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ace-turned-confused · 11 days

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sickening desire

joel masterlist | read on ao3

pairing: stepdad!joel miller x f!reader summary: you and your stepdad don't have much in common, but you always try to keep things friendly. back home for college break, he's not making it very easy. word count: 2,7k warnings: 18+ only, reader is able-bodied & wears a skirt, big ol' age gap (reader is nineteen), food mention, joel is big & beefy, stepcest, cheating, fucked morals all round, pet names, joel's a disgusting dirty perv (i'm so serious), smut, grinding, mentions of m & f masturbation, unprotected p in v, cockwarming, 1 spank, creampie, dirty talk, sprinkle of daddy kink, praise kink, panty kink a/n: written for @beefrobeefcal's MARRIED JOEL SITS ON YOU prompt - i got to witness the birth of this on discord, and thought how can i make this cute idea deranged instead, so here we are. idk how all this happened. this is stepcest, you have been warned. if it's not your thing then pls scroll on, no hard feelings in here <3 not beta'd

After weeks of phone calls, texts and endless hounding from your mother, you caved and decided to come home for your college break. She was missing you like crazy, and apparently you had aunts and cousins who were just dying to see you after so long, no doubt ready to bombard you with questions about the life of a college girl as if you were the first of the kind.

So, you came home to your mom and her new-ish husband, Joel Miller. You can count the number of times you’ve met him on one hand, one of those occasions being their wedding. You’re not sure how they make it work, but then opposites do attract…

Marriage has been good to Joel, his mental health and financial stability have improved, and overall he seems a happier person — not that you could tell from looking at him, with a permanent scowl etched on his face. The only ‘drawback’ seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline — his jeans now too tight around his thighs, the seams visibly strained, and his tummy poking out past his belt. They no doubt add to his eternal pissed-off facade, but he’s far too stubborn to admit he needs to buy new ones.

Your mom reminds him, often, how much he’s filled out in recent times, and judging by the bitterness in her voice, she clearly doesn’t approve. You’re not sure why she disapproves, but you’d never admit that.

From what you know, he’s neither an overly good nor a bad guy, he’s just… Joel, and the two of you have nothing to talk about, so you keep your distance out of courtesy. At least, you try to.

Since you’ve been home, you’ve caught him staring a few times but pin it down to aged eyesight. Most days he greets you in the kitchen with a husky ‘mornin’ sweetpea’, and makes a point of brushing up against you, half hard and warm in his threadbare sweatpants. He’ll place a hand on the small of your back when he stands beside you, pinky wandering down to toy with your waistband.

You cover up the way your breath catches and stop yourself from clenching your legs together every time — either he doesn’t have a grasp on personal space, or he’s doing this on purpose. The way he watches you move around once he’s sat down says all you need to know. You try not to think about it.

You’re flicking between channels one night when the front door clicks open, the heavy stomp of workboots echoing down the passage and into the room. Joel waltzes in, dumping his keys and without a word, sits directly onto you.

“What the fuck?”

“This is my chair, sweetpea. Not my fault you’re in it.”

You try pushing him off you, a losing battle with the extra kilos he’s put on since tying the knot with your mom. He mumbles something to you, his words lost underneath the TV and your strained grunting.

“What?” You huff at him, growing more and more agitated.

“I asked, you gettin’ off on this like you did sittin’ on my lap?”

Your mind swirls as you try to pinpoint what he means. It’s just when you’re about to give him lip and ask him what the fuck he’s on about, that you remember — and suddenly you wish the world would just swallow you whole.

During Sunday’s roast lunch, you were surrounded by extended family, filling in the blanks and avoiding the painfully personal questions; Joel spent the day with his standard disgruntled look and your mom was overzealous in her storytelling — everything and everyone just how you remembered.

Everyone broke off into smaller bubbles after lunch, and you stared at Joel as he unbuckled his belt and slumped back on your aunt’s couch — he stared right back at you, head cocked to one side as he weaselled his way into your mind with just a slight smirk and a wink, large hand resting teasingly over his crotch. You left the room, intentionally distancing yourself from him the rest of the day.

It was late afternoon by the time you begrudgingly hugged each family member goodbye and settled in the backseat next to Joel, some extras tagging along for the free ride back to your neighbourhood. With your headphones in and all other passengers occupied, you tried to nap the rest of the way home and regenerate the energy siphoned from you throughout the day. You had no complaints, up until now.

You sat up when your mom stopped off at a different house with just over half the trip still to go. Her heart of gold meant she’d offered a lift home to too many people for her one car, so being the youngest, she suggested you just squash up or sit on someone's lap… Which is fine when you’re nine, not nineteen.

And not just anyone offered up a place, no, Joel lifted his hand in the air and said you could sit on him — with no other way to get home, you pinched your eyes and cringed, but did it anyway. You were fine for the first 15 or so minutes until the road became uneven, and you realised just how fucked this whole thing was — when you first sat down on Joel, he wasn’t hard. You took a breath to try to steady yourself without drawing extra attention.

It was just a… natural response? God, that doesn’t make it any better.

You shifted forward, tried to reposition your weight over his legs and knees and told him you were just getting stiff — wrong fucking choice of words as you became even warmer than before.

Your mom stopped off to refuel along the way, everyone climbing out of the car to stretch, and you made a beeline for the bathroom, splashing yourself with water to cool down.

Joel watched as you came back to the car and you tried not to stare when you saw he was fully hard in his jeans; you felt mortified when you saw the damp patch you’d left on the fabric.

Back on Joel’s lap for the rest of the trip, everyone else was asleep with your mom still driving, radio turned up and blissfully unaware. You’d be able to forget about this, lock the memory away and move on if you hadn’t been so fucking turned on.

What’s worse, you making your stepdad hard, or him making you wet?

Joel snuck his hands onto your hips and you tensed, caught off guard by his touch.

“Keep ya steady,” he muttered, fingers digging into your skin.

Holding onto the seat in front for balance, he felt you were trying to lift your weight off him. He tightened his grip on you, slowly pulling you down onto him completely. There was no going back — he was fully hard by now, so he may as well get the most from this.

He pulled you to lean into his chest, his voice quiet in your ear, “S’alright sweetpea, almost there.”

Your head was turned to watch your mom the whole time, and Joel should have cared, but he just couldn’t, not when you were all warm and sweet on top of him. You stayed taut the entire trip home, Joel’s hands on your hips and bulge pressed deliciously against your core. He shifted you atop him every so often, and you desperately wanted to hate how good it felt.

When you finally arrived home, you clambered out of the car and left everyone to fend for themselves, darting for your room. You were about to close the door when you caught Joel staring again, the front of his jeans damp and darkened from where you were perched. You unpacked your clothes, sorted out your washing, and even took a shower but the incessant ache was still there. You finally gave in and shoved your hand between your legs.

A loud advert plays on the TV and brings you back into reality, Joel still firmly on top of you.

“Don’t act all fuckin’ innocent on me now, I know those panties of yours were gettin’ all wet with you grindin’ down on me like that.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were real quick to run off to your room that night, you had to stick your fingers up in that cunt of yours to get yourself off?”

“Fuck you, Joel.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’d love to. I know you dream of gettin’ fucked real good by your daddy, huh?” He twists to look at you, the motion pushing more of his weight onto you. “No point in arguin’ with me, I heard you that night… I’ve heard you on a lot of nights since you been home, always callin’ out for me.”

You don’t talk back as you keep pushing to get him off of you — he has enough leverage just from hearing you at night, he doesn’t also need to know that you are enjoying having his weight on you like this, unable to fight back or do anything about it.

“Now you got nothin’ to say?” He lifts himself slightly and gestures for you to get up, grabbing your wrist before you can walk away. “Did I say I was done talkin’?”

He faces you towards the TV, standing you between his now spread legs. Skating his hands up the back of your legs, goosebumps rise on your skin as he moves higher and higher, lifting the hem of your skirt as he goes. He kneads the swell of your ass, sliding his thumbs under the edge of your panties.

“These the ones you had on that day?”

“Huh?”

“Barely touched you and you already can’t think straight. Are these the panties you had on when you sat on my lap?”

“Uh, no? I don’t know, Joel.”

He pulls your panties up to expose more of your skin, smacking a hand down on the side of your ass. You jolt forward at the impact, a fresh wave of arousal seeping out between your folds.

“‘S a real shame, I bet they were soaked right through, huh? Soakin’ ‘em right now, the way you’re droolin’ for me. You wanna know somethin’, sweetpea?” You don’t bother answering, lost in the feeling of finally having his hands on you. “Never used to enjoy doin’ laundry before you came to visit, but now… Well, now I get to see all the pretty panties you have. And I always know when you’ve been thinkin’ of me, they get extra dirty.”

He reaches up to grip your hip, his other hand twisting to push in between your legs. Your hips jerk as he traces his fingers along your damp panties, pushing up into you against the fabric.

“Seems like you actually were gettin’ off on havin’ me on top of you…” You crane your neck at the clink of his belt buckle and watch as he drags his zipper down. He stares up at you the whole time. “But now you’re gonna sit on me again.”

Pulling you backwards by your waist, he keeps your skirt lifted and hooks a finger into the gusset of your panties, tugging them aside. He runs his fingers through your folds, already sticky with need. You clench your legs when he pulls away again, and he sighs, frantic and satisfied; turning around again you see he’s taken his cock in his hand, thick and hard, coating himself in your slick.

He guides you down onto him and a gasp slips from you as he drags the head of his cock through you to line himself up. Your gasps turn to a strangled moan as he pulls you to sit, sheathing himself completely — it’s a delicious stretch without any prep, and again you find yourself wishing you could hate this, hate him for doing this.

He lets your skirt drop down again as you settle on his lap, and picks up the TV remote with one hand, the other a vice grip on your waist. He flips through the channels, ignoring the fact you’re sitting firmly on him.

“What are you doing?”

“What’s it look like? We’re watchin’ TV, sweetpea. And you’re gonna be a good girl for me and sit still. With all the starin’ and whinin’ you do, this was only a matter of time.”

“And all the staring you do?”

“As if you don’t fuckin’ love it.” You clench around him at his words and he sniggers at you. “You’re real tight, sweetheart. Now sit still.”

You’re not sure how long you sit like this — Joel staring deadpan at the TV with his hands wrapped around your waist, and you aching for relief as you hold back from squirming on top of him. The initial sting has subsided, replaced now with a steady and simmering burn as you leak around him.

Your breathing deepens as you fight with yourself — do stay composed and try to win, or give in and let Joel make you feel good?

“Won’t lie, sweetpea, I’m impressed. Didn’t think you had it in you.” His low voice draws you from your inner conflict. “‘Specially now that you got me in you.”

You can practically hear the shit-eating grin on his face, and he punctuates himself with a lift of his hips, rolling you on him. Fuck it, just give in. Whimpering as he repeats the motion over and over, it’s the most he’s done the entire night.

“You wanna know somethin’ else?” He keeps grinding your hips against him, the stretch of his cock and the strain of your panties against your clit bringing you closer and closer. “Dunno if you’ve ever noticed your panties go missing? S’cause I took ‘em, sweetpea. I take your pretty panties and I use ‘em to jerk off, dirty or clean, doesn’t matter to me, s’long as they’re yours. I smell ‘em, I wrap ‘em around my cock, I picture you wearin’ ‘em when I come all over ‘em.”

At some point in his rambling, he’d snaked a hand around to your front and under your skirt, and shoved his fingers in your panties to circle your clit. Just like a lot of things lately, you’re trying to hate how much you love it.

“That’s it sweetpea, come all over your daddy.”

Your legs tense, trapping his hand as he works you through your high, murmuring praises in your ear as you writhe on top of him — unfortunately for you, it’s the hardest you’ve ever come. He doesn’t give you time to think, wrapping his arms around you to lift you up and bundling your arms behind your back.

“Stay there, ‘m not done with you.”

Steadying yourself by leaning on his jean-covered thighs, he starts pistoning up into you, over and over as he uses you for his own high. Squeezing your hips, he pulls you down to match his thrusts, the room filled with his grunting and your whining and the obscene squelch from between your legs each time he fills you. It’s not long before he starts shuddering underneath you, pulling you down hard as he spills into you with a groan.

He holds you, almost affectionately in his arms as he relaxes, warm breath being puffed into your neck as he nuzzles against you and his hands smoothing over your clothes. Turning to look at him, his lips are just parted and his pupils are blown wide. You try to discern the emotion behind his eyes, surging forward to press your lips to his instead, afraid of what the truth might be.

It’s soft, it’s sweet, it’s almost pure, the way he kisses you back, the hairs of his beard and moustache prickling your skin as a hand comes up to cradle your face, the other still held around your waist. You pull back from him, and he has that usual deviant glint in his eyes when he opens them again.

He stands you in front of him, just like you were before this, and he pulls your panties back over your core. He waits and watches as his spend starts oozing out of you and gets absorbed into the already damp cotton.

“Definitely gonna make good use of these ones, sweetpea.” He winks as he stands up, tucking his softening cock back into his jeans, still sticky from both you and himself. “Next time you can wear ‘em, just like I told you.”

tagging some friendos from the wip wednesday snippets, Imk if you'd like to be taken off <3

@luxurychristmaspudding @whocaresstillthelouvre @milla-frenchy @clawdee @burntheedges

@greenwitchfromthewoods @yopossum @evolnoomym @mountainsandmayhem @bubble-pop-eclectic

comments & reblogs are hugely appreciated, forehead kisses to all 💜

dividers by @saradika-graphics

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel sat on me 2024 #TUMBLR STOP BEING FUCKING COWARDS DAMNIT

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thenightwolf51 · 11 months

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What if Jack and Maddie Fenton were actually Jack and Janet Drake?

The Drakes are their actual identities but they created the Fentons as a why of letting loose, of getting to be their truest most unhinged selves and pursue their true passion without the eyes of high society Gotham judging them.

Whenever the Drakes are supposedly out of the country on archeological digs they are actually in a little no where town in the midwest.

The Drake wealth is perfectly capable of funding their experiments and prototypes and every now and then they do show up to a dig for a week or too, but the Fentons are who they truly are.

So of course Gotham never finds out about Janet's first pregnancy and little Jasmine is welcomed into the world as an Amity Park Fenton, not a Gotham Drake. Janet's second pregnancy however.

Well as i said, the Fentons are who they truly are at their most unhinged and unfiltered. And upon finding out that their having a set of identical twins, well, can you really blame them for passing up this perfect opportunity to test Nature vs. Nurture.

One boy would be a wealthy Drake raised as an only child in a hostile city, the other would be a Fenton raised with his older sister in a peaceful small town.

That's what they decide and thats what they do, and everything is as cannon goes. Tim doesn't know that his parents "archeological digs" are really an excuse to spend most of their time as the Fentons, and Danny and Jazz don't know that the longer "ghost conventions" are an excuse to handle Drake affairs and check on their unknown brother.

At least until things start to get complicated.

(Im not sure if Maddie fakes Janet's death or if she really dies, and if Jack's coma is fake or real and he lost his Fenton memories. Or maybe the death and coma dont happen at all and the truth comes out some other way like Danny finding the Nature vs. Nurture notes or a school trip to gotham or maybe Jazz desides to go to college in Gotham and it comes out that way somehow.

This obviously works best as a "bad parents Jack and maddie" though how bad they are can be entirely up to you. Maybe everything comes out sometime after a "reveal gone right" and Danny and Jazz think their parents are getting better only to be smacked in the face by the betrayal of "secret billionaire parents who essentially abandoned their brother"

Dont know but im tossing it to the void.

To me the most important scenes in this idea is Tim angst at the fact that his parents were never actually too busy to be there for him and had instead chosen no to be there, the somewhat bitter consolation of learning that even when their parents were physically there they still weren't there there for his siblings, and then some good ole slightly unhinged sibling bonding.

Maybe the measuring of ecto contamination and debate in if their parents presence did more damageto their health or less

They honestly might be tied on mental and physical scars. All three kids tend to come with headcanons about neglect and malnourishment)

@hdgnj @omnicrafts @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 @tathartiel @0mnicrex @ailithnight @little-pondhead

#dpxdc #dcxdp #Fenton Drake AU #in which jazz is the only one without a secret identity #makes sense since she's arguably the sanest #Jack Fenton is jack drake #maddie Fenton is janet drake #danny and tim are twins #twins au

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stylespresleyhearted · 5 months

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THE MAJOR’S WIFE

warnings: mentions of miscarriage, adultery, nsfw, marital problems, oral (m! receiving), spanking, being turned on even when your brain isn’t in it, bucky in 1x04, bucky married pre-war, slight age gap bc reader can come off slightly immature (i think?) angst, historical inaccuracies, new mediocre writer be nice

summary: John Egan gets to know his wife again

word count: 9.7k

notes: i’m not sure where this came from i wrote it all today and got no part of my research paper done. there’s really no point to it and also irl john egan was actually really close to his mother so i emphasized that here. he wrote to her so much. no disrespect to any of the real people, this is based on the show/show timeline as well.

Lila gets the call on the 2nd of October and her dreams come true.

Not entirely, no. The real dream would be having him home safe and the tragic war being over but she knows how fortunate she is to have the next best thing happen. Her husband’s been granted a few days leave and Colonel Harding believed it would do Major Egan some good to have his sweet, young wife join him during those days overseas. For the good of John’s mental health the Colonel or the President - or whoever was in charge, Lila really had no idea - had agreed to pay for her ticket and their hotel. There was only one thing they asked for in return and although it wasn’t explicitly said, Lila caught their drift: sort your husband out.

Lila knows it would do her no good to sit and wonder how horribly John must be doing in order for them to declare an all expenses paid trip for his spouse. All she does is worry for him anyhow so she forces herself to focus on the one good thing of the entire ordeal - she’s going to see her man.

There’d been letters, although not as many as she liked and she tried not to let it show how it hurt as every other wife received more than one letter at a time. Her John wasn’t the sort, she knew that when she married him. He was the kind of person who needed endless skies and land to maintain his sense of stability. Having him cooped up would do him no good and she partly wondered how much of what he was struggling with was the trauma he witnessed in the air and how much of it was feeling caged on base. At least his plane, good ol’ Mugwump (he wrote about her quite often) offered him the opportunity to head anywhere he wanted.

The only person he wrote consistently and readily to was his mother. It was rare if a week went by and she received no letter. During these instances it was more times than not an issue with the postal service.

Be that as it may, Lila knew who she married and it made her love him no less so she tried not to let it get to her. His mother was a saint. Firm and strong and loving all the same. Lila would have never survived sending John off if his mother wasn’t who and how she was. She held Lila at night when her cries woke her and she let Lila sleep in his old childhood bed. She kept food on their table and ensured everyone got their work done through the worry.

When John first left and Lila was sick to her stomach and vomiting multiple times of the day it was his mother who consoled her through the night when her sheets turned a crimson red and any ideals of having their baby through the war was lost.

Frances Egan was the glue holding them together. All of them, even her son who was an entire ocean way - so no. Lila would not be angry that she was John’s preferred pen-pal.

“You fix him right up,” Mama Egan had said in lieu of goodbye when leaving her at the airport, “you give him the loving he needs as his wife and the smacks he needs from me to get on the straight and narrow before sending him off to continue saving the world. You do it for him, not for any of them war bastards. You hear me?”

All Lila could do was nod. Dropping her bags on the floor and clutching her pseudo mother tightly. She was excited as she was frightened.

They had only gotten two months together before he had been pulled away. She didn’t want to complain, loads of women had gotten less time at all while others had only ever been left with the promise.

But her two months as Mrs. Egan? They’d been a dream. Her man was a romancer. He hadn’t hesitated in introducing her as the newly (and younger) Mrs. Egan, always resulting in an arm slap from his mother, he held open doors and he never stopped courting her; however she thinks the best times were when he was teaching her how to act married.

In their bed, at a home he had spent a year building for them. Using any extra pennies he had to pay off younger boys to help him hurry it along. Giving her the wrap-around porch she had always envisioned.

He showed her how to kiss. How to undress him. He had laid her underneath him, using his large frame to cover her completely, protecting her from the cold as he threw the sheets off them and making her feel tiny compared to him. She had never felt safer.

It had hurt the first time but he had held her through it. Never allowing any inches of space between their bodies; as if telling her they were in it together. She’d always known he was large, everything about him was large in general, but she never thought how much it would hurt to have all of him fit inside her. Lila hadn't wanted to disappoint him so she tried to muffle her tears and whimpers but he had swallowed her cries and gone slow, soft.

“If this is it, it’ll be enough,” he had promised, only about half way inside her and wiping away her tears with his thumbs. As a thank you she had taken that calloused thumb into her mouth and sucked. He allowed her; hiding his face in her neck and pressing wet kisses along there.

And for the first few times that had been it. She couldn’t take all of him and his thrusts couldn’t get too deep so he would only slip inside until her tight hole resisted and pulsed and he’d hump against that spot until reaching his pleasure.

“Do other girls take all of it?” She had asked a couple days later, trying to wrap her head around it.

She was no idiot. John Egan was no virgin.

“Yes.” Lila could always count on him to be honest. At least there was that. Meanwhile she couldn’t even fully pleasure him. She was failing as a wife. “Hey,” he lay facing her and she lay on her back. He tapped her cheek until she turned her face. “You’re my wife. That’s what makes this feel better.”

And she had beamed at his reassurance even though she didn’t feel much better. She knew John would never push her, and he couldn’t stand to see her cry, so if she ever wanted to learn to be a good wife she would have to take it upon herself.

So that’s what she did.

He was always on top and she was always on her back. That’s the first thing she had to change. From her understanding of it, from her talks with friends that always ended in giggles and blushing cheeks and from what she learned from John, it could be done in many different ways.

“I prefer to be in charge,” her school friend, Linda, had admitted to her. “Not like that -” she clarified, cheeks pink, “Just - if I’m gonna take it, I’d rather do it at my pace. Be on top. Some husbands are good like that. They’ll allow it.”

And knowing her husband wasn’t just good, he was great, she knew he would hold no qualms about it. The next time they lay in bed kissing it was easy to turn him over and straddle him. Move her wetness against his belly to let him know there was still more she just needed him to accept it.

Except he thought she was asking him to do it so he flipped her on her back again. And without breaking their kiss, she turned him over again.

It was more like they were wrestling.

Lila pulls away from his mouth, reluctantly, noticing his lips were wet and red and swollen and wondering if hers were much the same. They had been kissing for so long her mouth felt raw.

She loved it.

Straddling him, she reached behind her, feeling him standing straight and hard against her backside in between her cheeks. Sticky.

He gasped, bucking into her fist with a loud, guttural groan. It was so manly she rocked against his stomach again in need.

“Fuck, baby,” he grunted, “what’re you doing?”

“I want to try it like this,” she breathed, leaning over to whisper in his mouth, her tiny hand still wrapped around him and lining her up to her hole. “I want it all.” Lila clarified.

And John allowed it, like she knew he would. Let her take control and go at her pace. Let her swivel her hips on the way down to help with the tightness of being stretched so wide and thick.

Nothing but curses and promises of love leaving his lips. Gasping mine, mine, mine and my perfect fucking wife and I’m gonna fuck you forever.

He felt large inside of her, like if she was being split in two but it felt so good as the tip of him repeatedly hit a spongy part inside that had her coming with no contact to her clit for the first time.

She was beautiful, red splotches appearing on her body from the heat of their love-making, her hair tangled in his fists, her mouth falling open as she threw her head back - all of it was too much. He was flipping her over and pounding into her trying to chase his peak and a second one from her, their headboard banging against the wall in rhythm with his thrusts.

Things changed from then on. Sexually, that is. Becoming aware of how badly she needed to feel like she was pleasing him, John was not above using it against her. Like letting him lick at her.

“Good wives allow their husbands everything,” he would say, lips wide in a smile and eyes bright at the prospect of getting his way but Lila always knew the choice was really hers. He would respect what she wanted.

He was just too damn addicting. She couldn’t stand to tell him no.

His favorite times were when she allowed him to sit her over his face and let him feast. It drowned the outside world for him and he kept at it even after she had reached multiple orgasms and was pulling on his hair and the only thing keeping her up was his forearms locking around her thighs.

Her favorite was when he allowed her to taste him at the same time he was licking her. It was a tie between those times and when he held her down until all of him was in her mouth and she was spluttering, choking, gagging. Knowing she made a filthy vision and he adored it did something to her.

Now she was in London, closer to him than she had been in years, and all their intimacies were within reach. She could almost taste him, feel him petting back her hair and settling a hand at the low of her back. She still remembers the smell of his after shave and sweat, how he’d come into the kitchen asking for some of her homemade lemonade to help with the heat.

Jack Kidd was tasked with picking up Mrs. Egan from the airport and having her arrive at base with him. She remembers meeting him a couple of times before John shipped out early. Originally she was meant to wait for John at their hotel but there had been an issue when planning her flight and she arrived sooner than intended.

“Ma’am,” he greeted, placing a friendly kiss on her cheeks and taking her bags from her. “Bucky’s gonna be happy as hell to see your face.”

The tone in his voice - relief? alleviation? - had some of her happy wife's facade crumbling. How badly was her Johnny hurting that everyone was looking at her at his only chance to remain sane or alive?

Stop it. Maybe everyone’s just aware Johnny misses you. You’re his wife.

“Not as happy as me, I wager,” she returned with a smile. “I’m glad to see you’re doing okay, Jack. Glad to see you still kicking.”

His shrug didn’t soothe her worry but she saw him try to mask it with a smile.

“All we boys can do is pray.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder, gathering his attention. “You boys have got the prayers of our entire country protecting you.”

Jack simply nodded in response.

For the most part the ride to base was quiet. Her bags would be kept in the trunk until her and John were ready to drive out to London in a couple of hours and until then, she’d be his surprise at the officer’s club. Silver Wings, Jack called it. Where all the boys gathered and had drinks and celebrated accomplishments. And where some chose to mourn, too.

Her stomach was turning as she neared the hut, following Jack’s footsteps. There was so much that could go wrong and although this was meant to be a surprise, the U.S Army showing their gratitude towards a brave Major, she suddenly wished she would have called John and told him. She wished he knew so that she wouldn’t have to walk in feeling alone and unwanted.

Not that Lila thought John would turn her away, she simply wanted to have him hold her hand as she walked through the threshold.

“Stick close by,” Jack murmured, being respectful of where he touched her before deciding to lead her by her shoulder. “It gets crowded but I’ll take ya to him.”

As she walked through different groups, she felt the offending eyes of men and women alike. Wondering who she was. With a pang in her heart she realized she had met John’s squadrons before but all these crews were new. The boys she met, most of them at least from what she could tell, hadn’t made it. John never wrote about who passed away (except to inform her of Curt) ; most of their letters were him expressing his love and how he missed her so and asking what she got up to.

Having walked around the roundabout bar in the center of the room, her stomach in knots and fingers tangled in front of her - she caught sight of her husband smack middle in the dance floor. Pressed against a beautiful brunette.

Lila caught sight of him before even Jack did. That’s how connected she was to her husband. Jack whistled from beside her to gain Gale’s attention who was resting against the bar holding his signature ginger ale, also watching John Egan chat up the woman he was swaying with with something like disapproval in his eyes.

His large hands were occupying most of the space of her waist, keeping her body tethered to his as she laughed.

“Lila,” he gasped, eyes wide. He was smart enough to not turn and look at his buddy. To act as if nothing was amiss and she expected nothing less from Gale Cleven, “damn it all to hell. You’re a sight for sore eyes, Mrs. Egan.”

Because he was close to John, he didn’t hesitate in wrapping her up in a tight hug and pressing a kiss to her tinted cheeks. He knew John wouldn’t mind.

When he pulled back she patted his chubby cheek in return, “You still shame the rest of us with your good looks, Gale,” she laughed. “I’ll let Marge know when I see her next.”

Lila also knew she would share with Marge that while Gale was being loyal, standing off to the side her husband was exchanging oxygen with a woman on the dance floor.

His cheeks tinted at the mention of his girl. Buck and Bucky were both aware Lila and Marge wrote to one another and visited each other whenever time made it possible.

“Colonel Harding said Major Egan was in need of something from home,” she said, studying his reaction to see what she could read but Gale had always been aloof, cold. He wasn’t close to her like he was with Marge and John.

Gale thought back to a few moments earlier when John had disrespected their Colonel and all his actions before that too - disrespecting superiors, drinking more consistently, becoming angry - hopelessness in his eyes.

“He’s in need of you Lila,” Gale clarified and it wasn’t lost on either one of them that he they were referring to was currently on the floor wooing another woman.

“Holy shit! It’s Mrs. Egan!” Hambone animatedly announced and suddenly it felt like the eyes of everyone in there were on her. Her cheeks tinted pink, never having been one for the spotlight like her husband.

She was greeted with welcoming cheers and hugs.

John, for his part, disentangled from the woman he was holding at the mention of his missus. He was sober enough to appear sheepish and guilty, but in the next second it was gone as he stalked towards her. Determined. Quick. His smile growing the more he neared like he was becoming more aware she was really there and it wasn’t a fucked up scenario in his head.

“God, Lila,” she managed to hear him say before she was elevated in the air, his arms tight around her waist and lifting her high so they were at face level and he could kiss her. Channeling his love and exuberance and aggression into kissing his wife. “It’s you, it’s you, it’s really you,” he was saying in between smooches, “I missed you. So fucking much, doll.”

Basking in his love she didn’t feel the need to mention the woman that was so kindly keeping him preoccupied before she entered.

She couldn’t help the first tear from falling or the rest from following. It was like the tightness in her chest unlocked as she finally got to hold him and feel his heat surround her. He still smelled of after shave and the same hair gel that was kept in their bathroom at home but he tasted strongly of whiskey and cigarettes and strawberry lipstick.

John tucked his face into her neck, setting her down and bending to her level. Sniffling in there as he continued to hold her.

“None of that,” she did her best to stop her voice from wobbling or breaking, “we’re together. That’s all that matters.” She drew his face out from where he had hidden to pepper him with a few more kisses.

None of it was enough.

The rest of the guys were kind enough to return to the dance floor and act like they couldn’t see them.

“Who? What - why? How?” He was obviously having trouble forming coherent thoughts in between the kisses he continued stealing from her.

She was crying and laughing and trying to return all his touches. It was a terribly difficult ordeal but she had never been happier.

“Colonel Harding called and said you had a weekend leave. He said he talked to some of the higher ups but they couldn’t allow you a leave home so this was the next best thing,” she explained, cupping his cheek as she rubbed her thumb over his cheekbone. He had minor scars that weren’t there before.

She wanted to kiss every single one of them.

He was still bent towards her height, taking her in as she was taking him in.

She forgot how blue his eyes were.

He was whole. Complete. Hers.

“You’re here for the entire weekend?” He asked to confirm and she nodded, laughing when he lifted her again with a loud whoop to celebrate. That got a few of the guys to join in although they had no idea what their Major was celebrating.

“I need you,” his voice suddenly dropped, setting her down as he turned to the door. “Let’s go.” He was buckling up her coat to make sure she was protected from the freezing London air. She was lucky he was too far gone to scold her for arriving with it unbuckled in the first place - she could get sick.

“John, John - relax, my sweet man,” she laughed, cupping his cheek to get his attention. “We can stay for a while. We don’t have to go yet.”

It’s why she was at the officer’s club in the first place. She had arrived early.

John turned stiff in her hold, straightening to his full height as he suddenly loomed over her. “I’ve got you in my arms for the first time and you want to stay here?” His voice was tight. His face stern.

“Yes - no, I -” she was unsure of where she went wrong or how to fix it. She clasped his hands in hers but he didn’t allow her to thread their fingers together so it was just her holding on. “I just meant we’ve got time, John.”

The way he was looking at her made her want to cry. She felt her lower lip quivering.

She felt ashamed, whispering, trying to get him to keep his cool.

“Time? Time?” He laughed loudly. She was mildly aware of Gale breaking away from a group of guys to near them, worried but she was mostly focused on John. The tense lines on his face even as he laughed and the quirked eyebrow even though she found no amusement in their situation. “You think I’ve got time? You have no idea what it’s like up there.”

She shook her head but didn’t try to verbally explain herself. She wasn’t sure she could manage a few words before breaking into tears.

“Come on, Bucky,” that was Gale stepping in to save the day. Perhaps the only person who could get John to listen. “When have you ever left before dancing with your girl? You gotta show these rookies how it’s properly done right?”

With Gale slapping a hand to John’s shoulders, he seemed to snap out of it. Releasing a deep breath and seemingly all the tightness in body with it.

He leaned down again, pressing his forehead against hers. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, clasping a hand around her neck so she wouldn’t pull her head back. As their eyes locked she felt a tear fall again and this one wasn’t happy. “I’m so fucking sorry, baby. It’s this place. It’s fucking with my head.”

And she chose to believe him, nodding her head in understanding and trying not to think about how she wasn’t his preferred person to write letters to or the one who could clear his head.

Maybe the Colonel should have allowed a weekend pass for Gale and John.

Lila swallowed the thought, allowing John to pull her to the dance floor as he lost all anger and aggression and became charming and loving all over again.

“Everyone, this is my wife!” He bellowed and everyone cheered in response. “She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and -” he hiccuped and she realized he was drunker than she thought, “and I bet we can out dance any couples here tonight!”

So for the next hour she found herself being twirled around the dance floor by her husband. She almost forgot their prior negative interaction; his love and energy was so infectious. For the slow songs he would hold her close and she would rest her head against his chest, letting it lull her to a relaxing state. He was alive and she was with him. That had to be enough. For the more upbeat songs, he was challenging any couple beside them. Asking those sitting who were better dancers? Who could perform certain dance moves better?

And all throughout, he was like he used to be back home. Loud and happy and the center of attention, keeping everyone entertained. He kept announcing to his boys that his beautiful wife was there and then he’d place a wet kiss on her mouth that had their cheeks (and hers) turning red but all he would do is smile and continue on.

She was finally able to disentangle herself from him when Crosby pulled him in for a conversation. Lila wonders if her state of disheveled hair and panting breaths made him want to aid her in allowing her to sit and grab a refresher.

Once she accepts Crosby’s hug and cheek kiss, she excuses herself to go grab a drink. John only pulls her back once to steal a kiss before she gets too far.

Her lips might be bruised by the time they leave if he kept it up.

She orders a cup of ice water from the man tending the bar, looking back out at her husband as she waits. He’d always been tall and strong, but she notices the change in his posture. The bulges in his arms as he twirled her around and lifted her in the air. His eyes were only bright when he forced it. They had lost their shine and she wishes she brought the picture from back home. Where he looks young and full of life and joyful. Even when he smiles he seems hollow; hopeless.

She’s there but he doesn’t really care because in his head he’s already thinking of when she leaves again.

She wasn’t used to that. Her John only lived in the moment.

“He keepin’ you busy?”

Gale settles up behind her and pushes the glass water towards her. She didn’t even notice when it was put down.

“Dizzy, more like,” she jokes and gets him to crack a smile. She thinks to when she walked in and seen Gale, how he’d been watching the scene unfold but with a disapproving look in his eyes. How he didn’t try to hide the scene from her or excuse it. He let it be. And she knows John has never shied away from attention. He’s always been handsome and charming and girls always swarmed but Lila wasn’t aware she had to be around to keep him loyal. She thought he just was. And she knows it’s not too long before they leave now so she decides to be direct with him. “So, does that happen often?”

She sees Gale’s expression split for a second, like he debates playing dumb before deciding against it and she respects him even more for it.

“I think you should talk to John about it.” He decides on.

“Is it something that needs to be mentioned?” She doesn’t like playing this game with him but she knows at the first words of cheating and adultery Gale is going to excuse himself and her chance will be lost.

She can’t be simple and ask: Does my husband cheat on me?

“Another ginger ale, Marty,” Gale raises two fingers to grab the man’s attention and mutters a thanks as his drink is immediately refilled. He turns his attention back to Lila. “He still loves you, Lila. It’s just - hard. Being out here.”

“You seem to be coping fine.”

She feels bitter. Crazy. There’s a sob she has to choke back.

Lila’s too embarrassed to meet Gale’s gaze. Ashamed that everyone knows what’s been going on and she was the ditzy woman being twirled on the dance floor.

“I think I was used to loneliness. He isn’t.”

And he says nothing else as he leaves her behind heading back to his boys. It’s just Lila and her shattering heart and her husband calling to beckon her back to the dance floor.

Luckily they didn’t stay much longer. She walked over to Bucky but he wasn’t able to pull her back out for a dance - it’s my song, Lila! - because Jack Kidd was approaching, letting them know it was time to leave them at the train station.

Lila waited in the car while Bucky ran into his quarters to pack his bag. He didn’t have many things to take, he would be stuck wearing his uniform anyway. Gale walks him back out to the car and despite the earlier conversation Lila exits the safety of the interior to say her goodbyes.

“Take care of yourself, Major,” she squeezes him, “I need you to stick around after this weekend to look after my man.”

“It’s a hard job but I try,” he replies, both of them ignoring Bucky’s protests.

Besides that, Bucky’s quiet on the ride to the train station. He carries her bag on board but he’s quiet for the duration of the train ride. Lila doesn’t disturb him; he might be tired or hungover or both.

And if she’s honest she’s scared of him snapping at her like the night before.

Instead she takes the time to take him in. He’s handsome in his suit. Tall and big and strong, his sharp jaw and powerful mouth, his eyes blue like a sunny day and his curls coming undone from the gel after all the dancing he did.

Lila doesn’t allow her mind to wander down this path too often but suddenly she can’t help it. Would their baby have looked like him or like her? She wishes more than anything they would have had his ears. She wishes they would have had his heart and his strength - but her loyalty. Her faith in them.

It’s crazy when she stops to think she was nineteen when she married him and now she’s twenty-one. She’s loved him for more than she’s been allowed to have him. She has changed without him like he has without her and it’s frightening to think neither of them could be accepting of those changes. Whatever they may be.

Lila shuts those thoughts out, closing the distance between them to sit on his lap. Passerby’s and his horrible mood and what scares her could be damned to hell - all she wants is her man.

John doesn’t deny her; she admits she was a little scared he would.

“I love you,” she tells him, catching his eyes.

“I know.”

He doesn’t return the words as they continue staring at one another but she refuses to let it get her down. This is her husband. She has the rest of her life to get to know him; new or old habits, she doesn’t care.

So instead, Lila plasters a smile onto her face. “What’re you gonna show me first in London, Major?”

“Well I really wanna show you our hotel room,” he plays along, allowing her to trace the edges of his mustache. She lets out a knowing chortle. “And I really want to show you -” he cuts himself off to look around, making sure no one was near them as he leans in to whisper, “- my cock, Mrs. Egan.”

She turns a bright red, trying to sputter out a proper response for that but all she can do is indignantly scold him. “John Clarence! If your mom were here -” and they both break out in loud laughter at the many possibilities of what his mother would exactly do to him if she heard his wicked mouth.

“Wanna grab some grub first?” He asks instead, knowing she hadn’t eaten at the officers club and before then she had been stuck on a plane. “I know a few places.”

Lila nods happily, pressing a kiss to his mouth. His lips are warm and as plump as she remembers them. His mustache tickles her.

“Let me feed you first, woman!” He groans, trying to be a gentleman. “When’s the last time you ate?”

She puckers her lips to think about it and that’s the only answer he needs: food is definitely first.

When they arrive at the hotel John enters to check them in but he slips a few bills into the bell boy’s hand with strict instructions to leave the bags in their room before pulling her back out to the London streets.

Lila felt underdressed surrounded by women in diamonds and fancy hats, and it didn’t help that John was beside her in his uniform looking dapper and catching the eye of many. They were stopped multiple times on the way to the diner; men wanting to shake his hand and show their gratitude while the women introduced themselves, uncaring of Lila under his right arm.

As long as he wasn’t ignoring or dismissing her she realized she didn’t really care. It wasn’t much different back home; everyone knew and loved John Egan.

The diner he chose was small and cozy and his legs were too long to fit under their table so his boot and his knee kept bumping into her own and she adored it. She wanted to feel close to him and since sitting on his lap currently wasn’t an option she figured this would have to do.

He tells her many stories but none of them are sad or tragic. He only shares the happy ones. He talks about how he convinced the Colonel to allow Buck, Curt, and himself a London weekend pass one time and they had shoved Gale into a haberdashery where he tried on a multitude of top hats worth more money any of them would ever see combined. But because they were soldiers and majors at that, the owner allowed it. There’s a museum nearby he talks about wanting to take her too, it showcases art from as early as the 1400s and he says he’s gotten lost in there plenty of times and it was lovely.

All the while, she listens without hearing him. Choosing to take him in and letting her mind wander to how it would be if things were different. It pains her to think how much older he looks since she last saw him. Looking more like it was ten years instead of the measly two. John’s always been one to smile freely but the wrinkles by his mouth, eyes, and forehead aren’t from smiling or laughing too much.

Lila knows they’re from worrying and stressing and being scared and she hates that she can’t understand him or be there for him. No matter how hard he tries.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes when a sob breaks free. She curls in over the table and John’s reaching over to rub her shoulders. She grabs a hold of her hand in his. “I just missed you so much.” She presses a kiss to his knuckles. “I don’t think I know how to not miss you.”

John doesn’t say anything but he motions a server over to settle the bill and once that’s done, he’s taking her hand and pulling her out the chair.

“You got enough food in you?”

All she can do is nod.

Her body feels electric on the short walk back to the hotel. He doesn’t do more than hold her hand and she thinks that is what has her nerves jittery, his palm in her hand sets her alight. She can feel his rough skin and the calluses on his fingers and the fingertips he runs over her skin and she bites back a moan.

Moaning in the middle of a bustling London street? She’d be thrown into an asylum she’s sure.

Beside her he’s quiet but his steps are quick. She has to lightly jog to keep up with long strides. He pulls on her hand to help her keep pace. It makes her think he’s as impatient for it as she is so she was surprised when upon closing the hotel room behind him he stays by the door. Not nearing or touching or kissing.

Just - nothing.

Her throat becomes tight again as she remembers the girl from the night before and her conversation with Gale. Is that the reason why?

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he says before she can spiral any further. Approaching her and bringing their lips together in a searing kiss, wasting no time in sliding his tongue alongside hers.

“I love you,” she responds and once again he doesn’t say it back. She figured he wouldn’t but she wanted to try. He takes her mouth in his again.

She gets irrationally angry, suddenly feeling the need to claim him so she bites at his bottom lip. He pulls back to press a finger to his lip, wiping the blood there.

Lila pulls on his belt, dropping to her knees right there in the middle of the room.

Mine. He’s mine.

“Make me your wife again,” she’s not sure but it sounds like she’s begging as she manages to unbuckle his belt and pull them around his strong thighs.

“God,” he breathed, “fuck. Look at you.”

Swollen lips parted for him to put to use. John wrapped his fist around her long hair to maintain a good grip, allowing the tip of his cock to hit the back of her throat. There was no resistance, no gag, her body remembering how it was taught to take all of him even though time had passed. John loved that fucking mouth and he found himself angry as thoughts entered his mind - if anyone had fucked her mouth while he’d been away - and he jerks his hips more forcefully. Rough.

This time Lila does gag. Her hand goes to push against his hip but he doesn’t allow her to pull away.

“Did anyone else do this?”

She splutters, eyes on him and confused with a mouthful of cock, unable to talk.

“Did you suck someone else’s cock? This is mine, Lila. Mine.”

He holds her down for a couple of more seconds before allowing her reprieve. She sputters and coughs, looking at him the entire time.

His dick is still hard and long, standing to attention, and he’s not sure whether he should apologize before she’s taking his bobbing dick back into her mouth. To the back of her throat and gulping and fondling his balls. Her nose kissing the coarse hairs on his belly trail and although it feels fucking amazing - he can feel the anger too. Her anger.

How dare he accuse her.

When she pulls off there’s a strand of saliva connecting his prick to her tongue. She has half a mind to go back for more but he’s pulling her back by her hair.

“I’m so lucky to have a wife who’s cock hungry,” he groans, pulling her to her feet by her hair and connecting their mouths in a rough kiss. Their teeths crash and tongues wrestly and he feels fucking crazy that she tastes like him. Simultaneously ripping each other’s clothes off.

Lila didn’t have any warning. One second she was kissing him and ripping open his shirt and the next she was bent over the bed with her ass in the air. John ran a finger over the wet patch on her underwear. The bite on her cheek was also unexpected and she clawed at the sheets, sure she could come from the feeling alone.

“This is mine, Lila,” he leaned in close, burying his face in her underwear. “Mine.”

All she could do was whimper and agree.

John smacked her ass so hard it jiggled. Lila yelled and after the pain ceded, time seemed to stop. Nothing but their rough breathing filling the room. John had never done that before.

She wasn’t sobbing but there were tears escaping. She was sure he didn’t know. He was waiting for a reaction.

Lila wasn’t sure where this side of her husband came from. Had he held back those two months? Did he learn it in Europe? Was that why there was another woman - because she couldn’t satisfy him?

She can’t lose him.

“Please,” she begs, hiding tears in the duvet, “do it again.”

Lies. It was all lies but John believes her and he strikes again. She yelps, fisiting the sheets. He believes it’s in pleasure.

Ten slaps. That’s how many she endures before he begins shushing and petting her again. He runs his fingers through her folds and although she didn’t enjoy the punishment mentally - she did nothing wrong, he was the liar - her body certainly did. She’s sopping wet, she’s gonna have to throw out her underwear because they’re destroyed.

“Did you enjoy that?” He grabs a fistful of her hair to sit her up, her back against his sweaty, matter chest. “You like being spanked, baby?”

“Yes.” It’s only half of a lie.

“Now - now, I’m going to fuck you. Nice and hard, just how you like it,” she wants to scream at him. She wants to hit him. When did she ever like it hard? When was hard ever nice? Who was he thinking about because it wasn’t her.

But at the same time she rocks back against him to feel his cock hard between her cheeks. She can’t say she doesn’t want it. Him. This.

He pushes her back down at her teasing, using his now free hands to spread her cheeks and show her tight asshole. Untouched and pure. He presses the tip of his cock against it but he doesn’t push. He doesn’t move.

She jerks at the pressure. Drools on the mattress as she tries to bite down to temper her screams.

Do it.

No, don’t.

“One day,” he promises, pressing deeper so her hole opens but not deep enough to push. “But today, today I want this.” And without any prepping like she’s used to, without any more warning, he’s sliding down and pushing into her. Hard. Deep.

She screams, can’t help it, claws at the mattress in an attempt to crawl away.

It hurt but it felt so good.

Who was she?

“You think you can go be with other men? Let them use the holes I trained? The ones that belong to me?” He pumps into her deep. Once, twice. She’s so wet the noises filling the room are pornographic, her yelling and his panting and her sopping wet vagina smacking against his thighs and taking his cock so well. “You like it like this, Lila? Like when I fucking own you?”

“Yes, yes,” she swears and this time she isn’t lying. It’s all she can manage; she thinks she’s gone cock dumb. There are no words, no feelings, just the feeling of him filling her.

She clenches tight when he slides out. She wants him inside her forever.

He releases his hold of her hair, stepping away. He’s tired of muffling her moans and words. He’s tired of not being able to see her beautiful face.

John’s favorite face in the entire world.

“Turn around,” he commands.

Lila kneels on wobbly legs as she turns over, having little to no energy and bouncing as her body lands with no grace on the mattress. John grabs one of her jiggling breasts in his large hand, squeezing tightly.

“I fucking missed these.” He takes one in his mouth, biting down on her nipple hard. She shrieks but holds his head to pull him closer.

Her thighs are forced open by his hand and then he’s taking hold of himself and thrusting in deep again. Releasing her breasts from his mouth in order to look at her mouth. Lila’s face when he’s fucking her is as close to heaven as he thinks he’ll ever get. She’s incoherent but she’s begging for more - that much he can make out. She manages to gather the strength to grab hold of him and pull him down, clawing at his back.

He hisses at the pain and bites on her collarbone to reciprocate it.

When she grabs the nape of his neck, the cool touch of her wedding ring against his skin, it gives him pause. This was his wife. His wife.

John has been gone so long he thinks he forgot he was married.

“I love you,” he finally says it, pressing his forehead against hers as he slows down. He sniffles then, leaning down to press a wet open-mouthed kiss against hers and swallow her moans. John can’t believe he forgot he had this; can’t believe he forgot for a minute how lucky he was. She’s gorgeous (and not just externally) and he’s quite sure he somehow managed to dream her up. “I love you,” he swears again.

This time she’s the one who doesn’t say it.

She clutches at neck and pulls him down to take a boob in his mouth. Looking him in the eye hurts too damn much. Why did he have to do this now? She was lost in the pain; she had been taking her punishment.

Lila squeezed her eyes shut, moaning loudly as she thrashed around the bed. Her orgasm taking over her body. She wrapped both legs tighter around John, squeezing and pulsing around him and dragging him to the edge with her.

“Fuck, fuck,” he roared, “so damn tight. Yes, Lila. My perfect wife.”

For a couple of seconds, they lay in the aftermath. Lila could feel the heat of John’s breath against her neck. She counted how many breaths they shared in between one another as they recuperated.

Forty-seven that’s how many breaths they shared as they stayed connected.

Forty-eight that’s when John managed to lift his head and place a peck against her mouth. One she didn’t return.

Forty-nine that’s when John pulled back in concern. Lila was so still.

Fifty. That’s the breath she used to say, “you cheated on me,” looking him right in the eyes as she broke out in uncontrollable sobs.

She cried and cried underneath him. Unable to move because her legs felt like jello and they held no power. Unable to push him off because she didn’t want to let him go. Unable to speak because she was suffocating in her heartbreak.

John watched her until he couldn’t, until he was afraid she was going to choke on her own tears and then he was sitting her up, trying to ignore the way she fought against his touch.

I’m sorry, I’m here, he kept saying.

I hate you, she thought but didn’t say.

Until finally, “don’t touch me!” She yelled when he got too close and made to wrap her up in a hug. “Get away from me, John. Stay away.” She crawled to the edge of the bed and curled herself into a tiny ball. Aware she was fully naked and he was still leaking out of her but she couldn’t find it in herself to do anything except cry.

She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t open her lungs and get any air in. She slapped at the headboard, aware that she was having a panic attack as suddenly everything hit her all at once. It was entirely consuming and she couldn’t do anything to fight against it except cry. All the feelings rushed her at once.

This was going to be it. The weekend of two lovers reunited was the weekend from hell and this was going to be it. She was going to return home in a day and he would stay in Europe and continue to fight the war and seek out other girls and when he returned she wouldn’t be his wife anymore.

Lila would be scornful and full of resentment and miserable and he would leave her. This last time was going to be all she had and she hated him for ruining it.

Why couldn’t he hide his affairs better?

Why did she have to surprise him?

She was perfectly happy not knowing. She was worried and stressed to hell and crying every night missing him but, oh God, all that was better than this.

Lila isn’t sure how long it’s been since she last took a breath but she feels herself fading. She’s shivering and naked in their bed and she can only slightly take in that John’s wrapping her up in the duvet and curling himself around her to warm her up. She’s trying to tell him she can’t breathe, she’s suffocating, at the same time he’s blowing air in her face.

She’s fading when she feels it. A sting on the left side of her face. Hard and sharp and enough to have her gasping for a deep breath.

“Baby, please, wake up,” he’s crying over her, his head on her chest, “wake up. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Her chest aches. She coughs.

He whips his head up so fast she almost laughs. Almost.

“Lila,” he holds her against his chest, rocking them back and forth on the bed as she takes in her surroundings. She isn’t sure how long she was out or how long she was panicking for. Had the sun been setting while she lost her shit? It was dark outside now. “Don’t leave me, you can’t leave me. Please.”

She taps at his arms to get him to release. She doesn’t think she can talk.

John allows her the space but he doesn’t remove himself from the bed. He stays kneeling, watching her. His hands keep twitching like he wants to reach out and touch her but he’s trying to respect her wishes of not being touched.

She doesn’t lay back down, she stays resting against the headboard. Breathing hurts. She’s scared of suffocating once more. Her left cheek begins burning and she wishes she had the strength to go look in the mirror. Did he mark her? She hopes he did.

Lila’s glad he made it hurt.

“You need to go,” she finally manages to say, ignoring the way he’s already shaking his head in defiance. “Leave me here, John. I want you to go. Get another room.” Find another woman. “I leave in a day.” She wishes she never came to stupid London. She wishes she could forget this entire trip.

“Lila it’s the war,” he starts, shaking in his own tears. “It’s all the shit I see, baby. None of it was because of you okay? None. You don’t fucking know what it’s like up there for us but I stay alive in hopes of coming home to you.” He promises.

She shakes her head, fighting back any more tears. How the hell could she still have any tears left?

“But Gale didn’t cheat,” it bursts out of her before she can stop it and she knows it’s the wrong thing to say entirely.

John stops his apologies, clearing his throat as he gets up and begins dressing into his suit. She doesn’t stop him. She doesn’t take back any of what she said. She gets tired of sitting so she lays on her side, staring out the window and noticing London doesn’t have many stars. Is that why it’s so horrible here? Because there were no stars to wish upon.

She could hear his boots stomping on the ground as he reached the door. “Maybe you should have married Gale fucking Cleven then.” And the door slams shut behind him.

She wonders if he’s angry enough to find a girl and sleep with her. Her eyes blur. The time on the clock is six p.m and London’s already dark. She realizes she hasn’t slept since her plane ride. About 19 hours awake - her and John.

Lila allows her eyes to close, hoping when she wakes everything will be better.

Shadows over her eyelids wake her up. Lila finds she hasn’t moved. She’s in the same position facing the window. Facing London, only now bombs are dropping over it. The prettiest colors burst forward in the window but she knows it's truly only tragedy and loss. Murder.

She recognizes John sitting in the arm chair and she wonders when he got back. He isn’t facing her, he’s watching bomb after bomb drop and land no more than mere miles away from them. He’s holding a whiskey on ice, twirling the ice so it hits against the glass.

Lila wonders then if it was the shadows or the noise that woke her up.

“I must have punched in my card a long time ago,” his voice is strong in the dead of the night, seemingly even louder than when he’s singing in the pub. “It must be the reason for all of this. Karma.” He scoffs.

I deserve this, is what he’s trying to say.

Lila feels her stomach twist and spin and there’s bile sitting in her throat. She closes her eyes to stop herself from imagining John in a plane, dropping a bomb that lands on children. She closes her eyes so she doesn’t have to see the hurt sitting on his shoulders.

She remembers how angry she was when he first signed up. Before they were married. They had been dating for over a month, barely, and she already scribbled ‘Mrs. Egan’ over her notebooks. She’d heard it from his younger sister, Eileen, and she felt her world stop. She hadn’t hesitated to run to the stables he worked at and confront him in front of all the men.

“You’re leaving me,” she had accused him. “You’re gonna leave! I’ll never forgive you, John Egan.”

And in front of everyone he’d knelt down and produced a ring, the one his father had given his mother and said, “Marry me.” He didn’t ask because they both knew it wasn’t a question.

She was already his.

And he was hers.

Lila had forgiven him and promised to love, honor, and obey for the rest of her life.

She doesn’t have the strength to stand so even though her throat burns she speaks. “Lay with me,” she croaks. Her voice is raspy and broken and even clearing it aches.

John shakes his head. “You don’t want me to.”

“Lay with me,” she repeats, firm. “I just want to fall asleep with you.”

He looks at her like he's scared to believe. Trying to figure out whether she’s simply being cruel and going to kick him out in her next breath. Or more likely, he’s scared she’ll lose her shit being near him again.

John, hopeful and never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, sets his drink down and nears the bed. Lila keeps her eyes locked on his and he does the same. Their moves and tension resemble a game of chicken, one of them afraid any sudden change can have the other running off.

“Take off your uniform,” she says when he pushes back the covers while still fully dressed. He jerks his head in confusion and she bites her lip to contain a laugh at his dirty mind. Sex is the last thing on her mind. “I want to feel you, that’s all.”

John does as she asks, setting his cap down and shredding every layer before he’s naked and gorgeous and sliding in beside her. She doesn’t allow herself to think about what it means when she immediately slides closer.

Lila’s the one to wrap her arms around him.

Lila’s the one to intertwine their legs.

John follows her lead, lifting an arm so she can raise her head and use it as a pillow. She scoots her face closer and she nuzzles into her armpit, smelling his deodorant and feeling his hairs poke at her nose. She moves further along, escaping the cocoon of his armpit to press her cheek against his chest. She clutches his dog tags in her palm, tight, so he can’t get up in the middle of the night.

“Can we fall asleep together?” She asks, but when she looks up John’s already there.

The next time Lila wakes up her palm aches. She releases what she’s gripping, remembering how she clung to John’s dog tags when he slid into bed beside her. She lifts her head and finds John already looking at her.

He’s got the saddest eyes she’s ever seen and she hates that she’s partly why.

“We should talk,” her voice is low and cracks from not being used. John nods his head but makes no move to begin.

Lila lays her head back on his chest, lightly picking at his matted, curly chest hair. She presses her lips to a freckle near his nipple and his intake of breath lets her know he felt it,

“I’m not the one you write the most letters too,” she starts, finding it easier to not have to look him in the eye. “You write the most to your mom. And I’m not the one who can calm you down when your anger gets the best of you,” she’s so tired of crying, “that’s Gale. “And I can’t even be here for you at the end of a mission to console you or kiss you or help you forget,” she chokes on a sob. “That’s whoever else.”

I couldn’t even keep our baby healthy, she leaves out.

“What’s your point with all this, Lila?”

Lila lifts her head from his chest, “My point is I’m a horrible wife. I - I don’t know if it was too soon or just not thought out but this - I- ” she can’t get the rest of the words out.

“Don’t say that,” John sits up against the headboard, forcing her up as well. He grabs both her wrists in one of his hands to pull her closer and grab her attention. “Don’t fucking tell me that, Lila.”

“I don’t make you happy,” she shakes her head.

“You do. Everything I do, everything I’m doing - it’s for you Lila.”

“I don’t want to marry Gale. Or someone like him. I love you. Only you. But I’m scared that I don’t make you happy. You deserve better.”

“Oh you dumbass,” John coos, suddenly finding the entire situation amusing. He pulls her in for a hug. “You’re my entire fucking heart, Lila Egan. You don’t think you make me happy? You’re the only thing in my life, in my head, that makes me happy.”

She pulls away to hold his face. “If you’re gonna leave me John you need to tell me now. I don’t care about the girls if all they are is to pass the time. And I don’t care that you write to your mom more than me and I don’t care that Gale is the one you listen to but I just need to be the one you love the most. I need to know I’m making you happy.”

His heart aches at the fact that he made her feel she was ever anything less than the most important person in his life. “Lila,” he presses a kiss to her lips, “Rose,” another kiss, “Egan,” another. “Are my only reason for staying alive.”

#mota fic #mota fanfic #john egan x oc #john egan x reader #bucky x oc #bucky egan x reader #bucky egan fanfiction #bucky egan fanfic #john egan fanfic #john egan fanfiction #*made by me

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cherry-pop-elf · 8 months

Text

Unleashed

Bill Weasley x Reader

You decided to be a good partner and see your boyfriend Bill. You heard he was on vacation from Gringotts, and knew he would be at the beach side house. There was just one problem. The Goblins give him those vacations for more than just keeping his mental health strong. He had one at the end of every month, and the day you arrived was when the moon was out

18+, Dubious Consent ((Not really but respect people who aren’t into that!)) Breeding, Gender Neutral Anatomy Scratching, Biting, blood play, overstimulation uncanny valley, werewolf stuff in general, after care, disabled talk, crying, fluff

Commissions Open

“Oh Billy~!” You sung, as you stepped out of the fire place. You were so excited. Your boyfriend was on vacation, and that meant you could hound him with kisses and cuddles. As a Curse Breaker, he needed to make sure his mental health was strong and in check. Unless the curses consume him. That meant the Goblins made sure he got plenty of vacation days. Even a week off at the end of every month!

“Come on out you big ole dog. I know you are here.” You giggle, as you set your bag on the couch. Now where did your boyfriend go? You would hurry to the porch of the house. Leaning over the railing, and admiring the beautiful view. It was just stunning. The salt air against your skin, the cool water under the stars, oh it was like out of a fairy tale. Made you understand why he loved the beach so much.

“Oh to live here.” You sighed, as you looked to the sky. Admiring the clouds, as they rolled by. As they moved, you furrowed your brow. Was the moon full? You squinted, as you leaned over the railing more. Trying so hard to get a better view. As you did, there would suddenly be a warm presence behind you.

“There’s my Habibi.” You would hear, growled into your ear, as hands would grab at the railing. You were pinned against it, as you saw the clouds shift. The moon was full, and glimmering so vividly. Right against the water, and causing the world to be casted in a nearly blue glow. It’s a full moon, and your boyfriend had you pinned.

“Way to go, dumbass-“ You muttered to yourself. William wasn’t a real werewolf. Given his curse breaking job, he held an almost immunity of sorts. He wasn’t like his uncle Lupin. He didn’t have a proper transformation. He did have little habits, like eating raw meat. Just small things. He did get paranoid though. Always avoiding everyone when the moon was full. Seems like tonight will be a night to test some theories.

“You smell so good-“ He sighed, as he would nuzzle his scared up nose into your neck. His body grinding into yours, as he kept you trapped. You swore his skin seemed paler than normal, from looking at his hands. You did your best to turn your head, and his normally straight hair was in thick waves. As if fur that was dense around him. The way his eyes stared into you. Well, eye.

After his attack from Greyback, he lost a large amount of his face. Leaving his teeth exposed, and missing an eye. One that Uncle Moody replaced with one of his old ones. So the two brown eyes never quite matched. You didn’t find him ugly for having one eye, missing an eye lip, exposed teeth, or even how the scars cut into his hair line. You weren’t there just for his looks. He’s your Bill. Seems tonight you’ll be his trophy.

“You taste so good-“ He added on, as he ran his tongue across your neck. The way his working eye’s pupil was blown out. As if on some kind of drug, and you were the supplier. His body was just burning up so badly, as he held you tightly. That’s when it registered he was naked. You’ve seen such many times before, but now felt so different. Despite being the werewolf, this was still a vulnerable position he was in.

“You in there, Billy?” You asked, but not in fear. He was clearly showing signs you were mated, and he couldn’t infect you from the fact he wasn’t properly turned. You were never in real danger, and you knew this was beyond his control anyhow. You knew this would be something you would deal with. Every time the full moon was close, he always got more primal anyway. You were prepared, and never afraid. Seemed like he could smell your lack of fear, and that had him excited.

“Hm-?” He hardly recognized you were talking at all, as he was just grinding his crotch on your ass. Like the dog in heat that he was. “That answered that-“ You muttered, as you looked around. It was in a private area, sure, but you much rather no risk someone thinking you were being assaulted.

“Come here boy-! Come on-!” You whistled, as you quickly ducked under his arms. Just narrowly slipping out, and leaving him confused on where you went. He was quick to turn around, and watched as you started to take your top off. A means to lure him back into the house. Seemed to work beautifully, as he was quick to hurry back inside. Nearly tackling you down.

“WOAH WOAH-!” Hardly had another thought, before he was tearing your clothes off like paper. Did his nails get longer? You swore you could feel thin lines over your body already. Had a sting, but you knew he wasn’t trying to actually hurt you. It was just caught in the cross fire.

“Oh you are fiesty-“ You admit, as he was just devouring you. His tongue tracing over your chest, and drinking you in. You wondered if he was only acting like this because you were a couple. That because his mate showed up he went feral. You won’t lie, that made you feel really special. That even the wolf in his head was madly in love with you. Had you blushing more then the way his tongue felt so rough on your skin.

“I need you, so badly-“ He was panting already, as he was spreading your legs wide. You covered your mouth, as you looked up to him. You swore he looked like a god. The way the moon was casting around him, like some kind of wisp outline. The way the stars sparkled through his burning hair. Looking like the gods he’s talked about, when he used to live in Egypt. You were falling in love all over again.

“All mine. You are all mine.” He repeated, as his nails dug into your ankles. As if to mark you from head to toe. You were soon feeling the burn in your thighs, as he forced your legs towards you. Maybe taking up yoga with Luna was a smart idea, because wow was this pulling muscles you didn’t even know you had.

“All yours. I’m all yours, big boy.” You nodded, as that made your boyfriend give an eerie sight. With only half his face working, it made all his features so much more strange. How his smile was curled so high, and teeth so sharp. The way his working pupil was staring through you, as drool was dripping out of his exposed teeth. He was starving for you, and it was almost easy to forget there was a human inside of that devilish grin.

“And never forget it, Habibi.” He warned, before you suddenly felt his cock slam inside of you. It burned, and stretched you wide. Your head was spinning, as he was already snapping his hips into yours. Not leaving any room to breathe, as he had to make sure he breed you. If there wasn’t a way to knock you up, he’s gonna try anyway. The wolf in him didn’t care if it was possible or not. He just had to claim.

“Oh William-!” You moaned, as your fingers pulled at the carpet under you. Feeling how your legs were soon resting on his shoulders, as his own hands were tearing at the fur on the ground. Leaving deep lashes, as if the human in him was trying to make sure you weren’t in its war path. Bill was still in there, and you knew he was fighting. Maybe he shouldn’t.

“B-Billy….It’s ok-“ You begin, as you reached a hand up to his face. “I like this….I l-like it a lot.” You smiled, as you swore you saw something flicker in his working eye. Something human again. “Let it happen. Let go. I’ll be ok.” You hushed, as you traced his scars with your thumb. To try and let him finally let go. He’s constantly been holding back. He’s never been allowed to not be ok. He’s the eldest brother. He’s had to much weight on his shoulders. He deserves to let loose.

“Habibi….” His voice trailed, before you forced him to kiss you. To truly let him know you’ll be ok. Time seems to freeze, before he let himself go. He returned the kiss, before his claws were firm on your thighs. Sinking into the flesh, and leaving red lines. You whined, but were quickly cut off by the sharp smack of your hips.

“Fuck fuck fuck-“ You couldn’t stop yourself from whimpering, as he was soon sinking his teeth into your neck. You weren’t dreaming it, his teeth did get sharper. He was truly treating you like a chew toy, and you didn’t mind. Your Billy was always so anxious about hurting you, but now he finally had an excuse to let go. You love his gentle side, but getting frisky is always adored.

“Oh William-“ You moaned his name, as he was fucking you into the floor. You swore he would break through, with how rough he was being. Might break your back, but you didn’t care. You were loving the mixture of pain and pleasure. How he would rub your nerves just right, whenever he bit into you to deep. As if his human half was fighting his wolf half.

“AH-! WILLIAM-!” Your head was thrown back, as you were quick to climax. Your body shaking, but he wasn’t stopping. He wasn’t going to stop until he was satisfied. How long would it take for him to feel release? You didn’t know. You just knew you were sobbing, as your body was trembling at the next climax already building up.

You didn’t know how many times you came, but it was all becoming a blur. Was just blood, sweat, and tears. And you were loving it. Just nothing but meat to satisfy. The bliss of turning your brain off, and just be nothing but owned by your lover. To be covered in markings, and showing anyone who saw you that you were off the market.

What finally brought you back to reality was the howl. He out right howled. You could feel your insides being pumped so full of his seed. You swore you came again from it. His voice was just echoing, as he had claimed you. Inside, and out. Was such a wonderful warmth. You felt so satisfied with it. Was making you fall asleep so peacefully. All to the nursing licks of your boyfriend.

You swore you hadn’t slept that good in ages. It was a hard sleep. A good long one, that had you feeling refreshed. If not for all the pains and aches in your body. That was what woke you up, compared to the summer sun light. Creeping in through the bedroom curtains. Seemed like someone tried to keep them closed, but it slipped through.

You, slowly, sat up. As you did, you could feel bandages all over you. Along with a sweet smell of flowers on the bedside table. You looked over, and saw that poor Bill was pampering you. Feeling so guilty from last night. Flowers, chocolates, sweets, little things that you enjoyed. Along with a little note.

“Sorry: William”

You chuckled, as you set the note aside. With the covers off, you looked yourself over. Every wound was patched, and you were covered in bruises and hickies. Made you a little giddy, you couldn’t lie. So many people would kill to have a werewolf boyfriend. You felt so smug, and wanted to proudly show them off. But first, William needed to be cared for.

After every full moon, he would suffer extreme muscle fatigue. His bones were literally breaking and re breaking after all. Your muscles don’t feel so good after that. Along with other issues. Chronic pain, exhaustion, and just over all trouble walking. It normally passes after a day or two. Hence why the goblins give him that week break. So he can recover. You even went as far as to pick up books about werewolves, and spoke to Uncle Lupin. You may not feel his pain, but you damn well will try and help.

“Willy-?” You called, as you were safe in a bath robe. There you found him. Barely awake, on the couch. His hair a mangled mess, and his body visibly throbbing. The muscle spasms were kicking in. Kicking in bad. You tsked, as you accioed a comb. Soon you were on the couch with him. Forcing him to sit up, and you would nurse at his hair.

“I-“ But you cut him off. “I already know what you are going to say, Mr. This is a disability. One that I know 100% about when I was going to date you. I knew what I was signing up for. I also could have very well floo my way out, or even attacked you with chains. Since you aren’t a full werewolf. We’ve been over this.” You kissed his cheek, as you would brush through his hair. A means to let him have some mercy.

“I love you. Disability or not. You just need a little extra help, now and again. That’s ok.” You reassured, as you began to braid his hair. That way it didn’t get tangled for a while. “Besides, I had fun.” You tease, as you laid on the couch. Forcing his head on your chest, as his legs would kick from the muscle spasms.

“What did I do to deserve you?” He asked, as he looked up. That big, beautiful, brown eye. So full of love. “By being you~” You reassured him, as you would rub over his shoulder. He was soon cuddling into you, as you both shared a lazy morning.

Least now you both knew what to do together next full moon. Have a few potions, a med kit, with a bottle of wine. That’s a date night for you two. Unconventional? Yes. Just right for you two? Damn right. He’s a Weasley. You really expected things to be normal? Normals boring anyway.

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thebluester2020 · 11 days

Note

I wonder how sdv bachelor's would react to you getting mad at them for forgetting your (relationship) anniversary?

Getting Upset At SDV + RSV Bachelors For Forgetting Your Anniversary (For the Umpteenth Time And You Decided To Leave Them For It)

Warning(s): Angst (Especially on Shane's part lol, I'm a hater), No happy endings, Reader goes in on Shane and Alex in their individual parts,

Side note(s): Ik you were probably expecting something decently light anon but I just remembered that I haven't ratted on Shane in a minute so I thought some good ol' fashioned angst was in store.

Also, I picked who I wrote angst for because I teared up thinking of writing angst for my favorite emo or writer. Still, though, I hope you like what I've written anon (and sorry it took so frickin' long 😔)

Shane | "Another Bottle"

You were so excited for tonight, you could hardly stand in place as you waited for Shane to get home!

Tonight would be your third year with Shane. A year that (in your mind) would symbolize the trials and tribulations the both of you had gone, as well as shared with one another. And for the last week or so, Shane had been talking almost non-stop about the plans he had for the both of you at the end of the week! He hinted at eating some fancy dinner cooked up by Gus at the Stardrop Saloon, and although he didn't mention it verbally, Shane had been spending a lot of time with Elliot lately.

The two had almost nothing in common so, butterflies erupted in your stomach at the thought of the extra things your husband was preparing for you.

Shane had also mentioned taking a walk on the beach at the end, and once the night had concluded? A nice wine on the porch whilst listening to a playlist of you and his' favorite songs.

All of it was straight from a dream, a fairytale even that...admittedly, you thought would never happen. Especially since...he had forgotten your first anniversary, the second one too—but, you were nothing if not forgiving.

You had to be.

Your husband dealt with a lot. He had mental health issues as well as a drinking problem that he was still fighting to curb to this very moment! When you married him—nay, when you first started dating him. You knew that you would have to be patient and constantly show him that you were with him through thick and thin, come Hell or high water. You'd stand by Shane's side and walk with him through any troubles he may have faced or had roaming around in his head.

Therefore, that's why, as soon as the clock in your shared bedroom ticked to five o'clock. You practically burst out of your bedroom and out to the front porch to wait for Shane like an eager dog waiting for its owner to return home after a long day! In any minute, he'd walk through the small gates that led onto the farm's property...maybe with a bouquet of flowers? A tired expression at first perhaps? One that would immediately melt away at the sight of you like it always did...you couldn't wait to see for yourself.

Six O'Clock

You had decided to sit down on the steps of the porch, constantly standing in a pair of heels was bound to hurt your feet sometime or another as you continued to wait for Shane to go through those gates. He must've been held up at work, maybe spending a little extra time getting your date ready! Something.

Anything other than the thought your mind was threatening to settle on.

No, anything but that.

He was late but you were going to have patience, after all, all the best things in life were worth waiting for, right? You were willing to bet that he was going to appear at any moment now.

Eight O'Clock

You had lost the bet with yourself, that much was obvious as you quietly took off the outfit you had put together for tonight and debated whether you should simply take a shower and go to bed or if you should comfort yourself over a nice glass of wine. On one hand, you wanted the former, anything that would help you forget this night but...this time? You just couldn't bring yourself to do it.

This would be the third time that Shane had forgotten your anniversary. Last year, you had let him slide with his excuse that he was caught up at work, even though he worked at a grocery store and the place had a set time for when it closed! The second year, that time around, Shane had claimed that Jas suddenly wanted to spend time with him! You wouldn't have minded Jas tagging along for your anniversary date, she would have made it more lively, so that year as well, you let it slide.

This time though...as tears started to well up in your eyes and your chest tightened. You didn't know if you had it in you to let another anniversary slide.

And that's when you heard the front door open and close.

Even from the bedroom, the scent of alcohol was strong and all too familiar. The lazy movement of Shane's footsteps...the way he groaned and grumbled drunkenly in search of you.

He had forgotten your anniversary...all so he could get drunk?

You saw red. "Where were you?" You immediately questioned your husband when you rounded a corner and into the living room.

There he was, lying down on the couch with the stench of alcohol radiating off of him. You clenched your fists so hard at the sight, that you almost worried they'd bleed. "Out." Shane finally answered.

You could feel a vein threaten to poke out as he slurred his words.

"Out?" You said in exasperation.

"Yes, out."

"I thought you were trying to quit drinking," You stormed up closer to him. Shane barely even flinched, you were hoping he'd give you something, anything that said he had remembered your anniversary but was just too drunk and stupid to remember it. "Why—"

"I needed a break from work!" He grumbled. "Get off my back."

"But—" You took a breath. "Shane." You continued. "Our anniversary...you—you promised." When that word made its way out of your mouth, Shane could barely give you the decency to look embarrassed. To look ashamed that he would miss his only spouse's birthday. The one person who had stuck with him through everything, listened to him when he was at his lowest, had made sure he was at Dr. Harvey's in a heartbeat the second you noticed he was too drunk to even stand. You had even gone out of your way so many fucking times to make sure that you had did some things for him, anything that made his recovery easier and swifter.

And what could he do to thank you?

Easy, begin to fall asleep on the couch whilst he still smelled of alcohol. Even as tears started to burn your eyes, he still couldn't wake up for you.

So, you decided that was that.

You wouldn't go through this again for a fourth, fifth, or even sixth time in a row!

You were done.

"...I guess you were right before Shane," You said to his passed-out form.

"You are nothing but a drunk. And that's all you'll ever be." You continued with venom dripping from each word before you stormed off to your bedroom. Immediately, you tore open the closet before you practically ripped and tore his clothes from the hangers, snatching pants and everything else he owned from the drawers and other places he kept his things before you carried them all to the living room before dropping it at his feet.

Still, he barely moved an inch aside from snoring obnoxiously.

You wanted him gone first thing in the morning and you wouldn't hear another half-assed apology or even an excuse that he was "still healing" or "just had a momentary relapse". It was a fine fucking time to have a relapse on the day you were looking forward to for an entire week! And you absolutely hated him for it.

But...soon you'd have your peace back, free of any disappointments too.

Once he was up and gone tomorrow.

Alex | "High Ambitions"

Alex's gridball career had been going extremely well as of late.

You always knew that his efforts, the constant hard work he'd put into the sport, would pay off one day. You always told him that! You just wished that...it wasn't at the expense of you sometimes, compared to how he was when the two of you first started dating, Alex was gone almost all the time. From sun up to sun down, he'd either be training or taking a bus down to Zuzu city at the crack of dawn in order to train further with his coach!

You didn't have enough fingers to count how many times you woke up by yourself. The spot where Alex should have been cold and empty, but Alex had promised you that he wasn't letting his ambitions and his budding career get in the way of you two! He'd always come back and hug you, stating that you were the reason why he was playing in the first place and trying to make it big.

All so that he could fund and take care of the both of you, deliver you a lavish lifestyle that would allow you to have more time to do the things that you and he liked to do rather than most of your day being spent with farm work and running around! And while that was all fine...your current lifestyle, was something you enjoyed.

And you enjoyed it even more when you did it with Alex.

Yet you had bit your tongue and nodded your head, you were happy for him and wanted him to succeed! So long as he didn't forget about you, you were happy and content. Besides, you'd have all the time in the world to make up for lost time with him tonight! It was your anniversary and the second he got back from practice, you wouldn't hold back from being a little greedy with him.

At least...that was the plan.

Until two hours went by.

He was supposed to be home at 8 o'clock.

Now? It was just barely reaching 11:00pm. And as the minutes continued to tick by, your anger at your husband only grew. He promised you that he would be home on time, that he wouldn't let practice take over you being his number-one priority. Clearly, that was one huge lie. However, as you heard the rapid jingling of keys at the door all of a sudden...you couldn't even find it within yourself to make up an excuse for him like you had many times prior.

No, it was clear where his priorities were as of lately.

And you weren't a part of them in the slightest.

"Y/N!" Alex called out as soon as he entered the house, his eyes quickly finding you sitting on the couch. Back straight and eyes forward, you hadn't even reacted to the sound of your name aside from a brief glance over your shoulder.

Oh, he knew he was in trouble.

"Sorry," Alex said bashfully, flashing you a boyish smile that would always do just the trick of melting your heart a little in the past. "I got caught up with practice, I scored three touchdowns today!"

"Do you know what day it is today?"

His eyes widened a little, his mouth opening to ask you to clarify as he desperately racked his brain. Only then, did horror wash over his features the second he remembered. "Y/N...I'm so sorry-"

You suddenly stood up. "Don't bother," You said sharply with a sigh. "It's the third time you've missed our anniversary!" You laughed emptily.

"All for fucking gridball practice. The same thing you told me wouldn't get in between us."

He rolled his eyes. "You know this is the one thing I've been working towards my entire life." Your husband huffed. "Why can't you be happy for me? I'm doing this for the both of us!"

"The both of us?" You scoffed. "You're doing this for you. I told you the second you started practicing to not let sports come between us, to at least take the time to remember me!" You shouted as you quickly got in his space, your chest heaving as your hands found their way to your hips.

"And what do you do? The exact opposite."

"Well, what about you?"

Oh, he was not placing the blame on you.

"You're always working on the farm, that or rushing off to the mines for the third time in a night!"

"How the- that's not the same! And besides, you're barely here to begin with! I'd rather be in the mines with the ghosts to keep me company than lay in an empty bed for the fourth night in a row!"

Your husband only blew you off with a scoff at your words, turning on his heels to walk away from the conversation. And that single act, it only made the pain worse. So much worse that...you couldn't even believe that you had married him in the first place. In the beginning, you were absolutely smitten with Alex, admiring his determination for gridball as well as his drive to be the best at it! Even now...you still want to support him at it, see him become the very best but...not at the detriment of you.

Not at the detriment of your marriage.

If he couldn't be bothered to remember the simplest things about you such as an anniversary.

Then it was best if you left the picture completely.

You took a deep shaky breath. "...Pack your bags tomorrow Alex." You said, your breath barely above a whisper but still loud enough to where Alex stopped in his tracks completely.

"What?"

"Pack them," You repeated. "You want to focus on gridball? Fine, but it won't be with me playing second fiddle to it." Then, you turned around to walk to the bedroom and shut the door behind you.

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theoriginal-dc-hoe · 1 year

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Surprise Return (Jason Todd x Female!Reader)

Okay this is a bit angsty with love making smut, brief mentions of death, and fluff.

My first fanfic since my return to the fandom! I hope you enjoy!

Story description: You meet Jason, your best friend and the man you love, for the first time after he comes back from the Joker incident...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The lights of Gotham lit up the pitch black sky. It began to rain heavily, making those in the streets run for something to protect them from getting wet. Others paid no mind to the rain, accepting their drenched fate.

(Y/N) quickly ran into her building with a newspaper above her head. She had grabbed it on her rush back home. The door slammed closed behind her as she made it to the elevator. While going up to her floor, she sighed, knowing she had to wake up early again for her morning shift. The diner being understaffed was not doing well for her physical health. (Y/N) couldn’t help but think about what she would give for a nice, long vacation. She mentally asked herself if she still really needed that crap job.

Once walking into her one bedroom apartment, (Y/N) cursed while trying to turn the lights on. “Really? The lights are out?” she whispered and groaned while placing her wet umbrella to the side.

She kicked her heels off while walking into the kitchen. Opening the fridge door, she bent down to see what she had for dinner tonight, using her flashlight to help see in the dark. (Y/N) grabbed some food she brought from the restaurant the night before.

While turning around, something quickly, but ever so silently, dashed away from her flashlight. (Y/N) jumped, the food landing safely on the kitchen island. She pointed the light towards the direction the thing jumped to, but nothing appeared.

(Y/N) swallowed and closed the fridge door. For a moment, she figured she was just seeing things. Placing the food down, she opened a drawer and reached for a fork.

Creak…

(Y/N) snatched a knife out and spun around, throwing it across from her. It stabbed the wooden wall…right next to a tall man with a red helmet.

“Damn, you still got good aim,” he told her with hands raised up in surrender.

“You…” (Y/N) took a step back, recognizing him from the newspaper she used for the rain. “You’re that guy everyone’s been talking about.”

“Really?” He tilted his head to the side. “And I’m still just a new guy in town.”

Her brows knitted together with confusion. “What do you want? If you’re looking for that guy who pushed his wife off the balcony, he moved out a few weeks ago. This is my place now.”

“Oh, no, babe.” He sat on her couch and patted it. His legs spread out like he was comfortable. “Hm, nice and homey… Anyway, I’m here for you.”

(Y/N) blinked. “I don’t even know you.”

“Oh, but you do.” He motioned his head with a nod over to the couch across from him. “Sit, please.”

The way he sat, the way he talked, it somehow…didn’t bother her, but she was too stubborn to not let him know that. Why was he acting like he lived with her, too? She kept her eyes on him, studying him as she slowly walked over and sat down.

“Okay, explain. What do you want with me?” (Y/N) asked.

“...” He placed his hands behind his head. “When you were a teen you trained with the Batman, huh?”

“How the fuck do you know that?!” She stood up with fear in her eyes, not even because of the strange man in her apartment, but because of all the memories of Bruce telling little ol’ (Y/N) to always keep her identity a secret.

Oh, Bruce is going to be so mad at me…

The man nodded. “You trained with him and…one night you never went back. Why is that?”

“I’m not telling you anything, you–”

“(Y/N), please…” he said sincerely.

The man grabbed onto his helmet. (Y/N) stood frozen as he started taking it off. Soft black hair poked out first and the front was white as he lowered the helmet to reveal…

Tears took over (Y/N) eyes. Her legs gave out and Jason quickly caught her as she started falling down.

“J-Jason…” she whimpered, voice cracking as she slowly reached for his face with a shaking hand. “You’re…”

“Alive, yes,” he whispered, smiling warmly as he cupped her cheeks. “Alive.”

(Y/N) threw her arms around him, hugging him so so tight as her chest went on overdrive with euphoria. “You’re back! You’re alive!” she sobbed.

Jason hugged her back in his strong arms, nuzzling her neck. “Why did you stop working with Bruce, (Y/N)?” he asked again.

“Because I couldn’t– I didn’t want–” She sucked in a breath. “I didn’t see a point when I lost you that night! How are– Oh, Jason!”

Jason let her cry in his arms for as long as she needed. He took in her scent, the same one he’s been missing for so long. He noticed his body now practically swallowed her in his hold.

After a few minutes, (Y/N) pulled back and studied him yet again, looking at how he changed, his form, his hair, his lips and his eyes. She caressed his cheek. “You look so…different,” she whispered.

His lips picked up into a cute smile, the one she fell in love with all those years ago. “I’ll explain everything, you should get comfortable first… Also, sorry for the lights, I wanted to surprise you.”

She whacked his arm playfully and giggled. “You idiot, I almost…” She couldn’t finish her sentence about her knife, remembering what the Joker did…

Jason noticed. “I know, babe,” he said softly. “Shower, put some pajamas on, and I’ll get the lights on again.”

(Y/N) bit her lip and gave him a quick peck before she ran to her room, excitement in her steps. (Y/N) felt like speed as she showered. She put on some pajama shorts and a nice oversized top before she stepped back out to join Jason in the living room. The lights were now on.

He had placed his helmet and weapons on her coffee table. He ran his fingers through his white and black hair as (Y/N) sat next to him.

“Where do I even begin?” he sighed.

(Y/N) held his hand. “I think… I think that night, if you don’t mind, of course.”

He nodded and started his story from the night the Joker took him as his victim. He told her about the lazarus pit and his plans for coming back. He also spoke about his plans for Bruce.

“Are you…alright with me fighting that asshole?” Jason asked.

(Y/N) bit her lip. “I– I don’t know, this is a lot to take in, Jay.”

“Right.” He nodded. “I understand, I don’t blame you.”

She stroked his hand and gave it a kiss. “...Bruce took us in when we needed someone the most and I’m always grateful for that but…”

Jason tilted his head, more serious now. “But what?”

(Y/N) looked into his blue eyes again. She saw the ghost of his past still lingering in them, still taking over with pain.

“I don’t want you two to fight, Jason… But I know this is something that needs to be settled between the two of you,” she replied with a sigh.

“Yeah… Thank you, I had a feeling you’d say that.”

“Just promise me you won’t get hurt in the process, too?” (Y/N) gave him a hopeful, worried look.

Jason stared at her back for a moment in silence. He leaned in slowly and gave her a long, deep kiss. (Y/N) felt her cheeks warm up. She wrapped her arms around his neck, tilting her head to the side as their tongues mingled together.

He pulled one of her legs over his lap. (Y/N) moaned with a deep want and she ground against him. All the passion from previous years, the longing, the yearning, the desperate need for each other's touch grew with a fiery flame that couldn’t be put out.

Jason stood up with (Y/N) in his arms, carrying her into her bedroom. She gasped with pleasure as he kissed her neck. “Please, I–”

“I know,” he whispered, laying her down in her bed. “I need you, too, I’ve needed you for so long.”

He undid his belt with one hand and slid it off. Jason removed her clothes and took off his shirt, noticing her bite her bottom lip. “Have you ever…seen anyone after me?”

“No, never,” she replied softly, shaking her head. She caressed his sculpted arms and chest, feeling the scars. Some were deeper than others.

A surge of relief and pride filled his body. Jason leaned down and licked her nipples, enjoying the music of her mewls. He slid a rough hand between her legs, rubbing her clit between two fingers. (Y/N) immediately grew wet from his electrifying touch. It sent her body craving for more.

“It’s been so long,” he whispered, kissing her lips and down her body. He kissed her breasts and tummy before reaching just above her needy clit. Jason breathed in before stroking her hips, licking her center with his eyes on her.

“J-Jason!” (Y/N) gasped with delight. “Please, faster?”

“You sure?” He kissed her inner thighs.

She nodded quickly. “Fuck me, Jason.” She stroked his strong jaw.

A sexy aura filled his eyes. He sucked on her clit hard first, making her create an arch with her back. Jason’s moans vibrated her bud.

“Fuck!” (Y/N) cried. “Jason, yes!”

He shook his head, sucking her clit deeply. He checked how wet she was and once he knew she was ready, he sat up and released his thick, long member. Jason pushed her legs up as he slowly slid in. He moaned sexily once he was in completely.

“Fuck, so wet,” he groaned.

“Babe, please,” (Y/N) whimpered.

Jason began to thrust, holding her legs up and apart. He started slow until (Y/N) begged for him to roughen his pace.

A surge of pleasure ran through his body. A deep grunt escaped his chest. Her bed began to shake with his movements, making the floors creak and the back of the bed frame hit the wall.

(Y/N) squealed as she tightened around him. She squirted, making Jason's abs glisten.

She held onto his arms for deer life. “I’m gonna–!”

Jason leaned down, slamming into her with all his speed and strength. He kissed her deeply with tongue again. They both moaned in the kiss, both releasing as their orgasms took control. Their pleasure mixed together in blissful love.

Jason slowly came to a stop. He rolled their bodies to the side, wrapping one of her legs around his hips. He kissed (Y/N) some more, covering her cheeks and neck.

(Y/N) moaned softly. “I really needed that. I really needed you.”

He gave her another happy kiss. “Same here.”

She nuzzled his chest, happiness filling her heart with comfort. Her best friend, her love, the man she shared most of her life with was finally, finally back.

Jason massaged her thighs. “...You still up for more?” he asked with a sexy smirk.

(Y/N) looked up at him. “Oh?” She gave him the same mischievous smile. “Can you keep up?”

"Me keep up?" He grinned with excitement, gripping her ass after giving it a spank. "You’re gonna be up all night, baby.”

(Y/N) giggled as he rolled back on top of her for more bedroom fun. She completely forgot about her morning shift. Well, that finally gave (Y/N) her answer, she didn’t really need that job anyway.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd #red hood smut #red hood fanfic #red hood x reader #red hood fanfiction #dc fanfic #dc universe #dc heroes

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stonedstargazer666 · 5 months

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Stoned Head cannon

So this is gonna be based kinda off of a couple of pictures I saved from twitter and here on good ole Tumblr, earlier this month. well my collection keeps getting larger...Anywho.. Yes, I am baked outta my gourd, this is just gonna be raw writing and I have sat long and hard about this. I'm sorry if I don't tag anything correctly. i'm zooted. Fem terms used. NSFW under photos. (DNI: If the thought of getting your BC messed with if your taking it orally messes with you. )

Ok so you're dating Vessel, right? You get along with the others really well. you bring out a side of them that Vessel rarely sees. Which is fine dandy and wonderful. If it weren't for the fact that the boys are seemingly testing the boundaries with you. Light touches that could easily be brushed off as accidental, brushing the hair out of your face with lingering touches.

Well Vessel sees you just brushing it off, you're confident enough to tell them to back off sure. Brushing their hand away, giving them a glare, or flipping them off with a laugh. You're absolutely loyal to Vessel, perfectly devoted the both of you would say. But gosh, if Vessel didn't want to absolutely claim you. Sure, you two have your fun regularly, but you were on the pill. He didn't know how to bring that up to you, on one hand he loved that you were stern about your health and just wasn't ready for kids.

BUT on the other hand, when you take your placebo week, you get emotional over videos of babies laughing and giggling till they can't breath. Vessel see's how you coo at your phone while laying in bed, earbud in or over ear headphones depending on the vibe you had. listening to the sweet shrieks of laughter, he listens to you talk to yourself how your friend's baby is so cute, when they post pictures. It was a monthly habit that drove him up the wall. Until he read about activated charcoal, and the dangers of it messing with oral birth control... Oh.. well this could be useful information. He better read up on that... ya know just in case....

(NSFW content ahead, continue if you dare)

Now that he has learned about the activated charcoal, he thought that would be perfect. He had been meaning to try out a different way of painting his body. You liked it when he wore the paint in the bedroom, who was he to deny his sweet little dove? On stage it was the normal body paint, but lately in the bedroom...the texture of the paint felt different on your tongue....or...or did it always feel that grainy? You vocalize your concern in a needy whimpering voice, feeling your own hot breath bounce off of his neck. Tongue halfway pressed against the pulse point of his throat.

Vessel rumbles a deep throaty laugh, assuring you that yes it has. for the last month It had. Vessel would hide and put the water activated charcoal on his throat, fingers, hands, chest. ALL of your favorite places to lick, suck on, worship. Mentally Vessel reveled in the fact that he was messing with your birth control. You would be a wonderful mum, and the boys...oh the boys would know who you belonged to. two birds one stone really. But you didn't know this, you didn't need to know that little fact. HE prayed and thanked God that nothing had changed over the past month, nothing that would arise suspicion of what he was doing... The sound of you greedily choking and trying to swallow around his fingers brings him out of his thoughts. He takes a moment to take in the pretty sight. you on the bed, ass up, face down cause you're a good girl yeah? Yeah ,you are, tilting your head to the side. your tongue lavishing his long fingers.

He coos at how pretty you are. A pure work of art, taking his fingers into your mouth so willingly, while also taking him so perfectly into your drooling sex. Vessels eyes zero in on your convulsing throat, moaning audibly feeling you successfully swallow around his fingers without choking or gagging. Oh such a good girl you are, He praises. As you swallow the charcoal, bringing you one step closer to being claimed and owned by him inside and out. With that thought in mind. Vessel pulls his fingers out of your throat. Reaching around to wipe them right over your womb, the striking black pops against your pink warm skin. Almost like a promise, Vessel flips you over onto your back. slowly...so deliciously slowly does he show you what his new healed piercing is capable of. Oh now you really feel it, and you clench hard. Vessel watches the moment you succumb to his slow deep ministrations. He takes a quick moment to make a mental note to thank IVy for the suggestion. Who knew that a Jacobs ladder would be just utter heaven. Vessels thrusts start getting sloppy, and rougher. his hands gripping the fat of hips with a bruising force. His hips stutter as you beg so prettily through tears and desperate moans for him to come inside.

Oh how you sang little dove, your voice cracking as you scream his name. BEgging him to come, your voice is delirious. It's pure unadulterated music to his ears, He slams into you one more time, rutting into your poor bullied cunny, grinding against your swollen nub just right. Your climax hits, your back arching off the bed as you hopelessly grind and roll your hips. Vessel soaks in the sight of the pure pleasure on your face, as he grinds deeper. Seeing a faint bump in your pretty tummy, just underneath the black streaks he left there earlier...

He cums hard, and so much. Poor man, must have been so pent up... but Gods does feel so fucking good to feel his release overflowing, and dripping. But you still whimpered softly about feeling so full Vessel stared at the marking he left, it looked ever so slightly rounder. He wonders if he could maybe talk you into getting it tattooed. Just for him. He slowly pulls out, whispering praises, telling you what a perfect girl you are, gently rubbing your sides. Waiting for you to come down from wherever you floated off too during your climax. Once your breathing evened out to his liking, he got up. Disappearing, just to come back with a soft warm wet wash cloth. Gently cleaning you up, taking a quick picture of the marks. For later reference of course. Then wiping them away, reverently. After cleaning you both, he throws on black sweat pants. Then lovingly wraps you in your favorite soft blanket. The soft sigh you let out lets him know your relaxing, and are comfortable. He picks you up, cradling you close to his warm chest. Walking out to the common area to sit with you in his lap. Showing the other three, that he was the only one that held your heart.

And wouldn't you know it? three weeks later, you tell Vessel that you've been feeling quite strange... Like a weird stomach bug, cause you've been so nauseous lately.... But don't worry, Vessel assures you, you'll start feeling better soon. Just let him take care of you...

#THis took me 5 hours I think???#I took one too many edible gummies so... yeah #not sure what to tag. so some help would be nice yall #sleep token #sleep token worship #sleep token band #sleep token vessel #vessel #vessel sleep token #sleep token iv #sleep token smut #sleep token fanfiction #sleep token headcanons #I am so stoned yall #Stoned Rae likes #we'll see what Sober Rae says..#oneshot #I'm sorry if my writing is all over the place..

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owlight · 1 year

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hey bubba ☺️ i’ll help with the requests sooo could we get a self care/pampering law fic???? some good ole cheesy fluff under any kind of format you want honestly <333 take ur time!!!

Thank you babygirl I luv u ,this request inspired dearly to write for my other blobrs 🤗💖

Tags: self care,skin care day with partner, fluff

Law getting much needed self-care by getting some skincare by his lover, short fic

As the sun set on the polar tang, Trafalgar Law found himself begrudgingly dragged into spending quality time with his lover, He had planned on spending the evening alone, tinkering with his medical equipment, but his plans had been foiled by the persuasive powers of his partner who didn't take no for answer "Come on, Law, it'll be fun" you cooed, a mischievous grin on your face. "We'll do a skincare routine together and maybe your little grumpy face will shin with positive energy" Law scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I don't need a skincare routine,My skin is fine" he try to argue, yet he isn't stopping you from dragging alongside you

"Everyone needs a skincare routine," you chirp "It's good for your skin and your mental health and ah no offense my love you really need some skincare "

Law sighed, rubbing his temple,knowing that he wouldn't win this battle. "Fine, but don't expect me to enjoy it ,I really don't see the point of it" The two of you made your way to the bedroom, where you already set up a makeshift spa area,Law begrudgingly sat down in the bed, watching as you out various bottles and jars of skincare products "Okay, first things first," you say as you grab a bottle of cleanser "We need to get rid of all the dirt and grime on your face" before law can protest that his face is clean,you start doing your magic,Law grumbled as you gently massaged the cleanser into his skin, feeling his tense muscles slowly relax. As you worked, you chatted about various skincare techniques and products, clearly passionate about the subject and passionate about making him feel nice

Despite law initial reluctance, Law found himself starting to enjoy the experience, The cool touch of the moisturizer on his skin was soothing, and the gentle massage of his temples and forehead had him feeling more relaxed than he had in weeks ,you notice as law start to relax under your touch "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" You beamed as you watch Law grumble but a small smile played at the corner of his lips. "I suppose not so bad...only because your touch is nice" he mummers softly with a gentle smile tugging on his lip

As the night wore on, the two of you continued the skincare routine, talking and laughing together, Law may have pretended to be grumpy at each joke you male, but deep down, he was grateful for the time spent with you, even if it involved face masks and exfoliating scrubs, he will probably make this a weekly occuring only to be able to have you caress for so long without having to word it out...he really is so thankful to have you with him as his partner

#one piece #trafalgar law #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #trafalgar d law #one piece trafalgar law #trafalgar one piece #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgardwaterlaw

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fereldanwench · 1 month

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I know I was just basically on hiatus due to RL stuff, but my full return might have been a little premature. The ol' mental health is still a bit shaky after putting Ares to sleep, and I don't think the current climate of my main fandom here is very good for me right now.

I think I have two posts scheduled this week, but I'm not gonna bother with a queue otherwise. I do get email notifications for asks, so if anyone needs any immediate assistance in the CP77 virtual photography community, you can still reach me that way.

Catch y'all next week! ✌️

#t: wench.txt

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adventuresasmrsfindley · 6 months

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The work situation did not end up being as bad as I thought it was, but I was cramming to get the thing done yesterday so I was on until nearly 6 PM when it's my day of the week to leave at 3. Womp wompppp. I have so many meetings the rest of the week. Looking at my Outlook calendar makes me very 😩

At least it's going to be sunny and much warmer today. Always good for the ole mental health!

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keigo-takamis-no-1-simp · 11 months

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ＨａｗｋｓＸＲｅａｄｅｒ : ＤａｒｋｔｈｏｕｇｈｔｓａｎｄａＨｏｌｌｏｗＨｅａｒｔ（Ｏｎｅｓｈｏｔ）

CW/TW: mentions of death, cuts, depictions of violence, blood, self harm, self-destructive thoughts

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: Hawks x gn! Reader

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: Your depression is getting worse and worse as time goes on. You've never talked to your boyfriend about it, as you were always able to get through it on your own.

What happens when he comes home and finds you succumbing to those dark thoughts, leaving you left with a hollow heart?

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: Good Ol' Angst and Hurt/Comfort

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2401

𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

Dating the #2 hero is hard.

Not only does it need to be hidden from the media (for both of your sakes), but it means him risking his life everyday. It means him disappearing off the face of the earth occasionally without warning.

I can’t say much. I’m a pro hero too, after all. But with that comes the anxiety and trauma of not being able to save everyone.

This is something Keigo knows well. Something I know well.

We’ve talked about it before. While he’s able to manage these things well, I’m not quite so lucky. Being diagnosed with a myriad of mental health disorders is annoying.

They’re all very much accurate but come on.

Within the last few weeks, it’s been getting worse. The inability to take the medications that very much help me to function, patrols taking much more out of me than usual– if Keigo could see it, he didn’t say anything.

Part of me is grateful for it. Another part of me wishes he’d call me out on it. After a particularly stressful patrol, I throw my apartment door open.

Tossing my shoes in the general direction of the cabinets, I make my way to my bedroom. I’d failed to save several people. Killing those who needed to be erased from existence was one thing.

Seeing those same glassy, empty eyes from my own failures? Much, much different.

My eyes burn as I stalk to the bathroom. Taking off my hero costume and chucking it into the corner, I meet my gaze in the mirror. Blood splotches on my face, in my hair, and on my hands.

I slam my fist into the mirror, shattering it with a cry. As pieces of reflective glass fall onto the counter, I slam my hand into the remaining pieces on the wall.

I deserved the pain. I was a failure.

And I couldn’t tell anyone.

Panting, I step back. I sink onto the floor, covering my face with my good hand. Shaky breaths escape my lips as I curl up. Dark thoughts had started piling up in my mind a few days ago. Keigo, being the busy man he was, was rarely home. We technically shared the apartment, but lately he’d practically been living at his agency.

Avoiding me, I’m sure.

I mean, how could I blame him? Dark circles traced my eyes, my arms littered with new and healing cuts. I’d promised to go to him when I felt this way, but how could I? He had so much on his plate already.

Rumi had been more talkative recently. We were friends, but it was a lot more often than usual that I received a text. A meme. Hell, she’d even called me a few times.

Hot, fat tears rolled down my cheeks and splattered onto my thighs. “You deserve so much better. Why are you with me?” I murmur, rubbing my face with the heels of my palms.

“Why deal with someone who can’t save anyone? Why try to save someone who’s nothing but a failure?” My voice cracks. Shaky, uneven breaths fall off my lips.

I couldn’t go to him. I couldn’t talk to him, I couldn’t text him, I couldn’t bring myself to even stop by his agency. If I did, I dropped off a small lunch to his receptionist.

She was much more attractive than me. No wonder she worked under him. Standing, I purse my lips. I pick out the shards of glass, letting them fall with a ‘clink’ into the trashcan. Rinsing off my hand, I close my eyes and tilt my head back.

It hurt, don’t get me wrong. But the wave of pure calm that swept through my mind was comforting. I grab a towel and dry it off, flipping it to where the bloody side was against the wall, and cover the mirror.

Sweeping the glass into the trash, I grab another towel and shower. The warm water running down my frame held me in it’s embrace. My eyes flutter closed as my arms wrap around me.

How long has it been? A week? Several? It felt like an eternity. If I remember right, it’s been a month (or close to it). I clean up, dry off, then wrap my hand and arms.

I couldn’t go to him, even if I wanted to. I’d been tempted more than once to text Rumi, or one of the other heroes I’d become friends with. But no matter how many times I wrote out that same text, I deleted it.

If I did send it, I deleted it and replaced it with some stupid meme.

Changing into one of his hoodies, I stop and throw it off. I pull one of my own over my head. I didn’t deserve to wear one of his. They didn’t smell like him anymore anyways.

Settling into bed, my eyes stare at the dark ceiling. Tears prick at my eyes, and I roll over. I needed to sleep before he came home… if he even did at all. Squeezing my eyes shut, my mind wanders to a stupid fanfiction I’d read several weeks ago. I grip the fluffy blanket I covered myself with.

I’d never have that kind of comfort. I didn’t deserve it. And he would never know just how much that hurt, because I would never tell. I couldn’t. No matter what I did, whether I said something or not, he’d be stressed.

So why add to it? I curl into myself more. “I’m so sorry,” My voice was pathetic. I wasn’t worth his time. I wasn’t worth his energy. He was too stressed. I wasn’t worth the effort. As my mind drifts off, a few more tears land on the pillows underneath me.

Keigo

Landing on the balcony, I found it unlocked as usual. What was unusual was just how dark the inside of the apartment was. My brows furrow as I pull off my jacket. Sliding off my shoes, I take note of their own, thrown into a corner.

My hours had been much longer than usual recently, and I knew that was hard on them. As awful as I felt, I couldn’t do much about it. With the commission up my ass, I had to work more and more to get an obscene amount of work done. Hell, I was lucky to come home at all.

All I wanted was to curl up and cuddle with my significant other, forgetting about how awful the real world is. Even if it’s only for a little while.

Speaking of which…

“Baby bird?” I call, setting my shoes down and making my way towards the bedroom. The shower wasn’t going, neither was any music from the office. The kitchen was empty, so that left one place.

Slowly pushing open the door, my gaze panned across the room. The bathroom door was still open, their body curled up under the red fluffy blanket I got them a month ago for when I’m too far away.

I smile, the sight making my heart swell in my chest. That was until the moonlight hit their face, showing the drying tear tracks.

I quietly make my way over and sit beside them, my head cocked to the side as I took in their features. Asleep, peaceful. Even though they’d been crying, they were still attractive as ever.

I brush a piece of hair away from their eyes. My feather, which I’d given to them as a necklace, sat elsewhere. I couldn’t feel their heartbeat.

As I carefully wipe away a tear, they begin to stir. I jolt up, shifting to the end of the bed to undress as if I hadn’t seen anything. My heart slamming against my ribcage, I toss my hero uniform shit onto the crappy chair in the corner.

Meticulously, I slide on a t-shirt and thread my wings through. A soft yawn grabs my attention as I finish pulling up and tying my sweatpants. “Hey birdie,” I coo, crawling into bed beside them. Their breathing was shaky, even though they tried to hide it.

I could hear it clear as day.

“What happened?” Bringing their head to rest against, they lean into my touch. They let out a hum while I drag my fingers through their hair.

“Just a lot of stress, it’s all good,” Their voice shakes as they speaks. I frown, cocking my head to the side again.

“Angel, you can talk to me; you know that, right?” I prod them to turn and face me. Their lower lip quivers, and they nod. I cup their face with my hands.

“Just had a bad patrol,” They start, shrugging. Their voice betrays that there is much, much more under the surface. “It’s ok though, I’m fine. Just stressed.” Repeating themselves, they bury their face into my neck.

I wrap my arms around their waist, my chin resting on their head. “Baby bird you gotta tell me what’s wrong, or I can’t help you.” I keep my voice gentle, but firm. Their breath hitches.

“I can’t,” They whimper, gripping onto me tighter. My brows furrow.

“What do you mean you can’t..?” I rub their back as they take in a shaky breath.

“You have a lot you’re dealing with already, I can’t add to that–” I pull them away and have them look at me again. Their eyes wide, a pang jolted through my subconscious. Maybe that was a little too rough–

“I want you to talk to me. No matter how busy I am, no matter what’s going on, I want to be here. I’m choosing to be here, every time.” I gently press my lips to their forehead. They're shaking.

“But…” They try, hiccupping as a sob cuts them off.

“C’mere,” I drag them into a hug. They hold onto the back of my shirt tightly, hands inches from the roots of my wings. This time, I didn’t care. Consciously, I slow my breathing. Calm.

“I’m sorry,” Their voice cracks. I shush them, placing another kiss on their head.

“Don’t apologize; we can talk when you’re ready.” they nod into my chest, exhaling shakily. A good few minutes pass with the sounds of their breathing filling the room. My hand continues to trace patterns on their back as they relax into my arms.

They lean back finally, sitting cross-legged in front of me. “I’m… it’s getting bad again,” They purse their lips. I hum in response to show I’m listening, continuing to trace patterns on their back.

“I don’t… I can’t wrap my head around why you’re with me. I’m a lot, I know I’m a lot. I have so much shit you have to deal with, and I feel like you feel like you have to walk on eggshells a lot.” They take in a breath.

“You deserve so, so much better. I’m a burden to you, taking up the time you should have to yourself. I take up space, I’m a waste of money and patience,” They sniffle. I hold them against me a little tighter.

“I feel like I can’t talk to you because of how much you deal with already. I’m already such a shitty significant other, I don’t want to make it worse and make you leave. I can’t-” They cut themself off, taking in another shaky breath.

“I can’t handle that.”

I hook my finger under their chin and bring their lips to mine. They jump a little, then melts into it. Their hands move to my chest, gripping my shirt. I place a hand on the back of their head, not holding in place but resting it.

After a few moments, we parted. I press small, chaste kisses across their face.

“I’m with you because I want to be. You have no idea just how special you are to me. And hell, I’m the one that doesn’t deserve you. You’ve helped me in so many ways that it’s hard to count, but I’ll start saying them if I have to.”

They look at me, confusion swimming in their e/c eyes. I kiss the corners of them. “You’re an amazing person, and an amazing hero. You can’t save everyone, but I know that you do everything you can to do so even if you know that. I know you, and I know how much you care.” They sniffle. I place yet another kiss on their forehead. “You know I have a lot of my own shit. I don’t come to you as often as I should, frankly. I just work myself harder.” It was hard to admit, but it felt right. They look at me steadily now, placing their hands over my stubble.

“I don’t have to walk on eggshells,” I take their hands in my own. “I want to protect you and make you feel safe. I’m not perfect but I try. That ties into how I talk and how I act with you. No eggshells, just love.” I smile. They smile back, though faintly.

“As for you being a ‘shitty significant other’- who the fuck told you that? Cause it sure as hell wasn’t me– it would be a big ass lie.” Even though I kept the tone lighthearted, the last bit was firm. Their eyes widened more.

“Seriously. You are sweet, caring, kind, beautiful, compassionate, intelligent- I could go on and on. And I will if you want me to.” They smile again, this time a little wider.

“You’re no waste of anything. I’m happy to spend what I do on you, to spend time with you, and I choose to be patient because I understand to a degree.” I kiss their hands.

“I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon, baby bird. You’re stuck with me,” I kiss their lips lightly. They lean into it, but I shift to their cheeks, then their nose, then their forehead.

“Until you tell me to fuck off. I’m a selfish bastard after all. You got that?” They giggle, hugging me tightly.

“Thank you,” They murmur with a sigh. Their arms are wrapped, as is one of their hands. I’d talk about it with them tomorrow. I hug back, my wings wrapping around the pair of us.

“Of course. I love you,” My words are whispered into their hair, but they hear them clear as day.

“I love you too.”

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amaretigris · 5 months

Text

Knock-down, Drag-out

Taglist: @luna2034 @mylittlemermaid221 @hopeisrising @daydreamerwithnohobbies @freyagallileaevans @justagirlthatlovedtoread @notagreekgal28

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Ch. 6 | 1.4k words | Angst

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You were buzzed the next week after your impromptu hookup with Jonah. He occupied your thoughts whenever you had any down time. The mental picture of his contorted face releasing breathy moans would flash through your mind. You would freeze, examining the people around you to ensure they couldn't see your perverse thought bubble, too. When you found that the coast was clear, you'd smile to yourself. You might not have been the first one or the only one Jonah's been with, but that mental image was yours to cherish.

Your week so far had been normal. You were more ready than ever to see Jonah again. On Friday morning, you began counting down the hours until you went to the arena. The morning was pretty lax, and it wasn't until the afternoon that your ambulance got the call. It was a standard call: a woman in her early fifties had collapsed at the local grocery store. You rode in anticipation to the scene, making sure to have all your supplies ready. All of the additional information that the dispatcher had was that the woman was short of breath.

Your partner pulled up to the store, and you got out of the vehicle quickly, set to evaluate the scene. You jogged up to the woman who you assumed was the patient. Her scraped up knees indicated she had taken a tumble. She was, however, now sitting on a bench. Another woman with glasses was at her side, speaking softly to her, and rubbing her back. You observed that the patient was a brunette with light hues of gray streaking through her hair haphazardly. Her hands were shaky as she brought a paper cup of water to her mouth for a sip.

"Hi, good afternoon. Are you the patient that fell?"

You removed your stethoscope from your collar, putting it in place, but holding one ear piece out to hear her answer. The woman looked up at you and smiled. She had a kind face.

"Oh, yes. It really wasn't a big deal. I asked them not to make such a fuss about little ole me," she shook her head.

You nodded and smiled.

"Okay. I'm just going to check your vitals. Can you start taking some deep breaths for me?"

The woman complied with your request as you put your chest piece to her skin. Her lungs sounded like pop rocks as she breathed. You removed your stethoscope.

"Are your knees the only thing you scraped going down?"

"Yes. I fell on my hands on knees. I didn't hit my head or anything. I told them it wasn't a big deal, but they insisted on calling you," she rolled her eyes.

You chuckled.

"Can I see your hands?"

The woman set down her water cup to show you her palms.

"Okay. Your hands look fine. I'm just going to use alcohol wipes on your knees. It might sting a bit," you explained as you pulled them out of your bag.

The lady waved her hand nonchalantly. Her face stayed passive as you rubbed the alcohol wipe on her scrapes.

"Do you have preexisting health issues? Any chest pain?"

The woman nodded.

"I was diagnosed with lupus in the last year. My chest has felt a little tight lately, but I figure I'm out of shape. Seems like I can't hardly catch my breath."

You finished up cleaning the small wounds on her knees.

"Okay. I can't force you, but I would recommend that you come with us to the hospital. Lupus affects about 50% of people's lungs, and it sounds like you could have an infection. That would explain your shortness of breath, and why you collapsed today," you explained calmly, looking up into the woman's soft blue eyes.

You could see the gears turning in her head. The woman grimaced, and you could tell that she was about to say no.

"What's your name and the date?"

The woman tsked at your question.

"My name is Eleanor. The date is April 24, 2024."

You nodded in agreement with her.

"Good. Do you have children, Eleanor?"

The woman nodded again, albeit reluctantly.

"Yes. I have one. I don't want to ride in the ambulance because I don't want my son to find out that I fell today. I'm not supposed to get out on my own like this. He's overprotective, that one," she grimaced.

"I lost my health insurance. I don't want to be billed for an ambulance ride. We're struggling as it is with my diagnosis and medications."

Eleanor looked down at her hands in her lap.

"My hospital can help with that. We have programs for people with no insurance and preexisting conditions," you lightly touched her hand.

"It sounds like your son loves you very much. You wouldn't want to worry him by hiding or ignoring this. If you have a lung infection, you need to get it checked out immediately," you urged.

Eleanor's eyes looked a little defeated as they pulled back up to yours.

"You're right. I don't want to worry him," she sighed.

"He's been through enough already. I'll ride to the hospital."

Raising yourself up, you helped Eleanor stand from the bench.

"Can you walk or would you like to be put on the gurney?"

She cut her eyes at you.

"I'm not crippled. I can walk," she replied defensively, though you detected a hint of playfulness in her tone.

"Of course you can," you agreed.

You gently held her arm as the two of you walked to your ambulance. Once inside, you helped her step up, and persuaded her to lay on the gurney for the ride.

"Take a break. You deserve one," you encouraged.

The ride to the hospital was a peaceful one. Eleanor folded her hands over her abdomen, and closed her eyes. She lightly hummed the whole way there. The melody was soothing to your ears.

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At the hospital, you had Eleanor admitted, and scheduled for a chest x-ray. You briefly left on another call, and when you returned, you were nearing the end of your shift. You decided to ask the front desk where Eleanor was, and you grabbed a clipboard from them. You walked to her exam room where the x-rays of her chest were on the film viewer. Eleanor was laying down staring at the ceiling when you entered. She raised her head up to look at you as you grabbed her chart at the end of her bed.

"What's your name? You never told me."

Eleanor narrowed her eyes at you. You glanced up from her chart.

"My name's (Y/N)," you smiled.

She plopped her head back onto the pillow.

"(Y/N). That's a pretty name. Is it a family name?"

Placing her chart back on the clip, you shook your head. You made your way to the chair beside her hospital bed.

"No. My dad liked it," you shrugged.

"Is Eleanor a family name?"

You sat down, folding your hands in your lap over the clipboard and pen provided by the front desk.

Eleanor nodded, but kept her gaze on the ceiling.

"Yes. My grandmother was named Eleanor."

"It's a beautiful name. I'm sure you've made her proud."

At the absence of a reply, you cleared your throat.

"Eleanor, I brought the application for the insurance program for you to fill out. The application will actually have to be submitted online, but you can use my phone to input your information."

The woman finally turned her head to look at you.

"Would it be rude of me to ask if you could do it?"

The question took you by surprise. You shifted in the chair.

"Uh, no. That's not rude. I'm at the end of my shift anyway," you shrugged.

You reached out to hand her the clipboard with the paper application.

"You can fill this out and I can submit it when you're done. It does have private information like your social security number though," you warned.

Eleanor took the clipboard from you, seemingly unfazed.

"I'm sure no one would want to steal the identity of an ill woman of my age," she remarked.

As she filled out the paper application, you pulled up the online form on your phone. You input all of her information when she handed it back to you.

"There. Application submitted," you lifted your phone to show her.

"You'll get a confirmation email."

Eleanor nodded and smiled, sitting up in bed now to look at you.

"Thank you, (Y/N). You've been very helpful today. How can I ever repay you?"

You shook your head.

"No, I-"

Suddenly the curtain separating Eleanor's room from the rest of the floor flung open.

"Mom! I got a call from the hospital. Why were you-"

Jonah connected eyes with you, and the two of you examined each other in stunned silence.

#the little mermaid 2023 #jonah hauer king #prince eric #jonah hauer king x reader #jonah hauer king x y/n #jonah hauer king imagine #jonah hauer king smut #jonah hauer king x you #jonah hauer king x fem reader #jonah hauer king fanfiction #my stuff

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villain-sympathizer · 2 years

Note

Your twice x reader was so cute to read, so I wonder if you could write something like that again!

him and reader where they are both doing silly, normal things laughing, when all of the sudden one of his personalities reveals what he's trying to hide: confessing his love

Of course only when you have time for that :)

YES!!! oh my GOD thats such a cute idea, thank you for this

the last few weeks have been so stressful and hell on my mental health, so i think i and everyone else deserve some good ol' Twice fluff 💕

────── ･｡ﾟ: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ･ ──────

[Twice x GN!Reader] [Contents: Jin’s dual personality; and pure tooth-rotting fluff!] [Word count: 1.1k]

»»—— Loves me, Loves me Not (Except he does) ——««

Moving into a new place is always a hassle for everyone involved. Hiring movers, packing, loading, unloading, unpacking, and then having to spend the next month or more attempting to acclimate to the new surroundings and feelings of displacement. But moving in with your significant other for the first time? It makes it just a little more bearable. Furniture shopping, deciding on décor, playful bickering over if a stiffer or softer mattress is better – the little things that make the journey more enjoyable. Said journey is made even more enjoyable when one’s significant other is no other than Jin Bubaigawara, a comedically eccentric man who, despite his crumbling mental state, knows just how to liven up any event regardless of it’s theme. He knew the perfect ways to “spice up” a mundane task, as he puts it, which really just consists of making a fool of himself intentionally. But it gets his friends to laugh and smile, so he does what he can for them. This is no different for his lover, [Name], either.

Shopping trip after shopping trip of buying necessities can get boring and draining real fast. Groceries, hygiene needs, kitchen sets, furniture, frames for pictures and posters, hardware for hanging said framed pictures and posters – the list seemingly never ends. Jin, however, was always determined to keep their spirits high, by any means necessary. Pretending to be a furniture sales agent and giving the most obvious or bullshit details about a couch they’re looking at, or poking fun at whatever weird-looking object they happen to come across in their shopping spree. He once tried to do consecutive backflips off a line of beds in one of the furniture outlets he and his partner went to, and likely would have succeeded in that task had it not been for the employee yelling at them both to leave.

“What a party pooper – What an asshole!” Jin had said then, with a pout that resembled a child being scolded by their parent for just wanting to have fun. [Name] merely patted his shoulder in assurance, shepherding him off to the next destination.

“They just don’t understand what it means to be in love and have fun,” [Name] had responded with, not knowing the weight their words had just put on Jin’s mind. A good weight, but one that leaves you feeling both anxious and giddy, eager to share your thoughts but scared to have them rejected.

Love. Jin knew he was in love with them, had known since the day they first spoke to each other. But when was a good time to say it? When do normal people say they love their partner? Jin was no normal person, what much was clear – quirk trauma, villainous background, and an incredibly lonely past can do a number on ones behavior. He was ready to propose to them right off the bat, if they were as starved for affection as he was; but [Name] was normal, as far as he could tell, and Jin wanted to give them a regular-paced relationship. So far moving in with each other is a huge step… but did couples confess their love before or after that? Is it still too early, or was he too late? Does he say it now, or wait till marriage? These were the kinds of thoughts that weighed heavily on his mind, and the closer they got to fully moving into their new apartment, the more obvious it was in his attitude.

“Okay, what’s on your mind, big guy?” [Name] released a sigh of relief when the two of them flopped backward onto their new shared bed, the box spring and frame finally set up and the mattress covered with brand new sheets and a comforter to match. “You’ve been quiet and distracted these last few days. Distracted I’m used to, but the quiet part is very unlike you,” they mention, turning their head to gaze over at him.

Jin blinks out of his stupor, not moving to look at his partner and opting to continue staring at the ceiling. “Nothing! Nothing at all – well, maybe something – nope! Totally fine, just tired,” he rambles, his second personality cutting in occasionally. “Been a long week, y’know? Fuckin’ exhausted as hell – just lots to do, and still more to be done! Ugh, just kill me now.” Finally, he turns and gives them a reassuring grin, eyes squinted in content as he gazes softly at them. I love you, I love you, I love you, his mind chanted, the words begging to be released since the day they met.

[Name] raises an eyebrow, returning the grin back to him. “Yeah, me too, I understand. Almost over, though, so don’t worry!” They chirp, tone shifting briefly from tired to lighthearted in an attempt to comfort the other.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

“Ha! Yeah, you could say that again,” Jin mirrors their tone, stretching his arms a bit before relaxing again against the bed.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

[Name] shifts their position so that they can cuddle up to his side, head resting against his pec and arm draped over his chest. Jin’s arm reaches out to wrap around their shoulder.

I love you, I love you, I love you –

“I love you,” Jin’s second voice blurts out, his free hand immediately snapping up to cover his mouth in panic. He feels [Name] jolt slightly from the sudden movement, though Jin took it as a sign of shock.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- well, I guess I did mean to – God, I love you – fuck, I mean…!” He rambles yet again, the words pouring from his mouth as he attempts to explain a situation that didn’t need an explanation, the hand that was over his mouth now nervously running through his hair. “I… it’s… it’s not too early to say that, is it?” He asks tentatively.

Feeling his partner shift around and lift themselves up, Jin’s eyes flick towards them, waiting for an answer. Instead of the shocked, uncomfortable expression he was expecting, the blonde man was instead greeted by his lover’s look of fond confusion. The kind of look that says, ‘You’re such a dork, but a cute one’.

“Too early? Jin, babe, we just moved in together. I was honestly getting worried at this point,” [Name] grins brightly at him, leaning in to touch their nose to his. “I love you too, you dork.”

Jin blinks owlishly at them, letting the words settle into his heart as it swells with adoration, a goofy smile stretching across his face. “You love me…? Who wouldn’t?!” The words of his second side were boisterous and proud, though they both know it was a ruse to cover his obvious anxiety over the situation. Gathering up [Name] in a bear hug, he laughs as they squeak in surprise, but quickly join in his laughter as Jin rocks them side to side within the hug.

“They love me! They love me!”

Then again, who wouldn't?

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #jin bubaigawara x reader #jin bubaigawara #twice x reader #dame writes

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polarisbibliotheque · 1 year

Note

So like, less of a suggestion and more of a question - I recently found your works and have just been blown away by the details (like, seriously, you're on the top of my favorite writers list) and just how... perfect you craft everything? I genuinely inspire to be like you, but the problem is that I've hit a rut - I'm super unsatisfied with my writing, and whenever I try to get back into the writing zone, I just fall flat. Is there any advice you could give on how to improve one's writing? What would be your tips and tricks at getting into that writing zone?

(Do apologize me taking SO LONG to answer, but I had some health emergencies the last couple of weeks and ended up in the hospital – I’m doing better now, chilling at home and trying to recover. My doctor is 90% sure I have Crohn’s Disease and I’m having many ups and downs trying to find a proper treatment that I seem to respond to. BUT…)

…I hope you are aware of how much you made me smile, blush and almost indulge into my teary eyes upon reading this. Hahahaha seriously, thank you SO much!! I can’t even thank you enough, I’m just in pure awe that another being in this big ol’ world we live in thinks so highly of my writing!!

I mean, not even I think that highly of my writing. Notice a pattern? ;)

One thing I learned being an artist – not only writing, I also draw, play the piano, write music on my free time/when inspiration hits, everything creative, I’m there, doing it – is that we’re never really satisfied with our work. We will always think we could’ve done something better, and we’re definitely going to be pretty “meh” about a lot of things we do – even when other people think it’s a masterpiece.

And that is good! We’ll always strive to perfect our skills! You just have to remember to appreciate the work you do even when you’re not completely satisfied with it. You will get to where you want to – but then, you’ll wish to improve even more! And that is awesome!

But hey, I do have some tips and tricks on improving and getting into that writing vibe!

For the people getting to the party now, my main tip on improving is here, in the first part of the answer for this ask! Now, now…

(long post below, as expected YEE BEEN WARNED!)

Regarding improving:

Read. A. Lot. Hahaha I know that’s quite an obvious one, but it’s really important. Personally, I think reading mindlessly just to fill a quota of “I read 25 books a month” doesn’t work. It works when you absorb it – when you allow yourself to plunge into the world of the book you’re reading, feeling the characters, the emotions, the settings… That helps you build your “mental library” so to speak! And sometimes you’ll find things and expressions you like that you might use both on your daily speech and while writing – for instance, I have this awful thing of saying “there’s a lack of wings to my words” whenever I’m speechless, because of Homer’s Odyssey. I freaking LOVE that book, I loved that expression, I use it all the time, and it has definitely bled into my writing.

WRITE! A LOT! Write bad stuff, good stuff, short 2 pages thing-ys that you go “hey that’s a good idea!” but you’ll never actually turn into a full story, random scenes, fanfiction, stupid fanfiction, serious fanfiction, self-indulgent stories, stories for your family, stories for yourself, stories for whoever wants to read or not, dreams that could be great stories… The point is to write. It’s much like drawing or playing the piano: if you don’t practice, you won’t get better and you won’t develop your style. The more you practice, the better you get! So don’t be afraid to write bad stuff, cringy stuff, or ridiculous stuff – or even stuff you thought would be awesome and turns out bad, or stuff you think will never turn into anything that turn amazing! One way or another, you’ll be refining your craft!

Identify what you like on writers you admire. I started noticing that while reading The Silmarillion. The Lord of the Rings is my favorite book since I read it for the first time when I was 15, but I didn’t pick up The Silmarillion until I was around 22 – and by then, I started underlining with a light pencil all the phrases I liked most, something my mom did on her old books when she was around my age. I then started taking a look at what I liked about Tolkien’s writing so much – and in other books too: what kind of phrases seemed to resonate more with my soul. Which ones brought tears to my eyes and a smile to my face. And then I notice I tend more to the unconventional ways of describing things.

For instance, instead of going like “she was beautiful, with pale skin under raven dark hair, blue eyes shining on her fair face” I tend to go for the unconventional, sort of eerie, not so much taken for granted kind of describing “her beauty glowed like the first pale star to glisten in the evening sky, under a deep sea of dark, velvety hair, making her eyes twinkle like sapphires with a smart look while carrying the light she kept in her soul”. If I had to, the second one would be how I’d describe Arwen or Lúthien, giving them that ethereal otherworldly beauty they have. It's also the one that evokes more feelings inside of me rather than just a mental image.

That’s why I try to describe some things in a different light. When I’m writing, I want people to feel something – but how can you describe that feeling of joy when you hug someone you love and the whole world fades for a minute? That’s when I go for the “his heart bled with gold while his hands never wanted to let them go. For a minute, time seemed to stop and there was nothing else but his heartbeat intertwining with theirs, beating as the same song – even if theirs was more melodic while his was more melancholic. It was that kind of tune that made his lungs not remember how to breathe and his eyes pour – while his lips reflected all the gold that cascaded from his heart.” It’s a quick (rather ridiculous) example, but I do think about some things: how when I feel like that, I tend to have a hard time breathing and I do cry, but it’s because I want to smile so much I cannot contain it. Then I try to describe those feelings with metaphors and poetic stuff because I’m a melodramatic bitch.

Jokes aside, it’s because I like that sort of writing that has that beauty behind it – or more of a melancholic approach. It’s what resonates the most with me and I adopted it, even if sometimes it feels too… Abstract. I like that ability of people piecing the abstractness together and having their own interpretation – and that’s what makes people have different feelings while reading the same thing.

Is this for everyone? Absolutely not. I bet some people despise all that poeticness I like to put on words to lace them like a painting, you know? So, the more you re-read the things you like, you’ll start identifying what resonates with you and you can apply that to your own writing!

And that doesn’t mean you’ll have to be locked on that writing style as well. I’m currently trying to finish a book (I hope someday I can publish it) which is a cyberpunk style story, with lots of inspiration from Cyberpunk 2077, Blade Runner, John Wick (yes, Keanu Reeves sends his regards) and all that poetic writing doesn’t quite fit there. I’m using more of a direct approach, but there’s a lot of existentialism and reflecting on overcoming grief, trauma, owning your own life and contemplating one’s own mortality – and that’s where that poetic, metaphoric, melancholic, bittersweet characteristic of my writing style comes into play. And then everyone starts cursing and shooting each other again :)

Having a style doesn’t mean getting stuck in it – it means knowing when and where to use it!

Now regarding getting into the writing zone:

I freaking ADORE music and it helps me A TON while I’m writing. It’s like setting the mood. I’m trying to be sexy, or mysterious, or having that vampire-y vibe? Depeche Mode playlist it is. Fight scenes? Metal and Electronic. I need to freaking focus and get to work without thinking too much about the music (or start dancing like crazy whenever a song I love comes in and there I am, dancing and singing in my room at 3 a.m)? Piano playlists – classic, modern, everything and anything, as long as it is piano.

Playing music that goes with what I’m writing also helps. For my cyberpunk book, for instance, I put on the Cyberpunk 2077 OST playlist/radio on, or I search for “Cyberpunk Ambience/Playlist” on Youtube and let it roll while I write. For my King Arthur stories (yes, still working on them), I put on Celtic music compilations, Enya, Loreena McKennitt or the piano playlists. For my vampire stories, be the medieval or the near-future one, dark piano, Dark Wave, etc. Perhaps searching for that one playlist that has to do with your story setting and listening to it for some time might get you in the zone!

I also usually write deep in the night. Because I’m a spawn of Dracula. After everyone at home has gone to sleep, I make myself some hot tea, sit on my computer, start listening to music and write. That’s because I know I won’t be interrupted, and I can do just that. Sometimes, I start writing at 1 a.m, other times earlier, other times later. Try to notice when your ideas seem to flow better and when you get more into the zone – but please, don’t be unhealthy as I am and go to sleep at a decent hour. I’m not an example here with my sleeping schedule hahahaha

Cringy moment: when I’m stuck, I act the last scene I wrote as one of my characters in the shower and, usually, ideas start to come in (and I have to get off the shower). Hahahaha now that’s just a weird one, but I have NO idea why, my best ideas arise in the shower. Water has a weird effect on me, so sometimes I just stand there with warm water pouring over my head and, lo and behold, I’m exiting the shower in a hurry because I just got my writer mood back HAHAHA so maybe some very mundane activity – like cooking, taking the trash out, cleaning the room – might be where your writer brain will come to life. You never know.

Needless to say, I talk to myself a lot, sometimes as if I’m talking to the characters. That is a very bad coping mechanism I developed when I was being bullied at school – I used to pretend Dante was with me when I was alone or something had happened and I needed someone by my side, so nowadays I have a very easy time writing this man. I started doing that with some of my characters, and that goes for repeating lines or part of the stories I’m writing to see if I can get un-stuck. It’s not the greatest of things, but it works. My neighbors might think I’m crazy, though xD

When I’m completely unmotivated or I keep staring at the blank page without being able to write, I try to immerse myself in what I’m writing about. So, if I’m stuck on my cyberpunk book, I watch some Cyberpunk 2077 let’s plays, I re-watch the Edgerunners anime, I re-watch Blade Runner, I re-read some parts of Do Androids Dream of Electrical Sheep? or I, Robot, I listen to Blade Runner’s soundtrack, I even try to play Cyberpunk 2077 (while praying not to get motion sickness or not having my pc exploding from overworking). If I’m stuck on my King Arthur works, then I re-watch the 2004 movie (may the gods bless Ioan Gruffudd and his wonderful Lancelot and Mads Mikkelsen as my beloved Tristan), re-read the 3 books on the Chronicles of Arthur series, listen to some Celtic music, research Arthurian stories for hours on the internet, search for my encyclopedias at home to see if they have something on King Arthur, read obscure translated manuscripts from ancient times on it … So, immersing yourself on reading, researching, listening to music, watching movies, playing videogames, listening to stories, watching series, reading mangas, watching anime, documentaries, going to the movies, basically doing anything that has to do with the theme you’re writing, may get you in the mood. Next time you sit down to write, it might flow wonderfully!

I don’t force myself to write, though. If I do, I usually can’t write a single decent word and I’ll hate it. If things aren’t flowing – and this I learned with my mom, who also draws – I leave it for a while and go do something else. Maybe I’ll have some warm tea, or watch a completely unrelated movie, or read my current book, or talk to my parrot in the kitchen, play some piano, draw a little, or just take a good nap. My mom says it refreshes the head and the eyes, and when you come back to it, you’ll be a lot more inclined to find things that weren’t working and let those creative juices flow.

I also have a very weird search history and I’m not ashamed of it. All writers do, and it’s better to have a weird search history than not knowing what you’re talking about, honestly. And sometimes, researching takes a lot more time than writing and might get you motivated – time spent learning is never wasted. Even if you’re learning what kind of dates grow in Greece and are offered to Apollo (bless his heart).

Sometimes, I write something completely unrelated, with a very different theme, and stupidly goofy – and that gets me back to the writing vibes. Sometimes there’s just this need of writing something for the sake of writing, and you just want something foolish to make you smile like a goof. It’s valid and it might be your ticket out of writing-rut-land.

Now some little uncalled for advices:

I spent too long being self-conscious and too serious about it. If it’s not your style, don’t force it. Some people need structure, other people thrive in chaos – know what’s your style and go for it. I hate planning novels, for example. But I will outline the main points of the story and the ending – the rest, well, the characters have to show me whatever else they’re doing, and I have to go with it. Sometimes there are huge arcs I didn’t plan as a main point of the story, but they pop up in the middle of it and they are important – I like leaving that room for impromptu writing/creating. So, find out how it works for you, not how it works for everyone else.

You don’t have to create masterpieces right at the first time you’re writing. Take my King Arthur thing-y for example. I wrote the full story when I was 15. When I was in college, I decided to re-write it. And then, when I was at work, I decided to re-write the re-write. And now, I just took all my files, read them, thought about it all, outlined a whole new story and decided to write anew. Not re-write, but take all that work and write as if I had never written anything before – in the original file, the main characters were 15 years old and in school, now they have their jobs at Universities and work on the secret society that is now a lot more fleshed out and built with loads of new characters around (including a new one I created yesterday after months not thinking about it).

If I hadn’t written the Twilight-sort of embarrassing thing when I was 15, I wouldn’t have this whole universe, characters and story to build upon nowadays. It wasn’t a masterpiece, but it was a good idea – and I’ll keep working on it until I’m happy with it. It’s been 13 years I’m working on it now, maybe when it reaches its 15th anniversary, I’ll be able to finally let it see the light of day!

Don’t listen to the “NEVER DO THIS!!” advices. Seriously. Writing is a form of art – and, as in all art, there isn’t a right or wrong. By all means, see what people are saying it’s bad and you should never do – I watch and read those advices so I can learn to be better too! – but don’t take it to heart. As Captain Barbossa would say, it’s more of a guideline than rules set in stone. Sometimes, something people say you should NEVER EVER do is something that works perfectly fine for you and your style of writing. Learn to make up your own mind: learn new things, listen to advices, but absorb those that resonate with you and leave those that don’t. That’s how you create your own opinion about things and how you find your writing style!

One fun thing to point out on this as an example: me, my mom, my sister and my dad ADORE reading. My sister loves Jane Austen, my mom is a super fan of Dostoyevsky and Russian literature, while my dad lives for Isaac Asimov and all things sci-fi. I love sci-fi, my mom can’t stand it. I read Dante’s Inferno in a week and my mom couldn’t get past the first verses. My sister can’t read poetry at all and is terribly bored by Lord of the Rings. My dad read my Chronicles of Arthur books and even told me to buy the complete the series. Me and my sister enjoyed Khaled Hosseini’s books a lot, but my mom never felt like reading them.

All of this to say: it’s not a matter of who’s more intellectual than the other, it’s a matter of who likes which kind of literature and writing styles. Some people are more comfortable with one way of writing or a certain kind of literature and can’t stand others – and that’s ok. Writing is pretty much the same. THERE ARE NO FIXED RULES! BE A REBEL!

If it helps you: character sheets. Around 8 years ago – or more – I searched and searched online for the character sheet that could help me the best. I had never done it before and thought it was quite useless, until I downloaded one and started filling the infos on my main characters of my Arthurian sort of story. Lo and behold, they became SO MUCH BETTER and that’s when I started rewriting everything: I understood all characters a LOT better and made better decisions when writing them. It doesn’t work for everyone, though, but it’s a lot of fun for me. Currently, I don’t use it much because I now know what are the main things I need for my characters to seem alive, but it’s always nice to have a reference when you’re writing.

My cyberpunk story, for instance, it has A BUNCH of characters with scars, different hair colours, different eye colours, the way they dress, birthmarks, cyber-implants, cyber-prothesis, dressing styles… And sometimes I get lost in it. So it’s nice keeping a character sheet when I go like “wait, she has burn marks on the left arm or the right arm…?”

And keeping a file on worldbuilding might be helpful as well. I noticed that writing my cyberpunk thing. The first thing I wrote was a huge file explaining the city, the factions, the districts, people’s styles, who are the viruses, the sub-types of viruses, the political parties, the police and secret police, the difference between artificials and organics, how does access to the world works, what is the Ocularis system, the most important corporations, their names, their owners… And all those things will probably never appear on this story.

But I felt a HUGE difference. Instead of info-dumping right at the beginning to make the reader understand how the world is built and how it works, I started it right at an important point in the story. No one knows anything about how things work, but, as the characters speak to each other, they talk about so many things that the reader catches things and pieces together how all things are organized.

Don’t try to explain everything. Tying with I said before, if you have a very good idea of how things work, how the characters relate to each other, how they react and how they think, you won’t need to info-dump. I usually think I’m seeing my characters going about their day and that is ALL I’m describing: what they are saying, feeling, thinking and doing. If I feel something is missing for people to fully understand, then I add something quite minimal to help. But I don’t overexplain: people are intelligent and they can piece things together.

Don’t go full Marvel movies and explain everything as if no one can understand unless you say it. Go Nolan and try to make people understand with images, feelings, glances, metaphors and such. It’s very effective in writing! (Don’t get me wrong, I do like Marvel movies, but they have become those kinds of movies that require little mental effort because literally everything will be explained in a huge monologue or through dialogue. You don’t always need dialogues – and if you say “oh that’s too ambiguous and people won’t be certain about it” that’s the beauty of art: it’s always up to interpretation)

Having someone to read and give you feedback might be very helpful too. I have a few friends every now and then I send some of my stories so they’ll read and give me an honest feedback. I try to listen to their opinions and refine my work – but if I think they critique doesn’t make sense, I thank them anyway and keep on doing my thing. Like I said, know when to take what makes sense and when let go of something that doesn’t. Also: feedback is NOT a personal attack. DON’T TAKE IT TO HEART. See it always as something you may need to improve – and you’ll improve quicker.

At the end of the day, writing is art. And all art is relative.

Your art will be great to some and horrible to others – and that’s ok! Again, learn to NOT make it personal (the critiques, I mean, because art is always personal and that’s wonderful, I think).

And repeat after me: you will not please everyone. The point is to make yourself proud. You’ll find your people along the way.

Do it because you love. Do it because it comes from your heart, from your soul. The world has become so filled with content, mindlessly created by artificial intelligence so we will keep consuming, that things have lost so much of their soul.

To make art, to write, is to have soul. If you have that heart, that passion in your work, it will show – and people will follow. When you sit to write, don’t make it a chore, don’t make it an aesthetic tiktok post, don’t follow the routine of this or that famous artist – do what you have to do and let your heart flow. Do it for you.

I think that’s the main advice I can give. Don’t do content to post on social media and look good, do your art. Push your boundaries, test new things, write in ways you never did before, but do your thing.

When everyone is doing the same thing over and over again, you’ll realize your words will stand out by doing what you want to do.

Again thanks for attending my TED Talk xD

#polaris speaks #writing advice #writing tips #writing #writing help #writing tips and tricks #answered asks #asks #anon ask #there we gooooo second part of super long post xD #do forgive anon #and do forgive taking so long #but I hope these will help somehow #I'm not the best person to give advices #but maybe these things I did for learning and refining my writing will help other people too #and the motivational speak at the end as well xD #we all need some of that

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