#but please let me be frustrated with my brain being stupid sometimes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thetriumphantpanda · 9 months

Text

two is better than one | joel & tommy miller

Summary | Frustrated that whatever you're trying to do still isn't working, you decide to give it one more try with Joel before cooling off for a while. Tommy is back to keep an eye on the both of you this time, but what happens when he starts to feel a little left out, watching his brother bring his girl over the edge more times than he cares to count?

Warnings | I swear I always start this the same way so here we go: Tommy getting cucked but also getting involved this time 👀, Joel being a fucking menace, dirty talk, oral sex (F&M receiving), face sitting, breeding kink, unprotected PiV sex, talk of infertility, no use of Y/N

Word Count | 3.8k

Authors Note | Whew. When I tell you this little threesome has been rotting my brain, I'm not lying. This is the only thing I can focus on, hence them being updated so fast! I just wanted to say a huge thank you to you all for the continued love you're giving this series - it honestly blows my mind every time that it's something you guys enjoy, that my writing reaches so many people and that they lap that shit up. I'm so grateful to everyone who has taken the time to comment, send me asks, reblogs and those who have slid into my DMs with all the love. I see you, I hear you, and I love you all - thank you. I hope you enjoy this next part just as much as the rest - it's a doozy. You know the drill, if you did like it, please consider reblogging, commenting or sending the love to my ask box, it's what keeps me going. And if you'd like to leave me a tip (of course no pressure!), then here's my Ko-Fi.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Another month and another fucking negative pregnancy test. You knew it was irrational, but you were starting to think that maybe you were also part of the problem now. You’d been doing everything right, following all the advice in the books you’d bought almost a year ago when Tommy and you had first started trying for a baby. You’d been exercising, eating as healthily as possible, tried to keep yourself a stress-free as possible. You’d been keeping a close eye on your cycle and still, nothing to show for it.

When you clambered down the stairs, test in hand and flung it in Tommy’s direction, he already knew. He could see the heavy set of your shoulders, the quiet sniffling of you trying to hide the fact you were crying. Tommy had settled you on the couch, covered you in a blanket and made you some tea. Then he’d made your favourite meal for dinner, even driven to the store and picked up Diet Coke, emptied a can into a glass filled with ice and lime juice like you loved, but none of it really helped to soothe how upset you were.

The TV was on low, and he had your head in his lap, slowly stroking the strands of your hair as you tried to calm yourself down. Remind yourself that even the most fertile of couples needed to try for months sometimes before they had their first baby. It was stupid to think you’d be any different.

“You’re thinkin’ way too loud, sugar.” Tommy muses, letting his hand run up and down your arm instead.

“Sorry,” You mumble, “Just thought it would be easier.”

“I know,” He coos, “We can take a break for a while, if you want.”

You turn so you’re led on your back, looking right up at him, “I just want a baby.” You feel a tear slip down your cheek to pool near your ear.

Tommy uses his thumb to brush away the tears that have started to fall, bobbing his leg up and down gently to try and soothe you, “It’s still fresh,” He speaks softly, “Let’s give it a couple of days and see what you want to do, okay?”

You nod in agreement, feeling the beginnings of a headache pooling behind your eyes. You push yourself up into a sitting position and turn around to press a soft kiss to his lips, “I’m gonna go to bed,” You announce, “Headache.”

He lets you go, it’s still early and you know there’s the game highlights he wanted to watch. In bed, you can do nothing but toss and turn for a few hours. Every time you’d try to close your eyes, all you could see was vision of you and Joel, in all the different positions he’d put you in so far, and all for what? When the bedside clock hit 10:30, you head out to use the bathroom. As you near the door at the top of the stairs you can hear Tommy talking to someone, through the phone because his is the only voice you can hear.

“I know, brother, she’s just really beat up about it,” You hear him say, “I don’t know how to make it better.”

You lean against the closed bathroom door, wondering if perhaps you should leave Tommy to talk to Joel. There’s a pause where you can hear Tommy humming along to whatever Joel is saying on the other end of the phone.

“I dunno man,” Tommy sighs, “You managed to knock Sarah’s mom up on a one-night stand, guess I thought it would be easier for you.”

There’s another pause, then he’s speaking again.

“No Joel, all of her tests came back perfect,” Another sigh, “I was always the problem.”

You’re about to push down the handle to go to the bathroom when Tommy speaks again, “I don’t know, maybe we should just cool it for a while, we’re all gonna work ourselves up otherwise.”

You decide you don’t really want to hear the rest of the conversation. You sit on the toilet and let your face drop to your hands in frustration. Why couldn’t you just be normal? Why couldn’t you have been a nice, normal couple, having a baby in the most natural way possible? Why did this have to come along and fucking complicate everything? And why did Joel have to be so fucking good to you every time?

You wash your hands under the tap, water as scalding as it could go, just in order to feel something that wasn’t frustration before you head to bed. There’s no longer the sound of voices as you pad back across the hall and get back into bed, shutting off the lights and curling onto one side, knees as close to your chest as you can manage to get them. It’s not long before you can hear Tommy shuffling around upstairs. He pushes open the bedroom door quietly, obviously thinking you’re already asleep. You can hear him undressing before he's slipping onto his side of the bed, pulling your body close to his under the covers as he spoons you.

You let your own arm cover his over your waist as you lean back into the comfort of his chest, letting his breath fan across the skin of your shoulder as he presses a kiss to your skin.

“I wanna try again,” You speak softly into the dark, feeling Tommy’s arm’s squeeze you tighter, “Once more and then we cool it for a while.”

“You sure?” He asks into your ear, lips pressing to the sensitive skin behind your ear.

“I’m sure.” You respond, turning around in his arms to capture his lips in yours.

When the time comes to try again, it’s you who greets Joel at the door when he knocks. Tommy already upstairs and situated in the chair he had taken the first time you’d done this as a three. Joel leans down, lips just millimeters from your own, but instead of kissing your mouth, he places a soft kiss to your cheek instead.

“Hello, darlin’.”

You step up onto your tiptoes to press your own kiss to his face, just shy of the corner of his mouth – the kisses from last time still a secret between the two of you.

“Evening handsome,” You smile, pulling away from him to close the door as he steps inside, “You ready?”

“To give you what you want?” He smirks, “Always, pretty girl.”

You feel that telltale heat flush across your cheeks as Joel pulls you into his side, hand dipping down to squeeze your ass over the fabric of the robe you’d thrown on moments ago. God, why did he have to be so fucking intoxicating around you?

You take hold of his hand in yours, leading him up the stairs behind you. Tommy was reading a book as you entered the room, folding the corner of the page before setting it down on the nightstand closest to the chair. You can’t help but snigger as you watch him and Joel give each other the typical male greeting of a curt nod of the head.

You drag Joel by the arm to the foot of the bed, pushing his shoulders down so he sits on the edge. Then you take a step back and tug on the belt of your robe, letting it fall open and off your body to leave you completely naked in front of him. You watch his face as he trails those beautiful brown eyes over your body, letting out a low whistle of approval.

“Beautiful as ever, darlin’,” He compliments, reaching out a hand for you to take, “But you’re worked up, ain’t ya? And not in the good way.”

Your eyes flit to Tommy in the corner of the room, who has that smug ‘I told you so’ look on his face. You’d been itching for Tommy to arrange this since that ovulation test said you were in the zone, but Joel had been working away for the past two days, and now you were worried that if you didn’t hurry the fuck up, you’d miss your chance.

Joel reaches out and puts his hands on the back of your thighs, pulling you into him, he’s looking up at you, pressing hot kisses to the skin of your tummy, “Gotta relax babygirl,” He moans, “I’m tryin’ my damned hardest, but you just gotta let nature take its course.”

“Just frustrating.” You mumble.

“I know baby, I know,” He’s got his hands palming your tits now, “Long as I need to, I’ll keep fillin’ you up, y’hear me?”

Your breath catches in your throat and all you can do is nod as he moves himself back on the bed.

Joel leans back on the bed, his head just shy of the pillows, “Sit on my face, pretty girl.”

You’re almost embarrassed at how quickly you scramble yourself onto the bed, moving up to straddle his hips – even Tommy is chuckling from his chair.

“Can’t get enough of Joel’s mouth on your pussy, can you, sugar?” He speaks in a low voice.

Joel has his hands on your ass, guiding your naked body to hover over his face before his hands are slipping up to your hips to pull your cunt to his mouth. He wastes no time in getting straight to business, wide tongue licking stripes from your entrance, where he laps up your slick like a cat would cream, to those deliciously tight flicks of the tip of his tongue to your clit. You can hear him groaning into your pussy, your hand coming down to anchor itself into his hair to hold him still as you start grinding against his face.

You can hear the obscene slurps that he’s making underneath you, it’s half the reason you think it takes you no time at all to reach the edge, because he fucking enjoys this just as much as you do, he loves tasting you, loves making you feel good and you can feel that, can feel it on his mouth.

As you throw your head back as Joel’s tongue swipes perfectly across your clit, you catch Tommy in the corner of the room. He’s palming himself through his jeans as he watches you, your body writhing as his brother’s mouth brings you closer and closer to the edge. It wouldn’t hurt, would it? You think, if you asked if he wanted you to help him out.

“You feeling left out baby?” You coo, reaching your hand out for Tommy to take, “Joel gets my pussy tonight,” You punctuate with a grind of your pussy down onto his mouth, “But I can help you, if you want.”

He’s standing at the edge of the bed in minutes, his hand pressing into the back of your neck, not unlike how he tries to work the knots from there when you watch TV together. It’s soft and it’s loving and a complete juxtaposition to the vice grip that Joel’s fingers currently have on your hips.

Your lips are impossibly close to Tommy’s, you could easily lean forward and kiss him, instead, you have a demand, “Take off your pants.”

Tommy’s hands start to undo the belt holding his jeans up, so you turn your attention back to Joel between your thighs. He is expertly holding you right on the edge, you’re mewling and whining as he tongue works you to the edge, and then pulls away, moving down to gather more of your slick on his tongue.

You drop your head and catch his eyes looking up at you, “You gonna tease me all night, Miller?” You ask, voice cracking as he makes a point to suckle on your clit, making you cry out, “Fuck, make me come, please Joel.”

All of a sudden, Tommy’s hand is on your face, pulling your mouth to his own in a searing kiss as he guides your hand to his cock. You’re moaning, a combination of the fact that any second, Joel’s mouth is going to have you screaming and the fact that it’s Tommy kissing you, his cock you’re currently pumping through your fist. It’s delicious and it’s filthy and it should feel all shades of wrong, but it fucking doesn’t.

You feel it in your legs first, the way they begin to shake and pulse and your thighs clamp around Joel’s face. Then you feel it in your abdomen, like a knot unfurling all at once as pleasure bursts over every inch of your skin. Your mouth detaching from Tommy’s, so you can cry out his brother’s name as you feel yourself almost collapse onto him.

“Such a good girl,” Tommy breathes into your ear, your hand still firmly held around his cock, “So good when you come for us like that.”

You feel Joel’s hands tapping at the cheeks of your ass, telling you to lift yourself off his face which you do, dragging yourself down enough so that you’re sat across his chest, not caring that your leaking pussy is dragging slick all over him. His face is covered, covered in you. He’s grinning up at you like the devil, tongue circling his mouth to clean your taste from wherever he can reach.

“I gotta be inside you, pretty girl.” You can hear his gruff voice speak.

Tommy immediately moves back from you so you can settle yourself down on the bed. You start on your back, but Joel moves you to lie on your side. He’s still fully clothed behind you, but when he presses himself up against you, you can feel his thick cock straining in his jeans.

“Take your clothes off.” Is all you can manage to whine as Tommy settles on his knees on the space in front of you, taking the back of your head in the palm of his hand to bring your mouth to his cock.

Joel shuffles away from you and you feel the mattress lighten as he gets off the bed to shed his clothes. You almost wish you could watch, there’s something about the way Joel reveals his body to you that drives you wild. The way he drags his shirt off to reveal his broad frame, chest peppered with hair, or the way his cock bounces when he finally pulls off his underwear. But right now, you’re focused on making your man feel good.

You’re making sure that you’re doing it exactly as Tommy likes, almost telling him through the ministrations of your mouth how grateful you are for him, for this being his idea, for loving you enough and trusting you enough to let someone else give you what he cannot. You’re giving all the attention of your tongue to the head of Tommy’s weeping cock, tasting the salt and musk of his pre-cum, using one had to pump the base of his cock.

You can feel Joel settle back behind you, pressing his entire body against your own, hard cock slipping through the slick folds of your cunt as he settles himself in the right position, then, he’s taking hold of your leg, hand in the crux of your knee to pull it up, baring his prize. He slowly inches his cock inside your tight heat and suddenly it’s all a little overwhelming.

You’re giving the love of your life the kind of head you’ve only ever seen in porn, Tommy taking most of the control to thrust in and out of your mouth. You’re pretty sure the tears falling from your eyes are a mixture of his length hitting the back of your throat and the overwhelming emotion, love, and admiration you feel for both the men who are crowding your body, owning it, taking what they both want, one of them hopefully leaving you with what you want.

You pull your face away from Tommy’s cock for a moment, still giving his length the attention it needs, but you let yourself lean into Joel behind you, his cock still moving languidly inside you. He’s got one of his arms snaked under your neck, your head leant against his arm like a pillow, his other hand holding your leg up so that every time his cock brushes inside you, it’s hitting that damn spot that makes you want to cry.

“Look at you, lucky girl,” Joel growls into your ear as his lifts your leg up higher, pushing it almost to lie flat aagainst your side, “One cock in that pretty little pussy, another in your mouth,” You let a moan, muffled by the fact that Tommy is currently doing a slap-up job of fucking your throat, “He’s a lucky man,” Joel speaks again, “Bet that mouth feels divine.”

“You ask nicely, she might oblige you, brother.”

You feel him puff air through his nose in a chuckle, “I’m quite happy right where I am,” He speaks, pumping his cock so deep inside you that you actually think you can see stars, “You’re a lucky son-of-a-bitch gettin’ this for the rest of your life.”

“She’s special, I’ll give you that.”

It’s like you have to prove him right now. You can feel the walls of your pussy clenching around Joel as he picks up his pace. You can feel his balls slapping into your skin with every thrust, the power behind them causing your mouth to take Tommy cock deeper into your mouth every time.

“Sugar, I ain’t gonna last much longer.” You hear him speak from above you.

You pull off him, again letting your hand work him as you look up at his through your lashes, “You want me to swallow for you, baby?” You asked, wondering what you must look like when he looks down at you, fucked out from his brother, begging for him to come down your throat.

“There’s an offer I cannot refuse,” Tommy grins, letting your mouth take him back inside the warmth, “Such a good girl.”

He only lasts a few more seconds, cum hitting your tongue and seeping down your throat. You swallow down every drop, grinning up at Tommy. He leans down and plants a kiss to your lips, and now your focus is on Joel, thick and solid, pumping his cock in and out of you.

“You focus on Joel now, sugar,” He croons, “I’m gonna sit back and watch you have fun.”

As soon as Tommy has moved away from you, Joel is pulling his cock from your pussy, turning you onto your back before he’s crowding his frame over you, settling between your thighs. You’re pliant and you move easily when he hooks your legs over his shoulders, folding you back as he slips his cock back inside you.

You’re gripping his arms as he fucks into you in earnest now, tip of his cock bruising your cervix with every thrust, you know he’ll have half-moon shaped marks on his arms come the morning, they’ll match the bruises he always leaves on your hips, the shape of his fingertips indented into your skin.

“God fuckin’ damnit,” Joel groan, head falling to the column of your throat to graze teeth and lips over your delicate skin, “Gonna come so deep in this fuckin’ pussy it won’t have a choice but to take, you hear me, pretty girl?”

“Fuck!” You exclaim, as he shifts just enough to change the angle that his cock is spearing into you, “Joel please.”

“Please what?” He teases, “What do you want, babygirl?”

“Inside,” You breath out, “Want you inside.”

“Yeah, want me to make you a mama?” You can feel tears pooling in your eyes, “No need to cry, pretty girl,” He leans down, folding you in half even more, almost uncomfortable, to kiss away the tears, “Gonna give you what you need.”

He thankfully moves back a little, stopping your bones from screaming at you for being folded so inhumanely, then his thumb is on your clit, “Only gonna make you a mama if you come with me,” Joel smirks, “Deal?”

“Oh god – fuck – whatever you want,” You cry, “Please, give me what I want.”

His thumb is relentless on your already sensitive clit, those tight circles have you clenching around him and when you look into his eyes you know he’s just as close as you are, “That’s it baby, you keep those big, beautiful eyes on me,” Joel’s hips are snapping into your with a force you didn’t know you could feel, it’s entirely too much and entirely too little all at the same time, “Can feel that tight little pussy suckin’ me in,” You cry out as his thumb falters and drags across your clit in a way that has that not threatening to unfurl yet again, “It’s alright baby, if you come, I’ll follow, yeah?”

That’s exactly what happens. His thumb traces wet circles over your clit and you do exactly as he says. You keep your eyes wide open, staring directly into his own, as your mouth falls open with a screech as your vision clouds. Whatever happens, Joel is right behind you, his cock pounds into at most, twice more, before he’s growling your name through his teeth, cum painting every inch of your pussy. He drops your legs from his shoulders, and falls forward, letting his head rest in the crook of your neck as you both fight to catch your breath.

You wrap your arms around him but it’s all too soon before he’s pulling himself out of you, a kiss to your cheek as he does so. You’re spent and you’re aching and if you’re honest, a little overwhelmed. Joel dresses quickly, and you wish you could ask him to stay, wish he didn’t feel the need to run away, but you know it’s for the best. Tommy tells you he’ll see him out and come to bed, so you roll over and pull yourself under the sheets, trying to warm yourself from the cool air that’s spattering across the sweat of your skin.

Tommy is back within minutes having seen Joel off. He shed his clothes and moves right up behind you, gathering you into his arms. He takes some time to press kisses into your neck and across your shoulders and for some reason, it sets your belly on fire. How have you been fucked so thoroughly by another man, this man’s own brother, and now you’re aching for this man behind you.

“I love you so much, Tommy,” You whisper into the dark, clutching at his arms wrapped around you, “So fucking much.”

“I love you too baby,” He whispers into your ear, stilling your hips as they grind back into him, “Enough of that, I’ll give you what you want tomorrow.”

964 notes · View notes

ghouljams · 10 months

Note

I got brain rot of Cowboy!König just being so fucking frustrated over his darling sometimes because she’s so sweet and trusting and just a bit naive so she does stupid things like leave her doors unlocked so he has to go and lock them for her just so that he has some peace of mind.

He will never know peace with Bee. Even when they get together she's the type of person to go, "Why would I worry about that? König will handle it." And he will but Christ woman, worry about something, please.

You are so interminably trusting it is bordering on insane. König twists the knob on your front door and sighs when it opens with little fuss. When you’d talked about how safe this town felt he really had hoped you didn’t mean it was “leave your door unlocked” safe. Apparently you had. He slid the door open enough to let himself in, and shut it quietly behind him.

He may as well, you practically left him an invitation after all. Stupid. Naive. You’re a woman living alone, shouldn’t you know better?

He thinks you keep your spare keys in your kitchen. Really you should have offered him one with how often you see each other, but it’s fine, he’ll grab one for himself and lock up while he’s at it. König is quiet searching your kitchen drawers, mindful of the clink of silverware as he eases each drawer open to look for your keys. It’s late enough that you should be dead asleep, but one can never be too careful. Nothing. He goes to check the table by the door, wincing at the creak of unoiled wood sliding against itself. He pauses, sliding his fingers carefully into the opening to feel for- yes, there it is.

A little ring with two pink metallic keys. He slides one off and takes a moment to put it on his own key ring before replacing the spare and sliding the drawer back into place. There, nothing left but to lock up.

He hesitates, his hand on the front door waiting to open it. What is stopping him from leaving? No. What’s stopping him from staying? Your little orange cat winds its way around his legs, just as eager to see him as its mother always is. König bends down to scoop it up, feeling the rumble of its purr and scratching between its ears.

“Bringen wir dich zurück zu deiner Mutter,” He tells it with a low whisper. That’s what’s stopping him, he wants to see you.

He knows where your room is, of course, up the stairs and at the end of the little hall. Your old floors may creak for you, but he’s never had any trouble. Your door is open, your windows are open, you are open. Sleeping soundly under the cool breeze from the ceiling fan, looking so sweet and soft, and vulnerable.

This was the problem. You left yourself too vulnerable to threats. It’s just not healthy. What if something were to happen and he wasn’t here? He sets the cat down on the floor, and brushes a strand of hair off your face. Pretty. His pretty girl.

You make a soft noise as the cat jumps on the bed, and he- God- No, no, he has to go. He can’t stay. He can’t.

It is a long walk back to the front door, but he doesn’t forget to lock it behind him.

König is such a worry wart sometimes, you think it’s funny that a man his size is worried about safety. He looks like a one man army, but he always double checks that he locked his front door before he leaves. You just wait for him in the truck, eager to get to town and get your weekly shopping done. When he finally gets in the cab and turns the truck on, you catch a flash of pink hanging with the rest of his keys. It looks just like one of your house keys, but that can’t be right.

“Is that my key?” You ask, feeling something pull in your gut, König glances down at his key ring, “How did you get my key?”

“You gave me one, did you forget?” König says with a frown, “You said you needed someone to feed the cat when you go into the city.” You nod hesitantly, thinking. Did you give him a key? You do need someone to feed Spot when you have to make the trek out to civilization.

“Huh, yeah I- Thanks for that, I guess.” If König says you asked him you must have. He’s got no reason to lie to you.

#cowboy!Konig #konig x reader #konig x you #oc: Bee #x reader #Does the nasty boy snap a lil picture of bee while she's sleeping?#that's up to you but probably #dude you are such a creep(affectionate)#tw: gaslighting #full stop he is gaslighting you bee #also everyone peep that Bee is a star trek nerd on the dl #The cat was a housewarming present from Goose #könig modern warfare #könig cod #colonel könig #cod x reader #cod x oc

946 notes · View notes

ramspatula · 6 months

Text

Georgie Cooper x Reader| Jealousy

I really love these…

Georgie was the frustrating kind to date. He always flirted with other girls but hates for another guy to even come close to me. It was hard. He didn't understand why it was upsetting to me that he flirted with other girls but could get heavily upset when I even showed another guy a smidge of attention. Georgie Cooper didn't understand what a double standard was, but he could be used as one. He can flirt with other girls but I can't flirt with other guys. He keeps saying it's different. How is it different?!

Y/n: How is it weird?

Georgie: It just is!

Y/n: That Rob invited me over to his house to work on our project?

Georgie: You don't know what he's gonna try on you.

Y/n: Try on me? And how am I supposed to react to you going round Jessica's house for your two's project?

Georgie: That's different. She's not a guy and I'm happily taken.

Y/n: Rob has a girlfriend and she's okay with it. I even spoke to her myself!

Georgie: I heard they've been having problems and you're a very pretty girl, he might make a move on you instead.

Y/n: And she's not pretty?

Georgie: Not as pretty as you- don't roll your eyes. I'm complimenting you!

Y/n: It's not a compliment if you degrade another girl while doing it.

Georgie: "Degrade"? We're using big words now?

Y/n: You're putting her down to make me look good.

Georgie: And? Her boyfriend trying it on with another girl!

Y/n: Rob is not trying it on with me! What? Is Jessica trying it on with you?!

Georgie: Don't think so. Even if it wouldn't matter because I would choose you over her any day.

Y/n: So why does it matter with Rob? You know I would never do something like that to you.

Georgie: A guy can push a girl off easier than a girl can push a guy off.

Y/n: That's not always true.

Georgie: Most of the time.

Y/n: Georgie please!

Georgie: No! I won't let it happen. I won't leave you alone with him.

Y/n: Then join us!

Georgie: Fine.

I don't get the double standard! I'm trying my hardest and I just don't get it! Throughout our relationship we've had bumps that always involves other girls and Georgie's dim brain. He never understood what he did wrong and sometimes I needed time away from him.

George: What's wrong with you?

Georgie: Y/n yelled and threw her bag at me.

George: Why?

Georgie: Apparently I was flirting with this girl and being 'inconsiderate'. I don't even know what that means.

George: It means you're not thinking of her feelings and how treating another girl the way you treat her is out of line.

Georgie: Really but I only want her. She's my girlfriend.

George: Treat her like it then!

Georgie: Okay! I will, don't yell at me.

Georgie: Seems it's the only way to get it inside that head of yours.

I went to Connie with almost everything. I didn't see my mother often and we weren't that close because of it. Connie seemed to be the only one who listened.

Connie: What's wrong with you?

Y/n: What's wrong with your grandson?

Connie: Where do you want to start? The fact he used to bang his head against the wall when he needed an idea?

Y/n: That's a good start but I was thinking about his stupidity and tendency to flirt with other girls.

Connie: Right in there, okay.

Y/n: He called me dramatic.

Connie: When was this?

Y/n: About 10 minutes ago when I threw my bag into his face.

Connie: Did he get hurt?

Y/n: Don't think so.

Connie: Shame. Should've broke his nose, could've taught him.

Y/n: I've been thinking about it.

Connie: So what was her name?

Y/n: Jessica. His project partner who has a very obvious crush on him. I mean so obvious that her friend told me to "watch out" and Georgie is just feeding into it.

Connie: Does he know that?

Y/n: Can't remember if I told him before or after I threw my bag at him.

Connie: He deserved it. Don't feel bad.

Y/n: Is it bad that I do?

Connie: Sort of. That's why you keep forgiving him.

Y/n: Maybe but that's because he keeps-

Georgie: Y/n I know you're in there! Please! I wanna apologise and I got you something!

Y/n: -doing shit like that.

Connie: Go talk to him. I don't wanna keep hearing his whining on my porch.

He always had this soppy way of apologising.

Georgie: I am very sorry for my actions and it was wrong of me to ever speak to Jessica the way I speak to you. I only want to be with you and I love you more than anyone or anything! I even got you these flowers because you said you were sad that you never got them growing up which shows that I do listen to you and care about what you say! And I-

Y/n: Georgie, enough. I forgive you. I just want you to stop with the excessive flirting especially with girls that have a thing for you, it's not fair for them.

Georgie: She had a thing for me? I didn't know that.

Y/n: I told you that.

Georgie: When?

Y/n: During the argument.

Georgie: You see I was trying to dodge this bag that was being hurled at me and then I was busy getting hit by said bag so really it's the bag's fault I didn't know.

Y/n: Whatever, blame the bag.

Georgie: Can I give you some attention now please?

Y/n: Yes, just get off your Meemaw's porch before she throws her bag at you too.

Georgie kept apologising in this way until present day. Even with us now in our forties and 4 kids, a successful tire business and big house. George Cooper Jr still apologised in the same way after every argument. On his knees with some gift or his pride in his hands and I still accepted because he never had any bad intentions towards me and he'd do anything to fix his or my problems.

George(Jr): You are my gorgeous wife and I made a promise to never hurt you in anyway and I've made you upset which is unacceptable. I realise my mistake and I want you to know that I will do anything to fix this just tell me how to fix it. I promise I will try harder with the twins-

Y/n: George...

George: Yes?

Y/n: Just don't lie to the twins again. I won't take the blame for you messing up their lunch again. You know Liam hates jam sandwiches.

George: He's such a picky eater, I can't keep up with all of it!

Y/n: George...

George: Right! No excuses. I'm sorry my beautiful wife, I won't do it again. I love you very much.

Y/n: Good. Now get off your knees I know they're killing, old man.

George: Thank you so much, they were about to give out.

Please tell me you guys like these…

#georgie cooper #georgie #Georgie cooper x reader #young sheldon #I love Georgie cooper

534 notes · View notes

soolh1k · 10 months

Note

hi, could you write skz accidentally making you cry?

Skz accidentally making you cry

notes: english is not my first language so apologies for any misspelling or grammar. i hope u like it !! :)))

type: narrated text

genre: angst w fluff

WARNINGS: swearing, a little bit angsty but some fluff at the end, let me know if you'd like to be tagged !! :))

.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ

დ Bang Christopher

You're at home, eagerly waiting for your boyfriend to return from work. It's been an exhausting day for both of you, but you know you need his support and company to alleviate the built-up stress. Finally, you hear the door open, and your boyfriend enters the room, visibly tired and worried.

You approach him with a smile and give him a warm hug. However, as you embrace him, you can sense the tension in his body. You look at him with concern and ask how his day has been. Your boyfriend lets out a heavy sigh and simply glares at you annoyed. With that look, you knew that things hadn't gone well for him at work.

You understand work-related stress perfectly and try to encourage him, telling him that he's doing a great job and that everything will work out. As you try to uplift him, your boyfriend vents his frustrations, and unintentionally, his tone of voice becomes harsher than usual. The words that come out of his mouth are those of someone frustrated and exhausted, catching you off guard.

"I'm so tired, you know? I'd rather you give me some space, please."

"I know, Chris, but you can always talk to me when you feel like this. That's why I'm here."

"I already know that, but I don't want you around. Your presence annoys me. I just want to be alone, okay? Why do you always make things so difficult? It's like you never understand me, woman. Just go away. I don't want to see you."

"Chris, do you hear yourself? You're being very rude. I understand that you're stressed, but that doesn't give you the right to speak to me like that."

"Just shut up, my god. Your voice is so annoying. If you don't like how I'm acting, why don't you just leave? I told you I want to be alone. Do you not have a brain to comprehend that? Please, go away."

The words deeply impact your sensitivity, and you feel hurt. Sadness clouds your face, and tears start welling up in your eyes. You try to remain calm, but the combination of your boyfriend's stress and the emotional intensity accumulated throughout the day becomes overwhelming.

Realizing that he has hurt your feelings, your boyfriend abruptly stops and looks at you with remorse. His eyes fill with concern and guilt as he sees your tears. Immediately, he sincerely apologizes and embraces you tightly, trying to console you and explaining that he never intended to hurt you in any way.

"Forgive me, my god, I'm an idiot," tears start streaming down his eyes too.

"I didn't mean to talk to you like that. You know stress consumes me, and I know it doesn't give me the freedom to speak to you in that manner. I want you to know that I don't think those things about you. I would never think them, and I don't know why I said them, but please believe me. I love you too much to let my stupid actions ruin us. Please forgive me and try to understand me even though I may seem very selfish. I'm sorry."

As the sincere apologies flow from your boyfriend's lips, you understand that his behavior was unintentional. You know that he's also going through a difficult time, and work stress can sometimes affect his mood beyond his control. You release another sob, but this time, they are tears of relief as you feel his love and genuine remorse.

Your boyfriend continues to hold you in his embrace and assures you that he will always value and care for your feelings. He promises to work on managing his stress better and avoid venting on you in

a way that hurts you. Together, you decide to seek healthier ways to deal with individual and collective stress, such as open communication and mutual support.

This incident strengthens your relationship as you learn to overcome obstacles together and stay connected even in challenging times. Although your tears were a result of momentary pain, both of you understand that it's an opportunity to grow and strengthen your love.

.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ

დ Lee Minho

You're having a fun time with your boyfriend at home. You've been joking and teasing each other for a while, creating an atmosphere of joy and laughter. Both of you enjoy this dynamic and feel comfortable with each other.

In the midst of the fun, your boyfriend decides to play a prank that turns out to be heavier than you expected. He starts making sarcastic comments and teasing about something that you know makes you feel a bit uncomfortable. At first, you think it's just part of the game and try to laugh along with him.

However, as he continues with his jokes, you start feeling more and more vulnerable and emotionally affected. The words he uses no longer seem funny, but hurtful. You can tell that your boyfriend doesn't realize how his words are affecting you and carries on with the prank, thinking everything is fine.

The combination of excessive teasing and your own sensitivity causes tears to well up in your eyes. You try to hold them back, but it's hard to ignore the pain that's building up inside you. Your face reflects a mix of sadness and confusion, as you didn't expect the situation to escalate to this point.

Your boyfriend, noticing your reaction and realizing he has gone too far, immediately stops. His expression changes to one of surprise and remorse as he sees your tears. He realizes that he has unintentionally hurt your feelings and quickly apologizes sincerely.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize I was hurting you. I just wanted to play a playful prank, but now I see I crossed the line. Please forgive me," he says with a mix of concern and remorse in his voice. You didn't know what to feel because it's clear that you're not very open about sharing your insecurities with your boyfriend, which caused this unfortunate situation.

It's difficult for you to speak due to the emotions, but you nod your head, letting him know that you understand it was a mistake and that you accept his apology. He quickly comes closer and embraces you tenderly, trying to comfort you.

As he holds you, you allow him to console you and also express how you felt. You explain that although you enjoy having fun together, there are certain topics or boundaries that should not be crossed. Both of you commit to better communication and maintaining a healthy playful environment in the future.

"I'm really sorry, bunny, it wasn't my intention to make you feel this way."

"It wasn't entirely your fault, babe. I don't talk to you much about my insecurities, but from now on, I'll make sure to share my fears and everything that entails."

"We're both going to improve, I promise, bunny."

He promises to be more aware of your boundaries in the future and make sure that the pranks stay at a comfortable level for both of you. He acknowledges that, although the intention was to play, he didn't properly consider your feelings at that moment.

As the emotions calm down, you both use this experience as an opportunity to strengthen your relationship. You learn the importance of respecting each other's emotional boundaries and how to take care of each other.

.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ

დ Seo Changbin

You're at home with your boyfriend, enjoying a relaxed afternoon together. Suddenly, as you pass by the room's doorway, you overhear your boyfriend speaking negatively to someone. Curiosity and concern flood your mind, and you decide to stay silent and listen a little longer.

As you listen, tears well up in your eyes. The words you hear are hurtful and seem to be directed at you. Your heart shatters as you try to process what you've just heard. Without uttering a word, you distance yourself and lock yourself in another room, trying to cope with the overwhelming rush of emotions.

"God, she's so damn annoying. Can't you understand how much her attitude irritates me? Acting all flirtatious, like she's the best person on earth. Someone needs to open her eyes, please. It even embarrasses me to see her," your boyfriend commented over the phone.

"No, of course not. I never want to see her again in my life. Seriously, I hope she realizes the situation and gets that I'm not interested. Well, hopefully things will get better. Talk to you later, Hyun," he ended the call, and you rushed out of the room.

After a while, your boyfriend realizes your reaction and frantically starts searching for an explanation. He looks for you throughout the house and finally finds you sitting in a corner, tears streaming down your cheeks. His face reflects anguish and confusion, not understanding what has happened.

"What happened? Why are you crying?" he asks, his voice trembling, cautiously approaching you.

Looking him directly in the eyes, you share your hurt feelings and tell him what you overheard. You explain how betrayed and hurt you felt, believing he was speaking ill of you. Your voice trembles as you struggle to hold back tears.

Visibly shocked, your boyfriend takes your hands in his and tries to calm you down. He begs you to give him a chance to explain and assures you that he wasn't talking about you. With a sigh, he tells you that he was talking about a girl he recently met, who doesn't seem to understand that he's not interested in her. His words were taken out of context, and he understands how they could have been misunderstood.

"Love, I wasn't talking about you. I'm sorry if you thought that. I would never speak about you like that, and I didn't even want to speak that way about her. But honestly, I've been so bothered by her flirting with me and she had me fed up. I was just telling Hyunjin what was happening because he noticed I started going to the gym earlier than usual. I wanted to avoid her. Please forgive me, I didn't mean to hurt you."

As you listen to his explanation and see the honesty in his eyes, your tears begin to fade away. Slowly, you start to comprehend that it was a misunderstanding, and your boyfriend never intended to hurt you.

"I'm really sorry, sweetheart. I didn't want you to feel this way. I wasn't talking about you, but about that girl. I made a mistake by not clarifying it, and I understand why you felt hurt. I promise I'll be more careful with my words in the future," he says sincerely.

As your boyfriend's words reach your heart, the tears give way to a sense of relief. You know that he cares about you and genuinely regrets the situation. He embraces you gently, seeking to console you and reaffirm his love.

You decide to forgive him, knowing that we all make mistakes, and he has acknowledged his own. Together, you commit to strengthening your communication and promise to openly and honestly discuss any concerns or misunderstandings that may arise in the future.

.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ

დ Hwang Hyunjin

You're having a fun night with your group of friends, laughing and having a great time. Your boyfriend is also there, but as the night progresses, you start noticing a change in his attitude. He becomes distant and increasingly jealous.

At one point, your boyfriend approaches you and starts making baseless accusations. His words are aggressive and filled with unfounded jealousy. You try to calm the situation and explain that there's nothing to worry about, that you're just enjoying the company of your friends.

"What was that?"

"What are you talking about? I don't understand, babe."

"You saw how your little friend was looking at you? It's obvious he likes you, bella."

"What are you talking about? Don't be ridiculous. We're just friends, love."

"I'm not being ridiculous. I'm telling you he likes you. The way he looks at you is the same way I look at you, with love and desire. I won't let this go unnoticed. Let's go, please."

"Are you jealous, love? You know I only like you. I love only you, babe. Please trust that nothing will happen."

"For once, listen to me, bella. Let's go, damn it. I want to go home now. I'm tired of you and them." You were shocked and couldn't respond, so Hyunjin took it as a "I don't want to leave."

However, he persists in his accusations, raising his voice and demanding unnecessary explanations. You feel cornered and attacked, not understanding why he has taken this aggressive stance. You try to stay calm, but his hurtful words start to affect you emotionally.

"I'm tired of it. Do whatever you want, go kiss him if you want. I don't care anymore."

"What are you talking about? Of course not, Hyunjin, please understand."

"Forget it. I'm tired of seeing you not believing me. Come back before it gets darker. I'm going home. Enjoy your night, I guess."

Tears begin to fill your eyes as you try to hold them back. You can't understand how such a fun night took such a drastic and painful turn. Your boyfriend, noticing your reaction and realizing he has gone too far, stops immediately. His expression changes from anger to surprise and remorse as he sees your tears.

"Oh, bella, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry," he says with a trembling voice, approaching you with a gesture of repentance. "I was jealous, and I let my insecurities get the best of me. But understand that I only want to protect you and that you mean so much to me. I didn't want to hurt you. It's just that he's so handsome, and I'm afraid you'll leave me for someone better. You're what I value the most, and you're the only thing that keeps me alive. Please forgive me. I didn't mean to hurt you."

Despite the pain you feel, you understand that his jealousy stems from a place of love and concern for you. However, you also let him know that the way he has treated you has been unfair and hurtful. You express your feelings honestly, explaining how his words have deeply hurt you and made you feel misunderstood.

"It's not fair what you did, Hyun."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Don't worry, I know you love me and want the best for me. It's okay, but next time you feel like this, tell me, and we'll work it out together, cutie." He simply nodded his head.

Your boyfriend, visibly affected by your words, apologizes once again and hugs you tenderly. He assures you that he will work on his

jealousy and communicate in a healthier way. He acknowledges that his actions have been unfair and that he needs to learn to trust you and the strength of your relationship.

Together, you decide to take some time to discuss your concerns and fears, setting boundaries and committing to supporting each other. You learn that open and honest communication is essential to overcome jealousy and build a stronger, healthier relationship.

As emotions calm down, you realize that although this incident made you cry, it has also allowed you both to grow and understand each other better. You feel comforted by the fact that your boyfriend has recognized his mistakes and is willing to work on them.

.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ

დ Han Jisung

You're at home, enjoying a chill moment when you receive a text on your phone. It's your boyfriend, telling you he's written a song for you and wants to share it. You feel excited and eager to listen to it since you know he's really talented in music.

You open the audio file and a beautiful melody starts playing. As you listen to the lyrics, tears fill your eyes. The song's words express all the love and admiration your boyfriend feels for you. It's a touching declaration that hits you right in the heart.

Overwhelming emotion and happiness wash over you. You're so thrilled to have someone who values and loves you like this. Tears of joy start streaming down your cheeks as you keep listening to the song over and over again. Your emotions are so intense that you can't help but cry tears of happiness.

Your boyfriend, eagerly waiting for your reaction, realizes he's made you cry. He quickly approaches you, concerned and confused.

"Doll face, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" he asks softly, wrapping his arms around you.

"Don't you like it? Should I change something? Is the lyrics weird? Give me a few hours and I'll make another song for you, love. Give me another chance."

With a smile through your tears, you try to explain how happy his song makes you and how deeply it touches your heart. You sincerely thank him for his sweet gesture and assure him that these are tears of happiness.

"I'm the luckiest person in the world, Hannie. I don't deserve you, really. You're an amazing guy, and I love you so much. Thank you for always being by my side and making me so happy. If I could give you the world, I would. Please never leave me. I love you."

"Oh, love, I didn't mean to make you cry. I just wanted to express how I feel about you through music," he says tenderly, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. "I'm so glad you liked the song and that it made you happy. You're the most important person to me, and I want you to know how much I love you."

As he comforts you and holds you close, you feel overwhelmed with love for him. You realize how lucky you are to have someone who understands you so well and strives to make you happy. Although his intentions were pure, and the song was beautiful, tears flowed due to the intensity of your emotions.

Together, you celebrate this special moment and promise each other to continue sharing and expressing your love in ways that bring happiness and a sense of being cherished. It serves as a reminder of the depth of your bond and the beauty of your relationship.

This incident teaches you the power of music to convey emotions and the strength of love to touch someone's heart. From now on, that song becomes something very special for both of you, reminding you of the love and happiness you share.

.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ

დ Lee Felix

You're hanging out with your boyfriend at home, laughing and chatting. But suddenly, you notice a change in his behavior. He seems irritated and distant, and his expression shows that something's not right.

You try to figure out what's going on, but he responds curtly and avoids having a conversation. You try to approach him and ask if everything's okay, but he just tells you he has a headache and needs some quiet time.

"Damn it, I have a headache, can you just be quiet? I don't feel good," he snaps. "Do you want me to bring you tea? Or a painkiller? Should I take you to get checked out? You should lie down for a while."

"What don't you understand!? Just shut up, can't you keep that pretty mouth of yours shut for a second, oh my God, are you a parrot? Stop with the nonsense, now leave me alone, go away," Felix seemed to get a bit worked up, even raising his voice at you.

You feel confused and worried because you don't know what caused his irritation. You try to give him space and time to recover, but you can't help but feel hurt by his distant attitude.

In the meantime, you continue doing your own activities, trying to distract yourself and give him the space he needs. But deep down, it hurts that he silenced you and didn't share with you what was bothering him.

After a while, your boyfriend returns to the room where you are. He comes close to you, looking remorseful.

"I'm sorry for being distant and yelling at you like that. I shouldn't have acted that way, I'm sorry," he says softly, with his eyes lowered. "I had a really bad headache, and I was irritated, but that's no excuse to treat you like that. I didn't mean to make you cry, babe, I'm really sorry."

Tears start filling your eyes as you listen to his sincere apologies. Although it hurts that he was irritated and ignored you, you understand that he also has difficult moments that can affect his behavior.

"I don't want you to apologize for feeling bad, but it hurt that you ignored me and silenced me," you respond with a trembling voice. "I understand you had a headache, but I would have liked it if you had told me. I want to be there for you, even in tough times."

Your boyfriend nods, genuinely remorseful for his behavior. He takes your hands and looks into your eyes.

"You're right, I shouldn't have shut you out like that. I appreciate your support and your willingness to stand by me even when I'm going through tough times," he says sincerely. "I promise to work on communicating better with you and not pushing you away when I feel bad. You're important to me, and you should never feel silenced, let alone threatened by me. God, I was such a big idiot, I'm sorry."

Even though tears continue to flow, you feel a sense of relief hearing his commitment to improving communication and valuing you more in difficult situations. Together, you decide to take some time to openly and honestly talk about your emotions and needs, thereby strengthening your relationship.

As the days go by, you see how your boyfriend keeps his promise and makes an effort to be more aware of his actions and words when he's irritated or going through a tough time. Both of you learn to support each other and communicate effectively, overcoming any obstacles that may arise.

.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ

დ Kim Seungmin

You're excited to go out with your boyfriend and decide to wear a special outfit. You make an effort to look good and feel confident in your clothing choice. When you meet up with your boyfriend, he looks you up and down and starts laughing.

"Wow, is that what you're wearing?" he says, laughing. "I think someone went a little overboard with fashion today."

"Damn, I thought I was the one with bad fashion sense, apparently not."

"Stop joking, Seung, you can't handle how cute I look."

"I'm not joking, are you seriously going to wear that today? I don't want anyone to see me with you if you wear that."

At first, you think he's just joking and you join in the laughter. But as seconds pass, you realize that his comments could be hurtful. Tears start welling up in your eyes as you struggle to hide your hurt feelings.

Your boyfriend notices your reaction and realizes that his jokes were inappropriate. He quickly approaches you with an apologetic expression on his face.

"Oh, blossom, I'm so sorry," he says apologetically. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, I was just joking. I know you've put effort into looking good and you look beautiful, seriously."

Tears start falling down your cheeks as you try to explain how his comments affected you. You express how important it is for you to feel appreciated and supported by him, even in seemingly insignificant situations.

"I understand it was a joke, but I felt really bad," you say with a trembling voice. "I put effort into choosing my outfit and I wanted to feel good with you. I need you to support me and make me feel valued, even in small things like how I dress."

Your boyfriend sincerely apologizes and embraces you tenderly. He understands how much he has hurt you and is determined to make it right.

"I'm sorry for making you feel this way. I shouldn't have mocked you like that. I just wanted to joke around, you know how silly I can get with my jokes. It wasn't my intention to make you cry, blossom. You're honestly the most beautiful person my eyes have ever seen. Don't let the comments I made affect you. You're even more gorgeous every day," he says softly. "You're beautiful and precious to me, and I never want to make you feel bad. I appreciate your effort, and I promise to be more aware of your feelings in the future."

As he comforts you and apologizes, you feel a sense of relief in your heart. You appreciate his willingness to learn from his mistakes and improve the way he communicates with you.

Both of you take a moment to openly and honestly discuss how you want your relationship to be, based on mutual respect and acceptance. You agree to be more sensitive and considerate with your words and jokes to avoid unnecessary hurt.

Over time, you see your boyfriend keeping his promise and showing greater care and support in all aspects of the relationship. You learn to communicate more effectively, accept differences, and value each other.

.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ

დ Yang Jeongin

You're having a chill night at home with your boyfriend. You both decide to snuggle up on the couch and enjoy a horror movie together. As the movie progresses, your boyfriend starts telling you scary stories to amp up the excitement.

While listening to his chilling tales, you feel the tension creeping over you. You try to keep your composure and not let it affect you, but your imagination starts playing tricks on your mind.

After the movie, you decide to call it a night. You climb into bed next to your boyfriend, trying to leave the scary stories behind and calm yourself down. However, the dark atmosphere and vivid details of the stories he told still linger in your head.

In the middle of the night, you wake up startled by a terrifying nightmare. Your heart is racing, and tears stream down your cheeks. You quickly seek comfort and security in your boyfriend's arms.

Your boyfriend wakes up to your sobbing and embraces you tenderly, sensing your distress.

"What's wrong, babydoll? Did I have something to do with your nightmare?" he asks, concerned, as he holds you close.

"It was my fault, right? I'm sorry. You know my imagination runs wild, and once I start, I can't stop. I'm sorry," his last words make you laugh a little.

Through your sobs, you manage to explain how the combination of the horror stories and your imagination led to a dreadful nightmare.

"You're such a goof, and so am I. How could I have thought that Annabelle would come along with the nun to invite me to dinner at their haunted house?" Both of you burst into laughter, realizing that while your nightmare might have been silly, it was still terrifying.

Your boyfriend gently strokes your hair and offers words of comfort.

"I'm really sorry, I had no idea it would affect you this much. I never intended to scare you like that," he says softly. "I promise I won't tell you any more horror stories before bedtime if they make you feel bad. I'm here to protect and take care of you, not to frighten you."

You cling to him, allowing yourself to feel his warm embrace as tears continue to roll down your cheeks. Gradually, the sense of safety and love begins to alleviate your fear and sadness.

"Thank you for being here and understanding how I feel," you whisper, voice trembling. "Your support means a lot to me. I don't want you to feel guilty, but it comforts me to know that you're willing to avoid things that scare me. I love you."

Your boyfriend hugs you tighter and whispers in your ear, "I love you too, and I'll do everything I can to protect you and make sure you feel safe. Together, we'll overcome your nightmares and anything else that scares you."

You spend the rest of the night in his arms, feeling his love and support helping you calm down and go back to sleep.

.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ࿐.ೃ

Tags !!

@albaficaslover

@damselettism

#skz imagines #skz reactions #skz scenarios #skz series #skz x reader #skz changbin #skz bang chan #skz hyunjin #skz angst #skz felix #skz hard thoughts #skz han #skz minho #skz jeongin #skz seungmin #skz smau #skz fluff

535 notes · View notes

foreheadkiss3s · 4 months

Text

tate langdon x gn! reader.

trigger warnings : really sad thoughts going through the readers mind. i let my drama queen take over and everything came out too dramatic.

angst/ fluff at the end if you squint your eyes really hard.

this is so messy, really, it’s just a drabble i wanted to put out but i think i’ll probs end up deleting it since i feel like it’s cringey. also, english is not my first language so whatever (and wherever) mistake you might find, please bear with me.

I know it might be confusing, or even worse, not make sense at all. but i just let my messy thoughts flow and that’s the result.

just to get things a bit more clear, tate is still alive and dealing with his situation back home while reader is the only friend he managed to make in high school. the reader was at the house, not the murder house ( let’s just assume the reader’s house it’s near that ) and tate just presented himself there after the reader became distant with him.

« I’m sorry. »

You know about those days, when you wake up and your eyes reflexively land on the window? And then they wander up, and get to notice the soft hue of the blue sky, lightened up by the sun? And it’s almost as if you could feel the warmth of the sun rays seeping through your window?

Perhaps it’s the warmth of the covers, the cozy feeling that you get every time when you just wake up and that later on makes you whine because you know you’ll have to leave that warm place soon to get up and get ready for school. But it’s almost as if you had a restart.

For five minutes— sometimes even less, it depends on how much it takes your brain to process the world outside of your mind again— you get to feel like you’ve just been reborn, and that everything would be alright.

But then it all comes crumbling down.

Your brain registers where you are, the reality you live, and the obnoxious routine you have to do everyday. Get up. Brush your teeth and hair. Skip breakfast because you’re always late. Get dressed. Go to school. Wish to get home during and in between classes. Get finally home, but then you get frustrated because it’s always the same damn thing.

You don’t know what it is that frustrates you, that angers you so much and sometimes even makes you cry. That drains you, leaving you so exhausted that you end up falling asleep only to wake up the next morning and experience the same thing again.

Perhaps, you think, that you’re crazy. Maybe you’re spiralling out of reality. Maybe you’re just being an ungrateful teenager. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Maybe you just want to sleep forever.

But, when you think you can’t take it no more, here comes Tate.

Sometimes you think he’s weird. Not in a bad way, you think he’s just.. weird. He’s one of the most pessimistic people you know, always looking down on the human specie and labelling it as some sort of stupid being. Yet, when it comes to the state you’re slowly falling in, he seems to suck it out of you.

You don’t know how to explain it properly— you don’t even understand it yourself, but it’s almost as if he is a sponge. Just by staying near you, he sucks all the darkness away. He’s like a black hole, but instead of absorbing everything he just absorbs your darkness. Or perhaps he’s just a little hypocrite that doesn’t allow you to be pessimistic just like he is.

Even though you know.. you know that referring to Tate as pessimistic is the least you could call him.

You hate it when he gets clingy, and that happens very often. Who are you kidding? it always happens, hence why you always resort to unkind ways to get him to leave you. You just want to be alone sometimes.

Tate might argue with you and say that it’s more than sometimes, it’s always.

You’re not a good person, you know that. You’re selfish and you don’t care who you’re hurting when it comes to you and the decisions you make.

You didn’t care when you started hanging out with a boy and spent less and less time with Tate. Why did you do it though? You still question yourself.

Yeah, he might be clingy, attached to your hip, dependant on you and the list could go on just like that. But he was the only one that showed you how much you mean, or perhaps, how much you could mean to somebody.

You never thought it possible that a being could be so much for another being.

Tate is your only friend. Even though you’re not sure of that anymore since all you did for the past few weeks—maybe month, was avoiding and ignoring him.

At the beginning it was just to get a little time alone. But then it started becoming more of an avoidance, and now? You thought you were avoiding him out of shame.

But he was your only friend, and you pushed him away for what? To test if you could feel something different than the void you were currently drowning in? How could you have been that selfish?

His eyes seem to be asking you the same questions as he stares deep down inside your soul. His kaleidoscope honeyed eyes.

« I’ll.. » a sob breaks his voice, and his attempt to hold back his tears fails, making the tears break through and fall down his cheeks like diamonds, «.. I’ll leave never bother you again if that’s what you want »

For the first time in weeks you feel something so authentically powerful that it almost knocks the breath out of your lungs.

You’re sat there, on your messy, still unmade, bed as you’re looking into his eyes. And he stares back at you almost as if he has already been there, in that position— unwanted and thrown to the side, times and times before. But still it causes him pain.

It’s a subtle but yet stinging feeling. Like a cut being slit open again by a sharp dagger with its blade covered in salt. It’s a swift movement, a methodical cut, because it always seems to be hurting in the same spot.

You don’t say anything.

« You’re just like her. » Constance. Tears stream down his face like pouring rain. His voice taking the resemblance of a wave as sometimes it gets higher and other times it comes crashing down, stopping abruptly to let his tears fall down silently.

Just like rain in the ocean.

Silence fills the room yet again.

« Please.. p-please.. » How come that he’s the one begging you and not the other way around? What is he pleading for?

You frown looking at him, still staring into his eyes like a stone cold bitch. And you might’ve even been one to someone else’s eyes. But not to his.

You were just as hurt and lost as he was.

He got down on his knees, sliding on them on the carpeted floor until he was by your legs, as you were still sitting down on your bed. He sobbed and sniffled as he got in between your legs and let his head slowly come down to rest on your lap. «..d-don’t leave me.

you’re the only thing I have left.. y-you don’t have to do anything just.. p-please.. please I need you. You’re everything to me.. I-I’m.. I.. »

How could you have let everything spin out of control?

You were sorry.

You were so sorry.

Your vision became so blurry, almost as if a plastic wall was swiftly building itself up on your eyes, until it broke down and you felt warm droplets of water strike your cheeks. You were sorry as you could see the hurting boy sobbing on your lap because of your selfish behaviour.

You didn’t know what had happened to you to get you to this point, to hurt mindlessly like that the only person that cared about you. But you knew you were sorry and you wanted to wipe everything you did away.

Your hand, slowly, made its way on his head covered by the soft honeyed hair. You let your fingers slip and comb through the strands of his hair while you finally felt something.

« I’m sorry. » a broken whisper left your mouth.

just wanted to apologize again as i’m sure it came out more cringy than anything, but if you have some advice to give me please feel free to leave a comment ( or just straight up tell me to stop writing and never do it again 🤪 ).

110 notes · View notes

ikkosu · 1 month

Note

I would love something, anything with human reader (gn) SSAU, stuck between Prowl and Pharma <3 maybe they’re a mechanic? Or just a nurse? I love how you write the two dorks. They’re just sooooo 👀💚

BETWEEN A ROCK AND A WALL

a/n : ah!!!! my favorite person!!! it's been a while pookie jkjk I am excessively obsessed with them, as well LITERALY (I kid you not. It's about time I write an, ahem, threesome with them

"Have you tried reporting him for harrassment?"

Oh, you've have enough.

Your datapad hits the surface of your desk with a clink, not without letting out a growl of frustration that all the more tightened the coil of a headache, brewing in your temples.

Just a visit. It's just a visit. It's just a visit. He's just being himself he's just—

"You know what, Prowl? You're so damn petty sometimes."

You swivelled to face him, but the cop-bot perched in your chair, your chair, inspecting your work-cubicle, pretends to look away.

Like, he didn't just pester you the whole hour on ethics of trying to fire your own boss and slandering your note-taking skills.

(yellow? seriously? any other highlighter you can choose but you picked yellow? disgusting).

"You should know your adjectives, by now. I wouldn't call that petty. A term I'd prefer is being Strategic." He clipped. "But I'm sure, given how your emotions normally regulate your, whatever you have, is a brain — you wouldn't be able to comprehend such a notion."

He's made a habit of making everything sound so reasonable, it's baffling. You round your desk, stopping short in front of him. Prowl retaliates your scowl by leaning back against the chair. He tips his helm until it hits the headrest and his eyes, flaring blue, peered over the crook of his nose.

You know he's got that stupid bastardly smile underneath the facade.

"What do you want?" You huffed out.

"A simple, round the block, routine checkup. Nothing important. "

"Yeah? Yeah? You're, like, three fucking planets away from your station. I'm sure that's plausible."

Where's Max when you needed him most to beat his ass?

"Anything is possible if you think it to be so."

Oh, you're this close. This close. You look to your watch, groaning internally. Around three hours more you're due for an operation. And you're not even prepared yet! You're supposed to go through your notes on how to yank out a gut from it's slot, not having a verbal spar with Cybertron's number one asshole.

"Look, I don't know what beef you've got with the guy but I thought you're the enforcer here, mister goody two shoes. This is illegal."

He scoffs at that but doesn't seem to regard the last part, however. " It's your boss now, huh."

"Excuse me?"

"Last I heard he was the boss." The chair creaks as he shifts on the spot, looking incredibly out of place in that plush, black office wheeler. " What, did you pucker up your lips and appeased his ego to botch that spot?"

"What?" You sputtered. "Botch that spot? What are you— No, No!— He's my boss!— I— What do you want me to say?"

"That you're not his playtoy." He crosses his arms.

"I'm not!"

"Then, call him by his name." He grits his teeth. "Don't say 'my boss'. It sounds corny. It sounds stupid. You sound stupid." A digit juts your way and you scoff, holding yourself back from commiting first degree murder. " And, you know what's even better? Just don't talk to him. Ever. Not even a look or a smile. Is that understood?"

"Prowl, i—" You sighed, dragging a palm down your face. "Please, tell me you didn't come all the way here to Delphi —all the way here — just to tell me that."

The corner of his mouth tugged up a little. He looks away to hide it, though. "I'm paid to serve the law after all."

"Oh, yeah? You're paid to shut the fu—"

"My, my. That's not a pleasant way to address a man of law, now is there darling?" A low voice crooned behind you and you feel his servos curling over both sides of your waist, chassis against your back. Pharma rests his chin on your shoulder and a chesire grin is directed to the enforcer.

You don't dare to look behind you, but you're also not strong enough to lock eyes with Prowl who's got a death grip on the arm chair, teeth gritting, digits digging into the cushion. Eventually, he stands up to his full height, stepping close, you're almost sandwiched between the two like a smore.

"Doctor." He clips.

"Enforcer." Was Pharma's drawl. "Here to fetch your little pet?"

He bristles, door wings piking up at the term but doesn't regard it. "Here to take them far. How much for a forced unemployment?"

"Oh, nothing much. I usually do it for free, but this one..." Pharma leans close and you yelp when his chassis pushes you forward to press against Prowl's, you guessed it, chassis. "—Is an exception. You see, officer, I actually quite like having this one around. Keeps my arduous moments flourishing, my lonely nights — occupied."

Prowl lands a servo on your shoulder. "Yeah. Figured as much." He grits out.

"Oh, not really. It doesn't have to take much assuming." Pharma straightens up, a servo on the other side of your shoulder. "While, its all in good fun, we three all have a job to do, yes? Best you leave them to their devices now."

He was about to tow you away when Prowl's unrelenting death grip on your shoulder prevents you from moving. "I'd rather not."

"Is that so?" Poison spools out from that drawl.

"Your audials doesn't seem to be of optimum order. Mind If I smoothen out the creases?"

You winced, looking at your watch. Shit. Shit. Shit. Of all times Pharma had to come in, he takes the opportunity when Prowl is here?! You need to prepare yourself right now. That patient isn't going to pull out a gut themself, and they aren't sewing their lungs back, either. If you could just....wiggle from the rooks of their grip and slowly slide away to— Prowl clamps a servo on your waist. Pharma, clutching your shirt.

They hold you close.

Oh, forget it.

A wide, terse grin eases out on the jet's face. "Perhaps your t-cog would need a diagnosis as well. Oh, no, no not just your t-cog. Something else. As a doctor I would'nt want my patient limping for...." He whispered lowly. ".... undercompensation, given how you're strutting around...."

Prowl let's out a low growl in his throat. "Oh? How about we head out side and hunker down a nice 'smoothening out?"

"Don't try me, enforcer." Pharma's mood isn't much better but unlike Prowl he's got a good facade holding up. " You've got what's coming and it won't be pleasant. I suggest you step out now."

Then the bastardly smile curls the corner of his cheek. "Let's test out that theory, then."

Oh, dear.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers x reader #transformers idw #pharma #prowl x reader #idw pharma #idw prowl #pharma x reader

62 notes · View notes

sublimecatgalaxy · 1 year

Note

IM FREE FROM THE LABORS OF WORK AND HERE TO REQUEST ALL THE THINGIES

Today I’m thinking maybe a lil Spencer x reader, annoyance to lovers (to smut el oh el)!! Tension building with a case or maybe after a case, reader and Spence were butting heads the whole time and something just SNAPS! Things follow afterwards 👀💅

Please tell me if this is out of the requirements for your extended blogversary! I cant find the post you normally send out when you have a theme night :/ LOVE YOU THO!! BYEEEE

I love this bestie, I love the tension, I love the lead up, I love the slowburn. I LOVE YOU. No smut but definitely very flirty and spicy.

I can't tell if I hate him or if I just want to fuck him.

He's so stupid but not in an intelligence way- no- he's stupid handsome and stupid cute, stupidly attractively intelligent in ways that makes my brain and heart melt. He doesn't even realize he's doing it half the time, when he's propping his chin on his fist and the veins on his arms bulge- he doesn't understand the female mind and the way of our attraction.

But something tells me he's starting to learn what makes me squirm but there's a sense of cockiness that he exhibits whenever he can see me shift in my seat or press the back of my hands to my cheeks to see how warm they are. He understands body language and he seems to understand mine.

But it's so hard to feel good about him being so cocky when he's just so cocky about it. Subtly sure, I'm the only one who realizes it because he wants me to know that he knows.

What an ass.

"You seem mad?" Spencer asks, stepping off the plane and onto the tarmac beside me, running a hand through his hair that blows perfectly in the wind. Of course he looks like he just walked out of a movie.

"Oh, is that right, genius?" I snap, folding my arms across my chest as we wait for the car to get here to take us to the BAU so we can all go our separate ways.

"Oh you are mad." He realizes, moving to step in front of me so he can looks down at me more clearly, nose scrunching as he tries to keep his glasses on his nose. "Why?"

"You piss me off sometimes, Spencer." I admit, the fire in my belly only growing as a smile slips across his lips but vanishes as soon as he seems my jaw clenching out of frustration. I half expect him to grill me on why I shouldn't grind my teeth but maybe if he'd strop grinding my gears I wouldn't be so frustrated.

"I'm sorry, did I do something wrong? Is this about the plane- I really didn't mean to offend you." He says, reaching out to place a hand on my upper arm, surprising me as I look down at his hand.

"You didn't." I huff, suddenly feeling bad for my aggression. "You're just infuriatingly cute." I can feel my cheeks heating up at my confession and I'm quick to look away from him before I can process the words that actually just left my lips.

"Oh." He smiles softly, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck but he doesn't turn and run away like I imagined he would. "You're mad at me because I'm cute." He reiterates but I hold a finger up to him with a glare.

"I'm mad at me because I think you're cute and I'm supposed to be the one with the higher ground." He grins, brows pulling together in a look of confusion.

"Higher ground...?" He trails off with a hefty pause as the cars pulls up in front of us. "Between us? You definitely do. It's hard to keep up with you." He admits with a gentle blush and I gasp, suddenly feeling that sense of pride that I typically feel towards our relationship/friendship/whatever it is we have going on between us.

"Yeah?" I ask with a smile. "Well good."

"Do you find me intimidating?" He asks, reaching out to open the car door for me, slipping into the car after me, leaving us alone. The rest of them must've taken the other car... leaving us conveniently alone.

"Yes." I answer simply, gulping as he stretches his arm along the back of the seat, his hand resting gracefully behind my head.

"Why?" He asks but the cocky smirk that toys on his lips lets me know that he knows just why he's intimidating to me.

"Because you're smart and handsome and look at me like that." I laugh nervously, reaching up to place a hand on my forehead as I move my eyes to look out the window to ease my anxiety. "And every time you call me out or correct me, I want to punch you but also kiss your stupid face."

"Then why don't you?" He asks, eyes softer than they were just moments ago and I let myself grin, hand reaching out to pat his thigh teasingly.

"Because it wouldn't stop there."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the heart @vampviolets@haylee-e @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife

@officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr @aaaaslaaaan @witxhy-lexx @minjix @luvroseee @tee-swizzle @savageneversaw @admiringlove @hysteriahall @piceous21 @starlightandfairies @igotmajordaddyissues @drewstarkey-wife1 @manyfandomsfanvergent @revesephemeres

#spencer #spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

198 notes · View notes

peachywise · 2 years

Text

Lessons in Honesty Part 5

steve harrington x reader

Chapter 5: Enjoy the Silence

– other chapters: part 1 ⋆ part 2 ⋆ part 3 ⋆ part 4 ⋆ part 5 ⋆ part 6 ⋆ part 7 ⋆ part 8

– series synopsis: Being Robin Buckley’s younger sibling had always been uneventful, up until she got herself tangled with Steve Harrington. And really, you were happy for her. She deserved friends. What was bothersome was when he got let in on small secrets like your infatuation with Eddie Munson, and decided to take it into his own hands to try and get him to pay attention to you-- by pretending to be your boyfriend.

– notes: hello!! this is my favourite chapter so far. i got giddy writing it. shameless in my love of the tending to one another’s wound trope. this is all. please enjoy!

p.s. enjoy the silence is not an eighties song but the title fit too well for the chapter okay let me enjoy depeche mode in peace

p.p.s. i have literally tried posting this twice before only for it not to show up in the tags and if it happens again then i will hurl myself off a cliff

read here or on ao3

_____________________________

People often say how silence can be defeating. But at this moment, with Steve beside you in the driver's seat, you thought a better way to describe the silence is by how utterly restraining it was.

You couldn't move. Not because you were paralyzed by discomfort, but because you felt like there was a rubber band circling the both of you, and if it was disrupted, it would snap and break something irreparably. You'd waited to see if Steve would be the one to break the silence, but he'd been driving for ten minutes and hadn't even turned on the stereo.

Either the rubber band was going to snap first, or your mentality would crack under the weight of awkwardness and overthinking.

"You can listen to Wham! if you want."

Looks like your mentality was the weaker of the two.

"What?" Steve asked. Your comment knocked a brick from the mental wall behind which he had put himself. Steve turned to look at you for a brief second before suddenly turning his attention back to the road. You wondered if he had been on autopilot and just became self-aware that he had been driving this whole time.

"You know, the band," you continued. Sometimes it felt like your brain cells were small clowns packing themselves into a tiny vehicle, only to launch themselves out of your mouth and into an ocean, suffering a painful and stupid death. "I didn't actually know if you listened to them or not when I said you looked like you were dressed for their concert. Sorry if I offended you. I mean, they're not my favourite band, but if you like them, then I'll shut up, and you can play your music no problem. Then again, just cause you look like you listen to them doesn't mean you do. You could listen to Madonna for all I—"

"Buckley," Steve cut you off.

"Yeah?"

"Just turn on the radio."

"Okay."

You didn't.

And it was back to silence.

Five more minutes passed before Steve pulled into the driveway of your house and turned off the ignition. Thirty seconds passed in silence without either of you moving a muscle. And then, finally, Steve spoke.

"I'm sorry."

Steve wasn't looking at you as he said it. He leaned back against his seat as he stared at your dad's car in front of the garage. You, however, couldn't move your eyes away from him. Confusion overtook your features at his apology.

"For what?" You asked, twisting your body slightly in your seat to face him more fully.

He shifted in his seat, moving his hand up to run over his jaw. His frustration was apparent. "I shouldn't have left you alone in a place like that. I wasn't thinking." He murmured past his hand. You noticed it was red and starting to crack from where he had hit the man.

Was that really what had him so torn up? For leaving you alone? "You had no way to know someone would come up to me. And I dealt with it, Steve. I told him to leave the same as you would have. Besides, you were what, forty feet away? I don't really consider that leaving me alone."

"But you got hurt because of it," Steve spoke more resoundly, finally turning his face towards you and dropping his hand.

As if to emphasize his statement, your head throbbed with a dull pain. With how focused you were on the tension in the car, it was like you had forgotten all about it.

"I fell backward. It was more an accident because the table was there." The guy had grabbed you, sure, but the force of you pulling back caused the events that followed to happen. Not that you were acquitting that asshole of anything. It was his fault. He shouldn't have laid his hands on you in the first place. But Steve shouldn't hold guilt or anger about the fact he hadn't been standing beside you. If the guy had a few more drinks in him, he probably would have come up to you if Steve was there regardless. The same thing was bound to happen.

"I've fallen before. Had cuts and bruises. When I was seven, I even stood on top of monkey bars and fell off and broke my arm. Now that we're friends, are you going to take responsibility every time I'm injured, and you're not there? Because I'm not letting you take on the role of bodyguard too. Fake boyfriend is enough."

Steve looked at you for a quiet beat, the wheels in his head turning as he processed everything you said. Hopefully, your attempt at lightening up the conversation at the end would make everything a little less serious because you weren't sure how long you could keep hold of this metaphorical breath before you passed out. Thankfully, it seemed like something had resonated with him. There was still a tightness in the way he clenched his jaw, but he gave a slight nod of the head, looking down at his lap.

"I'm still sorry it happened," he offered, finally sounding less wound up.

"I'm sure that creep is too. That was one hell of a punch. I think you broke his nose," you gave a slight smile.

An unamused breathy laugh left him as he turned back to look at you. "Yeah, well, what are friends and fake boyfriends for, right?"

Ah, so he had picked up on that little bit of terminology you had used. Part of you thought he might have missed it with all that brooding.

Your small smile turned into a full-fledged grin. "Exactly. Next time you need someone punched, I'll go up to bat. Maybe I'll throw in the added bonus of insulting them too."

Steve laughed at that one. "Alright, alright. I think we should make sure you don't have a concussion before launching yourself into another fight," he added. "Do you want to run inside and get the first aid kit so I can check the back of your head out here? I don't want you to twist around trying to get at it and end up slamming your head into something else."

Good point. Still, it was dark outside and cramped in the car. There was a far easier solution to this. "Or you could just come inside and look at it. You said The Hideout was bound to give me an infection, but I don't think your car is much better."

"I keep my car clean, okay?" He argued petulantly. "And I don't think you want your parents waking up. I thought you didn't want them to know about what happened."

That got a snort out of you. "Please, they won't wake up for anything. My dad uses a CPAP machine, and my mom wears earplugs. Once, the fire alarm was going off cause Robin burnt some eggs in the morning, and they had no idea."

"And Robin?" Steve countered.

"We'll just use the bathroom in the basement. She won't hear a thing." Looking at the windows, you saw that all the lights were off, including in her room. Robin also had the Buckley gene of sleeping like the dead. There'd be no issue.

Seeing Steve's silent hesitancy, you rolled your eyes and unbuckled your seatbelt. "Look, I'm good either way. Either check it in the house or don't. I'm sure splashing water on it will do the trick, right?" You smiled, already climbing out of the car.

You heard Steve mutter something under his breath, but whatever it was didn't really matter. He was out of the car and trailing behind you a short second after.

******************************

If you had a diary, this scene would make for the weirdest entry to date.

Hi, diary. It's me again. You know, the outcast whose only friends like to play an intense game of make-believe every week to escape the reality of mundane life? Well, you'll never guess what happened. I went to a metal concert where some drunk guy tried to get handsy with me, and I cracked my skull open. Now Steve Harrington, ex-basketball heartthrob turned older sister's best friend, is currently poking at the hole in my head while I'm straddling a toilet seat. Life is so crazy, huh?

Maybe you should look into investing in one. Though, you weren't sure if you really wished for any of this to be recorded.

"Ow," you mumbled, twisting to look over your shoulder as the wet cloth grazed the minor cut on your head once more. Steve pushed your face back by the cheek, admonishing you with a repeated, "I told you to stop trying to look. It's not physically possible."

You mimicked his words back to him with a lower-pitched annoying sound.

When the washcloth hit the cut again, you were sure that one was actually on purpose.

"Well, you no longer have dried blood caked in your hair, and the cut is just a minor one. You should be okay," Steve commented, setting the cloth on the counter before moving over to wash his hands.

"So glad to hear I'm going to live," you amusedly said as Steve dried off his hands. He grabbed the small ointment tube in the available first-aid kit and unscrewed the cap, dotting some of the medication on the tip of his finger. He used his other hand to gently move your head back to stare at the wall so he could access the wound. His touch was so light you barely felt him apply the medicine.

"Alright, you're good to go," he said in a muffled tone. The way his fingers slipped through your hair as he moved his hand away had goosebumps rising to the back of your neck. He probably didn't even mean to do it, but the ghost of that touch lingered as you rose to stand up. Steve cleaned off the excess ointment from his hands. Your eyes lingered on his movements, noticing how the irritated red on his knuckles had worsened as time passed. It was going to bruise. And while the split in his lip and small cut on his knuckle didn't exactly scream severe, you figured it was best to return the favour. You didn't miss that minor wince he gave when he'd wiped his hand dry on the towel.

"Your turn," you said, lifting yourself up to sit on the bathroom counter before rummaging through the kit for some hydrogen peroxide and something to wrap his hand with.

Steve gave a resolute, "I'm fine," as he crossed his arms.

Peering up at him with a raised brow, you reached forward to cup his jaw in your hand. The sudden widening of his eyes at your action quickly changed to one experiencing a sudden sting when you gently ran a thumb over the cut on his lip. "Don't lie to me, Hero. Amuse me just this once," you said as you dropped your hand back down to your lap. Steve gave you an overly-cautious look.

His shoulders dropped some of their tension when he finally relented with a muttered, "whatever, just… get it over with."

"Trust me. I'm a better doctor than I am a patient," you grinned, taking off the cap from the hydrogen peroxide bottle. You grabbed his hurt hand and held it over the sink.

"That's not saying much. You're a terrible patient," he retorted, but his admonishment quickly became an expression of pain once you poured the solution over the cut knuckle. "Ow," he bit out, trying to yank his hand back. You squeezed it tighter and looked up at him with a slight shake of your head. "Who's the terrible patient now," you muttered.

Bringing his hand closer to your lips, you softly blew cold air on the stinging skin, mentally noting the feel of his hand in yours. His hand was soft. That was unexpected. It wasn't without calluses— you couldn't hazard a guess from what— but mostly, you noticed how warm it was. Holding his hand wasn't exactly… an uncomfortable experience. You almost wish it were.

When you finally released your grip, you momentarily glanced up at him. He was looking at you with an indiscernible expression. Partly calm, partly confused, wholly serious. You started to feel like there was restricted breath in the small space between you and him.

"How often do you go around punching people, anyway?" You spoke, trying to break out of the silence as you grabbed the previous ointment he had used on your head.

"What do you mean?" Steve asked, pulling his hand back and taking a minor step out of your space.

"I heard you punched Jonathan Byers when you and Nancy first started dating. Something about thinking she was cheating, and a certain theatre sign that read Nancy 'The Slut' Wheeler."

"Oh." Steve gave a simple reply, "Yeah. Not my proudest moment." He shuffled his weight once from foot to foot. It was clearly a challenging subject. I mean, why wouldn't it be? And to bring it up now probably wasn't one of your brightest ideas. But you felt the need to understand him better. After tonight's events, it became clear Steve had this intense urge to protect people. You'd already seen it plenty of times with the young kids. But now you were beginning to truly see through this exterior he had to what was at his core—deep caring, Kindness. It was woven into the state of his entire being.

"I'll drop the subject if you want," you offered, giving him an out as you took back his hand and began putting the ointment on the split skin. "I'm just curious as to what all that was really about." It didn't seem like him, not that you would tell him that. No need to let him in on how much you had begun to take note of his character.

There was a pinch to Steve's eyebrows as he thought about what to say. "I was upset. That was really it. I thought I had seen something but didn't understand it. I didn't talk to Nance about it at all. I just… reacted." When you were finished, you wiped your hand free of the ointment, moving now to grab some bandage wrap to twine around his hand. "I regret it. I still don't get how Nancy took me back after all that, but I'm thankful for it. I had a lot to make up for. She helped me learn a lot of things. I grew up because of her. I'll always be grateful for that. It's still hard to move past all the immature shit I once did, though."

Finishing wrapping his hand, you tucked the tail end of the bandage underneath the wrap. His meaning made sense. We all do dumb stuff. But the one good thing about mistakes is our ability to learn from them. Doesn't make the actions okay or easy to grapple with. But if mistakes can help us grow, to learn, then at least they give them some semblance of meaning and purpose.

"I can see why you'd want to win her back," you softly stated, realizing you still had a hold of his hand before letting it go. Steve gripped the edge of the counter, half caging your body in. "Not sure if I consider fake dating to be out of the realm of 'immature shit,' but at least it's something we're doing together. You can't take all the blame that way."

Steve's face transformed into that odd look you couldn't figure out again. It took him a second to even say anything more. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right," he weakly smiled as the words tumbled out of him.

He must really be scared the plan wasn't going to work. Not that he needed Nancy to continue to be a good person. He was that all on his own. But he did deserve happiness.

"For what it's worth, I think you owe yourself a little more credit for who you are now," you smiled, remembering him saying something similar when you told him how Eddie helped you out of your social isolation. Grabbing a clean face cloth, you ran it under the tap and put the smallest amount of soap on top. Cleaning his lip with peroxide probably isn't the wisest idea.

"Dustin and the others respect you because it's easy to look up to someone like you. You're a safe presence," you murmured, not used to being so open with people. You couldn't exactly look him in the eye, so instead, you focused your attention entirely on cleaning the area of his split lip. "Hell, my sister loves you. And you're friends with her and support her, knowing exactly who she is. She wouldn't stick around you if you weren't someone worth being around."

You weren't sure if Steve wasn't saying anything because you had been cleaning his lip or if he just didn't have anything to reply to. Putting the cloth aside, you dotted some more of the Polysporin to your finger and gently dabbed it on the cut.

"My point is, Nancy may have helped, but you're the one who chose to be better. It was always there in you. You're a kind person, Steve Harrington. I think people are better with you in their life than without."

The sudden movement of his hand encircling your wrist and stopping you had your gaze flying up to his in surprise. "You really think that's true?" his voice was quieter, lower. It was the first time you noticed how the pitch of his voice was almost melodious.

You got the feeling he was asking you if you thought your life was better with him in it than without. And the only thing you could respond with was the instinctual truth.

"I do."

And the silence like a rubber band was back, his eyes intent on yours, his hand sliding down from your wrist to take hold of your hand.

You felt like all your thoughts shut off all in one moment. You weren't sure what was happening, but you made no move to end it. You no longer felt restrained by this bubble but comforted despite the nervous buzz across your arms.

Steve moved closer to the counter, lips opening to say something more.

And then the rubber band snapped anyway.

"Are you talking to yourself, you weirdo—" Robin's voice cut into the small space you two created. Steve quickly launched himself back, stumbling but catching himself as he cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair as he looked everywhere except at you or Robin.

Your hand was dropped back onto your lap, and in your surprise, you jerked back away from Steve. Unfortunately, that meant smacking your sore head against the mirror and letting out a less quiet, painful, "Jesus Christ!"

Robin's own body had gone into a state of static shock. Her movements paused in the doorway as her eyes moved from you to Steve, then back to you again.

"Uh… What the hell are you two doing?"

Robin pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers and took what you hoped was meant to be a calming breath. Once that was done, Robin stepped forward and ushered you to move off your seated position on the counter. You did, and she rested a hand on your shoulder. "You, go to bed," she ordered, practically shoving you out the door. You turned to look back at them both as Robin stared Steve down and said, "and you and I are going to have a little talk before you go."

"Oh, Robin, hey!" Steve lifted his hand in greeting as if trying to be casual would help this situation seem less suspicious than it looked. Robin gave Steve one of her signature looks, aiming to make someone two sizes smaller. It worked. "They got into a bar fight and hit their head," Steve spilled out, pointing in your direction like someone identifying a criminal in a lineup.

"Hey, it wasn't a bar fight!" You gasped, pointing back to him as you whipped your head toward your sister. "And Steve's the one who punched a guy!"

You caught the nervous look on his face before Robin practically kicked the door closed.

________

tag list: @rexorangecouny @simonsbluee @felicityofbakerstreet @heytherejulietx @ohashley101 @youngflower @katsukiswrld @ramona-thorns @theblairwaldorf2 @fezco-mylove @hxrgreeves @jbcalway @heizenka @edenstarkk @greekktragedy @trishiepo0 @nonpoppin @bimboshaggy

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #joe keery #eddie munson #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #st #stranger things #st fanfic #st fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #st imagine #stranger things imagine

133 notes · View notes

girlvinland · 8 months

Text

This is a post I don't really feel good about writing, but at the same time, it's something I feel like I keep wanting to vent about and that I don't really...have enough places to vent about. I have my therapist, but I feel like even then, I can't unload it all on her bc I feel like I never have enough time even if it comes up here and there. Unloading it on other people who aren't her typically leads to them going on the defensive about the things I want to talk about, even when I try to be gentle or more objective in discussing it. I feel like here is one of the places I usually feel okay talking (even though I know that's probably stupid in some ways), but idk. It's comfortable because it's familiar and bc my words aren’t being directed at any one person. Sorry this is really long, btw.

I feel like I've talked about sexuality so much the past year or so, and I feel like I've taken so long, like...longer than a lot of people...to fully unravel things about myself. My teens were reserved for me barely scratching the surface of anything bc I was petrified of it and had zero exposure to anything that would have helped me in any way. My twenties were like, the first stage of my actual exploration and unfurling, where I was like...wait...this is a viable option? Other people are like this...I'm meeting people who understand. Does that mean I could let myself have that option too? But I still went on like no...no. I'm basically meant to live someone else's life and not seek out any further answers. The past five years I did seek out more answers and really did a lot of work, and that's like...still quite a long time to sort through some of this (or at least, it feels that way).

All of that is just history now though, so it’s not actually what I want to discuss. The thing that I don't feel good about is how my emotions have felt wrt everything currently. I've started to feel like such a bitter person for it, but I don't know if, in some way, the things I feel are justified after years of trying to understand my relationship to the world at large and how my sexuality relates to it. I want to believe that they are and that I'm just at a stage where I can experience these emotions fully in ways I haven’t before and that eventually they'll start to mellow out.

For instance, the past couple of years I've started to become somewhat like…irrationally irritated when it comes to hearing about boyfriends/husbands/etc of my friends who are cis women. Sometimes in general, but mostly when it's in the context of someone complaining about their partner in a day-to-day sort of way. The normalization of that in a heteronormative society has started to become something I just…really dislike hearing about. After going through my own “straight-passing” relationships (idk if this term is ok to use and I’ll change it if not), I almost feel like I just don't have the time or care for it anymore, even when I want to be supportive. Also, it’s hard for me to not apply my own experiences and biases, and a part of me always ends up wanting to be like. If you aren't happy, please try and do something to fix it. Converse with your partner about it. Leave if it's bad enough that you can't deal with it anymore. Get a therapist for yourself or both of you to work things out. Idk. It feels unfair for me to be like that when family or friends want to vent, but I also find it so hard to deal with now or like, it sends my brain to the boomer comic “I hate my wife but I’m just going to complain and not doing anything to change it” realm (and I understand that a lot of times, it is the partner who has little interest in changing things even when the other person is trying, which is even more frustrating to some extent).

The other thing I feel guilty about is this disdain I've developed of hearing about cis male celebrities/characters/crushes in more heterosexual regards (I want to specify that this doesn’t mean I actively dislike the celebs or characters or anything like that, not usually anyway. There are a ton of male chars I enjoy and everything, and tbh idc that much about celebrities in general). I feel like for the past few years I've been going through a period where I'm so tired of being exposed to it though (even with my own chars being sexualized by other ppl tbh) and all I want to do is to engage in media/culture that somehow dismantles anything cisheteronormative or that focuses on couples that aren’t cis/straight (I’ve esp sought out so much more wlw-adjacent media in recent years bc I’ve found myself connecting to it in a way that’s like…holy shit I want to make up for years of things I didn’t have access to or didn’t know existed).

Unfortunately, sometimes I feel like talking about that more often leads to a level of anger or annoyance on the part of people who don't feel that way, even though there is so much less media and discussion about those things in general. A lot of this is more relevant to irl straight friends I have and stuff, where it's fine for them to talk about all of the things they like when it relates to men or romance centered around men, but I don't necessarily have the same ability/level of acceptance from them to discuss media focused on anything else wrt romance/sexuality. Don't get me wrong, I have a lot of queer friends and whatnot, but most of them live elsewhere now (I also live elsewhere from many of them) and in general, the majority of people I'm exposed to in regular life are usually straight bc statistically that's just how it is and everything. It frustrates me though how it feels so acceptable for them to talk about whatever male celebrity/char or straight romance thing is popular, but I just kind of have to stand there and nod while wishing I could talk about the stuff I like too when it comes to like, wlw/lesbian media or whatever. That sounds selfish, but I feel like it reflects society’s general view on anything queer, and I think that’s why it gets to me more. Like maybe it wouldn’t bother me so much if that wasn’t the default/if I could speak about things as freely too. I know a lot of people feel that way, I don’t mean to make that or any of this post sound like some experience that is unique to me.

Anyway. I'm sorry if this vent comes off as weird or abrasive at all. It's really, really not my intention, nor is it directed at any one person or relationship and is more just a reflection on how my emotions are now when I think about cisheternormative society and that kind of thing. In the past I was able to kind of...blind myself to a lot of it, I think, or at least be more jokey about it in the times when it did annoy me. And after the years of working to distance myself from it, these aspects of it have started to seem really pervasive, even more so than I felt they were before. Like I said, I don't feel good about feeling these things and I don't want to always feel them. I hope I can work through them and get to a place where they don't bother me, or at least, not as much as now. I truly think it's a situation of like…breaking free of my own binds/feeling this freedom now and seeing things in a different light than I was able to before when I had the blinders on, and maybe once I settle into myself more, I’ll be able to shake those emotions off or find better ways to cope with them. I feel like a lot of this is stuff that’s always existed and always will, and the ways in which society operates are very hard to change, but I can kind of adapt the way I see and experience things so that they’re healthier for me. I’m just. Still in the early stages of doing that, and maybe it will take a little time to understand how to make it more productive/easier for myself. I didn’t get to this place overnight, and I’m sure I have a lot more to learn on this particular journey.

#by bug #sexuality #this is a long vent so im sorry about that if you read it #idk I don’t want this to feel personal to anyone bc it truly isn’t #it’s more just me reflecting in a space I feel ok doing that #and I promise it’s primarily about society and sexuality as a whole instead of people as individuals #even though I mention irl friendships I don’t want these things to reflect negatively on them #they just like what they like and that’s okay #this is more just me trying to gauge where I’m at with my emotions and somehow writing them out makes that easier #it’s also. im not happy with myself for experiencing these emotions but I want to change how I react to them when having them

8 notes · View notes

s1renidae · 10 months

Text

does anyone else (specifically any other autistic ppl) really really struggle with art in terms of like. getting yourself to actually do it or learn how

I dont rly know how to articulate it but like. I have tried, I have BEEN trying for years to find joy in creating art but I CANT, because creating anything just feels like an unwinnable battle against myself. it's not exactly art block because I have so so many things I want to draw and i can envision them perfectly but then when it comes time to actually do it just. can't. I freeze up. I feel like I dont know how to do/make what I want to and I know that you have to make bad art in order to learn how to make good art but my problem is that if I can't do exactly what I want to do or if I don't know exactly step by step how to get where I want to go my brain just Won't Let Me. reaching the limit of what I'm familiar and comfortable with feels like hitting the limit of a map in a game like I just. hit a wall and can't go any further

and I've had the thought that maybe with the way my brain works I am just simply not meant to be an artist but I HATE that, because I love drawing I really do and I'm 100% more miserable being stuck with all the images in my head than I am when I actually do make something and i really really dont want to let my stupid autism/adhd/whateverthefuck stop me from doing something that i actually am passionate about but I just. can't do itfor some reason !! it's so frustrating and I've tried so many ways to get past it I've gotten so much advice from artists in my life and none of it has worked and I want to fucking cry because I refuse to accept that I just can't do what I want to do but I don't know how to move forward

I'll get to a certain point in a piece (usually I'll finish a sketch/lineart and MAYBE add flat colors) but then I think about what to do next and even if I know the process I just get overwhelmed and then I quit because that's easier and I dont know how to make myself not quit that's how I've been with everything I've tried my whole life and I'm about ready to just give up on doing or being anything that I want to because it seems like I'm just completely incapable of holding myself to anything

I really want to feel the joy/relaxation that I see other ppl get from drawing/painting and I used to feel that when I was a kid and it comes back in phases sometimes as long as I stick to just sketching but I just. can't I know im saying that a lot and it doesn't rly mean anything but that's rly all it is I Simply Cant. I struggle and then I give up because I'm such a perfectionist that I circle back around to not being able to do anything at all because I know I can't meet my own standards and I can't muster up enough dedication to learn and practice and ahhhhhh idk

I know this has become more of a vent post than anything but like please someone tell me I'm not alone or that there's some way around this shit because it's starting to feel really hopeless and I don't want to completely give up on the only hobby I've ever been this passionate about wanting to focus on

#.txt #vent #artists on tumblr #<<< summoning #art advice

6 notes · View notes

bronanlynch · 7 months

Text

this week's media roundup has even more incoherent rambling about gundam than last week. that's where my brain's at I guess

listening (podcast): once again still listening to the Wing episodes of Great Gundam Project but I listened to their ep on the finale today so I just need to listen to their Endless Waltz ep and then I will be finished with that and move on to uhhh probably their 0079 episodes sorry I am So gundampilled right now. anyway. this makes me feel so much better for being confused & frustrated by the politics at the end of Wing but also kind of excited to rewatch it with my roommate (who's never seen it) at some point in our Gundam marathon because I really do think that watching 0079 first at least helps you understand what they're calling back to. like the answer to 'why is Zechs like that' is 'because he's based on Char' and I, watching Wing for the first time before any other Gundam, did not know who Char was yet

listening (music): I am perpetually just a little bit late to listen to new music but at least I did listen to new music this week. my fave thing about Mitski's I'm Your Man is how jarringly nice & pleasant the guitar accompaniment is for the first half, contrasted with the kinda eerie echo-y quality of the vocals and also like, what the lyrics are saying

reading: same things still. Rule of Wolves remains kind of mid and does not do anything particularly anything with any of the ideas it raises. Water Outlaws continues to be extremely cool and Imo does an extremely good job of expressing what would be very cool action sequences in a wuxia drama in a different medium. but also sometimes I wish I could see the cool fights because I like good fight choreography

watching: my parents visited this past weekend and one of the things we watch together is Ted Lasso, so I've seen a few more episodes of season 3 and honestly I'm kind of underwhelmed I guess? I have extremely mixed feelings about the handling of both of the queer plotlines (Keely getting a girlfriend & Colin's whole arc) that I'm not sure I care enough to type out. I like that Trent is around more though, I do like to see him

we've been watching the current season of Bakeoff (me & my roommate, not me & my parents), but it's not far enough for me to have strong favorites so I don't have much to say here other than that I do like the new host, she's fun

and now the most important part of this post, we've been watching Zeta Gundam. man. we're 17 episodes in and I'm having so much fun. I love Kamille, I love it when the main characters are doing armed resistance against the military hegemony even though I wish I had a better understanding of the scale of any of these factions, I love Quattro's stupid obnoxiously shiny gold mobile suit, I love the concept of Cyber Newtypes because it emphasizes the stuff about exploitation and dehumanization that I wanted more of in the discussion of Newtypes. I have many complex thoughts about gender (wish it wasn't always the women who are the most outspoken about peace and/or want to settle down to raise their children, or that women got a few more options besides that and dying in battle immediately after kissing the nearest man, but also I think there's something interesting in how many of the Cyber Newtypes and honestly also Newtypes are women like so far it's mostly women and protagonists and also Char). I miss Sayla. I hate that 26 year old Mirai dresses & styles her hair like a generic 45 year old housewife, please let her keep her style & personality even though she's a mother now I am begging you. I love Quattro's extremely 80s outfit. my head is very full of thoughts about how the child soldiers from 0079 are now a little older but still stuck in the same patterns because they're stuck as the people they were forced to become during the war and now they're perpetuating that on the next generation of kids forced into the conflict. thinking about Quattro trying to mentor Kamille and turning him into a soldier, and how Char & Amuro are both so shaped by the violence they've done that neither of them can conceive of themselves as anything else, with Amuro resenting/fearing his role as a soldier but not seeing any options for what he can be instead and Char leaning into it, again because he doesn't think he has any other options. tasty narrative foil situation. they should kiss about it. also I'm obsessed with how much the Beltorchika-Amuro-Char situation feels like a love triangle. Tomino didn't have to make Amuro's love interest a blonde in a pink normal suit with a comet-related callsign but as someone who is constantly thinking about Eve Kosofsky Sedgewick's writings on triangulated desire I'm very glad he did. this section is a mess, I'm so sorry, shout out to Zeta Gundam, I love watching teenagers bully Char and I hope Kamille gets to punch more cops

playing: still working on Ace Attorney 5, still on 5-4. just met Aura Blackquill and I love her already <3 unethical science lesbian <3

making: continuing the autumn theme that I've had pretty much every week, we made an apple pie, except we ran out of flour while making it so we couldn't sprinkle the crust with enough flour to make the filling thicken so it had the soggiest bottom imaginable. still tasted good though

more importantly, we are in our gunpla era and made the Michaelis from Witch from Mercury, a suit that everyone else on the internet seems to hate but I adore. I like it when robots are purple and look like they're wearing high heels, and also Shaddiq was one of my favorite GWitch characters which I realize is also a uhhhhh fairly unpopular opinion but anyway here it is

also because I think it's funny, here's what it currently looks like on display, leaning against the wall because it doesn't stand super well on its own but we don't have a base for it yet, and it looks So short next to the Pharact & Darilbalde

drinking: Thirsty Robot Brewing's key lime cheesecake sour, a beer that tasted so good I had to restrain myself from saying "wow this fucks" in front of my parents. it had lactose in it so it was a really nice amount of smooth & creamy, and the key lime flavor was really strong

also had a cocktail that had the most tailored to me list of ingredients imaginable: lemon vodka, creme de violette, elderflower liqueur, butterfly pea flower simple syrup, lemon juice, & lavender bitters. it truly is a shame that I cannot be bothered to acquire most of those ingredients on my own because wow that was tasty. I love it when drinks are citrus-y & floral, is the thing

writing: once again thwarted by not being able to write while watching Gundam (not a complaint). I swear I'm going to finish a fic again at some point

#dreaming.txt #weekly media roundup post

5 notes · View notes

kittimau · 2 years

Note

Two things: 1. Can you share some of the wips and fic ideas you’ve got squirreled away on your laptop with us? 🥺 2. I wish you loved your writing as much as I love your writing and self doubt or overthinking stuff didn’t hold you back from posting. You are so talented!! Don’t let your brain tell you otherwise!!!

Thank you sm 😭🥺

Sure, I can share some stuff! I have a doc I fling ideas into whenever they hit me, no matter how detailed or small or stupid. PWPs, crack, AUs, slow burns, fix-its, etc. They're usually little more than stream of consciousness rambling, and sometimes just a link, or song lyrics, a reddit thread, meme, or fanart - whatever inspired me in the moment and made me think, "I should revisit this later."

To give you an idea what the former looks like (though I'll be honest, this is tidier than most lol):

Psychologist/Client Modern AU

Premise: Obi-Wan realizes he’s becoming attracted to his beautiful young client and tries to refer him to another doctor. Little does he know, Anakin has been harboring a crush for years.

Anakin comes in one day for a session and Obi-Wan seems off somehow, nervous almost. It's unlike him. Immediately, Anakin is wary. Before he has a chance to say anything, Obi-Wan gets right to the point and tells him he's referring him to another doctor. Anakin demands to know why and he won't give him a straight answer, or at least not one Anakin believes. He's heartbroken, but the more Obi-Wan dodges his questions, the more frustrated he becomes. Obi-Wan opens the door and tells him he should probably go.

As Anakin is passing by, he gets a little too close, and that's when he notices it. A hitch in Obi-Wan's breath, dilated pupils. And he knows. There's no way he's letting it go now. So he tests his theory. Boxes Obi-Wan in. Obi-Wan is becoming increasingly agitated, holy shit he's actually stammering - that never happens - not to him, the man who's always so smooth and professional and careful with his words.

“If you're referring me,” Anakin says, leaning closer, “I guess I'm not your patient anymore then, am I?"

Obi-Wan blinks, eyes falling briefly to Anakin’s lips. “No,” he breathes, “I suppose you aren't.”

Anakin grins. "Good.”

And then they kiss! Blah blah blah cue the hot desk sex.

Okay, the rest of this got pretty long so I'm dropping the WIPs under the cut.

First, there's Troubled Water. I have bits of multiple chapters written already but most of my focus is of course on chapter 4. Idk why but I've been struggling with it. 😅 It takes place on a different point in the timeline than originally intended (it was actually ch3 but what was supposed to be a flashback ended up turning into an entire scene of its own and thus the whole club disaster lol). It's, again, so long that it will probably end up split into two chapters but as of right now I'm kinda wingin' it.

And am I being entirely self-indulgent by using my own OCs (and some friends')? Yes.

I'm a writer, I can do anything.

Also I just thought it'd be cool to introduce a new species or two lol. The GFFA is vast okay, there's always room for more. Anyway, here's an excerpt:

“Please, allow me to introduce myself. I am Da’riel of Clan Sarel. You have already met my Captain. The big guy behind you is my personal bodyguard. Don’t mind him, he only looks terrifying.” His grin takes on a mischievous edge as Bull huffs what might be a grunt or a laugh and he gestures toward the room he just emerged from. “And last but certainly not least—”

Another Dua’vian materializes in the doorway as though summoned, leaning her shoulder against the architrave. Her hair catches Anakin’s attention first; red as Queen’s Heart blossoms, it cascades in thick waves around shoulders draped in the black silk of a shirt several times too large to be hers, its hem halting mid-thigh. Her legs are bare beneath it.

Cheeks flaming, Anakin turns his gaze resolutely away.

“—this absolute vision is Liv Viventoly. If Preia is my right hand, Liv is my left.”

“What does that mean,” Anakin blurts, and everyone looks at him. Though Obi-Wan never rolls his eyes, the expression on his face is about as close as he gets to it. It’s a very particular brand of fatigue and mild annoyance entirely unique to his master, translated via a blank stare and slightly raised brows. He doesn’t even have to hear the “Honestly, Anakin,” aloud to know that’s exactly what he’s thinking.

“It means”—Liv straightens, smirking—“that I work in the shadows.” Anakin flinches back as she saunters past him and slides smoothly onto one of the tall stools at the well-stocked bar.

Like that answers anything. Why is everyone so cryptic all the time?

“What’s important is that while you’re here, know that you can trust them as I do,” Dua’primia Sarel says.

Obi-Wan nods, though Anakin senses apprehension through their bond. “We appreciate your hospitality, Dua’primia. I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, and this is—”

Anakin jolts forward. “Anakin Skywalker. We are at your service, my Lord.”

Sarel looks at his proffered hand with something like amusement and glides past Obi-Wan to clasp it with his. This close, he realizes the Dua’vian is an inch or two taller than himself—being somewhat tall for a human, it’s not an experience Anakin has often—and his eyes are a vibrant peridot green, accentuated by the black markings curving elegantly around the angles of his face that remind Anakin a bit of a Zabrak’s. A vicious scar bisects one eye from brow to cheek, long healed but still pink against his fair complexion, and Anakin spares a second to wonder if he got it during the war.

“Please,” he says, and is it just Anakin’s imagination, or did his voice lower in timbre? “Let us do away with such formalities. Call me Da’riel.”

Anakin swallows around the sudden lump in his throat. “Oh—okay. Da’riel,” he repeats stiffly, hoping he isn’t completely butchering the pronunciation. By the way the man beams, he thinks he did alright. Da’riel releases his hand slowly, fingers grazing the sensitive skin of his inner wrist before Anakin withdraws it behind his poncho. He glances sidelong at Obi-Wan, but his master’s expression is as inscrutable as ever.

“Well then,” Da’riel declares with a brisk clap, making his way to the bar, “drinks?”

“Can we get down to business, please?” Preia says, rolling her eyes.

“Such a spoilsport. Would it surprise you to know she isn’t always this uptight?” Chuckling, Da’riel uncaps a sapphire-blue crystal decanter and waves it beneath his nose. “Normally my dear Captain is the one pouring the liquor.”

“And I’ll drink you under the table like always once this threat is dealt with.”

“I shall hold you to that, my friend. And you, Jedi?”

“No,” Obi-Wan replies, a little too quick to be casual. “Thank you.” Anakin shoots him an inquisitive glance.

“Ah.” Da’riel nods sagely. “So the rumors are true.”

“Da’riel—” Preia hisses.

“What?” Da’riel looks around at everyone, not contrite in the least.

And his master was concerned that Anakin would be the one to say or do something culturally insensitive. He hides a quiet snicker behind his hand, pretending to rub his nose, and Obi-Wan gives him an unamused look before schooling his expression back to its artificial serenity.

“Please excuse him,” Preia says, hip cocked, a finger rubbing against her temple. “He’s very—”

Liv butts in, “Reckless, blunt, uncouth?”

Da’riel merely laughs, and Anakin can feel that it’s genuine. This is not at all the fearsome war General, leader of a revolution, and ruler of an entire planet that Anakin imagined. He seems close to these people, treats them more as equals and friends than subordinates or subjects, yet there’s still an aura about him that commands attention and respect as power or royalty would.

Preia smirks. “Too honest for his own good.”

Whatever it is, Anakin doesn’t sense cruel intent coming from the Dua’primia, just honest curiosity. Despite the glare his master is drilling into the side of his head like he knows what Anakin is going to do, he can’t help asking, “What rumors?”

“That you’re, er, monks,” Preia says, chuckling to mask embarrassment on behalf of her comrade and her own curiosity.

“You know.” Liv sips at the drink Da’riel just poured her, not looking at them as she speaks, and Anakin leaks a pulse of unease into the Force. There’s something about her he simply can’t put his finger on. “No drinking, no fu—”

“Fun!” Preia hastily interjects, staring daggers at the other redhead.

The corners of Anakin’s mouth twitch into a partial frown. They aren’t entirely wrong. He has his own… issues with the Order, with following rules that often either don’t make sense to him or directly conflict with his own ingrained beliefs. But it rankles for some reason, like he’s being judged, like they’re being judged. Mocked, even, though he doesn’t quite discern their meaning. Jedi are guardians of peace and justice within the galaxy. Maybe he doesn’t agree with the way the Order does things sometimes, but without them, without Anakin and Obi-Wan, the world would fall to disorder. To the dark side. People should be grateful—

“We are simply tired from our journey,” Obi-Wan interrupts his thoughts, sidling close enough that their shoulders graze, and Anakin exhales.

“My apologies, Jedi,” Da’riel says sincerely. “I am merely intrigued by your culture, as I’m sure you are of ours.” Obi-Wan bows his head in acceptance. “The hour is late. Preia?”

She hands Obi-Wan a datapad. “This contains an updated blueprint of the palace and map of the city, including the hidden exits and underground tunnels. I’ve marked the positions of my officers for each shift rotation as well as their schedules.”

Obi-Wan hums, stroking his beard as his eyes flit over the information on the screen. “And the evening of the festival?”

“We’re tripling security, pulling from both the palace guard and local law enforcement.”

“How many of them know we’re here?” Anakin says.

There’s a knock at the door before she can answer, and Bull moves to open it, standing back to allow someone entry. It's a man Anakin recognizes. Tall and broad, with neatly-combed dark hair, deep-set brown eyes, and a kind yet serious face. His attire perfectly matches the regal demeanor flowing off him in waves, fine tailored robes of pewter-blue that swish around matching trousers as he walks. When his eyes land on Obi-Wan, a fond grin meets Obi-Wan’s public, Jedi-persona equivalent; a small, polite smile, though his eyes twinkle with equally affectionate mirth as Senator Bail Organa bends to his height to trade light kisses upon each cheek.

Anakin knows from experience that it’s just a traditional Alderaanian greeting; it doesn’t mean anything. The Senator is a happily married man. And he’s pretty sure Obi-Wan hasn’t been involved with anyone in years, if ever. Whatever illicit affair he’d thought his master had with Vos was obviously just fueled by his own overactive imagination. He knows this because Obi-Wan never did meet the Kiffar before he shipped out for his next mission, and he hasn’t been alone with Vos since. Obi-Wan even stopped going to bars and clubs; stopped going out much at all, in fact, aside from diplomatic dinners and stuff they do on missions. Otherwise, he mostly stays with Anakin, and that’s exactly how Anakin likes it.

None of that prevents the irritation boiling within his veins or the tormenting memory of a kiss that’s burrowed its way into his very soul, a kiss that should have never been, and the hollow, bitter pang that always follows in its wake.

Goosebumps prickling the flesh at his nape, he glances around and finds Da’riel leaning back lazily against the front of the bar on one elbow, sipping his drink and watching Anakin intently. Face flushing with heat, he plops into one of the plush chairs and out of the Dua’primia's view.

“Obi-Wan. As always, it is a pleasure to see you.”

“And you as well, Bail.”

“Now that everyone is here,” Preia says, “shall we get started?”

This is Da'riel btw:

"But there are no elves in Star Wars," one might say. Well guess what: there are now. 😌

Preia and Liv belong to @jacklyn-flynn & @charlatron respectively.

As for other WIPs; there's one I started before Troubled Water, though my focus was drawn to TW instead so it's been put on the backburner for now. The original idea was some kind of canon-divergent time-travel fix-it, but in the sense that Vaderkin's consciousness from the end of RoTJ returns to his body around the end of the Mortis arc in The Clone Wars. Can't say why that inspired me but it did lol, it felt like a pivotal moment (one of the shatterpoints I like to theorize about, change one thing and they're all altered via butterfly effect etc).

Like, what if he lived the future shown to him in that vision that the Father erased, and how would he react differently afterward, how would he talk to Obi-Wan and Ahsoka about what they went through on Mortis and the implications if he actually, finally understood and believed that he was indeed the Chosen One, how would they approach the Sith situation and the war from that point on... yeah I just have a lot of thoughts idk. I know that arc isn't a fan favorite but I personally loved the metaphor and the entire Prophetic Greek Tragedy vibe.

Excerpt:

“General Skywalker, come in.”

He feels… strange. Heavy yet impossibly lighter. Awareness presses down around him, suffocating, and a sharp pain lances through his skull as he draws the first shuddering breath in what feels simultaneously like mere minutes and several millennia. His mouth is dry, his throat sore, and his eyes burn as he slowly blinks into wakefulness. The crust of sleep clings to his long lashes, the salt-stained skin upon his cheeks pulling uncomfortably as he moves. He rubs them with a gloved hand and groans at the bright flashing lights of a console as they sharpen into focus.

Wait—

He has a body.

Moments ago he was formless and adrift, yet he is once again whole. And before that, he was… he was…

Kriff, he has hands. Hands he sees unfiltered, rather than through a tinted transparisteel visor protecting damaged retinas. And he’s breathing. Unassisted by a mechanical apparatus, by endless tubes and wires, no longer submerged under the ceaselessly distracting harsh rasp of a ventilator. Fingers flexing inches before his face, he blinks again, stunned. Not only does he have a body, but it’s his body. His limbs—well, with the exception of one. His gaze drifts slowly down to his long legs, toes curling experimentally in his boots. The sheer relief of it sends him reeling.

Red light glints off his leather tabards and he looks up, expecting that any moment now, this will all prove another dream, a nightmare; a life free of that shell dangled temptingly before him only to be snatched away again. But the scene does not change. Dazed, he assesses his surroundings. A ship. He's on a ship? Familiar, Republic make. And there is a presence in the Force, a presence he has not felt in—

Hours. Years. An eternity.

Breath held, he turns. Only his head; as though any attempt to move this foreign yet thrillingly familiar youthful body will snap him out of this vision, send him back to that… that hell. And as he does, he sees him, a shining beacon of pure light, warm and bright and soothing. A man in beige robes, slumped in the co-pilot’s chair beside him, just beyond arm’s reach. Legs akimbo, elbows perched upon the armrests, hands dangling limply over his lap. His bearded chin is tucked to his chest which rises and falls in the slow, steady rhythm of unconsciousness. Auburn hair spills across his forehead, obscuring his eyes. But he would know this man anywhere.

Obi-Wan.

The desperate beat of his heart and rough, relieved exhale that escapes his lips seems thunderously loud in the otherwise silent cockpit. Fresh tears springing to his eyes, he attempts to stand—to go to him, to sweep Obi-Wan into his arms and feel his warmth, to surround himself with his scent and know for certain that he’s here, he's real, he’s alive—only to wobble and collapse back into the seat like a fawn testing new legs for the first time.

How is this happening?

He feels himself, and not himself. As though he took a nap and awoke with another lifetime sliced into his brain, a vision he can't shake, an overwrite of his programming, and it's becoming increasingly difficult to distinguish between it and the reality he's presented with the more he struggles to process it—

A flicker of blue dances in his periphery, repeating a question, and it is only with great reluctance that he tears his eyes away from his former Master. The holo-projection of another man stands at attention in the center console, brow furrowed with worry. Fondness and guilt and confusion flood him with equal measure as he takes in his Captain’s, his friend’s, appearance.

“General Skywalker, do you read me?”

Skywalker.

The voice of the last person to call him by that name, in that other life, echoes in his mind. It is the name of your true self, you have only forgotten. The son he tried to kill, to corrupt, to save. The son who saved him, and in the end, returned him to the light. Luke.

Clearing his parched throat, he responds, “I—we read you, Rex,” and marvels at the sound of his own voice, so crisp and clear and young, without the distortion of that burdensome helmet. “You—you’re a sight for sore eyes. Can you hear me?”

Fabric rustles behind him and he instinctively reaches for the lightsaber at his hip before the sleepy, curious brush of another Force signature meets his own. Gasping, he whips around in the flight chair.

“Ahsoka!”

She winces, rubbing her tired eyes. “Not so loud, Skyguy,” she says on the back end of a yawn, glancing around the cockpit. “What happened? We were—-mmphh!” Her surprised grunt is muffled against his shoulder as he all but falls out of his seat to the floor at her feet and drags her into his arms, then his lap, cradling her like a child.

Face buried in her soft lekku, he squeezes her close to his chest, body wracked with silent sobs. All he’d wanted was to protect Ahsoka. To mentor her, as his master before him, and give her the tools she needed to protect herself and innocents across the galaxy. Brilliant, kind, stubborn and strong, and so, so wise beyond her time, she became one of the most talented Jedi he had ever met. Though they’d gotten off to a rocky start, she made him proud, made him feel honored to be her master. Watching her leave the Order tore his heart in two. Watching her leave him destroyed him. Already he’d been questioning the Council, questioning the Order as a whole and their damn inflexible code. But more than that, he questioned himself. He’d failed as her master, failed as a Jedi.

The memories haunt him. For months he examined the shatterpoints of their lives together, in hindsight—every lesson taught, every battle fought, wondering where he went wrong, what he could have done differently, how he could have fixed things, helped her, kept her close—spiraling down, down into the depths of his own torment and self-loathing. Without Ahsoka, Obi-Wan had been his only remaining tether to the Jedi. To the light. A tether broken, in the end, by his selfishness. By jealousy and hatred and greed, by the fear of abandonment, loss, and… deep, shameful, unrequited feelings.

But here she is, right here in the secure circle of his arms. His beloved young padawan, the girl he’s come to cherish like a friend, a sister, who he’d met lightsaber for lightsaber in that dark future but even then, corrupted as he was, could not bring himself to kill because he loved her so. Loves her still.

“Master?” Ahsoka murmurs, hands hanging limp at her sides for several seconds before hesitantly returning his embrace with equal strength. Too often preoccupied with and separated by the war, the opportunities to shown her such open affection were far and few between, usually coming after particularly difficult missions, brief brushes with death, and how kriffed up is that? Filled with regret, he promises himself here and now that will change.

“Are you…” Trailing off, she reaches up to slowly pet his hair and he releases a quiet sigh, finally pulling back to look at her. Her eyes are wide and worried and so very, terrifically, blue. “Master, what’s wrong?”

Letting out a soft chuckle, he shakes his head. “Nothing, Snips.” The old nickname rolls off his tongue without even thinking and his heart clenches, this time with both pain and joy. “Nothing at all. Everything is perfect.”

There’s a crackle of static behind them, then, “Ah, General Kenobi. It’s good to see you, sir. Are you three alright? General Skywalker seems—”

He lifts his gaze to the co-pilot’s chair. Obi-Wan is awake and perched upright in front of the holo, staring silently at them with a frown so achingly familiar a tangled web of affection, longing, pain, betrayal swells within his chest. It hurts, it hurts so much to look at Obi-Wan like this, yet now that those eyes are open and trained so intently on him, he can’t tear his own away. And Obi-Wan’s just as beautiful as ever, just as heart-wrenchingly perfect and good.

Too late, he remembers that their bond, while not as strong as it had once been, remains. Unlike most master and padawan pairs after the apprentice reaches knighthood, neither he nor Obi-Wan could bring themselves to sever it. They were at war, their connection was vital. It made them a better team. Until—

His mental shields slam into place but not before Obi-Wan arches a single brow, lips parting as if to repeat Rex’s inquiry.

“I’m fine,” he rushes to cut Obi-Wan off, “we’re all fine. Just, uh—where are you?”

He can only beg the Force that his former master and current padawan did not feel too much, did not see the torment buried within him. By the way they appear to be communicating with one another like whispers behind closed doors, however, he’s sure they will have questions. Questions he doesn’t know how to answer. Letting go of Ahsoka, he clambers to his feet, limbs still trembling, and drops heavily back into the pilot’s chair.

“Standing by, sir. We were worried. You were,” Rex hesitates, “off the scopes there for a moment.”

Memories hit him in a rush. Chaotic, lacking order. He's in a dark room with his dead mother whispering poison in his ear. On a balcony overlooking a pristine lake, flowers scenting the air, one hand rising to touch soft skin. In a junkyard, fingers covered in mech oil, the ever-present grit of sand between his molars. At an opera listening to the viper beside him spit lies, lies, lies. The sky above shifts rapidly from day to night, and he's lost in a spinning whirlpool of stars and the obscene rush of power he feels as he brings gods to their knees. Then he's watching the silhouette of a robed man against the backdrop of sunset thinking look at me, look at me, please look at me, I need you—

Sifting through them is a struggle. Everything blurs together, and he can't control what comes or when, skull throbbing from the effort. His thoughts, his feelings, are an amalgamation of eras he can't quite reconcile; the slave boy, the padawan learner, the Jedi Knight, the General, the Sith Lord. It's too much, it's too much and he doesn't know who or what he is anymore and the panic is rising—

A comforting hand settles upon his shoulder and he opens his eyes. Ahsoka.

“A moment?” Obi-Wan says, still staring at him. He shifts in his seat, uncomfortable under that all-too perceptive gaze. At length, his master turns to the holo. “We’ve been gone far longer than a moment.”

Rex’s eyes flit between them. “Sir, I don’t understand. You’ll need to explain.”

Ahsoka snorts. “You wouldn’t believe us if we told you.”

Still have a lot of mental fleshing out to do before it goes anywhere but there ya have it.

May the Force be with you, always!

As for the first part of your comment, really, thank you. It's not that I don't love my writing so much as the process can be difficult at times. 😅 I'm a perfectionist, and not by choice so much as my brain simply won't let things go until they feel right. Even after publishing something I have a very bad habit of going back in and editing it a dozen more times. It's very annoying! 😂

Sometimes that single-minded focus gets me stuck in a huge rut because I'm too zoned in on trivialities to navigate back to the big picture. Basically writer's block is the worst feeling ever and sometimes I get down about not being as productive as I should be. But I do love writing, and making people happy with my work gives me a lot of joy and motivation to keep at it. Well, I should probably get back to work on TW but I hope you enjoyed the excerpts! All your kind words made me smile and I'm gonna try to carry that positivity with me. 🥰

#anon asks #mau answers #Troubled Water #and other random stuff #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #bail organa #obikin #vaderwan #star wars #my wips #my ocs #obikin fanfic

15 notes · View notes

mike-el · 2 years

Note

I really hope that once season 5 comes out and we get the inevitable ending we all want, the duffers do an interview in which they talk about all the things they didn’t do and explain why they didn’t do them and why they wouldn’t even work (Bylerrrr— amongst other things like certain deaths but mainly—-Byler) so the bylers can stop theorizing (cuz I KNOW even after the show ends and the message is CLEAR they’ll still be theorizing) and if the duffers explaining why certain fan analysis was fucking stupid gonna make them leave the fandom, not like the show or creators anymore and deem it bad then so fucking be it, because I need this fandom to stop being annoying and delusional. You’re welcome and thank you!!!

PS. I know you are like super nice and love to stay in your lane and I LOVE you for that. But you need to understand that I have TWITTER and these bylers are fucking insane they make me feel like I’m losing brain cells no joke, so I know I’m being petty but please let me vent :(. Also they deserve it like please tell me you agree. Like what I’m wishing on them is a potential choice for them to leave the fandom and let us beeeee. Clearly they only like the show for the potential relationship and not it’s content. Anyways I sound insane but love you bye xxxxx

Truthfully the only thing that worries me is that all the negativity and noise would affect the way the duffers choose to write the final season. I have stated many times that b*ler is not going to happen and mileven will not break up just to break up - I truly believe that. But it does sadden me to think that mike & el might get less screen time than they would have before the fandom got so loud and angry.

Beyond that, the theorizing doesn’t bother me. And if the final season is good and satisfying, other people’s interpretations and theories will be even less significant, like dull background static. That’s really all the negativity is anyways: noise. I also genuinely do believe that the real people losing here are this particular group of b*ler shippers - they’ve invested so much of themselves into something that doesn’t exist, convinced that they see something that others don’t, and it’s going to be all the more painful when it doesn’t materialize in the final season like they thought it would. I’m not saying every person that ships b*ler perceives the show like this, but there are certain people who have convinced themselves it’s going to happen and it just isn’t. But I do get why some of the things they say can be hurtful, especially when they rely on prejudice to validate their story.

I would never try to tell you how to feel, but I can say that keeping some degree of distance between myself and the media I consume is really important for my well-being. I think sometimes it can be easy to forget that all of this fandom stuff is supposed to be something we engage in for fun. If it’s making us feel bad, then what purpose is it serving in our lives? I don’t mean this to sound patronizing. Your frustration is so valid, and loving and investing energy in a show isn’t bad - it’s natural! But part of what makes fandom a positive experience is to remember that this is a space for fun and to make your fandom space (whether it be Tumblr, Twitter, or reddit) the safest space you can — blocking tags, blocking users, etc..

I often get wrapped up in the heat of the debate, I’m right there with you. But at the end of the day, these are just people - most of them younger than me — and their opinions don’t hold any more weight than yours just because they speak with a lot of conviction. So if they want to continue theorizing past season 5, I say let them. It won’t change anything for us.

In any case, I hope with this rant you were able to got some of the bad feelings off your chest. Be well 💕

#asks #tw discourse #I share a thought

8 notes · View notes

villanevehaus · 11 months

Note

Ch XII

Amused but not surprised to find that Eve’s love language is violence. So much kicking.

Enjoyed the “Russian smile” call out. I like thinking that it’s Eve’s way of seeing Oksana, even if she doesn’t realize that’s what she’s seeing.

I’m fascinated with how maladjusted Eve is and am enjoying that we continue to get little morsels about her childhood. Everyone experiences trauma differently, but contrasting her and Villanelle’s memories… it’s wild seeing where they’ve ended up.

Makes me happy to read about the pair of them flirting and playing together. Are they both chock full of cruelty and homicide? Sure. But it’s super cute.

Awkward acknowledgment and gratitude for the body contact/compression. Hopeful for an upcoming perspective swap where we can read how it made Eve feel, if Eve even knows.

Is it weird how much I like their interpersonal confrontations? I feel like fights with Niko centered on Niko’s needs and feelings, but when Eve gets testy with Villanelle, Villanelle pushes back differently. Villanelle centers the dialogue in a way that forces Eve to acknowledge her own feelings—and it makes Eve recognize how she’s treating Villanelle without making her more defensive. Cathartic as fuck.

Another one of Villanelle’s cheeky wordplays. “…fucked the life out of someone… .” Hooo boy, did she ever. Love, love, love it.

Oksana’s breakdown about family. :((( How are these moments so much harder to read than descriptions of fingers digging into intercostal muscle tissue? You know the scene in season 1 where Eve says Villanelle has earned the right to kill whoever? That’s how I feel about Oksana whenever I reread Oksana or Uncle or little moments like this family scene. You go ahead and murder whoever you want, sweet girl. *gentle pat on the head*

I’ll be honest, I have never liked Hélène’s character. Every moment she’s in the show, my brain screams SKIP. But I trust you and look forward to how you’ll leverage her character for something interesting and intrinsic to the plot.

As ever, thank you for a lovely chapter after the last few weeks you’ve had. I have this saying, “One too many rides at the fair”—whether it’s good or bad things, sometimes we experience one too many things and it ends up overwhelming. It sounds like you had a lot of rides at the fair. I’ve had a lot of rides at the fair lately, too, and it was such a kindness to still have a new chapter of TME to read. Really, thank you, haus.

tme anon

Postscript - let me know what you think of The Cell, if you get around to watching it. I triggered my own worms and have rewatched it twice myself since mentioning it.

TME: i am so glad you like their conflicts bc thats exactly what vil (and i) are trying to do! eve may not know how shes feeling but she sure is feeling it.

THE CELL: here are the notes i took while watching it in the dark on my Big Screen:

- JENNIFER LOPEZ

- VINCE VAUGHN!??!?!?

- VINCENT D'NOFRIO?!?!?

- music by howard shore hello???

- what da hell

- "directed by tarsem singh" yea that tracks

- please tell me that [carl] isnt vince vaughn w hair

- i love when movies toss u in and are like good luck!!! :) feels very "this is MY movie and I get to make the sense"

- jlo being frustrated that she cant sleep while in a room that has all the lights AND the television on. girl the call is coming from inside the house!!!

- how is he spiking himself up like that wadda hell

- oh hey its the guy from breaking bad

- oh my god its vince vaughn with hair

- "i thought you were gonna go home, get some rest, clean up" [brushing his teeth in the break room] "i did" - VERY tme eve

- im loving the camera work in this

- oh my god vincent d'onofrio is carl???

- yet again arts and crafts from found materials are demonized </3

- the cinnamontography :D

- i have decided that catherine and the other scientist lady are gal pals

- the water scene??? the baptism w the crane shots?? i go crazy i go stupid

- HORSE GLASS PANES!!!!!!!!!! giving damien hirst (neg) (fuck damien hirst)

- already fucking hard w this movie ngl

- vince vaughn is so bad at smoking cigarettes wtf why are so many of his butts half smoked

- what if we hooked carl and edward up like what would happen beyond Horrible time for edward. dyou think it'd throw adult/god carl off to have another boy in the house

- uh oh [do not remember when this was]

- i GASPED when the new collar came out

- vince vaughn has entered the chat

- as a bitch who Exclusively has lucid dreams i choose to believe i would be excellent at this

- vfx off da fucken CHAINS

- jlo dont chase the rabbit or whatever they say in pacific rim

- vulture :D

- this is one of if not the wildest movies ive ever seen

- cant believe thats vincent d'onofrio disemboweling vince vaughn in front of sexy jlo

- i want props from this

- they simply dont do costumes like this anymore

- or sets

- you guys are idiots obviously the weird shape line drawing thing goes with his back hooks come on man

- theyre girlfriends your honour

- said "whoa" out loud when adult carl's voice came outta child carl's mouth

- dude this movie fucks crazy hard tysm for showing it to me

- as someone who used to have nipple piercings i feel for carl

- me got boy, boy me got :(

- we love pieta imagery!!!

- i am forcing my gf to watch this w me tomorrow

- :(

- :(((

- SHE'S KEEPING HIS DOG i am emotional

- this movie rly said there is no escaping the inner child

i will have better, more succinct thoughts once the worms have had more time to digest and i have shared them w my gf but oh my god i loved it!!! so stylish, so unique, so?????!?!?! SO!!!!!!!! one of the movies of all time truly tysm for reccomending it to me

#tme anon #asks #movies #me got boy boy me got :(

1 note · View note