#this is still my understanding and I can be very wrong about it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

karlachismylife · 21 hours

Text

Wrote the intro the day I started this work and decided to leave it since it reflects the shitstorm in my head quite well, eh.

Okay Idk what it is with me today (I actually do know, I'm having a bad fucking night as a consequence of my own actions but I prefer not to think about it), but I just thought about task force 141 and reader that has such a bad withdrawal after their orgasm that they actually cry and not in a fun way (cue my lack of understanding how crying in bed can ever be fun, but i'm not here to kinkshame)

CW: NSFW (so minors and ageless blogs DNI, I'll block you), but there's barely any sex, hurt/comfort, body image issues, low self-esteem, chubby/fat!reader, written with afab!reader in mind (but most parts can be read as gn), potential mental health issues (?), thoughts of selfloathing and selfharm, smoking mentioned once at the end. Very self-indulgent and I'm definitely unwell, so yeah. It's also more focused on reader's inner shitstorm than the guys in many places so idk if this even really is enjoyable...

Starts as a single piece, then splits into individual blurbs/drabbles/oneshots + some polyamory cuz I'm spoiling myself today having done nothing to deserve it, lol.

They vary in size and tone since I've been writing them through several ups and downs in my own mental state, so please don't take this as a sign of which characher/combo is my favourite. I'm greedy, I like everything.

This is unfair.

Like, you just had wonderful sex, probably came more than once in a short period of time, ears stuffed with cotton, limbs weak, head spinning... and it keeps spinning, sweet tingling on the skin turning into nasty rushes of cold, muscles too tense, but it's not a cramp.

You feel like shit, every possible hormonal and neuromediator crash downing on you, a hollow, depressing weight in your chest instead of a sweet afterglow. Sweat and cum feel disgusting on you skin, your skin feels disgusting, strangling, your whole body seems revolting, too heavy, too sluggish. A sticky, suffocating heatwave on your nape, but your chest is cold and covered in goosebumps, a feverish feeling clogging every pore. Nausea wrenches into your stomach and stops just before you can relievingly barf and get rid of this parasite inside.

You simply want to dig your nails into your own shoulders instead of his and rip the skin and meat off, free yourself from this burden (you're the burden). Each second as he stays blissfully unaware, holding you tightly with his big hands and panting into the crook of your neck, drags on like a hundred hours of pure torture - the torture of being yourself.

Throwing up feels like an appropriate reaction to how unappealing and ugly you feel.

You're spiraling. You couldn't fucking keep your own messed up emotional outburst - completely unreasonable and unprovoked, by the way - to yourself, and now it's going to be noticed. You'll ruin someone else's fun. Make it all about yourself when you've already been nothing but doted on, cared and provided for. Fucked so good that your body is still clenching around that magnificent cock deep inside you.

And you're fucking crying, like an ungrateful, egotistical brat. Never having enough, unable to provide something as simple as a hole to make someone else happy without fucking it up.

Ghost notices immediately. There's nothing that can escape this man, and definitely not his love's distress. He's not reacting immediately for a sole reason: he's frozen in fear, horrified that he made you cry. How - he's not sure, he always takes great care to stay within limits, never allows himself to push you further than you both agree on. But what if he slipped up? What if he got carried away? Did he cause pain? Did he say something hurtful in the heat of the moment?

"Fuck. Hey, hey, lovie... look at me... wha's wrong? Did I... did I hurt ya?" Good thing you're hiding your face and your red eyes so desperately that you can't see how distressed and downright terrified Simon looks, lost at the sight of your tears. When you shake your head and attempt to push him away to hide your pathetic sobbing, he somewhat calms down and brings his big calloused hands to cradle your face, gently prying your own palms away and holding your puffy cheeks tenderly. His thumbs brush your tears away as he holds you, holds you through the growing rage fit of touch aversion, through the shudders and actual wailing. At some point he moves his palm to cover your eyes, a dry, dark blinder to keep the world around you shut out, help you concentrate on his voice.

He's not talking, just humming, a familiar, deep, grumbling noise that soothes all the flashes of anger, hate and disgust in your brain. You're tired now, like you're always are after such an intense outburst, and as you go limp, he finally pulls away, only to pick you up - barely a strain, a direct spit in the face of your own insecurity - and bring you to the bathroom. A warm shower evens your distorted body temperature out, his hands running over your body and cleaning all the stickiness away bring back peace with your own skin. After a quick rinse Simon holds you, your head cradled against his chest, until you make a weak attempt to help him wash too - he lets you trace his body, that perfection you adore with all its old wounds, sores and scars, for a bit, and then finishes himelf.

Gives you fresh cotton underwear and his hige T-shirt, still holding you around your shoulders and keeping the comfortable pressure even while he changes the bedsheets, kissing your temple as you find it in yourself to help.

It's only after you settle on top of him, nice, clean comforter protecting your back against the world, head on his chest right next to his heart beating in a steady rythm, he finally breaks silence.

"Need anything else, lovie?" Just like that. No prying, no occusations, nothing that would put you on the spot. You can ask him to bring you the moon soaked in unicorn's milk, and he'll just nod, kiss your hand and start dressing up, already calling Johnny to ask where the fuck did Scots hide their last horned horse and if he happens to know where they enlist astronauts.

"Just you."

His grip on the small of your back tightens and you feel his uneven, scarred lips graze the top of your head.

"Ya've got me. Always."

Soap is running hot like a furnace, still shivering and panting after what he considers the best sex he has ever had (every time with you is). He lifts his face, buried into the crease of your neck previously, and starts peppering you with slightly sloppy, grateful kisses - your neck, your jaw, your lips, your...

When he tastes your tears and opens his unbelievably blue eyes to see your expression contorted in disgust, he panics. Pulls away immediately, hands both itching to grab you and shake a reason for that look on your face out of you and too scared to touch you in case this hatred is directed at him.

"Whit's wrong, leannan? Are ye a'right? Ye didnae lik' it? Shite, lass, Ah'm so sorry, Ah didnae mean tae-" He stops yapping only when he notices the way your lips tremble as you try to plead with him, sobbing that it's not his fault.

"'M sorry, I ruined it... I'm so sorry, sushine, I just... fuck I wish I wasn't so bloody sick in the head and ugly..." Speaking out loud only worsens your anger, directed solely at yourself, and you try to wipe your eyes furiously. As the tears keep rolling, your frustration only grows - maybe if you yanked your own hair really good or slapped the disgusting pudgy cheek you've despised ever since chidhood as everyone kept pointing out how big they were...

"Ye didnae just call the love of mah fucking life ugly." Johnny's voice is a mix of a harsh order to cut your bullshit and pure disbelief. His huge paws wrap themselves around your wrists, stopping you both from harming yourself and covering your face. You're forced to look at him, and as you do, you see his handsome face flushed with a passionate anger at the intrusive thoughts in your head, heavy frown in his thick eyebrows and the sea in his eyes dark and deep enough to drown a whole fleet. You'd be scared if it wasn't obvious how hurt he is underneath it all - like a kid whose favourite plushie just got mocked by his classmates.

"It's just a toy," adults would say, and they would be bloody wrong.

"Tis not a toy, tis mah friend."

You're his friend. His love. His heart, his soul, his everything - he whispers that frantically, kissing you over and over, hot palms running over your body, wiping the cold, the stickiness, the goosebumps away. You don't have time to think, to spiral again, you're drowning in that exact sea that's spilling from his eyes, staring at you with pure devotion - a sea of affection, admiration, love, love, love.

Johnny nuzzles up to you like an animal seeking comfort, hides into your chest, right after he kisses your sweaty double chin, breathes in deeply, lets go of your soft shoulders only to grab two handfuls of your tummy, kneading it, warming up the stale blood, squeezing your big thighs between his and getting lost in the frenzy - he honestly doesn't even remember already that he was comforting you, he's fully in the worshipping mode, leaving you no chance to dip even a single toe into the self-conscious thoughts again.

You'll just have to stay there, every single tear lapped up from your face, and accept every greedy touch and word of a man utterly in love with you. Even the messed up parts.

Gaz keeps his cool despite how distraught even the thought of your sadness makes him. First of all he moves aside to give you space, makes sure you're not hurt, asking in his usual kind - unbelievably kind, so much that you burst into tears again, feeling undeserving of such unapologetically soft treatement, tone.

"Shh, shush, gorgeous, you're not hurt, are you? It's okay, c'mere, jus-st like tha', very good, love," praises keep spilling from his tender lips as he carefully helps you sit up, simply dragging you away from the damp from sweat and everything else spot on the sheets. He ends up balancing half his bare ass off the edge of the bed, but it doesn't bother him in the slightest as he feels you already coming back from that hopeless place as soon as your body gets stuck between clean, dry and a bit cool sheet and Kyle's firm lean body of a litearal god - or a prince, at least.

His deft fingers are already at work, massaging your scalp, chasing the tension away, but the second he feels you grow uncomfortable with the repetitive movement, he stops and retreats to simply holding you in a steady, reliant embrace. You know he's good with his words, that's how he got you, swept off your feet completely and made you swoon with sweet compliments, hilarious snark and smart talk.

You just don't expect him to do it all over again in the face of your burdened mind crumbling in the paradise.

"Talk to me, angel. Let me inside that pretty head, hm?"

It takes this sweettalker just a couple of words to coax whatever that ugly, slimy knot in your throat is, out. You sob, retelling Kyle every single thought that has been stuck in that coagulated mess in your head, spill the bile that has been burning your retching throat, out in the open, for him to see the disgusting ugliness of your insides - matching your outside.

Somehow throughout your choking trade his soft, careful hand never leaves your back, rubbing circles of different radius and intensity into your skin to keep the aggression at monotonous touch at bay.

"Must've been some terrible person to overbear your spirit and plant all those lies in your mind, angel." You don't catch the meaning of his words at first, glancing at him confused and whoozy after you exploded with self-deprication. Those dark, calm eyes look at you no different than before: quiet, calm reverence and determination. A thread of spider's silk, thin as a hair, but stronger than steel, his love does not waver. Were you in the right state to actually pay attention, you would've seen it only grow.

"Well, beautiful, this isn't how I planned to start writing poetry, but since you insisted... maybe I can think of a diss track about you."

"A diss track?.." Poor you, so upset that you can't catch onto the mischievous glint in his eyes and that silly smooth sarcasm slipping into his words. You're actually half a step away from believing he would diss you, destroying that already non-existent self-esteem once and for all.

"Yup. Gotta diss-tract you from all that bullshit in your head for good. Unless you'd rather me fuck it out of you instead?"

You cannot not smile at that, even if it's a weak, timid smile. Kyle's face still lights up as if he sees an actual angel, bringing the good grace or whatever.

"There ya go. First step of the mission? Success. Permission to continue? I repeat, permission to continue?"

"You spend too much time with Simon. Permission granted..."

Price undrstands what's going on before he even hears your first sob, the tension in your body and the change in your breath telling him all he needs to know. There's enough experience in this man for the both of you, he has learnt to read people and immediately accomodate them in a way that serves a common goal so long ago that it's a secong nature already.

Your comfort is that common goal.

With a grunt, he rolls you over, planting you firmly on top of his warm, burly body. Untucking your head from his hairy chest, he holds your face and does not let you concentrate on anything but his stern, focued gaze under those bushy eyebrows - but there's still that undeniable tenderness in his eyes that's always there whenever John looks at you.

His voice sounds usual too: a calm, commanding, but not harsh tone, not a loud bark any of his subordinates would hear, yet still an order. "Look at me, darling. Tha's right, look at me, look at your John. You shut whatever's going through that troubled mind of yours out and let me take care of the rest, a'right? Can you do that for me, darling? I know you can. I'll do all the thinking for ya, eh?"

Giving control over to him feels natural at any other moment, but right now you're too deep in the trenches of the war with your own mind, hissing at you with pure disgust for being so selfish. Really, now? Had to use this sweet, caring man for your own needs, and now you're dumping all your perverted, fucked up baggage on him too?

"Nuh-huh, ya're still thinking. Told ya to cut if off. You know that's not you thinking right now, dontcha? You're a smart one, love, ya know shit like this happens. And when shit happens, who are you going to to deal with it, huh?" His deep voice rumbles in his chest, seeps into your clogged ears, fills your skull with the unyielding determination and leaves no room for your own dark thoughts.

When you hesitate to answer, John slides his rough palms over your back, tracing your soft rolls and landing onto the pudge of your hips, squeezing lightly to remind you who's in charge and what your task is. "Who is there for ya to deal with shit that happens, hm, darling? Need ya to tell me."

You want to hide, escape his demand for an answer, but he keeps you firmly in his embrace, a gaze of steel unmoving from you. It almost makes you tear up again, almost feels mean of him to put you on the spot, when all you want to do is curl up in a dark corner and stay there for all eternity. But the love you have for this man overpowers even the seething hatred you bear for yourself, so you give up and murmur meekly: "You..."

"Tha's right, darling, it's your John. I'm here to deal with everything that bothers ya. Everything, ya hear? Tha's me job. Your job is to stay wit' me 'n' not overthink, eh? Especially not when it's just hormons making ya feel bad." You have nothing else left to do, other than sniffle into his chest and melt under a warm kiss he plants on your crown. "How about a cuppa, eh, darling? And something just as sweet as ya for a bite. Ya'll feel better in no time, I promise."

Ghost and Soap cancel each other's panicking out. As soon as both you and Simon slip out of the sweet afterglow, falling backwards each into your own pit of self-doubt and spiraling, Johnny starts babbling, terrified at the thought of both his beloved people feeling worse after being with him. His slurred, panting words and frantic kisses help Simon shake of his own horror - in return, he squeezes Johnny's shoulder to slow the worried mutt down and redirect his energy into helping you. Soap tenses up under the firm touch of his Lieutenant, then relaxes again, leaning into him for a moment to collect himself - they charge from each other, mere seconds of feeding off each other's energies in the middle of a time-limited mission with the highest stakes: your well-being.

They exchange glances, no words needed after the way their work together almost makes them mindreaders to each other, and turn back to you as you lay there, face painfully contorted in an attempt to keep the black foamy bile you feel rising in your throat from spilling. Slow, sticky, angry tears run down your flabby cheeks, and with each millimetre they go, your scalding wish to gouge your eyes out with your bare hands grows, just to punish yourself for being ungrateful after two perfect men spent so much of their time making you feel good.

"Dinnae cry, bonnie. Ye're a'right, ye're 'ere, wit' us. Right, LT? We're nae gonnae let ye marinate in whitevur got ye so upset." The pressure from inside your body that threatened to burst you open into a messy explosion of bile and rot, gets evened out from outside by Johnny's tight hug. He squeezes you up to the painful point, cradling against his broad chest, holding the fort while Simon leaves the bed, but not without kissing both your palms and holding them against his lips until he feels the cold leave your fingertips.

"Oi, Johnny. Help lovie get in 'ere," he calls out several minutes later out of the bathroom. Soap, who has been holding you and allowing you to sob against his heart this whole time, stroking your sweaty hair and murmuring every word of love he knows, scoops you up immediately. He pads over with you in his arms to where a warm bath is already filled thanks to Simon, and when you react to the temperature with another wave of tears, they both reach out to the tap simultaneously.

"Is tha' a'right, bonnie?" You make a strangled noise as Johnny finally sets you down into much cooler now water. It soothes you, makes you feel instantly cleaner, smaller, lighter. Breathing gets easier, that swollen blob of anger and disgust shrinking down in your chest and allowing you to inhale bathroom's damp air normally. You open your mouth to apologize and get cut off before even a single syllable leaves your mouth.

"Don't," Simon's voice sounds gruff, but even his murky reflection in the rippling water looks genuinely soft towards you. They're both perched on the cold bath edge, naked and seemingly not caring about that at all. "Jus' let us take care of you, yeah, love? Tha's what we're here for. Tha's what we want to do."

"Well, actually, there's one more thing," Johnny interjects, causing you to finally lift your sullenly lowered head and look at him, Simon's big palm using this moment of distraction to press onto your back in silent support. "Can Ah make ye a foam beard? Please, bonnie? Ye jus' 'ave the prettiest sweetest cheeks fur tha'."

Soap and Gaz feel like their world is sinking into a whirlwind of stormy clouds, the kind that sucks all light out of sky in mere seconds and can't be cut through even by blinding flashes of lightnings. There is no sun in their skies if you're not smiling, and the sound of your muffled sniffles hits their eardrums harder than thunder or explosions. The frowns distorting their faces only make you more self-aware of the fact that you ruined things between you - the initial hysteria starts rapidly flowing into complete shutdown, threatening to turn you into an emotionless shell for unknown period of time, when several warm, big hands intervene and cut the depressing trajectory down at its root.

"Damn, we did a shit job fucking all your thoughts out, didn't we, angel?" Kyle's joke sounds soft, teasing, but empathetic, ready to be met with sobs or silence instead of the usual laughter that flashes your teeth at him and makes his own smile grow brighter.

"Aye, we did. If anythin', Ah think we put more thoughts intae 'er instead," Johnny scratches his head dramatically, and then you feel his big, hot palm on you sweaty forehead, as if he's trying to get a feel of the thoughts inside your skull. It doesn't linger there for long, though, rough fidgety fingers digging into your hair and tugging at the roots. This makes the hot-and-cold collar around your nape unclench, uncouth and chaotic massage confidently pulling every ounce of anger out of your brain. From time to time his calloused palm slips lower, squeezing your scruff, wiping the cool sweat away and taking control over what seems to have escaped your own.

"How does it feel to be the first person to get knocked up mentally, love? Having any cravings yet? Feeling your brainworms kick yet?" Dry cotton comforter suddenly covers your exposed to be looked at with disdain body, and before you can choke out a protest and something about you being sweaty and sticky and disgusting, Kyle grips your shoulders firmly, rubbing up and down as he slowly helps you sit up a bit.

"Ye eejit, how dae ye think thay can kick? They're brainworms, thay dinnae hae any legs!" The sheer passion in Johnny's heated counterarguement does the impossible - makes the corners of your deeply upset mouth twitch against all the weight the sadness put on them. Your knights in shining (from all the sweat your lovemaking covered them with) armor of their own warm skin seem to not notice the slightest twitch of your lips - there's no excessive attention drawn to you, none of them puts you on the spot. Their touch isn't going anywhere, but it almost seems mindless, simply their need to have something soft and pleasant to squeeze in their restless hands. "'N' wasnae Mary th' first lassie tae get up th' duff through th' heid?"

"That wasn't mentally, that was spiritually, read your books, Soap," scoffs Kyle, as if it was the most obvious thing, and ducks just in time to avoid a pillow thrown at him with sniper's precision.

"Oi, ye sayin' Ah cannae read now?!" Whatever snarky retort Kyle was ready to shoot, gets wiped out as Johnny tackles him, barely avoiding pushing all three of you off the bed. Their scuffle consists of chokeholds and sneaky kisses, legs getting caught in the sheets and somehow tangling you into the mess too.

Until you laugh, finding yourself squished into Johnny's hairy chest with Kyle in a gently headlock somewhere under your arm.

"Hey, hey, careful, mate, our lovie's expecting, we can't just throw 'her 'em around!" However obvious that deflection is, Johnny reacts as if you were actually with child and grabs your face, boring his eyes into yours, slowly widening his two blue lochs in pretend horror.

"Och naw! Ah think we lost 'em, Ah cannae see nothin' there now!" Flushed after the playfight, you avert your gaze, still a trace of self-consciousness about yout outburst somewhere deep inside, but none of the "brainworms" that clogged your insides in sight indeed. Johnny's little drama earns him a soft nip on his thumb from you, and he smiles at you, clearly satisfied with the effect their little scheme had.

"Aw, damn, and here I was, ready to hear the pitter-patter of 'em little feet," Kyle's warm lips somehow find their way to kiss your temple, eliciting another shy giggle.

A pillow crashes onto both of you with the force of a small bombshell.

"THAY DINNAE HAE FEET, GARRICK, THAY'RE WORMS!"

Price and Gaz fall into their usual ways seamlessly, responsibilities and tasks split between the two seemingly without even any verbal communication. Clearing out the space around you with the same quick efficiency they clear out enemies with, they prop you up on some pillows, assess your condition in case they got carried away and hurt you, and finally settle on both sides of you, warm hands on your knees squeezing softly.

"Are ya gonna talk to us now, lovie? Or will we have to use interrogation tactics to learn what made our love so upset?" John's voice bears no trace of threat, but it still makes you cower and try to take up even less space that your curled up body already has, which earns you a sigh from the Captain. "I see. Take over from here, Sergeant. I expect results once I return."

The matress sighs with relief a Price's weight leaves it, bare feet padding a few steps before he reaches his slippers and leaves the room. The pit that the sound of your bedroom's door closing opens in your chest is crushing your ribcage with the iron fist of vacum. You can't blame John for not willing to deal with your bullshit, but the hearbreak only reenforces the choking smog in your head that's rasping in a hundred different voices that the only thing you deserve is pure repulsion.

Kyle's soft thumb pads wipe the tears teetering on the arrows of your lashes, and in a smooth movement you find your face cupped and pulled close to his shoulder. His smooth skin sticks to your wet cheek and you find yourself crying like a little kid, the unbearable pain of the revolting dark knots inside somehow replaced with surprisingly more bearable grief over what you consider an ending reltionship. Perhaps John leaving our bed finally shattered your heart, letting the ungodly pressure out and allowing it to beat - and bleed - again.

"We'd really like if ya talked to us, angel. Don't think Captain can stand there bare-ass naked much longer, might catch rheumatism at this point, he's not getting younger, you know..."

"I hope you know I can hear you perfecrly clear, Garrick." You stop mid-sniffle, eyes snapping to the closed door. You can finally see the shadow of a man standing just outside, and the air slowly feels with some flavour you can't distinguish through all the snot yet, but seem to like a lot...

"Good, so your hearing's still intact, sir. You're in good shape," Kyle's cheeky remark must've broken John's famous patience and restraint, because the bedroom door finally opens, and you see him there. With a tray with a whole bunch of tea mugs and little plates of treats balanced in his hands.

"Still not talking? Well, we'll try another method then, lovie. Sandwich for your thoughts, eh?"

His cheeks are round with a kind smile, confusing your tortured mind even further - Kyle uses your stupor to fetch John's big, slightly scratchy bathrobe, successfully wrapping you into a cocoon of grounding stimulation all over your feverish skin. With a huff and a grumble about staying butt-naked a bit longer, John puts a pleasantly warm mug into your hands and looks at you, arms crossed and tucked into his armpits now that he got rid of the tray.

Expecting an answer.

"'M sorry..." seems appropriate right up to the moment when a little finger-sandwich gets shoved into your mouth. The bread is soft, nice, salty ham and crunchy cucumber filling your senses and cracking a bit fat line of light right in the middle of the dense cloud in your thoughts.

"Try again, love," Kyle gives a hint and wipes a crumb off your lips, licking it off his thumb. "We don't need an apology, we just want to know what's troubling ya. John, tell 'em."

"Already did," grumbles Price in response and clears his throat, sitting back down on the creaking bed. "Food's working though. Eat up, darling, get your energy. Then we'll talk properly, a'right?"

You chew slowly, still stiff in your own body, but regaining control gradually. Yes. Then you'll talk.

Ghost and Price exchange a single glance over your from, choking on the self-destructive rage, and John shakes his head so slightly that one can barely notice, but it's clear enough to stop Simon from tumbling down the traumatic spiral staircase of his own. Grounded by his Captain's presence, he shrugs his broad shoulders, shaking off the creeping up feeling of his own monsterous nature, and rolls onto his back, pulling you out of the miserable wet ball of wrinkled sheets and onto his firm lap, sideways, his big palms resting comfortably around your hips; he's not squeezing or digging his fingers into the fat like he usually does, but it's a secure hug you can't really escape.

Exposed held too far away from his chest you could hide on, you shrink, rising your shoulders protectively and trying to cover up your soft belly, spilling over your pelvis in a shapless manner - that's when John's arms come from behind, catching yours and instead of pulling away forcefully, simply repeating your own safety cocoon, hiding your body from your distorted sight and keeping you warm.

"You're not thinking straight right now, darling," every phrase he murmurs gently, calmly, convincingly into your ear is accompanied by a little kiss, beard tickling and burning your already irritated by tears skin. "So good for us, so kind. Can you spare some of that kindness for yourself?"

Even though it doesn't sound like a rhethorical question, Simon cups your cheek and shushes you tenderly, pressing his thumb to your lips, allowing John to continue with his little speech aimed to dispel the storm coagulated in your chest.

"'Cos if not, it's a'right, love. We know it's hard, and ya're doing good already. Ya 'ave us, eh? To love ya, to cherish ya. No need to overthink, jus' let us hold you, a'right?"

He finally pushes you onto Simon's chest, his big heart stuttering with worry as you seek shelter among his many scars that paint a horrifying picture once you put all the fragments together.

"How'd you do that, sir?" Simon's voice sounds vulnerable - so much that it strikes through all the layers of your egocentric self-hatred and shifts you almost immeditely into a completely different mindset; one where you throw your whole self into loving your scarred and battle-worn men in such abundance that it's ought to compensate for all the unfairness they've gone through.

There's no need for it now, you realize a little too late: Price is there, keeping Simon away from the darkness. They're fine. Better than ever. It's a distraction, a trick, a play to make your bleeding heart stop the internal self-destruction and turn to healing.

A sly little switch you're not sure they were planning to flip, but it worked.

"Hm?" As if emerging from the depths of his thoughts in response to Simon's question, John caresses your cheek as gently as his rough thumb can and then smiles, maybe catching onto the change in your mood or simply remembering all the times he pulled Ghost out of the same gloom and darkness. "Jus' taking care of me own, Simon. Tha's what a Captain does, no? Now, love, how about a shower? I reckon we can squeeze in all together and papmer you really good, what do ya say, eh?"

Ghost and Gaz manage to keep their cool. Kyle's confident and gentle presence serves to reassure any doubts Simon has about hurting you, he shoots a single glance at his sergeant and recieves support immediately. Two pair of hands cradle you with all the tenderness two soldiers are capable of, which is always enough to drown you in fully. It's a tight hug, a hot mess of limbs, too much skin on skin contact that makes your brain flare with undirected rage, but as seconds trickle by and you're still trapped between two firm bodies, you have no choice but to slip into the exhaustion phase of your outburst.

It's not pleasant, nor could you say you feel calm; if anything, you just petrify, a permanent frown on your face and blindly staring forward glass eyes. You're tired, you'd still rather be anywhere but inside your own body that still feels like a useless deformed bag that should be gutted and emptied to lighten up, inner layer of your skin scrubbed with a knife to peel off the suffocating thickness of fat trapping this heated rage inside...

Instead, you get a kiss.

It's Kyle, soft, full lips touching your wet with tears cheekbone, then again - your temple, your cheek, the overheated spot behind your ear. They're light, soft kisses, too gentle to be playful or arousing. Calming. They do not demand anything in return - he allows you to stay in your inner world where you feel secure, even pauses to kiss Simon the same way right in front of your eyes. A silent demonstrationg of the love and reverence these pecks carry, Simon's hooded eyes fluttering shut as if his own compartmentalized demons get exorcised by Garrick's touch.

"Wanna talk about it, angel?" Kyle's voice rumbles at a nice, grounding, smooth timbre, and your still-too-slow mind struggles to grasp how is it possible that he's talking and you're still getting kisses - until you recognize the uneven texture of Simon's scarred lips, trailing along your skin tenderly. "Whenever you're ready, love. But we would love to know what's going through your head right now."

It feels strange to say it out lound when you're held and caressed like this, but their kisses and solid embrace cleared your windpipe enough of the mental gunk for you to be able to speak.

"I hate myself... 'M disgusting, and-" A displeased grumbling kiss from Simon interrupts you, and even Kyle pushes his huge shoulder to reprimand his own Lieutenant for the interference. Kisses his temple immediately to make amends, though, and turns back to you, prompting you to continue.

"Wot? Don't like when someone talks shit 'bout mine," grumbles Simon like a dog that got flicked on the nose for growling at welcome guests.

"Let 'em talk, mate, it's good to get things off your chest." At least their little bickering coaxes a tiniest hint of smile out of you, and Simon, noticing it immediately, stares back at Kyle with such pride, as if he just did something great.

The thing is, in the way his arms squeeze you a tad bit tighter, pressing into his firm body, you can read that for him - your smile is the greatest achievement.

"Don't tell me you prefer his silent treatement, angel, I'm trying to be the attentive boyfriend here, and for what?" Your smile grows a little braver. A little brighter. You would've kept talking if you could remember what it was that hurt so fucking much in your chest.

"Shower. Then a cuppa. Then we have the talk." No one dares to argue with the Ghost and his gruff commands. You feel the sheet sticking to your skin as he lifts you up, Kyle already sneaking off to prepare towels and clean clothes for you three. He'll stay with you and help you wash the remaints of the mind attack off. Simon will make fresh tea.

You're going to be alright.

Price and Soap take quite an intense approach the second they notice your distress. You feel Johnny's weight disappear from you after the first strangled sob that escapes you, and if you could open your eyes glued shut by the hot, messy tears, you would see John practically dragging the poor Sergeant away by his scruff. It's easy to suspect that Johnny couldn't contain himself and went too hard, too rough on you - with no malice, but pure passion that's spilling from his big, hot heart every time he gets to be close to you.

But it's not Johnny's fault, neither is it John's. It's all you, a useless, pathetic thing, good for nothing and holding two gorgeous men to yourself like a greedy glutton hoarding delicious food.

"Ah'm sorry, bonnie- ow, Ah got it, Ah got it, Ah'm not touchin'!"

"Did we hurt ya, love? Was Johnny boy too rough wit' ya? Wha's wrong?"

You feel big warm hands gliding over your skin, quick assessment of your state in search of potential harm caused. This immediate care only makes you feel worse, every cold sweaty patch of your disgusting hide shivering and twitching under Captain's careful touch. You struggle against your own spiraling anger, fight it with what's left of your exhausted resilience - and lose, curling up with another burst of tears, shoving the loving hands away and dusting the lingering warmth off your body.

After all, you do not deserve to be treated with such kindness after the fit you just threw.

"No, no, no, it's not his fault, it's not Johnny's... it's me, it's my fault, it's all my fault, I ruin everything, I'm- I'm disgusting!"

The silence that follows you blowing up on them is heavy. Just as bad as the knot in your chest.

"Johnny."

When you open your eyes to find a way out, run away, scatter and hide in the furthest corner of the apartment until everyone who tried caring for you leaves again, you're met with Johnny's bright blue eyes, glistening with unshed tears.

It's a shocking sight, pushing you out of the muffled misery into an alerted worry - his face is red with unexplainable pained anger, fists clenched as John holds him tightly by hunched shouders, seemingly trying to prevent a violent outburst.

"Ah wanntae ken names of th' bastarts who made ye feelin' tis wa'. Ah swear Ah will mak' thaim fuckin' choke oan thair ain tongues, Ah'll rip thair spines oot 'n' shove thaim up thair-" - "Enough, Johnny. Stand down. This won't solve anythin'. Ya calm down and help our lovie feel better, a'right?"

Still a bit shells-hocked, you stir on the bedsheets and push yourself up to sit upright, stretching your arms hesitantly to the men in a weak attempt to remedy whatever shitstorm you caused in their minds.

"Don't get mad, please," you whisper sheepishly, and the shy sound of your still choked voice seems to wash Johnny's explosive anger away better than the firm grip of his handler's (Price's) hands. With a look of a beaten dog, Johnny huffs loudly, cuddlng up to you and hiding his face in your lap. His heavy jaw sinks in the plush of your thighs, accomodated nicely with the softness of your body.

"'M nae mad at ye, leannan. Jus' dinnae say tha' again, a'right, bonnie? If ye need me tae prove ye-"

"No..." your hand finds it place in his damp mohawk and brushes through, while you glance at John. His eyes are shimmering with love and love only as he looks at you and Johnny, and you feel a wave of shyness - the good, giddy, warm kind - replacing the paralyzing shame. "I'm fine already. With you."

"Maybe we should 'ave a little chat 'bout it, love," John's hand meets yours on the sad mutt's head in your lap, intertwinig fingers with you through Johnny's soft hair. "When ya feel better. Jus' so we know what we're dealing with, eh?"

"Yeah. A bit later. Thank you."

All four of your men get frozen witnessing your reaction, struck with a horrifying sense of helplessness - it feels like the biggest failure among many unsuccessful missions, operations where lives were lost and enemies missed, to have you curling up and crying in misery between all the love they've been pouring onto you just mere seconds ago. As if everything they touch is bound to go up in flames, drown in blood and rot, be it on the outside or from the inside.

They're lost, and as always, they turn to the Captain, giving themselves up for him to direct, trusting that he knows better what use they can be of.

And, frankly, he does.

They're barely talking, but the commotion around you is decipherable even through the red mind fog and closed eyes - it honestly only makes you feel worse, unsafe, exposed, despite that simply being Soap, sent off to fill a bath ("Ye want it hot or a tad bit cool, bonnie?" - Silence. Your nails dig into your scalp, the soud of someone simply breathing, even more so talking to you, sending you into a new fit of rage. "Make it warm, Johnny, we'll adjust later."), and Simon, leaving for tea duty - silently, your favourite way to have it attentively observed in the first two weeks you've been together and memorized ever since.

It's Kyle whose voice, murmuring into your ear sweet, reassuring nothings as he keeps you caged in a tight embrace, your back pressed against his warm chest, forces you out of the highly irritable state. You have no choice between his short, chaste kisses on the crown of your overloaded head, and John's calloused hands massaging your calves, soft flesh dipping under the firm pressure.

"Ya jus' focus on fighting tha' storm off, a'right, darling? We'll take care of th' rest. It happens, we know it does, 's not your fault. Jus' a funny lil' thing your mind does, eh? Yeah, love, we know wha' it's like when your mind does funny things. Don't we, Kyle?"

"That we do." Maybe it's just your own depressive state rubbing off on them or distorting your perception, but Kyle's voice sounds almost solemn. You would turn to look into the smoky quartz of his eyes, but either he holds you too tight, or you have barely any strength left in your upset body - you simply can't.

Maybe it's alright. Maybe tonight they don't need you ripping your heart out to tend to their restless minds, and you can just allow them to take care of you.

Allow Kyle to carry you to the bathroom.

Allow John to stay there and help you wash yourself with a nice, scrubby loofah.

Allow Johnny to bring in his huge, baggy loungewear that doesn't hug your curves too snugly and allows you to simply forget what you were so angry about for a while.

Allow Simon to serve you perfect temperature tea in your favourite mug and keep you quiet company on the balcony, night air cooling your wet and clean now skin and hair further and blowing all thoughts out of your troubled head away.

As you share a cigarette with rich clove aftertaste, breathing ironically becomes easier. Behind your back the bedsheets are being changed, proper meal is being cooked, a good movie you won't be upset falling asleep to is being chosen.

"Simon." - "Hm." - "You sure you're okay with me being like that?" - "Standin' in the wind with your hair wet, tryin' to catch a cold?"

You grunt, not appreciating him taking the piss while you're tryig to be vulnerable, but allow him to pull the hood of Johnny's hoodie onto your head.

"No. I mean, fucked up in the head?"

You don't actually know what answer you expect. With an unreadable expression, Simon turns his head, looking through the glass door at the men crowded in the living room and waiting for you, and then stares back at you with a smirk, a permanent scowl carved into it by someone's cruel hand.

"Nah. Tha's how I like 'em."

He throws the cigarette butt away and chuckles, cupping the back of your head and pulling you inside, into the warmth of home.

"Oi, bonnie! C'mere, As saved ye a spot." There is no spot as you look at the two-story cuddle pile on the sofa and the blanket nest in front of it, unless of course... ah, yes, Johnny's patting his lap. "Ah promise Ah'll behave. Mostly."

And as his warmth envelops you through a big hug, his hands clenched humbly on your belly and behaving indeed, you feel stupidly happy.

Because you're enjoying touch again.

131 notes · View notes

thetreefairy · 3 days

Note

hii, i was wondering if u still do the yan!father muzan + reader? if you do, i’d be very happy to leave a request here!

so i was thinking if the reader could accidentally cut off a large portion of their hair and is unable to fix it by themselves and is now crying. how would muzan react and what would he do?

Hiii, I still write for everything actually, im just not that active because my adult life is kicking my ass— and writers block go brrr.

This was apparently in my drafts, so surprise?

Warnings; Muzan is a bit of a bitch in this one, but not really the author is too tired to write a full on bitch Muzan. Reader isnt a great hairdresser. Mentions of being kidnapped

GN reader with long hair mentioned

Plan stupid games, with stupid prizes

..... It took everything in Muzan's power to not laugh at his child's tears. Honestly what they expect would happen when they were playing hairdresser, that they would come out looking hot? Please, they can barely cut a straight line on paper.

Still he was rather pleased with how Reader sought out his comfort, turns out that they can pretend to be his obedient child. "I didn't mean to cut so much off." Reader whined as they cried, honestly they didn't. They just wanted to cut off some split ends that have been annoying them since they turned into a demon. "I just wanted to get rid off my split ends!"

"Baby," muzan interrupted readers rambling with a condensing tone. "You can barely cut a straight line, so you should have expected this." He was purring as Reader's breath hitched and he continued to rub their back. "When you play stupid games, you win stupid prizes."

Okay reader was about to smack his ass, their eyes twitched in annoyance as they pulled away from him. Now Muzan couldn't have that. "But I'll recut it for you," muzan purred once more, but reader was suspicious. Rightfully so. "If you stay on your best behaviour for a month."

".... I would rather cut it myself." Reader couldn't help but hiss, their tears drying up quickly as they finally realized he was still their kidnapper, and they should not have want to be cuddled by him. But then again they're touchstarved and Muzan had gotten into their mind (especially after turning). But they had to remember, he still harmed them in ways he could not seem to understand or realize was wrong.

"awh do you not trust your papa?" Muzan cooed, amused by their quick mood change. It seems like Daki has been rubbing off on her. "Papa did dabble in hairdressing a few 100 years back when he was bored."

".... No thanks I don't want to come out with a bowl cut."

107 notes · View notes

drenched-in-sunlight · 17 hours

Note

"Marika becomes the sum of all the Fromsoft girlies" is nice but you forgot Nashandra who actually has parallels with Marika! Recommending to check it out, she's cool!

let’s get this out of the way now… I love DS2, I think the vibe and gameplay is immaculate and I’ll defend it as a whimsical and enjoyable videogame experience till the end of time.

But my god, I hate how they handle female characters in that one 💀

In fact, I don’t like how they handle female characters in DS franchise in general. It got a bit better in Bloodborne and Sekiro and especially AC6, but overall ever since I started playing Fromsoft game in 2020, my main gripe with them is they only have 2 tropes to shoehorn their female character into: helpless victim of a system that would mangle and exploit them OR serious sword lady. And if I’m being real, it’s the main gripe I have with Elden Ring base game too?

I didn’t discuss it on tumblr because back then I were still trying to keep this blog art-focused, but when the game came out in 2022, I did express my concern on twitter that I found the female characters cast… strangely lacking. Because I went into the game expecting Ema-level of writing (literally Sekiro’s Ema is one of the best female characters Fromsoft has ever written to this day I could and have talked ppl’s ears off about her. And I’m glad she on her own is very different from Marika. That means they could at least write 2 more types of female characters now the bar is on the floor but I’ll take it and cherish what I have), but it felt like they got reset back to DS franchise with ER base game.

(This has an added layer of me being a girl born, raised and lived in a Sinosphere country that is entrenched in Confucius values just like Japan, so yes I do understand and experience firsthand the underlying culture values that shapes their writing. Hell, I live and study postgraduate in Japan for 2 years too).

But we are going off track, this is about DS2. Now, my problem with DS2 is, see, with 1 or 3, the female characters either have very little agency or no agency at all. And it just…. be like that. The male characters are somewhat the same, so it really doesn’t bother me that much. The cool, unique, not sexualized design is enough. But 2?

2 has a lot of female characters…. who either play no role in the world setting or sinister figures that charm men and bring ruins to kingdoms? What?

(Before anyone says “but Lucatiel—” Lucatiel is the beacon of light in that game, yes, but at the same time her purpose centering around her brother is… also a problem I have with the way they handle Malenia’s story. My Fromsoft experience has lore to it as well jfc)

Like, it’s just ??? to me half of those women have no agency or backstory whatsoever apart from being the Dark’s daughters that would bring doom everywhere they go??? You can say everything wrong in DS2 world is their fault and I actually wouldn’t have much to argue. Actually, it’s interesting you bring up Nashandra because I do think Nashandra has parallel in Elden Ring. But not to Marika.

Nanaya.

That’s who reminds me of Nashandra in Elden Ring. Literally the mysterious, lowkey nefarious lady and her old man husband with questionable dynamic DS2 trope 🧍‍♀️ you can actually see that in their name too.

If I have to pick a character in DS franchise specifically to make parallel to Marika, it’ll always be Gwynevere. Because I honestly think it’s amazing they took a character that has the least amount of agency they’ve ever created, and turned the core concept of her (warmth, healing spells, sunlight, mother, daughter, queen, faith) into another character with actual good writing.

That’s why I didn’t include Nashandra in my previous post. Not because I don’t know about her. It’s because I know.

#ask #anon #reply #in fact I do not think Vendrick and Godfrey are any way the same #Godfrey actively acts and fights for Marika out of love he met us with full of his potentials #vendrick locks himself away and we literally fought like…. his walking corpse??#which cast another ??? layer on his and Nashandra’s relationship that does not exist with Godfrey and Marika #Vendrick… is actually really similar to Midra to me??#Fromsoft reuse tropes a lot and are still reusing them. the difference is they write them better now #and not just haha woman bad poor man got tricked #I think nanaya and midra is a more complex and interesting take on Nashandra and Vendrick

54 notes · View notes

corviiids · 3 days

Note

ooh idk if you've talked about this one before, but what about goro akechi for the kira game?

HI RAPS

verdict: im prepared for this to be controversial, but consider this: ive never been wrong in my whole life. i think goro akechi could beat kira, but i don't know if he'd be happy with the outcome.

could goro akechi identify light yagami

im answering this one first because i want to make a point about this. listen. i feel like due to akechi's whole Plot where he Fakes Solving Cases For Clout, people forget that he actually is a really smart person and a good detective. like, he's not the super prodigy genius he pretends to be, but he's not a fake detective. he faked solving those shutdown cases for extremely specific reasons:

he was the fucking perpetrator so it served him to take control of the public understanding of the investigation into them and control the narrative; and

those cases were particularly high profile and would have been impossible to solve by anyone else, so 'solving' them would catapult him into notoriety faster than anything else - it was a clout speedrun, which is what he and shido needed.

but there are numerous other cases and puzzles in various bits of p5 media that he solves without faking them, plus we see plenty of occasions where he demonstrates his high intellect. the casino is a great example because i feel like the game takes that palace as an opportunity and relishes in letting you know what akechi can really do. the anime and the mementos mission manga both have subplots where akechi solves / helps to solve legitimate mysteries. and of course the famed unused mementos request in p5r which i think about all the time. it's kind of a shame that akechi's fake cases end up overshadowing all his real ones when he's a legitimately competent detective, even if he's not the impossible prodigy he projects as and even if he's nowhere near the level L is.

of course there's also the obvious one! while we are all aware that the phantom thieves are the least subtle people on the planet, and all ren's confidants eventually work it out just because he's so deeply unsubtle about it, it is still the case akechi identified them as persons of interest very early on, before pretty much anyone else (partly by intellect, partly by his metaverse advantage, i'll get to that). that's relevant because i think the phantom thieves are reasonably analogous to kira in the sense that they're utilising supernatural methods to target individuals which are untraceable via ordinary means.

now i dont think akechi could identify kira nearly as quickly or cleanly as L could, but i do think that if you placed him in charge of the investigation with all the investigative resources of the prosecutor's office / police department, he would be able to identify light as at least a person of interest in a reasonable amount of time, for two main reasons

light is more sneaky than the phantom thieves, but also makes the same kinds of identifiable mistakes that the PT do (eg targeting people in a set area, operating in such a way that it's possible to identify him as a student, being easily provoked, etc); and

unlike L, akechi has supernatural powers.

which brings me to:

could goro akechi intuit the mechanics of the death note

no, i don't think so, not on his own. but he wouldn't need to, because he has access to the metaverse.

we're back at the universe question. i think to fairly answer 'could they beat kira' questions we have to give our detective character all the advantages they have access to in their home universe, which means that akechi not only has his intellect but also has the metaverse, his persona, and his experience traversing the collective unconscious. (by the way, here's my post about what if light yagami had a palace.)

which means that once goro akechi has identified light as a person of interest, not even needing to ID him as a particular suspect, he can check whether the metanav gives him a hit. then he could infiltrate light's palace / find him in mementos (let's be real it's gonna be a palace) and find out the rest of what he needs to know from there. the metaverse isn't only useful for changing hearts and causing shutdowns. shadows are very forthcoming about their evil plans. all akechi would need to do is find light's shadow, and he'd find out everything he needs to know about the death note and kira's new world.

(follow-up question for fun: if akechi didn't have the metaverse, would he be able to intuit the mechanics of the death note? i think that akechi would ultimately get to the same point as L, namely, that kira needs a name and a face, but the specifics of 'magic murder notebook' would escape him. so no.)

could goro akechi survive

i think this would really depend on the context in which this investigation is taking place, but broadly i think it's likely? not certain, but it's likely. it depends on how reactive light is and depends on how well akechi reads the kira situation early on.

akechi is pretty shrewd, with the exception of major blindspots where someone he has a grudge against is concerned (hence why he's vulnerable to shido and to ren's plots). but i think kira is dangerous enough that akechi would be on pretty high alert from the start. in canon he's cunning enough to make false statements to the media to trick the thieves into thinking he's at least partially on their side / not an unambiguous enemy (that's the same strategy used in romance ha ha ha) so i think once akechi identified a person of interest he wouldn't be stupid enough to publicise that he's closing in on them and would probably start leaking false theories to make light think he's completely off the trail - after all, unlike L, akechi's name and face are completely public, so it would be way too risky to make light feel cornered. it would be smartest to play up the shallow celebrity angle to make think light he's just a dumbass idiot talking a big game.

i think akechi would bank on kira's MO of only killing criminals. after all, light didn't try to kill L until L deliberately goaded him into it - it's unlikely that akechi would have a reason to think that light would try to kill him just for investigating. up until that point kira has been masquerading as an icon of justice, so it would (and canonically did) take a lot to make kira veer from that ideology into killing investigators just because they threatened him. however, it's not impossible given nobody really knows anything about kira at that stage, so while akechi might make it public information that he's investigating kira, he wouldn't let on that he thought light was a threat.

then he could either:

initiate a surprise raid on light to get the death note based on information gained from light's shadow - risky because if it goes wrong light will kill him, but this will net him the most glory

(pre-phantom thieves) kill light - stops the murders but means akechi doesn't get clout for solving the kira murders single-handedly, not preferable

(post-phantom thieves) change light's heart - akechi also doesn't get credit and would be reluctant besides

so it depends how we're defining success i guess. could akechi beat light by killing light? likely yes, by simply causing a shutdown before putting light on notice that akechi was on his trail at all. could akechi beat light by apprehending light? maybe, it depends, it's risky. could akechi beat light by changing his heart? only if the thieves are involved.

so i guess the answer is yes i think akechi has the capacity to beat kira but probably not in a way that akechi himself is satisfied with and it wouldn't be a sure thing. it could go either way.

#long post #but actually! not as long as it could have been considering you asked me about goro akechi vs light yagami #which you'd think given it's them and it's me i could go on about forever #but instead. i only went on about it for mostly forever #asks #anyway thanks rapsodia this was very self indulgent for me #could they beat kira the game #poof if you're seeing this i didnt forget about our project i swear

60 notes · View notes

marengogo · 1 day

Text

UGH!-9: Y’all Done Did It

Listening to the play list Who is Standing next to you

[Music is a very big part of my life and I’m MOSTLY INCAPABLE of writing without music, so I just thought I'd share what I am listening to while writing this]

–🐺–🐺–🐺–

Yes, I am enjoying my day-off, thank you for asking 😘. In fact, everything was going 🍑y, and then, as I scrolled on my husband’s post to see if other people had requested PIXID and liking all the ones who requested it 💜 I noticed one comment, and then a similar one and then I started scrolling …

WHAT THE FUCK IS ALL THIS?:

The whole time AYS aired I left it alone. I saw this type of comments on the Blue Bird app, but I left it alone.

I thought: “Blue Bird AMI don’t know better Marengo, let them be …”, “Once the show is finished everyone will go back to their regularly scheduled stanning …” … that’s what I kept telling myself 😩 yet; here we are.

For Fuck Sake:

Are You Sure?! 👏🏾 Is a Jungkook 👏🏾 and Jimin 👏🏾Show 👏🏾. Period👏🏾.

Do you know American Hustle Life? Yes! It is a Joonie, Jin, Yoongi, Hobi, JM, Tae and JK show.

Do you know Bon Voyage? Yes! It is a Joonie, Jin, Yoongi, Hobi, JM, Tae and JK show.

Do you know In The Soop? Yes! It is a Joonie, Jin, Yoongi, Hobi, JM, Tae and JK show.

IT REALLY AIN’T THAT HARD.

I don't even know how to keep explaining this. Forget the shipping, forget the fact that JK and JM might be a couple, forget ALL OF IT:

I know I still have to do the EI post about JK, but let me say this for the MILLIONTH TIME: JK IS NOR STUPID OR CRUEL. If he, and JM, wanted a show where they would invite members every other episode, they would have a show where they would invite members every other episode and this would have been clear from the very beginning, because just like myself, I believe organization and routine to be a big part of JK’s life. Tae was an exception/special guest. As simple as.

Does this mean that they hate the members' presence? No. Do they want to leave the band? No. Do they think they are the most important members? NO. It simply means that maybe, just maybe, these two particular members particularly enjoy each other’s company. Some of us think it is romantic, the general public think it is strictly friendship: WHATEVER! Can AMI please please please acknowledge all harmless forms of expression? Joonie came out with one of the best albums out there, by himself, and JK & JM went on various trips and adventures together, which they wanted to share with us, AS SIMPLE AS THAT.

Liking Are you Sure?! doesn't make you a shipper, liking Are you Sure?! doesn't make you less OT7, however, liking Are You Sure?! will make you a person who is accepting of whatever harmless forms of entertainment that are being gifted to you by people whom you supposedly care about, and that very obviously means a lot to them, SO AMI NEEDS TO STOP TRYING TO TWEAK IT, BECAUSE THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH IT IN ANY WAY.

Yes I am a bitch, Yes I am petty, and Yes I am also OT7 AMI, an OT7 AMI who thinks two gentlemen in the band may fancy each other, but that is about it. I don’t go around forcing people to believe my perceptions, I don’t go brain-showing people into believing that these two individuals are married and I am very aware that they may just be straight men whom were never even curious.

Remember my grammar pet-peeve? The one where I explained that Some people isn't the same as All people? Well, the same goes for Are You Sure?! Isn’t the same as A show like Are You Sure?! Like this person commented:

TRANS: A travel show. Something like Are You Sure? With Hobi 💜💜💜💜

This type of suggestion is totally fine. This ☝🏾, implies that the person understands that this particular show is something that two other members did, but it would be nice if two other members would make their own show with similar premises. So NO, Are You Sure Season 2?! Shouldn’t be a show with two other members and NO JK & JM don’t need to invite all the members if they don’t want to. And once again, for the love of everything that is demure,

it doesn't mean that they hate the members.

Okay? Okay.

Ayte, I’ve said all I wanted to say, now it's time for some comfort food & drinks.

またね！💋

Marengo.

#Marengo Goes UGH!

52 notes · View notes

sourrpatched · 16 hours

Text

38. Long Chat (wrdc 1.7k)

You put the pot in your hand down recognizing the man in front of you. “Oh my god what are you doing here?” You said sharply. “I thought you went out with the rest of them.”

“No, I stayed behind to clear some thoughts.” He said with his arms still up as a shield protecting himself. “You put the pot down right?”

“Yeah you’re safe.”

He let out a breath he was holding putting his arms down. There was an awkward silence as you both stood looking at one another. You had planned on holding off talking as much as you could but it seems like the world had other plans for you.

“I’m sorry for bothering you, i’ll just head back to my room so I don’t get in your way anymore.” Jaemin said with a forced smile. He turned away but before he could get away you spoke.

“Wait.” He stopped in his tracks. “Can we talk?”

The best part of summer in jeju island was that once the sun went down so did the temperature. Hot afternoons became bearable, and the atmosphere was warm in a way where people would spend the whole night out partying. You’d had enough of that since two nights ago, so here sat you and Jaemin on some beach chairs beside the pool at the beach house with left over beers from the fridge on a table.

It was quiet as you both sat admiring the light reflecting from the water in the pool. You could tell Jaemin felt uneasy, he had opened his own can of beer about five minutes ago and still hadn’t taken a sip. You felt guilty even though you were the one who had pulled him for a chat in the first place.

You took in a breath before ripping off the bandaid, figuratively of course. “Jaem, I’m sorry.” He looked at you puzzled but before he could speak you continued. “I was kind of avoiding you and I realize that it wasn’t fair to do but I really just needed a moment to get my head together.”

He gave you a genuine nod. “You don’t have to explain yourself, i’m sorry for expecting anything to happen between us.” He could hardly look you in the eye.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m just really sorry. I like you a lot but I should know better than to pressure you into anything more than just being friends.” He stared down at the ground and though the lighting was limited, you swear you could see his eyes begin to water.

“Jaem–“

“I understand you not wanting to talk anymore. Don’t worry, when we get back i’ll put in my two weeks notice and I’ll get out of your hair.” His voice came out broken and he still refused to meet your gaze. He slowly began to sit up from his seat.

“Jaemin wait.” You pulled his arm keeping him from walking away. He turned to face you though he looked everywhere else but at you. You could tell there were tears welling up. “What’s this really about?”

He only shook his head taking a deep breath. “I’m really sorry.” You grabbed onto his face pulling his attention from the ground to yourself. “Hey, it’s okay please just tell me what happened.”

“Woah, what a fucking bitch.” You sat down, feet in the pool while Jaemin sat next to you.

He let out a dry laugh. “She wasn’t wrong.”

You felt a surge of anger, how dare she ever make this man feel anything other than happy. “Jaemin, she was very wrong.” He looked at you then.

“Ever since i’ve met you, you’ve been nothing but helpful. Every movie we’ve watched together, every volleyball game we played, even walks on the beach you’ve been the best company I could ask for.” You could see the smallest doubt in his face so you continued.

“Jaemin, do you know why I’ve been avoiding you? It had nothing to do with you, it was because I needed a moment where I could reflect on the new feelings i’ve had ever since i’ve met you.” He looked confused. “I had to talk to Jaehyun because even though I once loved him I needed closure so that I could move on and pursue the feelings i’ve had for you for a while now.”

You felt your face get warm at your blatant confession. “Me and Jaehyun would never be able to work ever again. When he left me to pursue his career one part of me felt like I hated him for leaving me and the other part only felt guilty that I wanted him to choose me over his career.”

“That’s not your fault. You loved him. It’s no wonder you wanted him to stay with you.” He gave you a sympathetic look.

“Yeah and I can say the same for you. It’s not your fault that I was avoiding you. I realize I was only pushing you away because I was scared to lose you the way I lost Jaehyun only it mattered more because the way I feel about you hasn’t ever been the way I felt for him.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you, Na Jaemin, are enough to me. You’re more than enough for me. I didn’t notice it before because it was so different but I like you. My heart beats every time you’re around, I look for you the moment you’re not by my side, and I even find myself jealous when you’re laughing with Hyuck instead of me.”

He lets out a laugh, “Hyuck?”

“Don’t even ever mention that to him.” You covered your face, full of embarrassment. His hand reached out to yours this time uncovering your face.

“Hey, look at me.”

You opened one eye at a time, still too shy to meet his eyes. He smiled at you this time very genuine. It only made your face hotter and this time you couldn’t blame it on the alcohol.

“I like you Y/N. Ever since the first time we met I couldn’t help but feel like I was drawn to you. I wasn’t even jealous of you and Jaehyun,” He paused for a moment, “Okay, well I was a bit when I found out he wrote a whole song for you but that’s it.”

You let out a chuckle. “I heard it. Very nice song but I don’t think that’s enough to rekindle anything. I don’t think I could feel anything for anyone but you.”

He blushed at your words. “Dammit I was supposed to be the romantic one.”

“Right, please continue.”

“The point is, I was scared that you didn’t feel the same. I’m always scared that i’ll do something that’ll change how people feel towards me but I think i’m willing to take that risk if it means I can be with you in the moment.”

“All i’m hearing is you’re so down bad for me.” You say teasingly.

“I’m glad you’re finally catching on.”

You can’t help but really take in the moment. Here you are right on the edge of a pool, the moon shining down on the two of you. A part of you is really happy that the world had you face him earlier than you planned, who knows how that talk would’ve played out before.

You can feel his gaze on you and it only makes you giddy. There’s no use holding back anything anymore so you move closer to Jaemin. “The moon is beautiful tonight isn’t it?”

“If the moon in question is you, then it’s always been.” You’re unsure when the gap became smaller between the two of you but here you are looking him in the eyes. Jaemin quickly glances at your lips and you smile knowing exactly what’s next.

“You gonna keep staring or actually do something?” Within a second he clears the space between the two of you catching your lips on his. You can feel the softness of his mouth as he kisses you so gently and intimately.

You pull back looking him in the eye still feeling the lingering effect of his lips. He looks lost in your gaze. Liking his lips while smiling to himself. His smile is quickly replaced with shock the second you playfully push him into the pool. You jump in afterwards poking your head out of the water only to find him smiling at you.

“What was that for?”

“I’m sorry I had a burst of cuteness aggression and pushed you too hard.” You say laughing. He joins you in your laughter pulling you closer to him in the pool.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute.”

“I’m also lucky to have you. We’re dating now by the way.” You say straight forward.

“Of course, but just so you know there’s no getting rid of me.”

“Hmm there’s not even a thirty day return policy?” You tap your finger on your chin playfully.

“Nope,” He says popping the p, “All sales final.” He pulls you in for another kiss. You can’t help but smile into it, this time he’s much more desperate with the way he kisses you. As if he’d been wanting you his entire life.

You feel his tongue tease your lip asking for permission to deepen it. He’s kissing you so much more passionately than before, you feel like you’re drowning in him which is ironic considering you were both standing in a pool at the moment.

Right when you feel like you have no more room to breathe he pulls away. You let out a small whine at the loss, cringing at the way he was able to pull that noise out of you.

“I think they’re back already.”

“What?” You’re lost in thought before realizing he meant the rest of your friends made it back to the beach house.

Ugh so much for alone time.

“We should get out and shower, don’t wanna get sick from being in the pool this late at night.”

You groan at the thought of leaving him. “I’m not ready to let you go.”

He lets out a small chuckle. “It’ll only be for a moment, unless you’re looking to shower together?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

You roll your eyes shoving him away. “You freaking perv.”

“Hey you suggested it.”

“Ugh well you’re my boyfriend so I guess i’m stuck with this now anyway.”

He giggles softly, “Boyfriend yeah? Could you say it again?”

masterlist previous next

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A/N ➼ late chapter but i hope u guys enjoy it! btw i’m debating on if i’ll be participating in some fun october posts but we will see 🤔

taglist: @yyangj3lly @junviadinho @pnkified @mystverse @daegalfangirl @girlz4jaem @222brainrot @multifandomania @hamjwis @nanaxwi @haechansbbg @lampcults @urlocalbeaner5 @onlyhyunjin @neoskzluvr @pastelzindecana @nctrawberries @tommina @sunghoonsgfreal @rakshithanotrao @chaerinmin @injunnie-lemon @neocults26 @busy-daydreaming02 @nosungluv @alethea-moon @candied-czennie @iamsimplyasimp @channnaa @hyuck-me @clean-soap @nessaassen02 @lionzyon @neozon3nha @stqrgr7 @scarredrose25 @polarisjisung @l4narecl1pse @minniesbae

51 notes · View notes

totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus · 21 hours

Note

i'm amazed by the energy that antibucktommy people bring to this show like one of the most beloved characters and one of the biggest storylines in the very first season wasn't bobby and the fact that he murdered 148 people including his wife and children and is trying to rebuild his life. it's almost like this show has been saying since the beginning that people can grow and be better and maybe we should give them the space to do that.

anyway buck and tommy were really cute this episode. and there's something so teenage giddiness about them hiding behind a couch for a fake surprise party and flirting that just makes me so happy for the sheer queerness of the experience for buck

This is honestly why I stopped interacting with a lot of segments of fandom over the summer and started curating my fyp and tumblr follows a little more intensely. All of the characters have done horrible things (some more recently than others), things that are usually regarded as unforgivable. Bobby's story is the big one, but Hen's cheating storyline, Athena's many and varied abuses of power as a cop, Chim's really pretty sus relationship with Tatiana, Eddie's fight club era and his treatment of the women he gets into relationships with, Buck manipulating Taylor (like, kind of a lot)...like they've all done terrible things and we have watched them come back from it and learn and grow and change, and love them for it.

I think a lot of it stems from the fact that the horrible things they did were not done to our faves (I'd argue the fandom didn't know Karen well enough during the cheating storyline to not feel inclined to forgive Hen for it) and the fact that the racism and sexism displayed by Tommy at first are such lightning rod issues anyway (as well they should be). And, yes, let's be real, the majority of it is what I'll kindly call disappointment that we got Bi!Buck after all this time, but not Buddie. And that's fair (to an extent...there's NO excuse for the kind of harrassment we saw over the last few months).

But the vitriol displayed towards BuckTommy and the people that ship them is just really outsized in my opinion. The show is going out of their way to show us that Tommy is good to Buck (and friends with Eddie), and that they are enjoying each other. Whether or not it leads to Buddie, don't we WANT Buck to have a good relationship for his first as a queer man? Everyone talks about representation being SO important--we have an extremely masculine characater (who has canonically been presented as a playboy/heartthrob type) discovering a new facet of his sexuality when he's nearly in his mid-thirties, and exploring that facet with a love interest that is EQUALLY as masculine. This storyline is important! It's breaking a lot of new ground and doing it in a really nicely done way.

And in regards to Tommy...I dunno, maybe it's because I've grown up in an environment that pretty much BREEDS men like BeginsEra!Tommy. Yes, they have a choice not to be the way they are--but unless you live in it, it's hard to understand how hard making that choice, or even recognizing that you DO have a choice, really is. I think it's also important to show a character who didn't remain a piece of trash human, and was able to accept that they were wrong and CHANGE. If the only way you can ever be defined is by what you were at your very worst, what is even the fucking point of changing? No one owes you forgiveness, even after you do the work to change...but nor do you deserve to be punished forever.

I dunno, I just wanna enjoy my weewoo show and I'm tired of people harshing my buzz (heh, see what I did there?) I still ship Buddie. I ship BuckTommy. Most of all I ship Buck/Happiness and I am eager to see if he finally gets some that lasts.

#911 abc #ask answered #tommy kinard #evan buckley #buck x tommy #I just have a lot of thoughts you prolly weren't expecting a novella lol

35 notes · View notes

owlsie-hoot · 24 hours

Text

All Creatures Great and small "Holding the baby" 05x02

I don't even know where to start!

First: my internet connection was not AWOL this week and I could watch the entire episode without any trouble. And maybe that is why I still cannot sort my thoughts!

What was this episode? What happened? How many of the predictions came true? How many spoiler dots were correctly connected? A LOT!

Starting at the beginning:

Audrey being on one of her first training sessions to learn everything about her new job, a scene I was eagerly looking forward since the end of February. That the episode started with that was simply amazing. I cried because it made me so happy. Of course it was Siegfried who didn't close the curtains correctly - prediction one. And of course he waited for her because he wanted to make "you were accounted for" - correct prediction two. I mean how many times have we written about this scenario in fanfics? I certainly have used this trope numerous times. Needless to say that this entire sequence already killed me and that was only the beginning. The joking, the banter, the care, the offering of a nightcap, handing her the letter from Tristan. There is no line there anymore. It has vanished.

Only in my rewatch did I notice that episode 2 picks up directly after episode 1. Just one hour later. So we all got to yell "Bingo" if we assumed that Siegfried was only still up, talking to James, because he was waiting for Audrey in episode 1. (sorry was too excited last night to notice this)

Siegfried and Jimmy at the breakfast table: can it get any cuter? Seriously! Reading medical textbooks to the baby is so Siegfried.

The story slowly unfolds after that of course and I didn't dare hope that Siegfried and Audrey would get more than two scenes for themselves. Setting my expectations very low for each episode is hard but rewarding because they were inseparable in that episode. Siegfried storming through the house, yelling her name, ranting about Bosworth, telling her everything he hates about that guy, is so married! Of course Bosworth hears everything and of course Siegfried puts his foot in. "Monopolising my housekeeper" - is one way of phrasing it but I think that 'housekeeper' is by now a very hollow expression, only used out of habit. And because every other term would give him away. He cannot say her first name, he cannot say partner, wife, companion, friend. I wasn't sure if the look Audrey shot him was because he called her 'housekeeper' or because he interfered her meeting and offended Bosworth.

Cue Siegfried apologising (scene number 3 for them!) almost immediately afterwards in his own special way. He fully accepts her terms and conditions and points out that he was only angry with Bosworth and not with Audrey who only had two training sessions so far. "feels like more" he mutters because he misses her and doesn't like sharing her. But he does not really understand that he is jealous. At least they talk now! Still not enough but there is so much more communication between them that is emotionally important and not your regular small talk.

As if this wasn't already enough, the next correctly predicted scene happens. Audrey riding her bike while on a round, finding poor Bingo and calling Siegfried for help. Once again the two share a frame but this time even more flirting is added. The looks are killing me and I can't believe what I just witnessed. There was admiration and pride, thankfulness and a tenderness in that scene that leaves no doubt that Audrey is slowly getting there.

The next scene with them doesn't help either because the first hint is dropped that Siegfried is too old for romance (and doesn't have a family) - which Audrey finds so funny that she has a hard time suppressing her laughter. Bosworth could not be more wrong. Seeing Audrey and Siegfried sitting opposite the warden, like the couple they unofficially are, in a house that reminds us of Gerald's dark bachelor flat, is the cherry on top of the cake. Followed by the epic car ride (prediction number 4!) that I rewatched directly afterwards.

Audrey teasing him and Siegfried knowing that she does but playing along. They are on fire. Additionally we have never seen Audrey so carefree, so at ease and happy, smiling and teasing throughout an episode. Gone is the weight that she had carried around for such a long time. She truly is free and Siegfried welcomes this with open arms. "There should be a line between employer and employee" "when is suits" - that line Siegfried pointed out in 01.02 has eroded. She can endlessly tease him and he joins in. Seize the day! And smile about it.

Only to step hard on the breaks later. Have we ever heard Audrey tease him like that? Or Siegfried answer in such a flirty sarcastic way? I don't think so. Will add "Stubborn beast" to the list of endearments Audrey uses for Siegfried.

And finally, the last scene. Not alone this time but the predicted, apron wearing husband. Adapting, helping, not being grumpy about it. And his wife who lets him fight his own battles because she enjoys the squabble between Bosworth and Siegfried way too much (when it is not about her).

#just late night thoughts #acgas 2020 #acgas spoilers #all creatures great and small #siegfried farnon #audrey hall #i could write an entire essay on this

33 notes · View notes

tgmsunmontue · 2 days

Text

Season to Taste - 21/? WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another. Heading into this little world.

PROLOGUE/ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FORTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN NINETEEN TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTYONE

Vi enters the kitchen looking worried and he’s immediately concerned that something is going wrong front of house. She’s good, but there are still so many moving parts that she can’t catch everything. There are people that think they’re together, with how they’re portrayed on TV, and obviously the more they deny it the more people think they’re actively trying to hide it, so they’ve given up denying at least and just saying no comment. It’s easier and they’re not that exciting really, they have to lose interest eventually.

“Leonardo…” Vi starts and one of his eyebrows shoots up. Italian it is then. She wants to say something and not have others understand. “There’s a guy out front saying he wants to talk to you. Says he’s your uncle?”

For the briefest of seconds he thinks it might be Mav, but no, it has to be Ice. Mav wouldn’t say uncle, he always used godfather.

“Tall guy. Looks really fucking intimidating?” Bradley asks, already untying his apron and straightening his top.

“Oh. So you do know him?”

“Yeah. Come on, let me introduce you to my Uncle Ice.”

“Ghiaccio,” Vi offers, clearly thinking he’s forgotten the Italian word for ice and he laughs and shakes his head.

“No. Not ghiaccio. His name is Ice. Or Tom actually I guess.”

“Oh. Oh this is, he’s your… okay. Yeah. I want to meet him properly.”

… … …

“You said you don’t scare easy… guess it’s time to prove it.”

“Gladly,” Bradley says, because he’s faced down far scarier people, and done it without anyone by his side. Jake grips his hand, and he’s not sure if it’s to show him support, or because he himself needs the physical touch right now. Regardless Bradley pauses and pulls Jake into a quick hug, presses a kiss to his forehead. “It’ll be fine.” He’s got two bags of food in his other hand, and Jake is balancing the cake in his free hand

Jake nods sharply, sucks in a breath and rolls his shoulders back, like it’s not his own family home he’s about to enter and he wonders why Jake is so nervous. He squeezes his hand and the smile and nod he gets almost has him laughing with how reassuring Jake is trying to look. It’s fucking adorable and he hopes for Jake’s sake it’s all going to go smoothly, so he’ll be friendly and helpful and charm them all. He knows he can put on the charm, Maria already likes him and Jake had seemed to think she was going to be one of the hardest to impress.

Maria had sent him a series of messages, letting him know she’s informed her siblings exactly who Jake was suddenly dating. That Jake called him Leo, so they could call him Leo or Bradley. She’s also explained to them that Jake seems to either not know the extent of Bradley’s fame, or simply doesn’t care, either way they all needed to be equally chill. She’s told him that Olivia is excited to meet him again, and the fact that he has met her before on the previous Saturday at the farmers market makes him feel even more prepared. That’s almost half of Jake’s sisters right there.

He follows Jake and the door opens in front of them, like they’ve been watched the entire time and he isn’t surprised. A man is standing there, much too young to be Jake’s father, and he’s reaching out to take the cake from Jake’s hands.

“I am under very strict instructions to rescue this cake and then protect it with my life… I’m Daniel by the way. Sandra’s husband. You see kids running around they’re also mine…”

“Bradley,” he offers, dropping Jake’s hand to shake his, and then Maria is there, taking the cake from Daniel like she doesn’t trust him to hold it and Bradley grins at her.

“Hey Maria.”

“Bradley. Nice to see you again… thank you for this,” she says, eyes alight with glee and Bradley grins. He always likes making food for people who really appreciate it and Maria has got an excellent grasp of flavors so he hopes it lives up to her expectations.

“I, uh, made a bit more food and thought I’d bring it along. Rickard –”

“Oh. Do you have some of his salsas?”

“Yeah. And fresh corn chips.”

“Perfect. Come on through. Ignore the chaos.”

Bradley isn’t quite sure what chaos she’s referring to but then he follows them out the back and then there are kids running around and then there are three women all standing there, all looking at him with varying degrees of skepticism and interest. He smiles and passes his bags to Maria, explains the additional food and is grateful to learn that it’ll go well with what she has planned. That they’d already done a bunch of stuff for lunch so he’s not contributing to over catering. Then she’s waving him off and Jake is hovering awkwardly and Bradley reaches for him, feels him settle a little as he wraps his arm around his waist.

“Olivia right? Nice to see you again.”

“Yeah. Hi.”

Then he’s meeting Sandra and Nicola, who seem cooly polite, especially compared to Maria and Olivia’s much warmer friendliness. Jake hadn’t been wrong, there is a weird feeling, and he can only guess it’s the emotional upheaval of the day. He’d suggested, both to Jake and also Maria via messages, that maybe it could be postponed and told in very uncertain terms that that was not going to be happening. Also it’s an early dinner because many of them will get up early to be at the market to set up first thing in the morning. His offer of help has not been accepted. This time.

There is no sign of Jake’s father, or Amanda, but no one is saying anything, so he stands there and makes small talk about the different places he’s travelled to, apparently a topic of conversation which they’ve all deemed appropriately safe. Jake is tugged away to play by his nieces and nephew and it’s very clear from both the torn look on Jake’s face that he wants to go as much as he doesn’t want to leave Bradley unattended with his sisters. Fortunately whatever expression he’s wearing and the expectant look on Sandra’s face have Jake heading out to the garden to throw and kick balls around, throwing an apologetic look over his shoulder as he goes.

“So. Bradley.”

“Yeah.”

“You seem… normal.”

“I… I’m sorry? Was that meant to be a compliment or an insult?”

“Neither. Simply an observation. You’re not quite like how I imagined.”

“What you imagined? Let me guess… someone hard to please and with a short fuse?”

“Well, that is how you’re portrayed.”

“Short fuse, yeah, when I was younger maybe. Definitely now when I’m stressed. But… no. Not me at all. Just what they choose to show of me. Sometimes I play it up when they ask me too….”

“I knew it!” Olivia declares and Bradley shoots her a quick grin. “And Sandra only watched highlights on YouTube last night, I think she focused on a compilation one which just shows you yelling at people.”

Bradley pulls a face, because he’s not a fan of those moments, but he also knows that a lot of people are. Then he hears the door open again and everyone turns toward it and there is another woman, one who is carrying a large bag and a baby and this has to be Amanda and her son Lincoln.

“Holy shit. Bradley Bradshaw.”

“He is.” “Do you not read your messages?” “Mandy!”

“Hi. Nice to meet you.”

“Holy shit, Maria, you weren’t joking.”

“Does she usually?” Bradley asks, looks to Maria who is rolling her eyes.

“Well… no. I just thought maybe you were a guy that just looked like him. Rather than actually being him…”

“I’m actually him. Have been my whole life.”

“Except for when you go by Leonardo,” Sandra states and Bradley shrugs.

“I’m both Leo and Bradley, same person. I answer to both equally. I just usually expect Leo to be followed with a stream of Italian…”

“Jake’s been learning Italian.”

“He told me,” Bradley says, tries not to feel too smug about the fact.

“Anyway, I’m Amanda. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too. And this must be Lincoln…”

“He doesn’t like strangers…” Amanda says, already apologetic as if her son is about to scream in his face and Bradley shrugs. He likes kids, but he isn’t going to make grabby hands for a baby he’s just met, or a mom who has just met him. “Huh. Apparently you don’t make him scream. So yeah. Here,” and then he’s having a baby foisted onto him and he cradles the small body against his chest automatically, looks at her in surprise only to find all five sisters now grinning and it’s so similar to Jake’s it is a little unnerving.

“So, you like kids?”

“Yeah. Big family. Lots of cousins.”

“Hmm.”

… … …

Jake isn’t sure what his insides are doing when he sees Leo holding Lincoln, but he does know he needs to immediately capture it on his phone, quickly takes a snap and realizes it’s the first picture he’s taken of Leo. Nicola and Amanda are both smirking at him, and he turns back to Daniel, can’t even subtly give them the finger with the kids around. He sees his sisters move as a pack, Leo trailing after them with Lincoln still in his arms and Daniel jerks his head.

“Go on, go rescue him and see if your sisters need any help…”

“Like they’ll let me help,” Jake mutters under his breath, but he slopes off and tries not to feel too bad at the disappointment from his niblings as he leaves them to their games. Of course, he should have prepared himself better, gets almost to the kitchen to find that they’re not grilling Leo about himself, they’re grilling him about Jake. What the hell, that’s not the way it’s meant to go. He stands just out of the way, catches Leo’s eye and the little wink which makes his stomach do a little flip.

“Wait. Jake’s cooked for you? How did that go?”

“He’s a perfectly good cook,” Leo states, ducking his head.

“Could you taste anything other than sauce?”

“He cooks to survive, not to enjoy…”

“He didn’t put any sauce on mine. And I enjoyed not having to cook.”

“Wow. Must be true love.”

“It ain’t blind, it has no taste…”

“And I’m working on making him a sauce…”

“You’re what?”

“Oh my god, you’re going to make him sauce… He’s going to get his own signature sauce. Of course he is.”

“I don’t know if that’s sweetly romantic or sickeningly romantic…”

“So sweet it makes you sick?”

“Bingo. That’s it…”

“You’re all just jealous,” Jake declares, and they all jump a little, turning to look at him and he scoops Lincoln from Leo’s arms, surprised but pleased when Leo gives him a kiss, catches the pleased look a couple of his sisters shoot him and feels warm inside. They’re moving food to the table, setting out plates and tableware. Their dad is apparently less than five minutes away so his window of being able to be a little inappropriate is closing rapidly.

“And you can stay jealous. He makes me breakfast in bed too.”

“Yeah. I wonder why,” Nicola says dryly, and there are so many snorts and huffs of amusement he can’t tell if any of them didn’t, including Leo. Traitor.

“I don’t mind making breakfast for everyone one morning…”

“You’re not making any of my sisters a morning after breakfast!”

“I made you a morning after breakfast…” Leo states, and Jake blinks at him, but his sisters, for the most part, are all cackling like mad and while the idea of Leo teaming up with his sisters should scare him, it instead thrills a part of him, that they already getting on well enough to hassle him.

“Yeah. For…” Jake looks around, and his nieces and nephew have come inside and are all looking at him avidly and he slumps back against the bench. “Fine. Cook for whoever you want.”

“Oh my god. Can you make me eggs benedict?”

“He’s not your personal chef!” Jake grumbles, and for some reason this makes Leo laugh and kiss the side of his face again.

… … …

He’s coming back from the bathroom, ready to eat when he nearly bumps into someone in the entryway taking off their boots. This must be Jake’s father.

“Oh. Sorry sir. I didn’t see you there.”

“You… You’re Bradley Bradshaw.”

“Yes sir?”

“I’m sorry. What are you doing here exactly?”

“Uh. I’m Jake’s…” he waves a hand, suddenly at a loss for words. Wants to say boyfriend, however it feels to juvenile, but partner is far too serious and Vi is his literal business partner. “Date?” Bradley asks, wondering what Jake’s father has been told exactly.

“I thought Maria told me your name was Leonardo…”

“You can call me Bradley sir, Leonardo is my Italian name, and it’s the name I used the first time I met Jake.”

“Huh. You can call me Chuck. Nice to meet you, Bradley. Of all the young men Jake could bring home he brings home you. Kinda funny.”

“Uh…” Bradley isn’t quite sure what to do or say in reply to that.

“Sorry. My wife loves watching you cook is all.”

“Oh.” Oh.

“I mean, I’ve seen some of them so often I can probably transcribe them, but Jenna really enjoys it. Especially when you yell at people.”

“Oh, I don’t really…”

“It’s fine son, I’m well aware it’s likely dramatized to make it more interesting. But she seems to think you’re well justified in your yelling. We enjoy watching it together and just… of all the people that Jake could have started dating he somehow picked one that his mother has a chance of recognizing. I’m assuming he told you about her.”

“Yes sir.”

“Less of the sir, just Chuck will do. He’s got no idea you’re on TV does he?”

“I don’t believe so sir.”

“Huh. Yeah, that boy never liked watching TV growing up. Being outdoors was where he wanted to be. School was a challenge, until they could teach him why things would be useful. You got yourself a handful there,” Chuck says, then shoots Bradley a wink. “And if I find out you’ve been inappropriate with my baby I’ll have you know I own a shotgun!” he says much louder and Bradley hears Jake’s exasperated dad! And he can’t help but laugh.

It’s not what he was expecting, to simply be accepted and welcomed with open arms reminds him so deeply of the Gallo family it almost hurts in the best type of way. Because there’s also the edges of happy craziness and banter going around and the deep love they have for each other. When Jake kisses him all he gets are self-indulgent smiles aimed in their general direction. Yeah. He could get used to being part of this family too.

TWENTYTWO

#Season to taste #Hangster #Sereshaw #Top Gun Maverick fanfiction #AU

32 notes · View notes

halfblood-princes-crown · 2 days

Text

Updating yall early so I don’t forget this

Ok so, I brought Lupin into the mix and the responses were hilarious

Ofc i already told them Snapes backstory, so they already know about Lupin and his Lycanthropy (The Prank)

So, initially they were talking about Snape and Lupin working together

My Boss: Well, he handled it professionally. I mean, to take time out of your day to make medicine to help him with his condition is mature enough. I understand his initial upset about it though, this man is clearly traumatized

My fav coworker: professional my ass, I wouldn’t work with someone who almost killed me. Involuntarily or not, that’s traumatic. So, obviously I’m childish, I would’ve quite on the spot HAHAHA

Then that’s when I brought up Lupin forgetting to take his potion

My boss: He almost killed 3 students and the teacher…again? What do you mean he forgot? What kind of bullshit haha oh my god. This is a fucking joke

My fav coworker: *Didnt know what to say*

Then I bring in Snape outing Lupin and the Marauders stans interpretation of that (comparing it to outing a gay person) and I also told them Rowling’s intended interpretation of Lycanthropy (AIDS)

My boss: So I’m supposed to believe he’s in the wrong for telling everyone there’s a werewolf in a school full of children? He already proved he can’t fucking be trusted! What?

My fav Coworker: Wait, so the fans are comparing this to being gay? In what world is being gay a danger to children? That says a lot. Either they like to hear themselves talk or they made that comparison on purpose

My boss: At least I can see what it would mean with the AIDS comparison. It’s not pretty, but it makes a lot more sense. A grown man with an HIV can’t control himself and yadda yadda. The gay argument was cognitive dissonance at this point, because didn’t you say this side of the books fanbase is very LGBTQ centered? My ass

Ngl…I never thought of that shit💀 I still hate the aids comparison but good points boys

I gave them the counter argument that he ruined Lupins life and that he could’ve been killed or denied any future jobs

My boss: Well, shit, he almost killed 3 children because he couldn’t drink a damn potion! Hang him for all I care. And that’s typically what happens in real life when things like this happen. Maybe he wouldn’t get death row, but he’d definitely be locked up, and if he gets out, he’s gonna have a hard time in society. Womp womp

My fav coworkers: You guys cancel people for less, are they defending him for almost killing children? And almost killing Severus AGAIN, oh my goodness. We’re doomed as a society HAHA

Then I brought up the curse on the DADA position

My fav coworker: SO SEVERUS TECHNICALLY SAVED HIS DUMB ASS? Oh my gooodddd!

My boss: wow, I’m done. Work time

So that’s the conversation on Lupin so far. Obviously there’s a lot more stuff to cover

#severus snape #pro severus snape #pro snape #snape community #hp fandom #harry potter

30 notes · View notes

joocomics · 2 days

Text

ಬ fuck buddies: part three

part one | part two | part three

pairing: fuckbuddy!yangyang x f!reader x loser!winwin

genre: smut wc: 2.2k

contains: sub!reader, hard dom!winwin, love triangle, friends with benefits trope, toxic relationships, jealousy, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, (consensual) angry sex, masturbation, face fucking, gagging, hair pulling, face slapping, degradation kink, name calling

“come on, just show me!”

“why?!”

“why?” yangyang's lips pucker up as if he's thinking over your question carefully, but he’s simply just acting like a fool. “because i want to know what you liked so much about it.”

his tongue makes a clicking sound of disappointment when he sees you rolling your eyes at him.

“oh, c'mon, you must have wondered the same about some of the girls i hook up with. you should understand what i'm talking about.”

“yeah, i have, but i don't ask you to fuck them in front of me.”

“i would, if you ask me to,” he replies with no hesitation. “anytime.”

“did you plan this? together?” you turn to winwin who hasn't uttered a single word since he walked into the room.

he stutters once as he assures you he knew nothing about this and looks down at his lap when yangyang opens his mouth again.

“it was all my idea, don't blame the poor guy.”

after that, for a moment the three of you just sit still in a sudden silence with your mind not leaving you rest for a second. you stand up on your feet and start walking around the room trying to figure out if agreeing to this would have the affects you want on yangyang. you want to show him that you can feel pleasure without him; that you can act like an even bigger slut for others and enjoy it.

but this means using winwin as a pawn.

“are you seeing her boobs for the first time? you haven't stopped staring.” yangyang looks at his friend with a smile - not a genuine smile, but a mocking one.

you turn around and answer on his behalf.

“no, i've sent him nudes a couple of times so he's seen them already.”

it's the truth.

you haven't met with winwin after what happened that night, but you kept answering every text of his although you know the right thing to do is to ignore him, because you don't want to have any kind of romantic involvement with him, and based on his messages, that's exactly what he's hoping for. for that, yangyang was right - obviously, winwin gets attached very easily. you should've seen it coming since he hasn't been in a single long term relationship, but you didn't expect him to obsess over a girl who's been ignoring him since day one, and has been talking nothing but shit behind his back.

you knew it was wrong to lead him on and yet you didn't stop flirting back. when he sent you a photo for the first time, where he was gripping his boner through a pair of sweatpants, you asked for more. the exchange of pictures continued until he asked you out and you declined the offer. then he asked you out one more time, but your answer stayed the same and that’s when he stopped reaching out. several days later - you’re here.

the only response yangyang gives is a short, mirthless laugh. except annoyed by this new information which winwin didn’t let him know about, he’s also surprised to hear that you’ve started sexting somebody so early on. it’s not like you.

his gaze moves with each step you take towards the bed. it concentrates more on your body as you straddle winwin’s lap and intensifies the moment you strip him from his shirt.

you adjust winwin’s glasses before forcing him on his back. as you lean down into his face yangyang earns a proper view of your ass once it rises up in the air.

“are you mad at me?” you peer into winwin’s eyes while recollecting your last conversation. he’s staring at you too, and you can see he’s hurting; and looking so charmingly as he does so. “i know you are, i’m sorry.” your whisper caresses his skin as you guide your lips to his neck; pressing open mouthed kisses and sending warm waves into his body through kitten licks. “i want you to let it all out on me now. just like last time. don’t hold it in.”

the kiss feels like another apology, but in a different form. winwin cannot resist the delicate touch of your lips and the way they lead his like they want to make up for the time you spent away from each other suppressing your desires. he forgives you, but he cannot lie, he does want to show you how much exactly you drive him crazy, because you seem to not realise it.

once you’re flipped on your back with no panties to hide your excited clenching, he removes the rest of his clothes, meanwhile yangyang leans back comfortably in his seat, anticipating to see how the scene will unfold. he needs to know what exactly keeps you thinking about his friend who’s always had the loser etiquette attached to his personality.

you’re laying between winwin’s legs as he levels his cock with your mouth which is watering at the appealing sight of his toned figure. you feel yangyang’s focused attention on you, but it cannot shift away yours that’s fixated upon winwin’s flushed tip that will soon separate your lips. once his length fills your mouth inch by inch you look up, but not for long as he begins to push further into your throat… again, then again and again until you squeeze your eyes shut and try to keep breathing.

the lewd gagging noises excite yangyang who quickly realises he’s never fucked your mouth in this position. he observes with interest how winwin keeps his hips moving rapidly as if your mouth is a sex toy he can use for as long as he wants while his one hand pulls at the roots of your hair almost angrily.

“shit,” yangyang exclaimes quietly, “make her choke, man.”

winwin is not fucking your throat, he realises, he’s abusing it. until soon enough your nails sink into his thighs and he pulls out, groaning loudly above you.

“fuck, win—“ you pant heavily after coughing while rolling onto your chest. you feel dizzy and sore, but so aroused.

the hazy feeling in your head increases when you turn around only to earn a slap on the cheek.

your cravings are being met one by one... and the exhilarating feeling this brings into your heart is what makes you worry that it will be hard to distance yourself again after this.

winwin’s demanding fingertips dig into your cheeks, signaling you to refocuse on him. once he catches you making an attempt to speak he tilts your head with another slap so you only end up staring at him, with drooling lips and chest rising excitedly.

there it is, he thinks to himself, that weak submissive gaze of yours that he never thought he would ever be able to see again. he’s ready to do anything to own it.

“you’re not gonna say a word, okay?” he says and the way you nod without thinking twice brings him indescribable satisfaction. “i really don’t want to hear your fuckin’ voice right now.“

his fingers move from your reddish cheek to your heat; your whole expression transforms once they slip inside you, finally turning that lingering desire in your core into blissful reality. an erotic sound escapes you while he forces them deeply inside, allowing yangyang to hear how wet you are for someone that’s not him.

“yeah, you can moan as much as you want, but no talking.” he states, emphasising on the word no with a firmer change of tone and one last warning glance at you.

your teeth grab onto your lip furiously when he enters you with one strong push. he slides all the way in through your arousal, smoothly, but with slight pain that makes you cuss shakily. it already causes you a new slap which lands stronger than the last one.

yangyang’s hand tugs down his underwear to get a hold of his erection, almost unconsciously, because he’s in trance with what’s happening in front of him; in his own bedroom. now he understands why few days ago you asked him to slap your face. he only laughed, because he thought you couldn’t be actually wanting it…

the grip on his leaking cock tightens the same moment winwin’s hand reaches for your throat. his friend’s voice shakes a bit, but it still manages to sound demanding when he speaks up as yangyang starts to ease the pressure by slow steady strokes.

“keep your eyes on me.” winwin notices you can barely keep them open as he pounds into you with force. this brings him pleasure almost as big as the way your mouth hangs open because of the gradual lack of oxygen. “look at me while i fuck you dumb... yeah, there you go.”

the moment the climax washes over you, hitting you in one overwhelming wave of buzzing delight, your scream clashes with yangyang’s frustrated groan as he forces his hand to delay his orgasm - winwin is not yet done with you.

he has your legs shaking while you stand poorly on all fours, spreading wide and whining from the on going sharp thrusts. you put all the effort you can to keep your body steady, but you fail, so winwin tightens his fist around your hair to keep you from falling forward.

“i’ll fuck you till you turn into a brainless whore,” he hisses once you’re pressed against his warm chest. “because that’s how you like it.”

every time he utters something at your ear, the burning rush doubles inside you; each word is another intoxicating sensation that makes you anticipate what you’re going to hear next.

“and you’re still going to run back to me, wanting more of this…” for the first time his hips slow down, letting his cock glide calmly through your squeezing walls - steady mellow rhythm that can’t compare to the thumping of his heartbeat against your back. it's like he wants to make sure you will register properly everything he has to say. “you want me just as bad.”

you almost agree, but you remember on time that you’re not allowed to speak. his last sentence before your head gets pushed down into the mattress sends shivers down your spine: choose wisely.

yangyang didn’t hear most of what winwin told you just now, but he did hear those two words, and they make his blood boil, because he agrees with them.

he rests against the back of the chair and quickens the pace of his fist. he keeps it sliding along the mixture of spit and pre-cum; his size keeps twitching at the sight of your bent body getting overstimulated from behind, your head shoved into his sheets that are getting soaked by your tears, his friend’s hand pressing against your skull with roughness that he himself has never used on you; calling you names that he's never thought of calling you before.

before he knows it, his cum shoots all over his bare stomach from the way he’s been synchronising the movements of his hand with the intense speed of winwin’s hips. quiet cusses slip from his lips as the freeing warm feeling settles beneath his skin; it frustrates him how good it felt.

you, on the other hand, are waiting for the after effects of your second orgasm to fade down as winwin alternates between pulling out and gliding his cock up between your slick butt cheeks. you finally open your teary eyes for the first time in a while, provoked by his hand that suddenly pulls your hair; not roughly like earlier, but just enough for you to know you should move.

your fluids trickle down your inner thighs as you kneel still, watching yangyang appear in front of the bed. for a moment the fog which is slowing down your brain was so bad that you completely forgot the complicated situation you found yourself in.

winwin takes your wrists to hold them together behind your waist, like he wants to prevent you from touching yangyang who's now on the bed too. that's how it feels, but he remains silent and lets his friend lean forward. he lets his face get closer to yours, lips centimeters apart.

“so that's what you're into now?” an intrigued grin forms on yangyang's face as his eyes explore your fucked out features stained with smudged makeup. you look so hot that he gets the strong urge to run his tongue along your messy skin.

this makes you remember an old conversation you had with him once. you both agreed that you enjoy fucking different people, because you get to explore different parts of yourselves.

“i like this just as much as i do what i'm usually into,” you reply with voice sounding almost drowsy. hopefully, he understands the exact meaning of your answer.

he simply nods while pressing his lips together. his jaw tenses as the seconds pass.

“me and winwin didn’t like sharing our toys when we were kids.” yangyang looks up at his best friend behind you.

in a way he is still the same guy he's known his whole life, but at the same time he sees unfamiliar parts of him that he's never expected to have to confront one day.

there’s a glint of spite in the eye contact, but also a mutual understanding. they’ve both came to the same conclusion and they don't need to exchange a word. they've learned to read each other's expressions years ago, and now their determined faces signify more than enough.

winwin nods silently and yangyang moves his gaze back to you.

you know where this is going and you feel your heart clench before he even says it.

“i don’t think we will start now, baby. i warned you, didn't i?”