are. Joel and Tommy are always extra careful whenever they have to venture out further than our property to scavenge, making sure they aren’t followed. But they’ve only seen people once and that was years ago.
Sarah and Jax move quickly into the hall closet where Joel and Tommy had made a secret hiding place behind a back panel. Tommy hands me a shotgun and squeezes my hand, trying to reassure me that it will all be ok. But I don’t see how it will be. 
The cabin is silent, but getting louder is the unmistakable sound of a truck, no, trucks. Joel and Tommy exchange a look, moving to stand by the front door but well hidden behind the shutters. Rose and I wait in the hallway, staring at each other as we listen as hard as we can. The trucks park and we can hear muffled voices getting out of them. Joel peeks through the slot on his side and whispers to Tommy, but I’m close enough to just hear it. 
“It’s Mr. Jones.”
Mr. Jones? The man who sold us this cabin? We should be ok then, right? I chance a glance around the wall and watch as Joel’s posture changes, his face hardening even though his back is to us. 
“He’s with the Raiders.”
Why is Mr. Jones with raiders? Was he captured? Why would he come here, to a cabin he’d sold us long before the outbreak? 
“What’s the move?” Tommy looks at his brother, waiting to see his reply. Joel stands another moment, watching the men get out of the truck outside. 
“Just follow my lead and stay quiet. If it goes south, take the kids and the girls and get out.”
“I won’t leave you-”
“Tommy.” It wasn’t a suggestion, but a firm warning, and by his silence, I know Tommy complied. 
Joel takes a deep breath and unlocks the door, carrying his shotgun loose in his hands, pointed down, but still ready to go if needed.
“Hey, Mr. Jones. It’s Joel. Joel Miller.” 
There’s silence for a moment before he replies. I have to strain to hear him properly. “Holy shit! Joel? It’s really you?”
“Yeah.”
“Huh! Wow, never would’ve guessed. Everyone make it out ok?”
Joel pauses for a moment, like he’s thinking how to best reply. “We survived the outbreak.”
A chuckle. “Well that’s amazing news!” There’s a slight lull in the conversation, a heavily weighted pause.
“Can I help you all with something?” Joel asks.
“Ah. Well see, I’d forgotten about this cabin, having sold it to you so long ago. Well, it feels like a long time ago. So much has happened…..anyway, I remembered we were setting it up to be off grid and I hoped you all had continued that, maybe have some supplies? I didn’t think you’d actually be here.”
“What supplies do you need?”
“All of them.”
There’s a more weighted pause before Joel replies. “Yeah, I can’t help you with that.”
“Well now, I think you can.”
This isn’t like Mr. Jones. Not the sweet man and his sweet wife who just loved the Miller brothers. Mrs. Jones especially adored Tommy, as she often told him he reminded her so much of a brother she had lost when she was younger. I can hear Tommy grip his gun harder and I glance at Rose, both of us locking eyes in the understanding that we may have to book it down the escape route rather quickly if things escalate. 
“I’m sorry, Mr. Jones. I would be happy to trade with you, but I can’t just-”
“You know, the only reason you’re still alive is because my wife loved you guys so much. Tommy especially. He reminded her so much of her brother Gabriel. She wouldn’t have wanted anything bad to happen to you.”
“Is she ok?”
Another pause. “She…didn’t make it past outbreak day.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. She was a good woman.”
“She was. But, now you see my predicament. I don’t want to hurt you out of respect for my wife. And I’m assuming you have a lot of resources, considering I’m fairly positive your brother and your kids and wives are all hiding here too.”
“So what do you propose?”
“There’s no need for bloodshed here. There are many of us and a few of you. Still, I wouldn’t want to upset my wife.”
“Alright then. You and your men can just go and we’ll forget it happened.”
“Ah, well. I do have responsibilities to my men too. They also have families and needs…how about this: we leave you all here with your supplies, but you and Tommy have to come work for us. Only when we need you. We could use your construction expertise but also your, apparently steady trigger fingers.”
A long pause. “Can I have a moment?”
“Absolutely. We’ll be here, in good faith.”
“In good faith.”
Joel’s heavy boots tap against the floor as he moves back inside, gently closing the door almost shut behind him, his peripheral trained on the men he can see through the crack. Joel calls to use and Rose and I join our men in front of the door. 
“Well?” Joel asks, looking at all of us.
“How many men are there?” Rose asks. “I’m a pretty good shot.”
Joel shakes his head. “There’s at least 10. And they mentioned families so I think if they didn’t return, more would come.”
“We could just leave? Throw a few things in some backpacks and head out the tunnel with the kids?”
“And go where, Daisy?” Joel’s dark eyes meet mine. “There’s nowhere around for miles and these raiders are bound to go looking around. Not to mention the damn infected. We can’t give this place up.”
I know he’s right, but still. It had to be said.
“I don’t like this, Joel.” Rose takes his hand and squeezes it. “I don’t want you gone for God knows how long.” 
Joel lifts her hand to his lips and kisses the back of it. “I know. But we have to do this to take care of you. All of you. Tommy?” Joel looks at his brother, but I don’t have to look to know what his response will be. Tommy will do anything to protect Jax and I, no matter what.
“Yeah. We gotta protect ours.”
Joel nods at Tommy. “It’s settled.”
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It was almost 2 weeks before they came back, just one vehicle, Joel and Tommy gathering up their backpacks, nerves visible in their features. Joel went around back to grab another tool bag and Rose and Sarah followed him. Jax was still asleep upstairs and Tommy had already said goodbye to his sleeping son. He slides his arm through the other strap and I adjust his flannel shirt, picking at it in an attempt to do something other than cry. 
“Hey.” Tommy lifts my chin with his finger and gently presses his lips to mine before pulling back to look at me. “I’ll come back. I promise.”
“Please be careful, Tommy. I love you so much, I can’t…I can’t lose you. Not again, I-”
“Hey, darlin’. I love you too. I don’t plan on going anywhere.”
He pulls me to him and I nuzzle into his chest, inhaling his scent, letting it permeate my brain as it tries to memorize everything about him. But then Joel walks back inside, handing Tommy another tool bag before moving to the front door. 
“Be safe.”
“You too.”
Rose, Sarah, and I stand together in the doorway, watching Joel and Tommy get into the truck, not knowing when they’ll come back.
Or if.
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The first few times they went, they helped the raiders build some additions to their compound, fortifying their defenses and just general maintenance and repair. I had asked Tommy if no one there knew how to do any of this, as it seemed pretty odd that in a compound of the size they discussed, that no one knew how to do something as simple as switch out a doorknob.
“Yeah, normally that would be odd. Except, they’re all rich people.”
I look up at him from where I had been snuggling against his chest. “What?”
He nods. “Yeah. Before the outbreak, all of these people had money. I’m talking loaded. Lots of them telling stories about it. So they’re not used to doing things for themselves.”
“So the rich people are raiders?”
He shrugs. “Guess maybe they couldn’t cope with doing without. So they just started taking.”
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About 6 months in, the raiders come to collect Joel and Tommy, this time for an actual raid. They promised they’d be careful, looking out for people and clickers. But I don’t like it. It was bad enough them going to help the raiders build their home. But this?
They don’t return for nearly 2 weeks. 
Before, they were gone at most 4 days. Byt the end of the 2 weeks, Rose and I were ready to go charging the base and probably would have if it wasn’t for Sarah and Jax. 
They returned in the middle of the night, the kids fast asleep. Rose and I were still awake, having a hard time sleeping without them here. But the sound of a truck was unmistakeable in the quiet and we carefully headed downstairs, peeking out the slot in the shutters that Joel had looked out before, making sure it was really them. Joel and Tommy hopped out of the truck, slinging their bags over one shoulder without so much as a glance behind them. But my initial wave of relief at the sight of them quickly was replaced by concern as Tommy gets closer and I can see the hunch in his shoulders, his eyes on the ground. Something had happened. Something bad. Rose opens the door and Joel steps inside, Tommy following behind him as Rose closes the door. They drop their packs and kick off their boots, stowing them in the little baskets we had placed by the door.
“Tommy?” I reach for his hand but he snatches it back, not quite meeting my eye.
“I need to shower.”
I was stunned. He had been on some dirty construction sites, even building for the raiders, and not once has he never kissed me when he came home. Out the corner of my eye, I see a similar conversation happening between Joel and Rose, Joel following Tommy upstairs. 
“What the fuck happened?” Rose whispers to me, her eyes on the stairs where Joel had just been.
“I don’t know, but it doesn’t seem good.”
I pop my head in the kid’s room, checking that they’re still asleep. I should stop calling it the kids room as Sarah is nearly 20 now. But they’re both so attached at the hip, I forget that she’s so much older than him. 
I close our door behind me, hearing the shower click off as I kick off my house shoes. I sit on the bed, quietly waiting for him. Tommy emerges from the bathroom, towel slung low around his hips, his hair wet and curly, sticking to his neck and forehead. He turns to the dresser and grabs a pair of boxers and puts them on, tossing the wet towel in the basket. He sits next to me on the bed, still not looking at me. It’s almost as if he’s..ashamed?
I cup my hand to his cheek and lift his face to mine and immediately have to choke back tears at the look of defeat in his eyes. “Hey. I love you.”
He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I love you too.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t want to give details. But fuck, Daisy, I…we had to do some shady shit and I don’t…But it’s to keep you safe so I will, but-”
“Hey, hey,. It’s ok. We can just leave. We have the truck and we have more time now so we can load it up and-”
He shakes his head. “Joel’s right though. They’ll come looking for us. Especially now.”
“What do you mean especially now?”
Tommy looks down, picking at his fingers. “We were good at our job. Joel more than me, but they liked how good of a shot I am.”
“Tommy. Look at me.” It takes him several moments but he does, his eyes watering. “I love you. I love you no matter what, ok?” He nods but like he doesn't believe me. I place my hands on either side of his face and pull him to me, pressing my lips to his. 
And to my surprise, he melts into me, one hand coming up to tangle in my hair, the other gripping my hip as he deepens the kiss. He turns his body, pressing me down into the bed as he lays on me, kissing down my neck, goosebumps erupting down my arms. I know this isn’t a healthy way to cope but it seems to be what he needs and honestly, I need him. I need to hold him, know he’s here with me, solidly here. He pushes his hips against mine, my back arching as he nips at my neck, his hips rocking faster and faster, chasing his high. His hands are everywhere, sliding over my skin, gripping me, touching me, his lips drawing paths across my body. My fingers tangle in his curls, my legs wrapping around him, urging him deeper, faster until finally lights erupt behind my eyes, my whole body tingling as I moan his name, hearing my own echoed back at me as his hips sputter against mine. He presses his forehead to mine and takes a few breaths before he pulls out, allowing me time to use the bathroom first. When he’s done, he slides into bed and pulls me to his chest, wrapping his large arms around me, my back pressed into his broad chest, his nose in my hair. 
“I’m here if you want to talk, but I’m also here if this is what you need. Whatever you want, I’m here, Tommy.”
“I know. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
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Every time they leave, I swear a part of them doesn't come back. Joel seems more aggressive. Not to us, but just...angrier. Tommy's shoulder's slump, his smile often not reaching his eyes, staring blankly out at the trees as he relives whatever horrors he's had to do.
It's when the last bit of life in his eyes snuffs out that I decide I need to do something.
I'd always told him he could talk to me and sometimes he did. I know he hasn't told me everything they've had to do, and I don't expect him to. I've asked him to leave before, but he always said Joel never would. That he couldn't leave his brother. But after 5 years, it finally took that last little bit of him I had left. I couldn't continue on like this. We couldn't continue on like this.
I come back into the cabin, washing my hands in the kitchen sink, before I head back outside, walking down through the trees to the dock, knowing I'd find Tommy sitting at the edge of it, glass of water clutched in his hand as he stares blankly out at the water, a million miles away.
"Hey, handsome." I sit next to him, gently placing my hand on his thigh and giving it a light squeeze. He blinks rapidly a few times, coming back to present before looking at me, smiling slightly.
"Hey, beautiful."
I place my hand on his cheek, rubbing my thumb over the bit of stubble that had grown in the last few days. "Are you here with me?"
His dark eyes meet mine and he blinks. "I am."
"Come with me?"
He cocks his head slightly to the side as I stand up, offering my hand out to him. He takes it, the warmth from his large hand seeping into mine as I lead him off the deck and back into the woods, down a path he'd taken me years ago. Albeit I was blindfolded, but I'm not bothering with a blindfold this time.
It had taken me a few days to figure it out, setting up the tent and blankets just like he'd done for our anniversary not too long after...well, after. I thought for sure he'd know where we're going but if he does, he says nothing, his fingers still laced with mine as we walk around trees and over roots. When the clearing appears and he sees the tent, he stops walking. I look back at him and am met with a blank stare.
"Tommy?"
"What..what are we doing here?"
"I thought it might be nice to get away for at least a night."
His jaw clenches. "Shit, did I miss our anniversary?"
At least he remembered why we had been here before. "No. I just...come sit with me?" I take his one hand in both of mine, pulling him slightly towards the blanket I had spread out. He pauses for a moment but then acquiesces, kicking off his boots and stretching out his long legs on the blanket. I kick off my own boots and sit next to him, hesitating before taking his hand again, feeling him lace his fingers through mine.
"I love you, Tommy."
"I love you too, sweetheart."
I told myself I wouldn't cry, that I'd be strong. But when I looked at him, his eyes staring at mine, and I couldn't see that light, I lost it. Giant drops fell from my eyes, splashing against our entwined hands.
"Hey, hey Daisy. What's wrong?" He drops my hand to place it on my cheek, cradling my face with both hands.
"I..can't...can't..."
He pulls me to his chest, wrapping his arms around me and I finally feel safe, secure, like he's fully here with me in this moment. It takes me a few minutes to calm down, but he's patient with me, always so patient, just holding me and letting me sort myself.
"We have to leave, Tommy."
He doesn't move, still for a long moment and so I sit up, drying my tears on the back of my hand.
"Daisy, we can't. I told you, Joel won't-"
"Every time you guys leave, a part of you doesn't come back. I know you're having to do terrible shit, more terrible than the crap you've told me about. And I've supported you as best I can, but Tommy, I feel like you're finally slipping away from me and I can't pull you to me, and I can't lose you, I just can't. Not again. I won't survive it."
"Oh darlin'. I'm right here."
I look up at him. "But that's just it. You're not. Even when you're here, you're not. This last trip. Something took the last bit of light from your eyes and I-" a sob ripples up from my throat and Tommy immediately pulls me to him again.
"You said you're protecting us. But who's going to protect us when you're gone, Tommy? Even if you're alive, you can still be gone. Please. We have to go."
A drop of water hits my cheek, but it's not my tears. I turn my head up and see tears freely flowing down Tommy's cheeks. This time it's my turn to hold him, press him to my chest as he cries. It's several long minutes before the sobs stop, the tears finally drying. My fingers are still tangled in his curls, gently patting him and lightly scratching his head. He sits up, wiping his eyes on his arm.
"I'm so sorry, Daisy. I thought I could handle it."
"Hey. You're so fucking strong. Most people would've cracked by now."
He smiles weakly. "I would have, if it weren't for Joel." His face falls. "He'll never leave, Daisy. He's convinced this is the safest option."
"Tommy, we can't continue on like this forever."
He nods. "You're right. I gotta take care of my family and that's what I'm gonna do."
"What if Joel won't come?"
"He won't. I'll make the offer to Rose and Sarah, but I'm sure they'll stay. But we'll still go."
"You sound like you have a plan?"
He's quiet again, his eyes going far away for several moments before looking back at me.
"Actually, I do. I've heard about this freedom fighting group called the Fireflies."
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ahoyimlosingmymind · 2 days
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Fitz Vacker is Nothing New, Taylor Swift, Rory Gilmore coded
-Expectations and the promise of perfection. 'They tell you while you're young, girls go out and have your fun' Balancing precariously on a tightrope that was always too thin. 'Then they hunt and slay the ones who actually do it' A rope that was never strong enough to hold anything more than dreams. 'and my cheeks are growing tired, from turning red and faking smiles' Realizing reality is heavy and the rope is fraying. 'Am I only biding time, till I lose your attention?' It's a long way down. And people are betting on the moment you break a sweat. 'Will you still want me, when I'm nothing new?'
Keefe Scencen is Matilda, Harry Styles, Lorelai Gilmore coded
-Expectations and the promise of rebellion. 'And you're trying to lift off the ground with those old two wheels' Dangling precariously off a tight rope 'Nothing about the way that you were treated every seemed especially alarming till now' and white knuckling it to the other side. 'So you tie up your hair and you smile like it's no big deal' But the wind through you hair feels like flying, and you don't know how to land. 'You can let it go. You can throw a party full of everyone you know. And not invite your family 'cause they never showed you love' Never feeling fully secure, one misstep away from plummeting into the abyss. 'You don't have to feel sorry for leaving and growing up.'
They're on the same rope. But Fitz is too afraid to look down, and Keefe too is scared of what he'll find if he looks up.
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mocolococoffeesimp · 2 days
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This could probably be applied to any character, but im going for A.B.A with this ask;
How would she react to you inquiring about her past? Would she be hesitant to open up, refuse to talk about certain things, etc.
Ooh, I like that. I'll add Baiken here as, I had inspo to write for her too.
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-A.B.A would be hesitant to share anything about her past. She would avoid the topic, as long as she could. She would feign ignorance about the key in her head.
"What key?" She would pretend to be unaware of it. Once, you dropped it she sighed in relief. She would tell you, once she felt it was right.
-She may be bit of a freaky goth, but she didn't want to scare you away with her actual freaky past. Being a homunculus and all that. But, at some point your relationship she thought you should know. She sat you down one evening, after a chat with Paracelsus.
-She silently tapped her thumbs together, trying to get her nerves together and start telling about her past. You patiently waited for her to star, giving her room to breath and think. She let out a long sigh, as if she had been holding her breath.
"I... I am a homunculus..." She pointed at the key in her head. "This key.. Is just a daily reminder of it. It is a part of me. I was made in a lab. Not, like you. In the traditional sense..." She was silent, avoiding your gaze. She got up, ready to leave. But, before she could leave you grabbed her wrist.
"Alright... I still love and want to be with you. To me... You're A.B.A. Not some freak of nature." You smiled gently. She smiled widely, before she leapt at you, wrapping her arms around you. Her hug was tight enough, to make your back crack. "A.B.A too tight..." You whimpered out. She loosened the hug little bit, but not enough for you to slip out. She was keeping you close to her.
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-Baiken wouldn't talk about her past, unless she trusted you enough. If, even than. She kept silent about her past. She knew you were curious about it, it was written your face the very first time you met. When you asked about it, she glared at you. You dropped the topic after that, not pushing it any further.
-You were aware of her disabilities, how couldn't you? She was far too proud to even ask you for help with them. When you help her with daily tasks, without her asking she is grateful. But, as your relationship and trust got deeper she started to consider telling you.
-It was a calm evening, moon shining to the balcony, where Baiken was smoking. You entered the balcony with some drinks. She turned to you.
"Sit." She said shortly and firmly. When you sat down on the bench, she blew the smoke out, watching how it disappeared into the night. She didn't turn to look at you, but she spoke loudly enough, so she was sure you heard her.
"You asked this long ago, what happened to me. It was a gear attack, by That man. This happened years ago, when I was a child. I don't like to talk about. That's the story, short and simple." She gazed at you, waiting for your reply. She took a puff, as you pondered what she had said. Finally, you nodded to her. You placed your hand to her shoulder.
"Well, you're stronger than I ever could be. You went on to become this strong woman... Yet, bit feisty." She punched your shoulder.
"Jackass." She smirked at you. "Love you too." You smirked back at her. Rest of the evening was spent, gazing into the night just enjoying the presence of each other.
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#selfie bee#good evening friends!! how are you doing! C:#I'm very very sleepy I got a new ikea office chair and I build it all myself#I think it went okay! I don't think I pulled the back screw tight enough and now the back is a bit loose#I can probably fix it but I can also ignore it for the next 18 years#thats how long the old chair held up!! in germany it could now drink vodka and drive a car!!#not at the same time that is illegal! not at the same time!! (❁´▽`❁)*✲゚*#but the day is not over yet my uncle asked me for a big art quest and I do not want to disappoint#he wants a muppet tattoo and asked me to draw it#my uncle has started to get tattoos a few months ago#as far as I know he has now gotten 3 note clefs 3 stars a flower and multiple birds#he also started getting piercings but so far I managed not to know exactly where#I think tattoos are super cool (´。・v・。`) I wish I had a good idea for a tattoo but the last time I was very sure about getting a tattoo#it was heath ledgers face as the joker#at that point I was 12 and would not see the actual movie for two more years#a muppet tattoo is a way better idea!! he asked for the count van count! that is also one of my top 3 muppets ₍՞◌′ᵕ‵ू◌₎♡#I always thought I knew a lot about muppet lore but since I started looking up muppet pictures I think there are still a lot of secrets#can the muppets from the Sesame Street actually leave the Sesame Street?#I think Kermit is both on the Muppet Show and on Sesame Street but he is also like the boss muppet#he might have special abilities#I hope you're having a good day friends!! C:#I think I'll post a Sherlock comic later this week#miss you!! ♥♥♥
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hrokkall · 8 months
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HOW TO PIN YOUR INSECTS:
Position limbs into desired arrangement and pin in place
Maintain eye contact
Pin should pass through the center of the thorax
Move slowly; lest the divine light leak out along with the ichor
Wait for the embers to die.
Wait for the embers to reignite.
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dmclemblems · 1 year
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“Claude in Hopes is exactly the same way he is in Houses! He’s always been like that and has the same feelings/morals!”
Claude in GW/Hopes:
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Claude, literally, in Houses:
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Let that speak for the fact that Claude was written with a 180 characterization in Hopes.
Claude wants peace and to bring everyone together; not to tear them further apart. That is his character.
#I’m still in the middle of answering this ask I got but yeah#even Edelgard noticed Claude really loves bringing ppl together in WC#when she says ''you really value that sort of thing don't you'' after the Eagle/Lion (+Deer >.> ) battle#like if Claude's goal was to destroy Fodlan and just leave a mess of it A+++ you did an astounding show stopping brilliantly done job#if your goal was peace well you fucked that up pretty good buddy#in Hopes too like he's literally arguing with Lorenz about it while Lorenz is like ??? bruh wtf ???#literally who cares what some politicians did 300 years ago certainly not Houses Claude#in fact Claude said fuck our history sideways with a cactus let's make peace and be friends#AND he got the approval from the whole roundtable and that's all we know on the topic bc it's all we needed to know#versus in GW where it's explicitly stated that it took some doing for them to allow Claude to be king#meaning the roundtable was not up for what he was suggesting and needed to be convinced#they needed it enough that Lorenz pointed it out to everyone and from a narrative standpoint#AM Claude doesn't need to say how the meeting went and all we need to know is that it worked out#but in GW it's told to us that the meeting was very long and it took some doing for them to trust Claude's judgment#the meeting is presented in a more uncertain light with how the lords felt abt it whereas in AM#it's not told to us how things went bc it's not important. a negative aspect (i.e. the roundtable not being able to come to an agreement)#is an important thing to note and if there was any negative aspect of it in AM they would've put it in there#meaning the roundtable trusts AM Claude's judgment enough when he tells them he wants to put their two nations together again#idk how else to explain that so I hope you get what I mean lol#I just find it completely baffling that people actually say both Claudes are the same person and that he was always like how he is in Hopes#like you can like his character in Hopes and enjoy that portrayal of him but at least admit he's written differently you know?#I hate when I see people say that Claude fans didn't understand his character in Houses at all bc they don't like him in Hopes#when you have literal staunch polar opposite sentences coming out of his mouth in these two scenes#the Claude we get in AM is the same Claude - the same person at his core - as he is in VW and all the routes#Houses Claude does not blame whatever the fuck Leicester and Faerghus did 300 years ago on the people living in their present#he also doesn't blame Dimitri or anyone else presently in power for Daphnel#GW Claude there is just grasping at unimportant and insignificant straws to justify his invasion#pretty sure AM Claude would be like ''hey dimi lemme borrow failnaught back real quick'' and smack GW Claude with it#then kindly hand it back to Dimi and smile and wave
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redtippedcanines · 4 months
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you only do the things you do for me out of obligation
#that's the difference between you and me.#u do something to help me and only stay as long as you need to and do just enough for u to check it off as task completed#and then u leave. always.#you don't actually enjoy spending time with me or anything. you just want to makd sure i stay alive#and it's frustrating because it just makes me feel guilty and shitty and want him to stop it and leave me alone forever.#like when your friend is away and leaves you in charge of their pet so you come by to feed them whenever you remember#like yh u care on some level because it's a cute dog and you'd be sad if it died but at the end of the day#it's just another item on ur to do list.#but for me hes my whole life. i wanna look after him because i would do anything to increase my interaction with him in any way#and i love every second of it. im happy to force him to go and make his food and sit down and eat because i like spending that time w him#and i want to be there for him. i genuinely enjoy it#like making sure he eats and takes his medicine when hes sick and encouraging him to sleep at a normal time#i genuinely like doing that stuff bc i like him and i will jump at the chance to have anything to do with him#but when he does similar stuff it just feels. awkward. we don't talk like we normally do and it just feels like he's monitering me#and it doesn't feel like we're spending time together. it feels like he's carrying out an obligation. which he is.#it feels so fucking wrong and uncomfortable. i cant stand it#i like when im helping him. that feels so natural#it's never awkward and i can enjoy spending that time with him#until im forced to leave#. fuck#❣
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beholdthemem · 2 years
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Friendship cannot mean 'I have constant access to you 24/7', all right? It just can't.
I get being lonely. It sucks. But at some point you need to learn to manage that from time to time. That's part of being a grown up.
There will be times when your friends will be totally down to hang and chat for a long time, and times when they won't, and THAT'S. FINE. You cannot expect constant entertainment from someone like they aren't a real human being with their own worries, and bills, and responsibilities and- sometimes- EVEN A NEED FOR DOWNTIME THAT DOESN'T INVOLVE BEING SOCIAL. The fact that they are not always ready or willing to hang out and text for hours is not an attack on you, and behaving like it is is completely unacceptable.
Healthy friendship involves boundaries, and one of those boundaries is letting your friends have space. If you cannot respect that, then you might need to take some time and ask yourself if you're really all that good a friend.
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