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illiterateaffairs · 1 year

Text

i like you

pairing: jamie tartt x f!reader (ted lasso)

rating: T (really just language/dialogue nothing crazy)

word count: 1,116

summary: you and jamie have recently upgraded your fwb status to a full fledged relationship. you can’t help but gush over your favorite person and it’s exactly what jamie needs to hear.

A/N: this is a (supposed to be) small drabble that takes place in a larger series i have been working on. so there’s more jamie x reader and backstory to come. all you need to know for now is that jamie and reader are in a new relationship that’s secret and this take place at some point in season 3 :)

It's a cloudy morning in Richmond, but the lack of sun isn’t darkening your mood. You and Jamie are taking a quiet stroll, your hands intertwined and swinging gently between you. You’ve been officially dating for a couple weeks now, after admitting your no-strings-attached situationship had garnered a lot of strings. Despite how apprehensive you were about entering a serious relationship, you are the happiest you have been in a long time.

However, you have still been a bit reluctant to share your upgraded status with your friends.

Sam knew. But Sam was your closest friend since you’ve started working for the club. You needed to confide in someone.

Roy knew. But Roy’s been reserving all of Jamie’s time that wasn’t spent playing football or being with you. It was bound to come up.

Rebecca also knew. But Rebecca knew everything,

But even now that you’ve confessed your feelings for each other to each other, you still wanted to hold off on telling the rest of the team.

You told Jamie it was because you liked the little bubble you had created all these months; that it felt good not having other people but into your relationship. And while Jamie agreed that he liked having you all to himself, the voices in his head, the ones that told him he’d never be good enough- voices that more often than not resembled the sound of his father- tried to convince him it was because you were ashamed to be with him. It was all fun and games when you were just messing around, but did you really want to be known as Jamie Tartt’s girlfriend? He didn’t exactly have the best track record when it came to relationships. So maybe you just wanted to wait it out; see if you really wanted to be with him, or just keep it on the down low so it was easier to cut him loose when you inevitably realized that you were better off without him.

Jamie tries to not let these intrusive thoughts win over, especially in moments like these where you’re out and about together. Publicly. With your hand in his. He tries not to dwell on the fact that its because you’re in an area of town no one from the club frequents, and because it's early enough in the day for him not to be recognized by rabid fans. But he takes what he can get.

The two of you are walking through a small park as Jamie tells you what he thinks is a mindless story about training yesterday. However, you can’t help but listen like he’s telling the most important story you’ve ever heard. You smile fondly, watching his eyes light up as he recalls humorous interactions between him and his teammates, and how excited he seems to be that they’re making a lot of progress. You also don’t miss the inflection in his voice when he shares that Ted told him he was proud of the team player he’s been lately.

In the middle of telling you about something funny Isaac said, a lone football rolls to a stop in front of Jamie’s feet. Pausing mid-sentence, Jamie clocks a group of primary school kids nearby and kicks it back to them.

“Strong form, keep it up!” he calls over before continuing his anecdote.

You let Jamie finish his thought, but you’re barely registering his words, too overcome with affection for him, even from the littlest things. Before he can start on another topic, you speak up.

“Hey,” you tug on Jamie’s hand, making you both stop, “I like you, you know that?”

Jamie turns to face you with a humorous look. “Uh, yeah, I’d say what we did last night made that pretty obvious.”

You scoff, shoving him playfully. “No, I mean I like you, Jamie.” His eyebrows furrow and you know he’s not getting it. “Yeah, sure, I’m attracted to you and you’re good in bed-”

Jamie snickers.

“Shut up.”

“Sorry.”

“But I also like you as a person, you know? I like that you’re thoughtful, and that you were one of the first people to suggest fixing up Sam’s restaurant after it was vandalized. It was also sweet that you were there for Roy while he was struggling with his breakup even though it was with your ex. That was big of you. So was giving up your position on the team so that others could score because you knew it was the better strategy. And that was so smart! I also appreciated how you spent your day off with me once, even though I was sick and just wanted to sit on the couch and watch Grey’s Anatomy. I like that you make me laugh and know what to say when I’m upset and genuinely care about my interests and what I have to say. I just really, really like you. In addition to like-liking you.”

As you spoke, Jamie’s teasing expression morphed into one of surprise, eventually settling into one filled with emotion. He was touched. You believed he was thoughtful, generous, intelligent and kind? Those weren’t qualities people normally attributed to him. Jamie was used to being praised for his looks, his talent, and his fame but never his personality. He knew he wasn’t as much of a prick as he used to be, but he didn’t believe he was a good person. Certainly not good enough for someone like you. But maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was someone you could be proud of.

As your words hung in silence and you finally took note of the tears in Jamie’s eyes, you suddenly felt self conscious. “Jamie, are you okay? Was that…was that too much?”

You give his hand a slight squeeze, snapping him out of his stupor. “Wha- no! I just…I’m just not used to hearing things like that.”

You give him a supportive smile, cupping your other hand around his face. “Well, I’m happy to pay you compliments more often. Not too much, though. Can’t inflate your ego more than it already is.”

He huffs out a laugh, “Too late, it's already gone right to my head.”

You roll your eyes good naturedly, “Of course it has.” You rub his cheek gently with your thumb before leaning in for a chaste kiss.

You don’t need to worry about this making him any more cocky. Jamie Tartt’s confidence comes from knowing he’s a good looking guy and an even better footballer. But you’re not with him because he’s Jamie Fucking Tartt. You’re the first person to like just Jamie. In fact, you really, really like him. That doesn’t feed his ego. That just aids his heart.

A/N: hopefully not too cheesy? lol i just needed jamie to feel appreciated! i hope you liked a sneak peek into this world. like i said, i plan to write the full story leading up to how jamie and reader get to this point. feel free to send me any feedback/thoughts/questions. its my first time writing in a WHILE and my first time writing jamie/the ted lasso world so trying to get a feel for the character’s voice and tone. if you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading! xo

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x f!reader #jamie tartt x female reader #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #mine #distractions series

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strawberryforks · 3 months

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concussed // adrien agreste x reader

summary: falling in love with your best friend in and out of the suit goes a little like this…

warnings: head injury, akumas

word count: 1126

a/n: requests/asks are open & encouraged!

you’re not supposed to fall in love with you best friend—it’s a universal rule. sure, sometimes you hear about the success stories. childhood friends to lovers is a trope and a popular one. books are written, movies are made, and who doesn’t love them? the problem is: it’s fiction. it’s all just fiction. in reality—your reality at least—you fall in love with your best friend and you’re screwed. it becomes the world’s best kept secret because you’re not the only one crushing on your best friend, adrien agrest, model and son of the designer gabriel agreste and you’ll be damned if you ruin the friendship.

something you never expected was that your best friend felt the same. and because you didn’t expect it, you couldn’t accept it. anything remotely romantic adrien did, you rationalized.

his leg brushed up against yours? coincidence.

he brought you chocolates? he was your best friend, he knew you liked chocolate.

one night, he changed strategies. although it was unconsciously...

mid-akuma battle chat noir was injured. it was bad enough he couldn’t keep doing his job. he wasn’t helping ladybug, only endangering her further and he couldn’t bare it. with his heartbeat feeling like it was in his head; like a drum smashing against his skull loudly and painfully, he barely managed to perch (he would’ve said purrch had he not been so dizzy) on your windowsill. chat noir tapped on the window pane. it was late but you couldn’t sleep. dark, but you cradled your phone, watching for updates on the latest akuma attacks. when something knocked against your window you jumped up. you grabbed the baseball bat propped up against your closet door and hesitantly approached the window. when you opened it a body fell at your feet. you raised the bat above you head and then you saw a tail… “chat noir!?”

“hey… y/n. sorry for dropping in i think i used a few of my nine lives.”

“how do you know my—you know what, that doesn’t matter! are you okay? what happened?” you asked but before he could answer, you continued rambling. “well i saw the footage on the ladyblog but! just stay here, i’ll… i’ll go get the ice.”

the leather clad hero rolled over, gloved hand over his eyes as he groaned. “oh god, no. here,” you help him up onto your bed and gently push him back into the pile of pillows. “stay here. i’ll be right back.”

“sure thing purrincess,”

“i was hoping you were so concussed you’d forget the puns.” you say on your way out.

your mom asks you what’s going on, and you tug down your pant-leg, revealing a bruise on your knee from the day before yesterday when you fell up the stairs. “just grabbing some ice and then i’m heading to bed.”

“alright hun. sleep well.”

you go to leave and she stops you. “tomorrow you and adrien are meeting up for icecream and i’m assuming you’ll be coming back here to game for awhile. that’s fine, just remember to leave your door open.”

you smile, nod, and head back to your room. you’ve got a large ice pack that you pass to him and after opening your drawer, you pass him two ibuprofen. “i don’t know if those work for superheroes, but here’s hoping.”

“thank you.”

“you don’t have to thank me, chat. you’re the hero here. you owe the citizens of paris nothing and we owe you everything. i won’t lie, i’m pretty confused about how you know my name and well… where i live but… i won’t push.”

“lb’s always saying how important our identities are but you’re my friend and—“

you press your hand over his lips, mind working at a million miles a minute. you shush the feline hero and move some of the blonde hair out of his eyes. his green eyes. “get some rest, i’m going to use the bathroom!”

you all but sprint to the washroom. hands braces on the counter you breathe deeply and splash water into your face. you weren’t ready for this kind of relevation—that adrien, your adrien, was chat noir. the chat noir. part of paris's hero duo.

its fine. it’s okay. it’s perfect, actually. you’re freaking out a bit but he’s still the same person. your panic ceases when you realize this is a good thing. him being in danger constantly is terrifying but him having a way to avoid his father that doesn’t involve you being his one and only saving grace lifts a weight off of your shoulders.

with your composure back, you go out there. thank every ethereal force there is, because he’s fast asleep.

you debate taking the floor but it’s adrien. it’s adrien, and you two have shared a bed before, is what you remind yourself when you crawl in next to him and hike the comforter up to your neck.

when you wake up your alone in your bed and your window is open just a crack.

that night, chat stops by again. he brings you “thank you” flowers and some cookies ladybug—who’s a strangely awesome baker—made, to share with you.

“adrien! hey! i missed you.” you didn’t miss him that much, you’d seen him yesterday. you just missed being able to know him, talk about any and everything, and see all of his face. not the mask wasn’t flattering, you best believe it was, just you loved being able to see all of him. to adrien, knowing you knew all of him too? the pieces of him that made him chat noir too. it would be everything. you know how much it’d mean to him and knew that keeping tbis secret must’ve been killing him. you were a big ladybug fan, but a bigger chat noir fan (bigger your-best-friend fan) and if ladybug was the one who was making him keep this secret? well, it’s not like you could do much but unsubribe from the ladyblog. and if adrien was the one wanting to keep his identity secret? you don’t know what you’d do—whatever reveal you go with will suddenly suck.

“thank you natalie,” you say when she opens the gate and lets adrien out without forcing his bodyguard to tag along.

you get your icecream and when you’re given a cone thats black with green icecream and a paw print and he receives an icecream that matches you perfectly. adrien’s hand falls to the back of his neck “well this is awkward…”

you grin, “is it really?”

“what do you mean?”

“well—you uh, hit your head pretty hard, that’s all. and uhm, said some stuff. basicallyiknowyou’rechatnoirandit’sokaybecauseiloveyou.”

“you love me?” he echoes.

“i do, and have for awhile. i love all of you.”

“i love you too. but that doesn’t mean i’ll go easy on you when we play ultimate mecha strike 3!”

“wouldn’t dream of it!”

#mircaulous ladybug #chat noir #adrien agreste #adrien agreste x reader #chat noir x reader #x reader #akuma #adrien agreste x y/n #chat noir x y/n

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icallhimjoey · 1 year

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Not Enough

♥ ♥ rockstar!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie's hauled you off to LA because, turns out, when you're not throwing your life away on booze and drugs, opportunities tend to lead to more opportunities. LA's amazing, and Eddie's amazing, and suddenly life is all about sun-freckles and exciting accomplishments but... something's missing.

CW / disclaimer: 18+, language, fem!reader, angst, mentions of substance abuse and addiction, trauma

Author’s note: This story continues my Eddie story that consists of “Only Now”, “Over Now”, “Then Again” and "Never Over". I've done my best to make it so that you don't really need to read all previous parts, but, it always helps.

Wordcount: 5.2K

(find all other parts of this story here)

The mattress dipped behind you before cold air wafted underneath the covers. Movement, noise of skin against fabric, fabric against fabric, and then the noise of a heavy head meeting the pillow next to you in an exhale.

Eddie was home.

Before you knew it, you felt a hand wander over, finding its way in between your thighs, pushing through soft flesh, and curling up until Eddie’s hand splayed out just below your bellybutton. With a strong yank, you were pulled backwards, right into him, butt first. You didn’t know why he had to pull you over to his side of the bed by your vagina, but, here you were.

Arms curled around you, a knee pushed your legs apart, just to sit in between, and within just a few seconds you found yourself fully tangled up together. Heavy limbs, deep inhales, bodies wiggling until they fit together just perfectly for sleep.

“Mhm,” was all you managed as Eddie used careful fingers to move your hair aside before he buried his face into the crook of your neck. You felt the brush of his lips all the way down in your toes and relished under his protective touch.

“You smell like the bath,” Eddie whispered, inhaling the sickly-sweet artificial scent bath pearls had left on your skin.

“Mhm, you smell like studio,” you croaked back, meaning you could smell cigarettes and stale sweat the long day had left on him. It wasn’t meant to be a dig at how you thought he smelled bad – it was fine. Kind of nice, actually. It was more a dig at Eddie having spent all hours of the day, and some of the night too, cooped up inside a dark little room with a bunch of other men. You’d have liked for some of those hours to have been spent with you.

“I think we’ve done it,” Eddie’s voice slipped into a whisper mid-sentence. “Finished it.”

You hummed in reaction, just to let him know that you heard him. Eddie'd said the same thing two weeks ago, but then, the next day, there were a million things to change and redo and add and take away - this album was becoming the bane of Eddie's existence.

But he said they'd finished it now, and you hoped it was true this time.

Maybe that’s why they’d worked until the early hours of the morning. Creative work didn’t really stick to set schedules – didn’t really stick to time in general. Which... it wasn’t a problem. Not really. Not in the grand scheme of things. But time and you weren’t really getting on all that well lately. There was just so much of it.

Ever since you’d moved to California with Eddie, there’d been so much time.

Too many hours in a day. Too many minutes in every hour. Too many seconds to make you think because there wasn’t really anything to do.

Turns out that when you’re sober and learn to actually show up to things; gigs, radio interviews, award shows, TV performances, movie premiers, photoshoots, writing sessions, and even things like fundraisers, album release parties of other artists... if you show up and do the work, act and behave like the professional musician that you are, you actually... make the money.

And there was a lot more money in this game than you thought Eddie would ever be able to make.

It also really helped that he wasn’t spending all of it on substances and hotel room damages. Not that Eddie didn’t have other ways to blow through his cash, though.

But, what the steady income of insane amounts of money mostly meant was the lack of work it left for you.

Eddie had hired designers to do the interior design of the LA house. Eddie had hired a personal chef to take care of every meal the two of you could ever want. Eddie had hired gardeners, a pool guy, cleaners, and a personal assistant who got fired almost instantly because they ended up just doing your laundry.

You knew it was all coming from a good place. The best place.

It had taken a lot from Eddie to work himself up to ask you if you’d want to move to LA with him. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel forced to move halfway across the country, just because he kind of needed to for work. Correction, he didn’t really need to. It would just be easier, way more convenient. Half the band was already making plans to leave Indiana and sure, Eddie could travel. He could fly in and out and you could too, and you absolutely could’ve figured out a way to live like that.

But when Eddie carefully asked, you’d not even hesitated for a second.

It actually took some real convincing from your side, because Eddie immediately backtracked and said to forget it. He didn’t want to burden you. It was a stupid idea to begin with, he could tell his manager to work out something else, because you had a job and an apartment and a life and how could Eddie ever even think to burden you like that?

“Burden me with what? Your life?” you’d asked, looking at him like he was insane. But Eddie had shrugged his shoulders up and you’d realised that that was exactly what it was.

Over the years your heart had shattered many times for Eddie. Looking at him then, all tall, hair longer than it’d ever been, tattoos on show, sort of... flashy looking with all his chains and rings and his shiny black pointed toe boots – he looked like the rockstar the public knew him as. But all you could see was a fragile fearful little boy who seemingly had shrunk down enough for you to fit him into your pocket, and your heart shattered once more.

“Baby, come here.” You’d reached for him, and he’d instantly fallen into you, both arms around your waist, face pressed against your chest, your hand in his hair.

“We live in a shitty little apartment above a bar where I serve beers to the same seven middle aged men all day,”

“But your life is here, you love your job,”

“No, I loved the sense of independence it gave me when I moved out of Hawkins, I loved learning new skills, getting better at working with new people,” you needed him to know within his bones that what he was asking of you wasn’t a burden.

“What I love more,” you elongated the word more and felt Eddie nuzzle his nose against your collar bone, ready for you to list some shit that would make him feel better.

“Is how you sold your massive penthouse of a place for me, how you came to live with me above a bar, how you trust me with your schedule, how you always check in with me, how you value my opinion, how you don't hesitate to cancel plans because of me, how you come and pick me up from work which, I don't know how you do it, but you do do it, you do it all the time– Eddie, you keep choosing me, and–” your voice went up an octave as your throat closed up.

“Don’t cry,”

But you couldn’t help it.

Eddie had sold the penthouse because it reminded you too much of bad times. Awful times when Eddie drank mouthwash and tried to convince you he wouldn't finish the bottle but then had called you all sorts of names when you tipped it over and washed the remnants down the drain.

Eddie came to live with you, because he practically already was anyway. But your place was a small apartment, a place that smelled of beer and liquor 80 per cent of the time. And Eddie said he was fine. He'd bake bread and cake and pastries, and you'd cried when you realised it was to cover up the smell of bar you carried on you after a shift.

Eddie was kind and nice and would call his therapist whenever he needed to, would go see her on a semi-regular basis. He'd tell you about his schedule and it was never just an announcement, but instead was always a question: does this work for us? Are we okay with this?

Eddie always chose you and made sure you really felt it because Eddie knew. Eddie understood that for fucking years you’d felt the exact opposite.

Eddie would sort of choose you, just for a few days, and then he'd leave and not contact you for months.

But that was before. Eddie chose you every day now.

He wasn’t a burden to you.

He truly wasn’t.

Eddie had burdened you. For years. Not anymore, though. Everything was fine now.

Wasn’t it?

Eddie had been good. So good. He’d found ways to wade through life without the drink. Got so deeply into cooking and baking for a bit as his new obsession. Needed all the best pots and pans, until he had a whole collection of expensive kitchenware that cluttered up all kitchen storage.

Then, he’d moved onto something else. Needed something different to spark all the things within him that needed sparking.

Now that you lived in LA, in a much larger house with so much more space, the garage, one of two, was filled with Eddie’s latest hobby: pinball machines. He’d get them shipped in from all over, all special kinds, real rare ones, machines crafted by specific craftsmen, graphics designed into specific themes.

It wasn’t even about playing, Eddie just… wanted to collect the best ones and wanted them all lined up, all shiny with lights flickering and music playing.

Sometimes you'd tell him, come on Eddie, invite over the old gang, get Mike and Dustin and Lucas in here for a weekend, do a big pinball tournament. But Eddie'd just smile and tell you when he'd be expecting the next one to be delivered.

Before pinball machines it had been neon lights. And you’d been supportive. Would drive out to weird thrift stores, vintage markets and often times random people’s houses until you’d said, “Ed, I’d like the bedroom to be calm and neutral… we don’t need a big blue neon sign in here that used to hang outside of that restaurant you really like...”.

Eddie had laughed at himself then and realized the absurdity of what the house was turning into, had apologized, and then had sold all of them.

Except for the blue one.

The one that used to hang outside that restaurant he really liked. Where the owner would serve him apple juice in a wine glass and would seat Eddie in an area where he wouldn’t be able to see the bar. And then he’d play a Corroded Coffin song – just one, to show his appreciation for the visit, and then, wouldn’t let you pay the full bill, some dishes would always miraculously go missing.

Eddie kept that neon light which found a proud spot in a hallway upstairs that lead to one of the guest rooms.

Yeah.

Overall, Eddie had been good.

But some days, he’d wake up and he’d feel an inside want. Knew it meant something else was wrong, and this was just how his brain was wired to cope with it. He’d done work to rewire, but sometimes, wires crossed and all he really wanted was quick relief.

In those moments, he knew he’d have find something else to satisfy that inside want. The need for quick relief.

In those moments, he’d find you.

Eddie had you there. Always with him. Stuck to his hip, and vice versa.

So, you had quit your job for him. You had moved across the country for him. You had given up your whole life for him Eddie thought, even though you assured him time and time again that this was the exact life you wanted. All you needed was Eddie. Eddie was your home, and Eddie was your all, and you loved LA.

It was the perfect place to be for Eddie’s work. It was warm all the time, gave you permanent freckles that graced your nose. Your house was big, lovely, huge backyard with a big pool. You had ample room for people to come visit and stay for a few days. Weeks if they wanted to. Guest rooms with en suites and the one downstairs even with its own entrance, so when Wayne stayed over, he could go for early morning walks without fear of waking anyone up.

The only thing about LA you didn’t like was that there was so much time.

And it was just you.

And Eddie.

And sure, the Corroded Coffin guys. And Eddie's manager was nice. Their producer too. But they all had work, and sometimes you tagged along and it was so exciting, always so fun. Red carpets and sound checks and green rooms and festivals – it was always new and your excitement for it fueled Eddie's excitement for it.

But then there were also days– weeks like these, where all Eddie did was write, and record, and rehearse.

You remembered being 18 and hanging out with Steve a lot, sometimes Robin too, when Eddie'd be busy writing, recording, and rehearsing with his band.

But Steve wasn't in LA.

Wait.

Scratch the time being the issue – the only thing about LA you didn't like was that Steve wasn't there.

Your tripod was your tripod no more.

Steve had come to stay for a week when you'd just moved, and your week had mostly been the two of you figuring out where to buy groceries before Eddie hired someone to get them for you. After that, you'd just lazed around the pool for the rest of the week until Steve had to fly back home.

A lot had changed in the 1,5 years that followed that week.

But you missed Steve.

Steve, who had met a girl he really liked, who Robin said was lovely, but also said that she probably wouldn’t really gel with you and Eddie. Something judgmental about her. Kind, though. And very pretty.

You were glad Steve had Robin nearby still, because you knew Robin, and you loved Steve. Steve deserved the best. Deserved someone who could love him like you loved Eddie.

Robin said she did, which was good. Reassuring.

And Steve loved her.

You’d only met her a couple of times before Steve had proposed to her. Engaged to be married, just a few months in. And barely a year later, you’d been invited to a home coming big barbecue pool party at Steve’s parents’ house in Hawkins. You'd barely been able to make it, but Steve had been very adamant about it.

"I never have parties anymore, you have to come,"

"There'll be a whole non-alcoholic section of drinks, don't you even worry about it,"

"I've already talked to Eddie's manager, he said he has the time,"

"Please,"

Like you really needed convincing. Of course you'd be there, wouldn't fucking miss it for the world. Neither would anyone else, because everyone was there. The whole gang and then some. Matt was there too, and seeing an ex was never fun, but it was actually sort of okay. You didn't love the fact that you were there with Eddie, because it felt like you were shoving it into his face a little bit, but Matt was still Matt, ever the Corroded Coffin fan, and walked up with a huge smile the second he'd spotted you.

You'd learned that late afternoon that Steve had been just as pushy with everyone else about coming to this party. He'd been calling around, double and triple checking to make sure everyone really was going to be able to make it.

That's when you found Eddie narrowing his eyes at you. Pondering. Something didn't add up. Or it did, but it felt like the math problem you'd been given wasn't the correct one. You knew exactly what Eddie was thinking, and about thirty minutes later, Eddie was proven right.

The party turned out to be Steve's surprise wedding.

Eddie and you had clutched your hands tightly together throughout the whole ceremony, because what the fuck was happening? You kept making eye-contact with Robin, and she kept shrugging as if to say that she knew just as little about all of this as you did.

"Steve's married," you'd said to Eddie afterwards, stood in the Harrington's kitchen, both sort of.... defeated. Unsure of what to make of it all.

Eddie leant against the counter, arms crossed and teeth biting into his lower lip, scraping off dry skin the plane's aircon had left him with.

"I don't know why I feel offended," you'd huffed a laugh at how ridiculous that sounded.

"Offended?" Eddie asked, eyebrows quirked, clearly confused.

"Yea, I don't know... I always thought that, if any of us were to get married one day, we'd all be... more involved? Like, you'd be Steve's best man, and I'd... you know, know the bride,"

Steve didn't owe you shit, you knew that. And you'd moved away. You supposed that's what happened in life – things changed. But this all seemed very drastic. Insanely sudden. Almost out of character.

"She seems like she's good for him," Eddie offered, and you immediately agreed. Not because you thought Eddie was right, you had no idea if he was, but because that's what you wanted to be true.

A silence fell where you both stared into space for a second to let the day sink in a little.

"Steve's married... this is so weird," you'd grimaced a little at it which made Eddie reach for your arms to pull you into a hug.

It was nice how you just got to hug and kiss in the very same kitchen where before, when Steve had you over for movie nights, you'd have to sneak around a little. Not be too obvious when Eddie pretended there wasn't enough room to move around whilst preparing popcorn and you basically ended up grinding up against each other until someone would call out what was taking you so long.

"Should we get married?" Eddie asked after a beat, obviously joking, and it got you into giggles immediately.

"I don't know of a better way to make my mother both the happiest and most disturbed woman alive," you said, cheek pressed up against his chest, knowing your mother had been waiting for most of your life for you to get married. She really wanted to have that huge wedding she could get all dressed up for, to be mother of the bride for a whole day. It was just that she wasn't the biggest fan of Eddie. If anything, within your little group, she'd always really pushed for you and Steve to get together.

"She'd be so conflicted," you imagined, which meant, maybe not right now, but you added, "Let's do it!" which got Eddie right in his funny bone and pushed a barking laugh from him.

"Maybe I should start playing golf,"

"Wear pastel polo shirts,"

"Take some etiquette classes, be more like Matt,"

"Stop, she'll marry you herself if she could– don't," you saw Eddie raise his eyebrows, pretending to consider it, so you'd shut him up before he could say anything and it reduced you both into giggles.

You'd decided to be the supportive friends you both imagined Steve needed. Decided you weren't going to mention how insane and sudden all of it was. Just be happy for him. Which you were.

You just... missed him, you guessed.

"I kind of need to get out of here," Eddie sighed, looking out into the backyard where a wedding was in full swing, people getting more tipsy with every sip of bubbly they had.

You knew what he meant. Feeling anxiety creep up in a place where there were drinks up for grabs was the exact wrong environment for him to be in.

"Yea, let's go," you pecked Eddie on the lips, went to find people to say goodbye to, and then it took two hours before you had finally walked through the gates with lots of promises to come visit LA in your pockets.

Yet, Steve hadn't come out to visit you since that first time when he'd stayed over for a week.

So, yeah. The only thing you didn’t like about LA that was it was far away from Steve.

Steve who had gotten married about four months ago.

Steve whose phone calls had dropped in frequency over time, because d’uh, Steve was married now and you lived far away from each other, and you had your own lives. Were busy. Didn’t have time for dry catch-up conversations if the only updates were that Eddie had spent a lot of nights in the studio, and you kept busy managing his agenda.

Except you did have a lot of time.

It's just that people thought you didn't. All they'd see was Eddie's life. Eddie's life was on TV, on the radio, in the magazines and newspapers and people automatically assumed you'd be so busy.

You'd spent the day reorganizing your vanity as you'd heard the cleaners downstairs, and the chefs preparing food that they'd box up and leave in the fridge for you to have later. It was something you could've done within fifteen minutes, but you'd managed to stretch it to three hours. You weren't fucking busy at all. You could've easily spent hours on the phone to Hawkins.

But Steve was married, and you had cheated on Matt with Eddie which probably never sat right with Steve's new wife - not that you blamed her - and so you didn't call. Not often. Very rarely, actually.

When you woke up that next morning, Eddie still snoring into his pillow next to you, you'd gotten out and promised yourself that you'd call Steve that day.

When Eddie eventually made it down, sleep still in his eyes, hair everywhere, you apologised to the chef that was working on lunch for him being in just his boxers.

"Morning, babe," Eddie said before pressing a kiss into your hair as he ran a warm palm over your back.

"It's afternoon," you smiled over your mug of coffee.

"Well, was the morning good?"

"Morning was lovely, had a little swim," you watched Eddie as he moved to make his own coffee, and the chef behind him started making up two plates for you.

"I don't use that pool enough," Eddie said mostly to himself.

When he turned back to look at you, you inhaled sharply and gave him a polite smile. It made him frown a second. "What?"

"I'm going to call Steve today,"

You said it like it was something you could never do behind Eddie's back. Like it was a secret you'd feel bad about keeping to yourself.

"See if I can convince him to actually come over,"

Eddie nodded through his first sip of hot coffee, his face giving away that it was definitely too hot and burning his tongue.

"Tell him to bring Robin,"

You narrowed your eyes in thought.

"Do you think that'll help?"

Eddie shrugged. It might.

It shouldn't though. It was always you, Eddie and Steve. Just the three of you. And then, for a long time, it was you and Steve and only sometimes Robin.

But fine. You could always tell Steve to bring Robin if that would push him to actually take the time to come visit you.

When you called, you got Steve's wife.

"Hey, um, sorry, I was calling for Steve?"

"Yea, he's out. Can I take a message?"

"Oh, no, that's OK... I'll try again later, when do you think–"

"He's going to be out for a while."

"Oh..."

You didn't know how to react to that.

"Can I take a message?"

"No, I–"

And then she hung up. Just, hung up on you. No polite goodbye. No nothing. You looked at the receiver, then at Eddie.

"That was weird."

You didn't want to worry, so you chalked it up to bad timing. They'd probably just been in a fight. And, everyone fought, didn't they? Especially married couples who hadn't even known each other for a full year, you thought.

But of course you worried.

So you rang back a little later, but got told that if you didn't have a message for Steve, there was no use in calling because, like she'd said before, he'd be out for a while. There was something sad to her voice. Something that made you not push further, that made you not just ask, where is he, what happened?

When Eddie suggested for you to call Robin, you did, but got her answering machine. Three times.

You'd left a message that started out all up beat. Asked her how she was doing. Told her that you missed her, that she should come visit, the weather in LA was lovely and you had a guest room waiting for her to come and occupy for a little bit.

When you got all pleasantries out of the way, you mentioned Steve. The weird and very short phone calls you'd had with his wife.

And you wanted to tell her how it had never sat right with you, that Steve had met someone the second you'd moved away, and that he'd gotten engaged just a couple weeks after he'd been out to visit you in LA, and then a couple months later, he'd thrown a surprise wedding. You wanted to tell her that you thought this is how he'd gone about things, because maybe he'd been scared no one would've RSVP'd if you all had gotten wedding invitations in the mail. But you didn't say those things. Just said you missed them, her and Steve, and wanted to see them.

The more you thought about it, the more worried you got.

"What if something's wrong?" you'd asked Eddie when he was on his way out.

"Call again tomorrow, it'll be fine. People argue. Give it a little time,"

Logically you knew he was probably right, but something had taken residence within the pit of your stomach. Set up camp there, and you knew the only way to flush it out was by speaking to Steve directly. Or have Robin call you back to tell you Steve was doing just fine.

Fuck, if you could, you would've just made your way over to go and see for yourself.

But you were in LA.

And Steve was in Hawkins still.

Until he wasn’t.

"Um... babe?" Eddie called from the front step, door handle still in his hand, sunglasses somehow balanced on his forehead, just above his brows. His other hand shook his car keys into his fist when he looked back at you.

It was the next day, and Eddie had a meeting with his label. Nothing crazy, just a word on the tapes the band had dropped off the day before.

You looked, and from where you were sat, you weren't able to see much of what Eddie was looking at. Until he stepped aside a little, and someone stepped onto the threshold.

Suitcases came into vision first, one in either hand, and then, Steve was suddenly there, on your doorstep in LA, dark sunglasses hiding his emotions.

And he hadn’t known what to say, just looked at you as you'd gasped upon seeing him.

You’d rushed over immediately, arms open and you were so ready to fall into him, but you hadn't anticipated that he'd fall into you as well. Suitcases dropped and you crashed into each other. It audibly pushed the air from your lungs, and it hurt, but that didn't matter.

You heard a soft, "Careful," coming from Eddie, who held out both hands in case you were to lose balance, which you didn't.

Steve hugged, and you hugged and Eddie stood and watched, waited his turn to hug Steve. When he realised his turn wasn't going to come, because you were pushing fists into Steve and his grip didn't seem to be faltering soon either, he turned your hug into a group hug and you stood like that, on the threshold of your open front door for entirely too long.

"I called you yesterday, twice." you murmured. "Robin too,"

"I know," was all Steve said, and you wondered how he knew. Were the phone calls why he'd traveled to LA? Or had he already been on his way? Had he already booked the flight before you'd reached out?

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not really,"

You felt Eddie's arms tense up, squeeze a little tighter, and you knew it was because he was about to pull back.

"I'm sorry, I've got... work, but please, come in, make yourself at home, have some food, take a shower," Eddie listed things off on his fingers as you finally broke the embrace.

"Are you telling me I stink?" Steve asked, the humorous undertone easily detectable in his voice.

"Yes," Eddie deadpanned before wanting to carry on the list, but your laugh interrupted him.

"We were never this blunt with him, were we?" Steve looked at you, and you recalled all the times Eddie had come to visit Hawkins, looking worse for wear and smelling like the men's room of a dirty dive bar. Steve immediately received a punch to the shoulder from Eddie.

"I'll be back in a couple hours,"

And so you'd said goodbye to Eddie, had invited Steve inside and had shown him to his room - the same one he stayed in last time. Not the one with its own entrance, but the one upstairs, close to your own bedroom.

Steve put his suitcases down on the ottoman by the end of the bed and sighed deeply.

"Sorry I didn't call before flying in,"

"Don't be, I literally called you yesterday to tell you to fucking come over already,"

Steve smiled as he started moving clothes from one of the suitcases onto the bed, stacking things in neat piles. You leant into the doorway, arms folded over your stomach, and you felt all sorts of feelings that all lead straight to guilt.

There was obviously something going on. Steve had taken off his sunglasses and revealed puffy skin and red-rimmed eyes. The hostile tone his wife had spoken with to you hadn't left your mind yet, either.

But, Steve was here now. Right where you wanted him to be, and you were reunited as the three-piece that you had always been. Morning, noon and evening. Sun, wind and rain. Birth, life and death. Past, present and future. It had always been the three of you, and even though you'd grown up, and lives had changed, having Steve over gave you the opportunity to drown in nostalgia for a few days.

Feel... complete for a little while.

Wait, that reminded you.

"How long are you staying?"

Steve kept busy and didn't look at you as he shrugged up both his shoulders.

"I don't know,"

You didn't respond. Just watched him unpack. Gave him the space to think his thoughts before he vocalized them which you knew he sometimes needed.

Then he turned his head to look at you, eyebrows scrunched up a little, almost as if he was apologizing.

"How does a month sound?"

---

The Taglisted:

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @josephquinned @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @munsonsgirl71 @thefemininemystiquee @alana4610 @emmamooney @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellyxo1 @chaoticgood-munson @sherrylyn628 @bdpst-massacre @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @prozacandnicotine @munsonswhore86 @alwayslindie @breddiemunson @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-eddie @alizztor @jnnyrd @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff @quinnsmunson @frogers @kennedy-brooke @daleyeahson @eddielives1986 @harringtonfan4 @sadbitchfangirl

(two places left on my taglist: first come, first serve)

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munsons fluff #eddie x y/n #stranger things 4 #joe quinn #joseph quinn #over now #only now #then again #never over #not enough

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antiwhores · 2 years

Text

Bakugou’s game.

Angst with no comfort so if you a pussy leave on god. Tw: no spell check, cheating and shit. Well kinda, unintention cheating? Intentional but not intentional- DAMN JUST READ THE STORY.

Summary: Bakugou plays with your feelings in an attempt to make you get jealous but he goes to far and shit.

Part two!

All night all you’ve seen is just Katsuki being flirting with her. A new girl, Kaminari had brought her as a plus one. Apparently she was a family friend. They weren’t dating, she just begged to go so he said yes. She was a fan of a lot of the people attending.

No one noticed except you. Another plus of having a secret relationship. He always does this when he’s feeling petty. You both had a fight before about something insignificant. You called him stupid during the argument. In your defense, the whole thing was stupid. He was stupid, you were stupid, etc.

You watched as he completely ignored you the entire night. He would barely glance at you. Only giving his attention to the girl.

He was playing a game, a game you hated. A game you couldn’t win at. He’d done this before to get a rise out of you. When you’d get jealous enough and confront him he’d get hard and start to fuck the security into you.

It worked at first, but theres only a couple times you could play this game with him before the insecurity wasn’t temporarily.

Suddenly the dress you wore looked ugly. Your makeup wasn’t as good as hers. Your hair wasnt what he liked. Your body wasnt as fit as hers. Everything was wrong.

You poured yourself another glass of alcohol to numb your senses as everyone chatted at the table you occupied. The glass blocked the sight of her hands wrapped around his bicept. Unfortunately, it couldn’t block hearing either.

“Oh my god, I would do anything to wake up to you. Im so jealous of whoever got the privilege!” She whined, lip pouted. You had learned her name was Essy, you didn’t want to trouble yourself with memorizing it but you couldn’t help yourself. You imagined him moaning her name instead of hers. It hurt. You downed more alcohol.

“I could make that happen,” He smirked at her brightened up face. “Only if you show me how you foreign girls sleep.”

That was the last straw. You couldn’t stand it anymore.

You calmly stood up, “Excuse me you guys, I gotta go take care of something.” “Are you sure y/n?” Kaminari questioned. “I still haven’t taught you my sick dance moves!” You faked a laugh, “Next time!”

Everyone waved you off as you headed towards one of the vacant rooms. This place was a mix of a hotel and club. It was opened late nights only and gave people a place to stay and party to prevent driving home drunk.

As soon as the door closed you let out a shaky breath. You climbed over to the bed to start your thinking. You had little time before Bakugou would come in the same room, expecting some jealous fucking. You couldn’t do it anymore. You hated feeling so replacable.

You sucked up the tears that begged to fall as the door opened. Just as you had thought, Bakugou came waltzing in with a smirk on his face. He was midway of unbuttoning his shirt. You felt angry how easily he thought it was to get you to just submit to his body even after he’d done horrible shit.

He threw your bag onto the bed, “You forgot this, its like you wanted me to come in with you.” You clicked your tounge, “No, its just cause I was too distracted by your new girl fondling you.” He unbuckles his belt, smirking at your comment. “Hmm, well shes still waiting for me out there so you better stop being bratty.

Your face felt hot with anger, He cant take a fucking hint? You shot up to walk away. You didn’t want to freak out on him right now. You felt way too exhausted to not act rash. But he grabbed your neck and pulled you into a heated kiss. “Mmm, bet that slut doesn’t walk away mid moment.”

Although it was meant to be some sick joke you couldn’t stop yourself. Your hand had crossed his face, making a loud sound, before you could even process what you were doing. “I can’t fucking believe you.” You sobbed. He stopped his advances, “What the fuck?! Why’d you slap me?” Heavy tears started to fall down your face as he grabbed his face. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Your knees buckled into the wall, “I cant.” He stared in shock at you for a couple of moments before speaking again. “Why the hell are you crying?! You know I don’t actually want her!” “Except I dont!” You yelled, “You haven’t looked at me all night, not even a glance. You’ve given her all your attention. You went out of you way to make my night horrible. She’s been all over you! You’ve been all over her. You threatened go sleep with her for Christ sake!”

He pulled your arm away from your face, “That was all an act to make you jealous dumbass! I only wanted you this whole time.” You pulled your hand away from his. “An act, huh? I never liked this act. It makes me insecure, you make me insecure. And you think you can just pull your dick out and I’ll be okay?!”

He was frozen, you thought about how he definitely wasn’t expecting this. He probably thought he would get his dick wet and all will be swell. Stupid. He followed you as you went to grab your purse and car keys. “I only want you! I did that to get you!” You headed for the door, “Well, you cant go get to her, as you said like a minute ago. Shes waiting for you, isnt she? Cause I’m not playing this game anymore. Im done Katsuki.”

You reached for the doorknob to leave but he pushed you up against the door. “What the fuck? What do you mean?” He looked panic, good. “I mean, we’re done.” His face paled at your comment. His whole body tensed and his eyes widened. “You’re…. You’re breaking up with me?” He possessively grabbed your waist to wrap his hands around. You arched away, “Get off me.” “Im sorry, I won’t do it again. Just stop. Stay.” “Get off me.” He started to tear up with his teeth clenched. “Please y/n! Ill do anything. Ill buy you anything. I’ll do everything you say. Ill even go out there and fucking destroy that bitch myself! Just please-“

You pushed him away with all your might. It wouldn’t have worked if he wasnt so suprised you would try so hard to get away from him in the first place. “Dont ever talk to me again Bakugou. Enjoy the single life.”

You were glad that he was too shocked to go after you.

#bakugou thirst #bakugou x reader #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou angst

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simpfor141cod · 10 months

Text

Whiskey and Desperation; König pt2/4

He had admired you from a professional distance for months now, always just out of arms reach. He thought he could ignore how he felt about you, but he cant anymore, he's not just interested in you anymore- he's desperate for your touch.

contains: smut, mild alcohol consumption, desperate! König, almost feral, mutual pining,slight angst, BFF!Soap&Ghost, afab!reader, big boy König has reached his limit, and your teasing hasn't helped, size kink if you squint. & Of course this story includes König in taskforce 141.

Minors DNI. You will be blocked.

It was around 8pm when you finally decided to get ready to go to the common room for drinks, it was mutually decided by everyone that this would be the best place to drink as a team, after Soaps last night out at the local bar. It wasn't pretty. Deciding to wear something comfortable, you decided on a singlet considering the hot weather at night lately. It got rather stuffy in a room full of trained killers, go figure. "surely we can afford air conditioning here.." you mumbled to yourself while drying your hair after a shower. You were aware that the singlet you had on left almost nothing to the imagination, but you didn't care. You wanted to be comfortable and let loose for the night, grabbing a bottle of whiskey from your cupboard, you set out towards the common room, immediately going to sit next to your best pal Soap, who immediately pulled up a chair for you at the table. Soap had originally approached you to see what had happened with König, and when you told him what happened, he had a smug grin on his face and said "I'm sure time will tell, then", and for the past couple weeks he's been a good friend to you, making you laugh when you needed it. Alongside Soap, was Ghost, a stoic man who barely spoke to you, but when he did, his full attention was on you. You respected them both, and when they suggested you join everyone for drinks, you couldn't think of an answer as to why you shouldn't go. All was going well, until it was suddenly announced that part of the team has returned from a reconnaissance mission, after a few drinks, you didn't think your heart would drop as fast as it did, but you knew it meant that König was back. Your eyes were trained on the door, looking for any movement, before a tap on your back pulled you out of your trance, "Relax, kid." Ghosts voice rang through the air as he returned to his seat with a fresh pint of beer, and you released a shaky breath, taking another sip of your drink. Mid-way through your sip, a group of men walk through the door, and of course at the back of the group, is the tall man whose been avoiding your existence for weeks. You immediately lock eyes with König, who seems to freeze in his spot. You break the eye contact, and stand up from your seat, finishing your glass of whiskey and grabbing the now half-empty bottle. "I'll see you guys in the morning, dont quite feel like being avoided tonight" you mumble, Soap goes to try and convince you to stay, but Ghost stops him as you walk away, pointing out the rather obvious staring that König is doing. "See that? He cant get enough of her, mate" Ghost says lowly, causing for Soap to laugh. "want to make a bet then?" They both watch on as you walk straight past König, not even so much as looking at him, and leaving- bottle in hand. "Ooff thats just cold" Soap winces while watching König, "serves the bugger right, he's been doing the same thing to her." The two men agreed and took sips of their respective drinks, waiting to see what König would do next. König was torn. After three weeks of not seeing you, he was finally able to get his head back in the game, but at the same time, he had never felt this kind of feeling, it was almost a heavy feeling. As he walked into the common room, purely to say goodnight to everyone, his eyes immediately fell on you, and his breath caught in his throat as your eyes met his. He had missed you. All of the thoughts and feelings rushed back to him in an instant, he didn't know what to do. It was only when he saw you suddenly walking past him without even looking back, did he realize just how much he had messed up by avoiding you. Just like in the last mission together, he went after you without a second thought.

---- hope youre enjoying this, -yours

#call of duty #fanfiction #konig smut #konig #konig x y/n #konig x reader #konig imagine #konig call of duty

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faffreux · 7 months

Note

can you tell us about when you fell in love with fawful? :)

Yep. In fact, I'll write a whole mini essay for you so I can add it to the FAQ section of my website coming up shortly LMAO (SINCE I NEED TO FULLY ANSWER THIS QUESTION FOR THERE ANYWAY, RIGHT???) CLICK UNDER THE READ MORE TO SEE IT BECAUSE THIS IS GOING TO BE THE LONGEST THING I'VE EVER POSTED HERE, LMAO.

To preface, I have been a fan of the M&L games going back to the early-mid 2000s when I was a kid. I had no involvement with fandom or anything of the sort back then but I used to hop on my mom's bulky computer and look up fanart and other related content as early as 2004/5 and as a result, ended up captivated by the characters long before I knew who they actually were. (As a result of this, I have the names and art styles of various old M&L fandom creators permanently ingrained in my head and often wonder where they are today since a good deal of them vanished..!) It wasn't until 2006 that I got my first handheld console (DS Lite) and of course, what did I do? Immediately begged my mom to order me a used GBA copy of Superstar Saga.

When I finally had the game in my hands it was like coming home to a colorful world that I'd been captivated by for so long but never gotten the chance to actually explore until now. The characters felt like old friends and the Beanbean Kingdom as a location felt familiar and comforting to me. (As a side note, Popple quickly became my favorite. Shocker, right?)

I used to sketch various beans in my notebooks as well as on printer paper we had lying around the house. Long story short, I finished Superstar Saga and then a few years later in 2010 I picked up Bowser’s Inside Story and THAT’S WHEN THINGS SHIFTED–

BIS brought Fawful and his personality to life in a way that captivated my imagination like nothing else had prior. He quickly overtook Popple as my favorite character from then on forward… and that’s where it ends! Or.. is it?

Nah, that’s where it gets funky. Life got a little chaotic after that and not only did I stop playing video games altogether for many years, but I also almost completely gave up on art - the one thing I was most passionate about above all and thought I would make a career out of someday. A series of depressing events caused me to lose all hope and motivation for anything I created and the spark I’d kept inside of me for so long all but died out as a result.

We’re going to timeskip again, this time to late 2019. I’d just moved away from home permanently for the first time and had been getting settled in and no matter what I did to make my new apartment a cozy place it always felt like something was missing. My mind would keep wandering to the fact that I never made art anymore despite it having been such a key part of my life when I was younger. I so desperately wanted to change this and over the next few months the frustration only kept growing until on January 1st, 2020, I sat down in the living room with a pencil and paper in my hand and shut my eyes tightly before saying under my breath:

“I do not care what it is, I don’t care how it comes. Just please… PLEASE send me something to bring my art back. Anything… anything at all. I don’t care what I draw, I just want to be drawing again.” And with that, I placed the lead onto the paper and began to sketch…

And from there… a familiar face appeared!

(Now I could ramble to you about how much I do NOT like this drawing and how off model it is from how Fawful actually looks… but I’ll forgive myself since I hadn’t touched the M&L games in over a decade at this point and had forgotten most of Fawful’s character. And yet?? Here he was.)

How else can I explain it except that in that moment it felt like the pencil in my hand had suddenly become one of these:

A joy that I hadn’t felt in SO long suddenly filled my entire being and without wasting another second, I immediately went online and ordered both Superstar Saga and Bowser’s Inside Story to replay again. In the time waiting for the games to arrive I had started drawing daily again - sketching out various old characters of mine with dozens of doodles of the bean man stacked in between them all.

There he was… always smiling, always happy to see me, and oftentimes with his arms outstretched as if to give an encouraging hug. When the games arrived I worked through them quicker than I ever had prior - finishing up Superstar Saga in less than a week and subsequently moving onto Bowser’s Inside Story with a LOT of excitement built up for it.

It was my first day playing and I was having the time of my life! The way Fawful looked in his little grey cloak with that enormous, charming grin of his as he bamboozled Bowser into eating the Vaccuum Shroom had me giggling with joy while words repeated in my brain over and over of: “I need to draw this later, I NEED to draw this later!!!” I WAS EXCITED ABOUT ART AGAIN… AFTER ALL THESE YEARS. I was practically hopping in my seat from the happiness I felt in my heart and chest every time Fawful appeared at this point!

This was how it felt until the moment I arrived at the Fawful Theatre and watched as he began dancing on the stage floor. THIS time.. something different came over me. If you’ve felt it before, then you’ll know what I mean when I say that it was like my entire body turned warm all at once, like some sort of flame had been lit inside. I’d never felt it for anything or anyone prior to then, and that's partly why it hit me as hard as it did. I was practically sweating.

Heck, I was so absorbed in my feelings that I had forgotten there was anyone else in the room with me! That is.. Until my roommate at the time spoke up:

Her: Are you alright? Me: Uhhh… yeah, why? Her: You’re red as a beet. Are you sure you’re okay?

By this time I had realized what was really going on so I reassured her I was fine, grabbed my 3DS, and ran to my room to finish the playthrough on my own so I wouldn’t embarrass myself any further, hahaha.

In the days, weeks, and months following that moment I became dedicated to drawing the best art of Fawful I could possibly create! What started as a challenge to myself to ‘give back’ to the person who’d given me back the ability to create again turned into someone I genuinely could not stop drawing for how much fun I was having doing it. The desire to make better and better art in order to honor him drove me to improve at a speed I never had prior, and soon thereafter I created Jolligig as a way for me to be in this colorful world with him and to express the deepening affection I was feeling for him with every day that passed by.

By some miracle, my prayer had been answered and here it was in the form of a grinning lima bean.

[End of Part 1. Interested in the rest? Yes… there’s more, I’m sorry. Please let me know in the comments. This took a while to write so I thought splitting it up would be best if folks are interested, LOL.]

#ASKS #MY GOD I AM SORRY (no i'm not)#fawfultalk #important

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thebeesareback · 4 months

Text

Saltburn time

First and foremost, Rosamund Pike is Mother.

Secondly, I'd like to talk about Harry Potter in Saltburn. Allow me to preface this by confirming that JKR is an absolute shithead and can sit on a hot poker.

So throughout the summer, we see Felix, Venetia and Farleigh passing around a copy of the final Harry Potter book. It makes a huge amount of sense for them to read it! They're all in that strange stage of arrested development one forms at uni, because you're an adult living independently for most of the year, but then you come back to your parents' house and return to a teenage state. Surrounded by physical reminders of your childhood, you may well regress and re-engage with old media. I think many people have returned home and listened to CDs or flicked through forgotten video games. So there's a sense of nostalgia.

It also helps to ground Saltburn in the mid '00s. The hiddeous fashions are hilarious, the phones are bricks, and everyone was reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, the final installation in the saga. Given that Felix, Venetia and Farleigh are in their late teens/early 20s, it would make sense for them to have grown up reading those books. Again, I can't be the only person to interact with media I've "aged out" of because, well, I've invested so much in the series. I imagine a fair number of people who read the final book(s) weren't officially part of the target audience, but read it because they felt nostalgic or curious about how the story ended.

Finally, there are some obvious comparisons between Harry Potter and Saltburn. Both take place primarily in a beautiful old building and feature a character (Harry and Oliver) who wants to join a different world (magical/extreme wealth and status). You could also compare the characters of James Potter and Severus Snape with Felix and Oliver. You have the popular, desirable person, and then the jealous, slimy genius. There are classical allusions in Harry Potter and JKR actually read classics and French at Exeter uni. The joke about Cerberus, guardian of the underworld and terror of 11 year olds being named "Fluffy" is pretty hilarious. Farleigh reads English at Oxford, so he's going to get those references... even if he's not especially literate or into books.

Oliver, of course, doesn't read Harry Potter. It's too pedestrian and reminds him of the life he's trying to leave behind by cutting ties with his parents. Oliver is a total snob, and wouldn't deign to interact with anything like that. I don't really think Oliver even likes reading, to be honest. Do we ever see him with a book? He does it before uni and completes the reading list, yet when he mentions this to the professor, the professor is shocked. Then he ignores Oliver. Oliver only does things which he thinks will benefit him, other than when his sensory, animalistic, sexual desires finally come through. See - fucking the graves.

Anyway, you should watch Saltburn. It's excellent! Beautiful! The cast is gorgeous and talented! Everyone is psychotic!

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sherlockscumslut · 10 months

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“See you again” ft. Dainsleif x gn!reader

Contents: SFW,Modern au, angst/comfort, no plot at all, past lovers vibes but not really, a bit suggestive at the end but nothing explicit!

Synopsis: You meet up with Dainsleif at a county fair after being apart for a long time.

Word count: 692

! Important note ! To help you imagine modern Dain, just think of him having fire wounds instead of this curse thing on his body. It's too late and idk how to add/elaborate this to the story (hence the nonplot).

A/n: Okay, I came up with this late at night and the fun fact is that I didn't know which Genshin man to associate it with so I picked emo daddy Dain. Let's suffer together, Dain. Now you're probably wondering "Why a county fair?" well, idk how to explain this but for some reason, county fairs give me a strong sense of comfort, especially those in the countryside. Also, first time writing something that is not smut. I hope you like it!

Likes and/or reblogs are much appreciated 🙏🏻

My AO3

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“I hope I didn’t make you wait long..” He said as he approached them. Their eyes lifted slowly, staring at his figure getting closer. A figure they haven’t seen for so long. Perhaps a face they were afraid that they’d forget in another life.

“No, not at all.” They paused mid-sentence, hoping that he didn't hear the crack in their voice. “I’m…happy to see you. Really.”

“Shall we take a walk around?”

As they walked around in silence next to each other with the back of their hands barely touching, memories started to unfold. Such memories they both shared quite a while ago when life was kinder to both of them.

“You know…you used to love the Ferris wheel.” They broke the silence. “And I remember how silly you looked when you lost on that game-”

“Ring toss.” He interrupted. “I’m still mad at this game.” Dain giggled.

For a moment, everything around them froze and they swore that his laugh was the only thing that mattered.

Dain didn't seem to be the same man he was a long ago. Sure, his stoic personality and kind of intimidating demeanor have not changed but hearing him laugh at such a silly memory, suddenly flooded their eyes with tears.

“What’s the matter?” He asked, slightly concerned.

They couldn’t hold their tears anymore.

“I miss you so much.” They repeated again and again, tears blurring their vision.

Dainsleif wrapped himself around them, hugging them ever so tightly.

“I miss you too…”

They buried their wet face in his chest. “The life we had…Will we ever get our life back?”

“We…can try.” He paused. “Starting from tonight…and we’ll be just fine. I promise.”

[...]

Dainsleif kept his promise. It didn’t bother them that he wanted to leave the county fair early. No, they couldn’t complain when it was just the two of them laying on his bed. His big and strong arms created a shield-like safe place for them to rest. A place that provided such comfort that couldn’t be described with words.

Sharing their pain with him felt liberating but something deep in their soul was still aching. The wasted times, the sudden goodbye, and the regret they didn't want to admit.

“I couldn’t believe I was seeing you again.” Dainsleif paused. “I was missing you so much the entire time.” He continued.

“It still hurts though.” They admitted.

“All that matters is that we are together...Nothing is going to hurt you…or hurt us again.” He assured them calmly, his thumb gently caressing their mouth.

His soft touch soothed their swollen cheeks from crying. They knew how powerless they both are when it comes to saving themselves from bad luck. Dainsleif knows it better after all. Having to suffer a reality he didn't ask for, a fire that got out of control and burned everything along the way, even them. Such curse, such pain.

“Let’s…not talk about the past for now. It hurts me too.” Dain admitted.

“Do you remember…the first time I woke up beside you?” Their voice was almost heard.

He smirked. “How could I possibly forget it? How could I forget the first time you called out my name?”

“I wonder if we can have such moments again…”

“Absolutely. But we better take things slow…yes?” Dainsleif cupped their hand.

Being so close to his face felt so foreign yet so familiar. Their finger dragged on his scar, making him shut his eyes.

“Does it hurt?”

Dain smiled, still with eyes closed. “Not when you do it.”

They kissed the area near his scar. Dain opened his eyes in surprise. Nobody has ever kissed their scar. A scar that he didn’t ask for and perhaps, a sign of times.

Dain kissed their neck and mumbled something under his breath. In a blink of an eye, he was all over them, his weight making it hard for them to breathe but at the same time, he felt lighter than a feather. A weight on their chest that they would gladly accept as the only problem in life.

“Stay.” He whispered.

They reached for his mouth, kissing him like their life depended on him.

“Always.”

《THE END》

! DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION!

#genshin impact #dainsleif #genshin impact dainsleif #genshin angst #genshin comfort #genshin hurt/comfort #genshin impact x reader #dainsleif x reader #dainsleif x you #dainsleif x y/n #genshin impact scenarios

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thevelria · 8 months

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Blood and Poker - Don't worry, I'll be gentle (NSFW/mafia!Gojo x pokerplayer!fem!reader)

Author's note: this is the 2nd part of this story. I did a collab with my lovely friend @randompurr She drew all the amazing fanarts for this story. Please check her account and give her all the love, because she deserves the world! <3

wordcount:5.9K

DO NOT copy and repost her art without giving credit! Reblogs, comments and likes are much appreciated.

Warnings: MDNI/ 18+ ONLY!/detailed, heavy smut, injuries, blood, violence, murder. Mention of guns and illegal business. It's a mafia AU after all lol

Surprise: uncensored version of the NSFW fanart will be linked under the picture.

I also would like to thank my lovely ladies @ladycheesington and @m-jelly for helping me with ideas and proofreading <3

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The doorbell rang at 7 sharp. Just as he said earlier on the phone. You were ready to go. The fact you spent almost your whole day trying to find what to wear was something you kept as a secret.

Earlier that day:

After Gojo hung up the phone you rolled on your back and faced the ceiling. Slightly you frowned as you kept trying to figure out how he knew your address. You made up your mind that you were going to ask him as soon as he arrived. On the other hand you felt funny. A weird feeling spread in your body. You were excited. The man was so charming and smooth last night. His look was mesmerizing, handsome face, toned body and those beautiful blues.

You swung your legs across the bed and sat right at the edge before you hopped down. Big yawns and a good stretch helped you feel more awake. Since last night you arrived home really late you slept almost until 3pm. If Satoru didn’t wake you with his call you would have slept even further. It meant you had like four hours to get ready for the date.

Spending two hours in the bathroom made you feel anxious, because you already knew even if you were clean, your makeup and hair was perfect, you had no idea what to wear. A loud sigh in front of the wardrobe signaled the beginning of the game.

“Meh…” you threw away your green dress.

“Nope, not this one.” the blue lace dress landed on the floor.

This went on and on and on. You sat down at the edge of the bed and clenched your jaw.

“I hate this, I hate this, I hate this so damn much!” you shook your head, before looking up and noticing THE dress.

A sweet looking dirty-white spring dress with cute little cherries. You loved the puffy sleeves, the tight waist part and the mid-thigh long skirt. Oh and the cleavage, it was your favorite part. It cupped your boobs perfectly and formed into a big bow. You chose your burgundy heels which perfectly suited your lovely dress.

***

Gojo was drumming his fingers on the wheel in his car. He parked in front of your home but he arrived almost 20 minutes early. A bouquet of roses rested on the seat next to him. It was getting dark, even the street lighting was turned up . He frowned at the sudden bright light and looked at his way too expensive watch on his wrist. 3 minutes to go.

“Okay…” he took a deep breath. “Let’s get this girl.” he smirked as he got out of his black 1967 Chevy Impala.

It’s been years since he dated anyone. Mostly he was busy with building his empire and even if people assumed him to be a womanizer he preferred love. Gojo loved being in love. The feeling of having a partner, protecting, caring and spoiling her rotten. That’s what made his heart beat faster and not the women who threw themselves at him for money and some rounds in bed.

Confident steps he took towards your door. “Fuck, the flowers…” he slapped his palm against his forehead and rushed back to the car. At 7pm he rang the doorbell, fixing his outfit afterwards. He clenched his jaw slightly. The man was nervous, because he wanted to fascinate you way too much.

“Good evening.” Satoru greeted you with his most charming smile. Your eyes widened and you truly had to try your best not to drool. The snow white hair was slicked back, his deep red button up shirt followed his toned torso. The top two buttons were left open, slightly revealing his collarbone and the rolled up sleeves let you adore his strong forearms. Ebony pants with shiny boots made his look simply perfect.

“Hey, uhm…hey.” you cleared your throat, trying to hide the fact you were staring.

“You look absolutely ravishing, darling.” he eyed you up shamelessly. “Shall we go?” he was about to offer his arm when he realized he didn’t give you the flowers. “Fuck, I’m such an idiot.” he thought to himself. “I..I brought this for you.” he lifted up the bouquet and chuckled awkwardly.

“Thank you, Satoru. They look lovely. Give me a sec, I’ll put them into water. Wanna come in until I handle it?” you spun on your heels and just realized a second after you already invited him in. Hearing him politely refusing it made you even more anxious. “Now he thinks I wanna hump him. I’m such an idiot.” you imaginary facepalmed yourself as you picked a vase and let the flowers sink in it.

The leather seat softly sunk under your weight as you got into the car. “You have a really nice car.” you smiled as you carefully ran your index and middle finger over the glove compartment.

“Thank you.” his husky voice sent shivers down your spine. He was wealthy and had taste for sure. But still you felt like he was so much more than a simple business man. “I am flattered you actually accepted my invitation. I felt the spark between us last night and I hoped you would say yes.”

“Spark?” you smirked. “We will see about that spark.” you chuckled, while inside you screamed. Because, girl, you felt it just like he described.

One of the fanciest restaurants that just opened a few months ago was the place he took you. The staff seemed so professional, precise and kind. The inside of the building left you speechless. Huge chandeliers hung from the ceiling, beige furniture, black tables with matching chairs made the vibe luxurious.

“This way, please.” a nice looking waiter stepped next to you. You missed the quick glance he gave to Gojo. High stairs guided you up until the top of the building. An even wilder space unfolded with the same style as downstairs but with a beautiful balcony attached. You gasped and snapped your head to your date. He gave you a warm smile as he followed you to the balcony where your waiter escorted the both of you.

“Your table, bo…, I mean, sir.” he let out an awkward chuckle. “Please call me when you are ready to order. I’ll be right back with some special welcome drink.”

You made an amused expression, you were truly mesmerized by the situation.

“I assume you like this place.” Gojo smirked as he pulled the chair out for you.

“It’s wonderful.” you took a deep breath as you admired the sight. “I mean look at this.” you pointed at the city that glowed in front of you with all its glory. Buildings and skyscrapers towered into the high, tiny little cars run on the roads as if they were ants in a hive.

You zoned out for a few seconds, having flashbacks from your past months and you hummed a laugh spontaneously.

“Everything’s okay, sweetheart?” Satoru’s raspy voice snapped you back to reality.

“Sure. Yeah, sure. I was just thinking…” you tried to find the right words. “It’s just beautiful and I like it here. It’s perfect.” Your warm, honest smile melted his heart.

“I’m glad.” he placed his hand on the table. Obviously he was about to reach for your hand but he hesitated just yet. When he was sure the right time appeared he was about to touch the back of your hand.

“Your drinks.” the lovely waiter interrupted the perfect moment. Gojo flashed a deadly stare at him which made him uneasy in an instant. “I, I hope you’ll like it." He hurriedly placed two glasses and a bucket filled with ice and a bottle of champagne on the table.

“Thank you, you can leave now.” the snow white haired man waved at the waiter who nodded and spun on his heels right away. “I’ve heard this champagne is one of the best in town.” he reached for the bottle and palmed the cork, gently twisting it left and right until a solid popping sound was heard. “Let me pour you some.” he grabbed your glass, while a delicate fog escaped the cool drink.

“It tastes like heaven.” you licked your bottom lip after taking a small sip.

You frowned while checking the menu. So many fancy dishes to choose from and to be honest you have never been to a place like this. You felt a bit anxious and Gojo sensed it.

“You can pick anything you want, don’t worry about the price.” he winked at you.

“That’s sweet of you but it’s not the source of my struggling to be honest.”

“What’s wrong then?” he frowned.

“Uhm…” you cleared your throat. “I have no idea what these dishes are. Fancy names with fancy descriptions and yet I have no clue what they mean.” you bit your inner cheek, embarrassed.

“Oh, sweety.” he laughed. “Let me pick for you then, yeah? Do you like fish or would you like to eat some meat?”

“Fish is perfect.” you nodded. “I do like fish.”

“Alright.” he snapped and your waiter rushed to the table in a heartbeat.

Gojo made the order so smoothly you were amused.

In the meantime as you were waiting for your food he tried his luck once again and this time he succeeded. Gently placing his palm on the back of your hand, gently he smiled at you.

“So, tell me your story.” he cooed as he was running his thumb softly over your skin.

“What story do you mean exactly?” you let him touch you.

“You mentioned something like being a professional player.”

“I used to be, yeah.” you pulled a bittersweet smile.

“And what’s the story behind that?” he raised one of his eyebrows.

“Let’s not ruin this lovely moment with a bittersweet story like that. Rather you should tell me how you got to open your own casino at this young age? Is it a family business?” Your pupils became huge the second he shot you a charming smirk.

“We can call it like that, yeah. It’s a family business. This casino was the 5th one I opened across the country.”

“Wait a minute.” your eyes widened. “Are you telling me you have 5 casinos?”

“Actually, 12.” he chuckled. “I opened one every month last year.”

“Shut up!” you slammed your free palm against your mouth. “I’m sorry. I mean, wow. This is amazing!”

After you finished the delicious meal, which you still had no idea what it was, you excused yourself to the restroom.

“I’ll be right back.” you said politely, heading inside.

The moment you got back a tall, long black haired man was standing at your table, obviously having some serious words with your date. Eavesdropping wasn’t your intention but you involuntarily overheard some words.

“I’m telling you boss they fucked us up. The guns should have arrived tonight and yet all the containers were empty.”

“What?” Gojo sounded harsh. “What the fuck is going on? It’s the third shipment in a row. You will need to deal with this shit. I’m busy at the…” his words died mid-sentence as he noticed you standing not far from your table. “Leave! We will discuss this later.” he clenched his jaw.

Your heart was beating fast, pounding against your chest. “Did he seriously say guns?” you panicked. As the mysterious man passed you he gave you an annoyed glance. It terrified you even more.

“It’s getting late.” you checked your phone immediately. “I truly had an amazing night tonight but I’m afraid I need to go home. Tomorrow I’ll have an important meeting with my editor.” you faked a smile.

“On Sunday?” he clicked his tongue. He knew you were lying, he also was aware you’ve heard something you shouldn’t have.

“Yeah…lame, I know.” you giggled awkwardly. “I have this deadline coming up next week and…anyway. I don’t want to bore you with the details. I’m gonna catch a taxi.”

“I’ll take you home, sweetheart.” he leaned back in his chair.

“No.” you snapped. “I mean, I don’t wanna be a trouble here. You did so much for me anyway. I’m sure this dinner was way too expensive.” you pushed back your chair, threw your phone into your purse and left in a hurry.

Gojo pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe this shit.” he growled. “Everything was so fucking perfect. Damn you, Geto. I’ll kill you, I swear.” he took an irritated, deep breath before standing up and leaving as well. He saw you getting in a taxi and felt really disappointed. “She will avoid me…I feel it.”

***

A sleepless night. That’s what he gave you. So many unanswered questions were rushing through your mind. Even if you tried to distract yourself it was simply impossible. You had so much fun with him. He was gentle, polite and so damn charming. But guns? He must have been some kind of gangster and the last thing you wanted was to get involved in some nasty business. So as disappointing as it seemed you decided to ditch him.

“Good morning, darling. I hope you had a decent sleep. Oh and I cheer for you today with your editor.” This lovely message waited for you to read.

“Fuck.” you hissed after seeing it. You closed the message and left your phone at the nightstand.

Gojo tapped his feet nervously on the wooden floor in his office. “She saw it and didn’t respond.” he growled, before writing to you again.

“I was thinking maybe you wanted to meet after your meeting this evening?” Sent. Still no response, only the checkmark next to his message, showing him you read it but once again didn’t bother to write anything back.

“Damn it, baby. Stop ignoring me!” he bit his inner cheek.

During the day he got a bit carried away and kept texting you. Even if he was getting mad and desperate he stayed well-behaved. After the 10th or 11th message he took a deep breath and dialed your number. Your eyes widened the second you noticed the caller on the screen of your phone.

“Pick up the goddamn phone.” he clenched his jaw after the umpteenth missed call. But you didn’t pick up. After a while it seemed the call didn’t go through. “Did you really?” he hummed a bittersweet laugh. “She blocked me!” he threw his hands in the air, shaking his head in disbelief.

***

In the middle of the night you heard some knocking on the front door. Your eyes were still closed but you tried to focus if you really did hear something or only your mind tricked you. One more knock, this time it was a bit louder. You rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand before crawling out of the bed. Checking the clock “2:32am”.

“Who the fuck is it?” you mumbled under your nose. A third knock echoed through the living room. “I’m coming! There’s no need to break my freaking door.” you sounded harsh and irritated.

The door shot open and there he was. Gojo stood in front of you covered in blood, injured. Your eyes widened and you froze in your action.

“I’m so sorry, darling.” he panted. “But I had nowhere else to go.” he sounded weak. The second his knees buckled a bit and he almost lost his balance you stepped closer, helped him to come inside.

“What happened to you? You should go to the hospital.” you were still in shock.

“No, no. I’m fine, I just…I just need to rest.” he breathed unevenly.

A billion thoughts rushed through your mind as you guided him into the kitchen.

“Careful.” you said as you helped him to sit down. “I’ll be right back.” you rushed to the bathroom to get the first aid kit.

For a second you stood still in the bathroom, facing the mirror. Everything seemed so surreal. And even if you were scared and confused, you felt the urge to help him. After all he was nothing but polite and sweet with you. The date last night was magical.

You took a deep breath before grabbing the kit and hurried your steps back to the kitchen.

“Hey…hey, Satoru. Look at me.” you placed the box on the counter. “I need you to tell me how badly injured you are. Okay? It seems you lost a lot of blood.” you stared at his light blue buttoned up shirt.

“It’s not all mine.” he hummed a bittersweet laugh.

“Oh, God…” you shook your head. “Did you get shot?” you frowned.

“No, just stabbed.” he hissed as he tried to wiggle on the seat.

“Stabbed?” even you were surprised by your high pitched voice. “Let me see it!”

“Help me please, I can’t really move my left arm.”

Gently you fidgeted with the buttons, one after another, until his shirt was fully open. His chest was covered with bruises and cuts. But his left shoulder looked worrying. A deep, pretty big wound was revealed in front of you. It was definitely made by a stab.

“I need to clear your wounds and I definitely have to stitch this one on your shoulder.” you clenched your jaw as you took his shirt completely off.

“Thank you.” That was all he could say. Gojo was clearly in pain.

You tried to be as gentle as possible but you knew just as much as him that it wasn’t going to be a piece of cake.

“Sorry.” you bit your lower lip before you started to clean his injuries. He hissed here and there, cleared his throat but never ever complained.

Even if you tried to focus only on the main task you couldn’t help but admire his toned torso. This handsome gangster had wide shoulders, broad chest and perfectly built abs. His biceps looked huge without even flexing them.

“It’s almost done.” you smiled. “Then let me take care of the rest of the cuts on your face and as I see your knuckles are fucked up, too.”

“It’s nothing.” he hummed a laugh. “Really, it’s okay.”

“Shh…” you hushed him. “You asked me to help you, yeah? Let me do it properly.”

He stayed quiet and pulled an adorable smile.

After you gently wrapped up his knuckles you didn’t even realize that you kept running your thumb over his hand. A few seconds later you got a bandage and placed it on his cheekbone. Suddenly he put his palm on your waist and pulled you close to him. The way he rested his cheek on your tummy surprised you. You had no idea what to do. Should you have freed yourself or stayed still? An unexpected silence made the situation even more complicated. Finally you hummed and ran your fingers through his hair, softly slicking it back and planting a featherlight kiss on the top of his head. You felt as he smiled and slid his hand down to your hip, grabbing it lightly.

“Will you tell me what happened to you?” you broke the silence.

“It’s safer for you if you don’t know.”

“Satoru, please. You can’t just appear in front of my house in the middle of the night beaten up, bleeding, asking for my help and expecting me to not ask any questions.” you lifted his head to force him looking you in the eye.

“It’s so messed up, darling. Everything is just messed up.” he sighed. “And I know you heard something yesterday. I don’t know what exactly but I have a guess. You even blocked my number.”

You gulped hard, because he said the truth. You were about to ghost him.

“Are you scared of me?” he kept looking at you.

“I don’t know.” you took a deep breath. “I mean you are sweet, polite, like a real gentleman. Last night was wonderful, I did have fun with you and everything was perfect. But guns? Fucking guns? And let me tell you that guy looked terrifying. The way he stared at me froze the blood in my veins.”

“So you heard what Geto said.” he growled. “Look…” he hesitated for a second. “I’m not a simple business man. I’m the head of the Gojo clan, one of the biggest mafia families in the country. I know it sounds horrible but you need to believe me when I say that I’m a good person and I would treat you as a queen if you’re willing to give me a chance.”

“I…” you were about to say you didn’t know what to think but all of a sudden he stood up and caged you at the counter. He was way taller, so he towered above you powerfully.

“Just one chance.” he leaned dangerously close. “That’s all I’m asking for.” you felt his warm breath on your skin. A fragile nod was all you were able to present but it was more than enough for him. “Can I kiss you? Please. I've been dying to kiss you since the moment I saw you on the screen.”

“On the screen?” you were confused.

“Nevermind.” he chuckled and brushed his lips against yours. It was a delicate kiss, a gentle and soft one.

The soft kiss turned into a more intense one. A low moan escaped your mouth the second his tongue met yours. He smirked and kept kissing you with more and more passion. You threw your hands around his neck, running your fingers up and down on the back of his head, feeling his undercut brushing your skin. While he grabbed your thighs and lifted you up.

“Satoru, don’t…your shoulder is...”

“It’s okay.” he planted a featherlight kiss into your neck as you clenched your legs around his waist.

“Where’s your bedroom?” he growled. You nodded your head slightly to the right and he headed to the room without hesitation.

The sound of your uneven breathing echoed through the room as he entered your bedroom, holding you still. Gojo sat down at the edge of the bed. The mattress bent down a bit under the weight of your bodies. You caged him with your knees and you undeniably felt the bulge growing bigger and bigger in his pants.

A cheeky bite on his lower lip and one or two grinding movements on his lap drove him wild. He grabbed the back of your head as he took a deep, desperate breath.

“Are you sure about this, princess? Because once we’ve done it there’s no way back. You’re going to be mine. Only mine!” he hissed.

A naughty smirk appeared on your face. You pulled your PJ shirt above your head, revealing your breasts before you crashed your lips against his. You had no idea what’s gotten into you but you wanted nothing else but to sleep with this man.

Suddenly his hands wandered lower and cupped your bum, squeezing them while he moaned into the heated kiss. The next you remembered was him flipping you over. You landed on your back on the mattress, even bounced back a little.

“I wonder how strong you are when you are not injured.” you chuckled.

“You’ll find out, I'll make sure of that. God…” he shook his head. “You’re so beautiful.”

A slight tint of red rushed your face which he found adorable. Once again Satoru towered himself above you, his hands rested aside your head while he kept kissing your cheek, your jaw, your neck and collarbone. Working his way lower and lower. One of his hands cupped one of your tits, massaging it, enjoying the touch.

You weren’t able to hold back your moans, the heat was getting really hard to handle. When he reached your lower tummy he playfully slid his fingers under the rubber band of your PJ bottom. Your hips automatically bucked up, giving him an easy time to get rid of the unwanted cloth. As you were laying there completely naked he bit his lower lip and wiggled his way back exactly between your thighs. His breathing got faster and faster, you felt the warm air on your skin. Gojo looked you in the eye as he placed a light kiss on your folds, just right before he spread your legs wide open and his tongue slid into your needy part.

“Fuck…” you moaned and ran your fingers into his crystal white hair.

Satoru was good at eating, he got the perfect rhythm and the perfect moves. One of his hands rested on your tummy, while he lapped and sucked on your clit. Giving more and more speed to the movements caused you to shiver. Nothing else but his name rolled from your lips. He was really enjoying the moment, enjoying your beautiful pussy.

“Please…” you panted.

“Hmm? What does my princess want?” he looked up at you from between your legs.

“Toru, if you keep doing this I’m going to cum.”

“Good.” he smirked. “That was my intention anyway.” He buried his face between your folds once again but this time adding one finger to make the pleasure more intense. Your moans became louder, your hips bucked but his free hand kept you still.

“Don’t wiggle, baby. Let me eat you properly.” he giggled as he gave a quick lick to your already sensitive clit.

Your gangster slid one more finger in and it drove you completely insane. You were nothing but a moaning mess.

“I’m gonna…I think I’m gonna…” you tried to form the words without success.

“Come for me, darling.” he quickened his movements.

You felt the knot in your lower tummy get stronger and stronger. Suddenly the rush of a relieving tension rushed through your body and a loud scream left your mouth. Gojo kept going on and on, while you were riding your high out on his face.

A few moments later your breathing started to get more even and you cupped his face.

“Take off your pants. I want you to be inside of me!”

Satoru never in his life got out of his pants faster but your expression made him chuckle.

“Holy shit!” you gasped. “You are huge.” your eyes widened at the sight of his hard dick.

“Don’t worry baby.” he climbed between your legs, positioning himself to your entrance. “I’ll be gentle.” he carefully slid his throbbing shaft into you.

“Oh my God.” you panted as he kept sliding himself in inch by inch.

“Look at you, darling. You’re taking me so well.” he leaned in and kissed you. “Tell me when I can move, yeah?”

His muscled back felt so tempting under your hands as you nodded. “Just a second.” you tried to relax your body. This man was indeed massive. “Okay, you can move now.” you dug your fingers into his back.

Satoru put up a gentle pace, bucking his hips at a speed that drove you crazy. The way his dick was sliding in and out of your dripping wet pussy tested his own sanity as well.

“You’re so tight.” he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

Your hands wandered lower and lower on his back until you grabbed his rounded bum. “Faster. I need you to go faster. Please.” you begged and he obeyed right away. He started to pound into you with more and more intensity. Your walls clenched around him every time he hit your special spot.

“Darling.” he growled. “I’m not gonna last long if you suck me in like this.”

“I can’t help it, ‘Toru. It feels so good. You feel so good inside me.” you babbled in delirium.

Your words pushed him even closer to his limit and the second you screamed his name once again, reaching your high he wasn’t able to hold back anymore. “Baby, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna…Ngh.” he pulled himself out quickly and shot his cream on your tummy. After he calmed down a bit he laid next to you.

“That was amazing.” he rested on his back, facing the ceiling.

“It indeed was.” you smiled and tried to get up. “I’ll be right back.” you headed to the bathroom to clean up yourself. Gojo appeared in the bathroom door, laying against the frame. “Can you help me with the shower?” He walked behind you, placed his hands on your shoulders and kissed your neck. “With all these stitches and bandages I’m not sure I could do it myself.”

“Sure, join me.” you giggled as you pulled the shower curtain aside.

***

After a second round in the shower you were completely exhausted and you assumed Satoru felt the same.

“We really should sleep and in the morning you will tell me what the heck is going on. Okay?” you climbed in the bed after changing the sheets.

“Alright, darling.”

His phone kept ringing which woke both of you up. A desperate growl left your body as you opened your eyes.

“Satoru, pick up your fucking phone, I’m begging you.” you whined.

He tapped the top of the nightstand next to him, eyes closed, when finally reached his mobile. “What?” he hissed. A few seconds later he almost jumped out of the bed. “WHAT?!” he yelled. “Bullshit!” he clenched his jaw. “No, I will handle it. Get your stuff and head to the mountains. Yes, all of you! Go!” he hung up.

“Should I ask?” you sat up, covering your bare chest with the sheet.

“A few weeks ago I turned down a nasty business.” he sighed, climbing behind you, so your back pressed against his chest as he kept talking. “Since then my whole business, my whole family is under attack. I thought after a few days they would stop but instead they are after everything I own in this town. Last night I got attacked while I was on my way home. They destroyed my house and now Geto called me with the news that all my businesses were either burnt to the ground or torn apart.”

“That sounds horrible.” you gasped. “So the casino was not your only interest in the city?”

“No, I had restaurants, shops and clubs as well.”

“Restaurants…” you hummed. “Like the one you took me to?”

“Yeah.” he nodded.

“Bastards…” you huffed. “It was such a beautiful place. I loved it!”

Gojo let out a bittersweet laugh before kissing your shoulder. “I need to leave, darling. You have to come with me.”

“What?” your eyes widened.

“You would be in danger here but I can protect you.”

“In danger? How? Why? We are not even a thing, why would I be in danger?”

“After last night we are definitely a thing. I told you, if you gave in you were going to be mine.” he smirked as he gently bit your earlobe.

“Yeah.” a soft moan left your mouth. “But they don’t know that.”

The handsome gangster got out of the bed and wanted to dress up when he realized his clothes were dirty and torn. He clicked his tongue and frowned.

“I can give you gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt if you want. I think it will fit you.”

“Thank you.”

As he was getting dressed he bit his inner cheek. “I assume these aren’t your clothes.”

“No.” you shrugged. “My ex left them here and I…well I should have gotten rid of them years ago.”

Satoru was about to crack an inappropriate joke about your ex and how he was going to fuck even his memory out of your pretty head when someone knocked on the front door. You snapped your head to the direction of the noise.

“Will your men pick you up?” you smiled as you started to walk towards the door. He took a quick peek through the window and noticed an unfamiliar, dark car in front of your home.

“Baby, stop!” he yelled and started to run after you, grabbing your wrist just in time and pulling you aside a second before someone emptied a whole clip into your door.

“What the fuck?” you screamed. Gojo covered you with his body until the shots died down.

“Come with me!” he demanded and dragged you into the bathroom. “Here. Take this.” he handed you a loaded gun. I’m going to lock this door, yeah? If anyone tries to break in, kill them. Understood?” he sounded dead serious.

“What?! NO!” you screamed. “It’s bullshit! I don’t even know how to use this freaking gun.” you started to cry.

“Shh…” he pulled you into his chest and hugged you tight. “It’s going to be okay, yeah? I will take care of this. I told you I was going to protect you, darling.” he placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“Be careful.” you whispered as he left the bathroom.

In the upcoming minutes you heard gunshots, yelling, screaming and you were sure your home was getting destroyed. After a while there was silence. The doorknob started to move left and right, your blood froze in your veins as you aimed the gun directly at the door.

“It’s safe now, baby.” Gojo’s weakened voice made you shiver.

“Satoru?” you shot the door open right away. And once again here he was, standing in front of you injured, bleeding.

“I…I need to patch you up again. I’m sure the wound on your shoulder opened up.” you frowned as you reached for his t-shirt and wanted to take it off.

“No.” he panted, gently grabbing your wrist. “There’s no time for this. We need to leave. It’s not over yet, more of them will come. We can’t stay here.” he pressed his right hand against his side. You were sure under the clothes he was covered in new cuts and bruises.

“Yuuta.” Gojo sighed. “I will text you the address. You need to come here and pick us up right now. They found me.” he hung up.

“Can I at least pack some clothes or something?”

“Just be quick, baby. Yuuta will be here in a few minutes.”

With a small luggage in your hand you stepped out of your bedroom and didn’t want to believe your eyes. Blood and at least five dead bodies were lying in the living room. All your furniture was either broken or shot into pieces.

“Please, don’t look.” Satoru took your luggage with one of his hands and grabbed your hand with the other one. “Come, Yuuta is outside.”

On your way to the safe house you kept silent. Gojo refused to let your hand go, he rubbed his thumb over your skin again and again and again. After an hour or so the car parked in front of a vintage styled wooden house. You helped Satoru to get out of the car and only after standing next to the vehicle did you notice the men waiting in front of the building.

You recognized the scary looking man who was called Geto. He was on the phone and well…his stare almost made you shit your pants. Not far from him stood a younger boy with funny, spiky hair. It seemed he talked to a ripped guy with a tiny scar across his lips and who looked just like him. There was another man with spiky hair and a weird face paint sitting close to scarface. The last guy with pinkish blonde hair and his hands in his pockets seemed the most normal from them all.

That was the moment you realized you were going to stay in a house with a yakuza and a part of his gang.

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cable-knit-sweater · 1 year

Text

Checkmate, I couldn’t lose

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Rating: T

Word count: 1.1k

Tags: Modern AU, rich Steve Rogers, con man Bucky Barnes, idiots in love

Summary: Bucky is a con man, ready to steal all of Steve’s money so he’ll be set for life. Problem is…Steve’s onto him from the start, but plays along anyway.

Title from Mastermind by Taylor Swift

So I told you none of it was accidental And the first night that you saw me, nothing was gonna stop me I laid the groundwork and then saw a wide smirk On your face, you knew the entire time You knew that I'm a mastermind And now you're mine Yeah, all you did was smile 'Cause I'm a mastermind

Written for @allcapsbingo card: AC1005 | Adoptable: Inheritance

Bucky does what he has to, to get by. He’d always been good at bullshitting his way out of things, but when he ended up on the streets as a teenager, he needed to step it up to survive. It started out with petty theft, distracting people so he could sneak a wallet or jewelry away from them to give him some cash to eat and to sleep somewhere. But he learned quickly, had some people teach him more skills, and now, in his mid twenties, he only did the petty stuff to get a little thrill.

He’d pretended to be so many different people, pretended to have so many different jobs. He’d played some long cons and cashed in. But he was getting to a point where he wanted it to stop. His current funds would last him a couple of years, maybe. Bucky needed one big job to set him up for life.

Finding the right mark took some time, but he’d finally found him. Steve Rogers was a well-known millionaire, coming from a prominent family. His parents had passed and had left him the bulk of his money in his inheritance, but he didn’t seem too attached to it, ending up in the society pages often enough wearing expensive clothes and accessories, driving expensive cars, stories of women who’d dated him that recounted extravagant dates and gifts. On top of that, he donated large amounts of money to charity each year.

So, he was someone that spent his money easily, and loved a good sob story. He was perfect. It didn’t hurt that he was gorgeous too. Bucky knew just how to part him from a large chunk of that inheritance. And it wouldn’t take much more than batting his eyelashes and crying a little on cue. This was gonna be it. He was going to be set for life once he was done, he was sure of that.

He hadn’t been ready for Steve. He’d played it so cool, so perfectly, when they met and he could see the instant attraction in Steve’s eyes. It had seemed so simple then.

But nothing about Steve was simple. Bucky had to tell himself repeatedly why he was doing this, to not lose himself in the game and forget that this wasn’t real.

Steve made it so hard to remember that. He was kind, smart, wonderful. Bucky found himself imagining what it could be like, to actually be on Steve’s arm for real. But that was never going to happen. This Bucky, the Bucky Steve spent so much time on, listened to, laughed with, loved on - it was a character, not who he really was, even if he could feel himself slip sometimes.

Even if Steve could actually like him for who he was, that never was going to happen. Not if he knew why Bucky was here in the first place. He was so stupid. The first thing he’d learned was to not feel sorry for the mark, let alone feel this much for one.

The only thing he could hope for now, was that he got some results soon, so he could leave. So he could leave before it became impossible to do that without breaking his own heart.

Some nights, he felt like it was already too late for that.

Bucky was different. It had taken Steve a moment to realize that, too distracted by a lean body and brilliant grey-blue eyes. Meeting him at the benefit for one of his many charities had felt like faith. Steve was done with dating around and ready to settle down, and at first Bucky seemed like he was interested in Steve for Steve, not his bank account.

He knew how people saw him. As a rich, spoiled playboy. Pretty, but not the sharpest tool in the shed. He was fine with that, mostly, although it was always disappointing when people didn’t see through that or paid too little attention to him to get that far, too focused on what he could do for them rather than who he was.

Bucky was different. He was focused on Steve.

There was only one problem. He was too focused on Steve. He knew too much about Steve, played too much into his weaknesses. He was too perfect. Once he’d noticed, he started paying attention to everything Bucky did. It didn’t take long to pick up on the fact that it was all an act.

He was sure Bucky hadn’t noticed, but Steve saw him slip up a couple of times, things he said or did just not matching up with the picture he was trying to create. It had made Steve smile a little. Bucky was smart, good at what he did. Steve was just too used to people trying to get something out of him, that he could see right through it. But he liked Bucky, so he let him play his game, just to see what would happen.

There wasn’t much he had to lose here. If Bucky managed to con him out of his money, that was fine. He cared little for it, he’d find a way to live the rest of his life without it. If Bucky didn’t manage to win this little game, Steve at least could have some fun while spending time with him, before Bucky probably would give up and disappear as quickly as he’d turned up.

He was sweet, funny, kind. Steve was more than willing to lose all of his money just for more time with that Bucky. He just hoped that Bucky felt the same. Steve was probably setting himself up for heartbreak. But he was having fun, playing along, and enjoyed every minute with Bucky when he was being himself.

Steve tried to show Bucky what it could be like without the con, to show him that there could be something there between them. That it could be real, if he wanted to, if he wanted to give up on playing this little game. It was hard to find the balance between showing him that, and making Bucky too suspicious. If that happened before Bucky was ready, if Bucky figured out that Steve knew what he was doing, he’d probably run for the hills.

Maybe Bucky would never be ready, but a Steve had hope. Maybe Bucky would break his heart, maybe he’d con Steve out of everything. But Bucky was worth it, he thought. Two could play this game, and Steve wasn’t planning on losing.

#maya tries to write #allcapsbingo2023 #stucky fic #stucky au #stucky #steve x bucky #inspired by my fav murder baby & fav con man baby 💕💕💕#I might try to write the fic one day lol

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dnuoh-xof · 3 months

Note

Skullface character analysis. Could even be bullet points if you would rather create a separate post for a more in-depth analysis.

THESIS.

If you've either played Metal Gear Solid V: Ground Zeroes—or opted against doing so due to some of the... unsavory, disrespectful, and frankly disgusting contents within it, in which case I completely understand why one might not want to so much as graze it with a yard stick—or Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain, which, to me, contains the more memorable (as insufferable as it can become) depiction of their titular antagonist... of whom I can safely assume was universally recognized as such, you and your fellow man may come to similar, near-identical consensuses in regards to aforementioned character's most ineffable traits.

Perhaps, as either a gamer or a mere onlooker, seeking to simply absorb the story, you felt yourself either taken or disgusted by the antagonist's appearance... or perhaps you found yourself inadvertently fauning over his voice—provided by actor James Horan—only to later slap your own hand. Or, maybe neither such sentiments ever crossed your mind, and you found yourself parts-amused, parts-ashamed that a simple one-off character was shoehorned into one of the most important roles in the series; his presence now highly-implicated through the whole of the Metal Gear series's canon upon his own pilot, with no semblance of question or doubt to the canonicity or legitimacy of such implications.

The character in question being, of course, Skull Face, whose identity throughout Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain's development no doubt underwent a multitude of bouts of trial-and-error to arrive at the 'alpha' version of the character we know—and hate—today. And so, before I get into the nitty-gritty of the character in question, I would like to take a moment to reflect upon these bouts of 'trial-and-error,' the art direction which led to the base version of this character, as well as aspects which may have initially been left out, or dropped entirely, between the conception of Metal Gear Solid V: Ground Zeroes and Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain, and whether or not core facets of said character underwent any major (or minor) changes between the progression of aforementioned games.

DEVELOPMENT / PRE-GAME CONCEPTUALIZATION.

The very earliest—if not painfully vague—hint the public was ever given about the conception of Skull Face as a character, would be within the gameplay / cinematic trailer dedicated to Metal Gear Solid V: Ground Zeroes, released in mid-to-late 2012. With the phrase, which was later utilized within the trailer for Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain, "From FOX, two phantoms were born," alongside a very brief glimpse at the back of the character's head, for a duration of two seconds, or so.

The earlier quote, "From FOX, two phantoms were born," of which was later believed to have implicated both the protagonist and antagonist of Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain; Venom / Punished Snake, and Skull Face, both mere phantoms of not only FOX as a whole, but of one another. A sentiment which is greatly accentuated throughout the duration of the game within which they are both present, especially between aforementioned characters in their every interaction.

Coupled with the release of Ground Zeroes, as though to break tradition in regards to how extra information / concept art was usually released alongside or a year or so after the initial release, Skull Face—despite his initial debut being within Ground Zeroes—appears to have not been featured within any sort of official artbooks. At least, not until the release of The Phantom Pain a year or so later, in 2015.

Though, this could easily be because of just how closely linked Ground Zeroes and The Phantom Pain were in both theme and in conception; the former being described as nothing more than a "prologue" to the latter, whose IP later received an official artbook. Which, predictably, consisted of concept art for both games, despite the 'uneven' distribution of said art between them; the latter receiving a lot more than the former, likely due to Konami Digital Entertaiment's own priorities at the time.

And, only within the shallows of the artbook's contents are we granted but a glimpse of how the character's appearance—and perhaps the very fabric of the character, both in concept and in execution, in its entirety—may have differed from its base version, given the very few minute footnotes concept artist Yoji Shinkawa left sprinkled neatly across the page. (Rough descriptions of each image are available within each image I.D.)

Even still, I believe there is only so much information we can gather from the concept sketches—and the hand-written footnotes which accompany them—alone. However, if I were to wager a guess, if any, I would come to the assumption that Skull Face, as a character, was meant to be far more different than what we may perceive him as today... for better or worse.

For example, the sketch at the right-hand side of each image, encompassing the notably smooth, scarless visage of Skull Face from another plane entirely; one of which—located within the second image, just to the left of the sketch embodying Skull Face's 'beta version'—is accompanied by a blurb of hand-written text, which reads the following: "WASP" / "アングロ," a possible acronym for the term "White Anglo-Saxon Protestant." Which seems a little strange to me, given Skull Face's own background as a man born in war-torn Hungary. But, admittedly, it is interesting to learn about how things could have been, rather than how they turned out.

Allegedly, in the same manner—while his name in both the preliminal concept art and within Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain's game files was "WASP," his unit being derived of the very same moniker—I believe his initial name was meant to be "Scar Face," at least outside of the game's North American release. Likely due to the phonetic similarities between it and "Skull Face," as per an interview between Japanese video game magazine, Famitsu and Metal Gear creator, Hideo Kojima, in 2012.

Though, the already-existing information we've been bestowed regarding Skull Face's past, the hardships he was subjected to endure, and the nature of his... 'upbringing,' as it were, should prove to be equally as intriguing. At least, if we are to follow after the release of Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain... where we are then provided a much fuller picture as to what kind of a man he truly is. To delve into his mind, so to speak.

BIOGRAPHY / PHYSIOGNOMY.

Skull Face, legal / real name unknown, is said to have been born to two lower-class bomb factory workers in a remote village in northern Transylvania, which at the time had already endured a number of power struggles; at points being caught in the crossfire of both Nazi Germany during World War II, as well as the Soviets during the Cold War.

With this information, it is but a given that Skull Face likely never experienced a day of peace throughout his entire childhood, of which was horrifically interrupted the moment the factory within which him and his family worked tirelessly—located in Almásfüzitő, a rural village in Hungary—was carpet-bombed by the Allied forces in World War II. The... 'franticism' which resulted from this attack, this commotion, resulting in Skull Face being doused in searing rapeseed oil; the resulting wounds not only exacerbated by the mobs of panicked escapees trying to outrun the worst of the attack, but by foreign hands later in his life. Presumed to have been colonizers.

This exact moment, I would identify as the primary turning point in his life, as tragic as it may be. Not to say that Skull Face's own situation, or... 'the cards he'd been dealt,' were anything but convenient, but when we take a moment to regard the nature of the injuries he endured after the bombing, one would have to be blind to not unanimously recognize how such an event would no-doubt traumatize a child beyond compare. The scars which so ornament his body weren't acquired when he was an adult, no... he was but a child when his flesh burnt and rotted away. And, worse yet, they were only added upon as his home country was... 'passed between hands,' so to speak.

In the worst fashion possible, only to be accentuated upon by colonizers, the very precipice of his childhood—and, by definition, his identity—had been stripped away from him in a near-instant.

Within the contents of Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain, we can very clearly bear witness to how he may have coped with such intensive trauma. Adorning nothing but a domino mask upon his visage—likely symbolism, more than anything else, given its absence in Metal Gear Solid V: Ground Zeroes—and claiming to have "[worn his] broken visage — [his] skull, out in the open, so that [he] may never forget what [he's] lost," in a bitter conversation with his superior. Likely not only just referring to the gnarled burn scars which adorn his visage—stripping him of any sort of visual genetic traits—but also in reference to how—with the near-constant colonization of his home country—Skull Face never truly had a home language; having been forced to learn new language after new language as his home country of Transylvania, later-Hungary was overcome with war and annexation.

I also feel that his upbringing served to be a great influence to the sort of 'character' he puts on; not only the metaphorical—and very literal—mask he wears upon himself to camouflage his deeper trauma or intent, but his manner of wardrobe and style, all the same. Of which consists of primarily dark, mute, and moody colors, underscored by the very clear Western influence that is present within his apparel, complete with a sort of 'Big Iron' of his own; a custom lever-action rifle, whose basis is said to have been upon that of the 'Mare's Leg,' a shortened rifle of the same caliber which is used by actor Steve McQueen's character, Josh Randall, from the television series, 'Wanted: Dead or Alive,' which aired between 1958 and 1961.

Even outside of references to pop culture, there are even instances in-game—or, more particularly, between the likes of Metal Gear Solid V: Ground Zeroes and Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain—where third parties or flat characters acknowledge such a unique trait in regards to both Skull Face's unsettling appearance and his style. Even going so far as to, at some point, jokingly refer to him as "just a Republican"; likely not a jab at his intrinsic, terroristic nature, but in primary regards to his style, of which also leads Skull Face—within the very same context—to being described, wittily, as a "costume party."

In lieu with this very discernible influence to his style, and—by default—his identity, I could also reasonably come to the assumption that Skull Face likely intended to come across as some sort of lone-wolf, lone-ranger-type character. If we were to combine both his wardrobe's Western facets, and the very gloomy color scheme which was chosen to compliment it, it is no surprise that Skull Face is also regularly referred or compared to the Grim Reaper, as evident by the line of dialogue, "that grim reaper lookalike," present within Metal Gear Solid V: Ground Zeroes.

Such comparisons being drawn may also be evident within Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain, as well, outside of the otherwise humored dialogue which was present within its predecessor; in reference to the words Skull Face speaks—in Hungarian—to one of the diseased bodies within the Devil's House, before proceeding to shoot the party of reference in the head, "I accept your grace, your sorrow, unto myself. Rest in peace."

However, I firmly believe that it was due to Skull Face's own unapproachability—a neat splicing of his physical, mental, and tactical traits—which segue into those around him holding otherwise varying views about him at a first glance. The intentional and tonal differences and implications between "costume party" and "that grim reaper lookalike," as it were... as though his innate lack of identity is so misleading that those around him simply do not know what to make of him. Whether or not to take him seriously, or to take the piss out of his wardrobe. Even if it was more than likely that his actions spoke louder than his words.

STRENGTHS / VICES.

A core facet, and theme, of Skull Face's being—of which I believe to be both a strength and a weakness in its own rite—would be his undying, harrowing thirst for revenge, of which regularly reiterated and built upon within dialogue between himself and several of the game's characters, but whose interactions were most prominent around the likes of Big Boss, Venom Snake, and his superior, Major David Oh, all of whom Skull Face claims not to hold any animosity towards, despite his actions—in this case—speaking louder than his words. And, if anything, allows his thirst for revenge to overcome any kind of abstinence he could have exercised, and thus, resulted in his downfall.

However, despite this very clear flaw, it would be disingenuous to claim that Skull Face was a sloppy, uncoordinated individual, both in the flesh and in the battlefield. Even in his youth, it was said that he was quite competent in the realm of reconnaissance and espionage; particularly in the Soviet Union, where it is rumored that he was responsible for the death of Eurasian dictator Joseph Stalin, in an act which Skull Face sought as a means to have "gotten revenge for his people," for the erasure and destruction of his culture and first language, the blame of which already fell partly upon the Soviets, the fact of which likely emboldened Skull Face to have made such a move from the beginning.

This instance, alongside several others, helped to sow his otherwise terrifying reputation in the battlefield, with how discreetly and effectively he performed not only assassinations, but interrogations, as well; to the extent where any and all ethical concern was thrown completely out the window, as though his own moral bankruptcy knew zero bounds—even going so far as to resort to lechery—so long as he could 'fish out' the information he sought. Whether such a trait would be a strength, or a weakness, is up for your interpretation.

Such a harrowing presence in the battlefield—in particular regards to Skull Face's skills as both an assassin and spymaster—was what initially drew together both him and his future superior, Major David Oh, who found himself quite taken by not only the man's talents, but his outward appearance, in its own rite. Already having had a tendency to recruit oddballs, as they were... it seemed almost inevitable that the Major would later promote the man to be his very own Executive Officer; at the time, beneath the jurisdiction of the British Special Air Service, only to later resign and stem off into his own covert branch of operations beneath the American CIA — FOX. And tightly woven they appeared to remain, even as the Major's priorities begun to change.

One priority of which Skull Face grew to loathe, despite claiming to have not felt such antagonism towards the subject at all: Operation Snake Eater, or rather, how much time and energy the Major appeared to have put into the project, all the while treating FOX's covert support team, later turned strike force, XOF—of whom Skull Face commanded—as a little less than cannon fodder. Or, rather, perhaps Skull Face simply needed a character—or, rather, a kind of personification or physical manifestation of all he hated about language as a means of executive communication—to inflict his inward, aggregated spite upon. And Major Zero—given his English background, and his ploy to unify the world through information control—appeared to be the perfect scapegoat, despite Skull Face's seemingly heartfelt proclamation that, "[The Major] never left [him] to die," and that, "[he] owe[d] [the Major] [his own] life," upon concluding his interrogations of Paz Ortega Andrade. Yet another one of his own weaknesses on shameless, open display: his hypocrisy, of which is a recurring trait of his that is rather difficult to ignore.

This alone, the mere presence of the Major within his life—the grievous sense of revenge which lay dormant deep beneath Skull Face's bones, only to later take out upon this once-former superior—would prove to be both his greatest strength, and his greatest weakness. A strength, because of the sole fact that Skull Face was successfully able to 'pull the wool over Zero's eyes,' taking it upon himself to finish what his superior had begun so many years ago... but a weakness, for not only falling short of his genocidal goal, but being so foolish as to believe that the Major—a spymaster of his own caliber—simply didn't think to have a backup plan, let alone such a multitude of them, given how he'd already safeguards in place in the event that his XO betrays him. Such a flawed, heavy-handed means of underestimation eventually coming back to 'take an axe to Skull Face's knees'... literally.

However, despite all of his flaws, it is well-observed from a variety of angles and perspectives that Skull Face himself was a rather eccentric, charismatic character; a likely explanation as to how he grew to hold such unwavering influence over not just the mind of his own superior, or the minds of his very own unit, but entire regions of war-torn countries, as well. His unit of whom, while terrified of him, also looked up to him as a leader for both his tact and his efficiency. Of which was accentuated and amplified tenfold throughout the events of Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain, as Skull Face appeared to pull every possible stop to put an end to Snake's life, even going so far as to deploy the world's first and only bipedal, self-operating weapon upon him. And, if Skull Face had gotten his way, the entire world would have likely crumbled before his knees, or died trying.

PHILOSOPHY / TRAGEDY.

If I were to describe Skull Face in theatrical terms—in all of his imperfections, trials and tribulations, his wrongdoings, and the actions of which he performed out of genuine good will, no matter how grotesque, bankrupt, or questionable—and if I were to place him upon a scale between both a theatric comedy, and a theatric tragedy, you likely already know which term I believe would best suit the progression of his life. Though, despite all of his quirks, it isn't as though anything within his life would have constituted as a comedy, anyways, even upon his very conception.

Every instance within his life, ever since his birth, appear to have done nothing but inconvenience him; tempting a deep, broiling hatred to stir within his soul... and thus, if I were to briefly put myself in his shoes, would it be incorrect or bankrupt to state that his anger was justified? Throughout the duration of his life, hand after hand, he'd been shown nothing but animosity by his fellow man, and thus grew accustomed to, or perhaps comfortable with the sensation of it; of both being resented and holding equal-parts resentment towards others.

Upon the violent, abrupt loss of his cultural identity, instead of simply losing his linguistic faculties, they were simply replaced. Replaced with a language of nukes, of spite and hatred towards the world and its inhabitants. A kind of sadistic nihilism, of which made no reservations for any sensations of hope. Of which he found to be nothing more than a survival skill—akin to mankind's tendency to try and predict events to better assimilate themselves with the unknowns of the world—and thus, did not regard it as important. Likely due to the fact that he himself had lost the ability to feel, and thus no longer held such anxieties about the world as his fellow man does.

Though, at the time of his inevitable death, as though to plead for one last kindness from a world which so abandoned, abused, and betrayed him, he was granted with a bullet to the skull upon request, thanks to the lingering, almost pitiful obedience of that of Emmerich. One of the few people which—even with his own unapologetic evils—Skull Face sought as nothing more than scum-of-the-Earth, impossibly lower beneath his own standards. The revelation of which brings me to believe that, even a man as lowly and morally-corrupt as Skull Face still cultivated some kind of moral superiority over others, and thus, likely viewed his own incentive as nothing more than him acting upon what he thought was right and just. Just as his superior, Zero, truthfully believed his acts of evil were simply an extension of his late friend's will, rather than a power grab. Rather than a simple, misunderstood exchange of words.

But, even after Skull Face's death, yet again he appeared as a phantom within Venom Snake's peripheral; Mother Base's own phantom pains never having eased, even after the object of their collective resentment had been purged from the Earth. And, given Skull Face's once-similar convictions towards those who dealt him a bad hand within his life, I truthfully don't believe that he would have ever been satisfied, in the end. As evident by his carefully-chosen words to Venom, as they encountered one another for the second time, "You hope hatred might someday replace the pain, but it never goes away."

With this, it is only fitting and appropriate that Skull Face's tragedy be recognized for what it is; a tale—doomed from the start—of an individual, tainted and torn from his elders from the very beginning, only to be excaberated upon as the years trudged by. Only to result in being downtrodden beneath the heavy rebar of a steel platform, begging for release... as though he hadn't spent the majority of his adulthood tormenting others, in a manner near-identical to how he himself was esteemed.

Because, as per the scholarly definition of a tragedy, Skull Face was nothing more than the architect of his own demise.

CONCLUSION.

To reiterate the material present within this analysis's thesis—of which already breached any sort of reasonable limit for thesi, and so I find I must at least attempt to reasonably cut back upon my own rambling—Skull Face as a character is most definitely not without flaw, within both an internal and external point of view. While a lot of his more unsavory, frankly cringeworthy traits may simply get passed off as nothing more than an error upon the writer's behalf, or as 'non-canonical,' I feel it is still important to acknowledge it all; the good, the bad, and the ugly.

Given his broad, but very understandable controversies and vices within the fandom, do I believe that there should have been any chance of redemption or reconsideration in regards to mending his character, or at least in regards to how his most fatal flaws were executed? Yes, I do, without a shadow of a doubt. I find that the... particular manner within which he's written in his pilot is nothing short of shameful and grotesque, and that it all could have been handled with a lot more care and delicacy. Does this mean that the remainder of his character was handled with the same largess of sloppy carelessness? Not necessarily.

Were I in the position or shoes of the primary antagonist, would such a scenario bring me to better sympathize with or understand the perspective from which Skull Face comes? Perhaps not, as I can't say for sure whether or not I'd even hold the mental capacity to do, or want to do, so. Though, I wouldn't mind forming a sort of open discussion about the topic, so long as it is metered. I would prefer it if discussions surrounding this character remained appropriate, were they to occur, but I don't at all mind any sort of speculation / theorizing. In fact, I'm a sucker for it.

But, I digress, as problematic as he is, it is difficult for me to deny how taken I am by him and the dilemma which surrounds him. Perhaps that is simply the appeal; to bear witness to a kind of 'forbidden fruit,' from an outsider perspective, and to provide my insight as to what it truly means. To be unafraid to hold these discussions, and to provide my criticisms with utmost care, as opposed to simply 'dogging upon' and dismissing a character entirely, despite their flaws and strengths alike. As though the whole of the Metal Gear series isn't already bountiful with a plenty-problematic cast of its own.

After all, what could possibly be more problematic than a franchise whose main villains—and protagonists, in part—are war criminals? Such, as it is at this moment, shall be left up for debate, as that is simply another topic for another time. And I'm all out of time.

So, I want to thank @miz-orque for this very contemplative, but very controversial ask, of which I wanted to handle with as much care as I possibly could. So I hope this shall suffice.

#text #rambles #ask #miz-orque #metal gear #mgs #metal gear solid #mgsv #metal gear solid v the phantom pain #skull face #character analysis #essay #headcanon #(??? maybe?)#reading comprehension #media literacy #fandom #puritans

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whoredmode · 11 months

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i said i would get my troy lore post out this weekend and i’m sticking to that promise for once

anyway. here’s The Bradshaw’s circa 2005-2006. i’ll talk about the general family background but a lot of this just shifts into general troy headcanons/characterization. sorry in advance i just love this guy. hope you enjoy!

Parents: Rick and Marianne Bradshaw

Children: Levi (Oldest, mid-30s), Christina (Middle, early-to-mid 30s), and Troy (Youngest, late 20s; 28 at the start of SR1)

Rick Bradshaw is originally from New York and met Marianne there, but they moved to Marianne's home state of Michigan after their first child was born. The family lived near Stilwater (less than an hour’s drive away) but not in the city itself; they’d visit on occasion and Rick himself worked in Stilwater as a cop, so he was familiar with the city. So while Rick worked in that precinct, the family lived and grew up in the quieter, more countryside parts of Michigan.

Quick background on the family: Marianne, their mother, was a teacher but became a stay-at-home mom. Levi, the oldest, works in construction. Christina, the middle child, works in marketing; both Levi and Christina are married with their own children by 2006. Now that leaves Troy, the baby of the family (and tbh I think his mom always had a soft spot for him because of it haha).

Growing up, Troy was a slacker. Even he would admit he was directionless, but nothing ever really caught his attention. Nothing ever seemed to give him any sense of true purpose, and his father felt as if he wouldn’t amount to anything. Troy was inadvertently a bit of a troublemaker as well, with his dad having to bail him out of shit on more than one occasion. Sick of his lack of direction, Troy’s father forced him to join the police academy to give him some structure and discipline. So from the start, Troy held his sudden new career at arm’s length. He had no passion for it, and despite Troy doing well on his exams and passing, the whole thing always felt a little off to him. Regardless, he was assigned first to the local department in his hometown, but soon enough (perhaps on his father’s command) he was transferred to Stilwater. Troy’s father retired around this point, and Troy himself moved to Stilwater—he lived on Mission Beach, to be specific.

So Troy was mostly doing desk work or the occasional patrol/traffic work for awhile. However, with the growing concern of gang activity in the mid-2000s, Troy was kinda the perfect person for going undercover. He was the youngest officer there, and Chief Monroe saw him as somewhat expendable. I think Monroe and Troy’s dad had known each other for a long time and had a less-than-amicable relationship, so Monroe never really respected Troy. But Troy never respected Monroe either; not because of Monroe’s feelings towards his dad (he couldn’t care less about that) but because Troy had seen firsthand just how awful and underhanded Monroe was. So Troy was sent undercover sometime around 2005-2006.

Julius was well aware that Troy was undercover, and Troy was aware Julius knew—with that in mind, Julius made Troy his second-in-command.

You know how the first game plays out. While I have adjustments to the timeline of certain events, you know how the basic game events play out and how the first story ends. You also know Troy had been keeping a journal full of notes. I really suggest you go read my timeline post if you haven't before because I don’t feel like repeating myself on here. Regardless, Anteros is caught in the explosion on the yacht, Troy happened to be nearby and witnesses it. He pulls Anteros out of the water and calls an ambulance, saving his life. Mostly. He’s comatose.

But that moment was the biggest turning point of Troy’s life. Throughout his time in the Saints, Troy began to really care for those around him. So many of them became his friends, especially Anteros. And for the first time he can recall, Troy suddenly felt like he had a purpose. He was feeling something real. And he wanted to protect that. But with the way things ended up, with the information that kept being revealed, Troy made the decision that the best way he could help the Saints was if he continued to work from the other side. So he does that, despite how much he hates it. In some ways, he sees it as a form of deserved punishment; he’d betrayed his friends, so to him it seems only fair he should be stuck there, unhappy.

This is where we’ll discuss some slighter darker aspects of Troy, so be warned. Troy’s feelings of a lack of greater purpose manifested in him behaving in ways that are decidedly dangerous. He started drinking and smoking in his teens, and by his adult years he was a chainsmoker, as well as occasionally using other drugs like painkillers or whatever else he could get his hands on. He adopted this attitude of not really caring if he lived or died, and this both got better and worse after the events of SR1. On one hand, he wanted to protect Anteros and the Saints, and that alone gave him more resolve. On the other hand, it was not looking good for Anteros and the Saints themselves had dissolved, so…yeah, what did he have to live for? So he was in this sort of living purgatory in those five years between SR1 and SR2. When Johnny tried and failed to kill him, he always kinda wished he’d succeeded.

But then he gets the call five years later that Anteros woke up and promptly escaped. And suddenly he feels like he has something to work towards. He works so, so hard to make things up to Anteros throughout all of SR2. Everything he does, he does for him. And obviously this develops into a relationship a little later.

I feel like I’ve talked about this guy ad nauseam. I could go on talking about his place in my SRTT and SRIV rewrites, but I may just save more in-depth discussions of those for later. Essentially he does begin to heal though, as well as repair more relationships with people like Johnny. Also if you’re somehow unaware, he officially rejoins the Saints in SRTT. Quits the SPD and it’s like the best day of his life. He’s much more reenergized by SRTT and SRIV. He’s glad to be alive. He may have thought he’d been the one saving Anteros’ life on that street corner, but little did he know that it would end up being the other way around.

———

also to be clear (i’ve talked about this before) i realize the story that V was trying to tell with troy (the conflicted cop etc etc) and while i think the idea he cared about his job is still an interesting story in its own right, it’s also one that’s been told a million times before and i much prefer to read him as someone who kept everything at a distance. until he met the saints ofc. i don’t think troy ever, ever wants to hurt anyone innocent. and that’s the thing: the cops are not innocent and he never saw them that way. i wrote more talking about this specifically so go check that out as well, if you’re curious. and again, this is all just my headcanons so you can interpret him however you want :]

#my art tag #saints row #troy bradshaw

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skellagirl · 4 months

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I am, as usual, late lol, but Y'KNOW. This is gonna be a long, rambly post lol, sorry, I have a lot of thoughts.

2023 was a weird year for me, artwise. When it began I was still deep in my Art Block From Hell, which had begun in mid-2021 and lasted the entirety of 2022.

Being in the thick of such a ridiculously suffocating art block, for TWO AND A HALF YEARS, is like... I can't describe how fucking life-draining it is. It felt like something was fundamentally wrong with me -- like a part of me, which used to be as effortless as breathing or blinking my eyes, had ceased to function altogether. It wasn't just a regular art block, it was a complete identity crisis. I could no longer trust the instincts I'd honed over twenty-plus years, could no longer trust my sense of observation or my ability to recreate what I saw. I felt BROKEN, and every single time I picked up my tablet pen it was like I was scraping my insides with a spoon, trying to pick up whatever tiny dregs of dried-up, crusty shit I could manage to puke up onto my canvas. It was fucking painful and humiliating and completely demoralizing.

I'm not really sure what finally got me to do so, but sometime in summer (my memory is shit lol) I downloaded Game Maker, found a video tutorial on youtube, and just... gave myself over to it. I made myself learn how to use Aseprite, and working with pixels, making teeny-tiny little sprites, forced me to work in ways I usually don't. It was a lot harder for me to find the flaws in my art when my art was thirty-five pixels tall and the anatomy was stylized to communicate clear information rather than be a recreation or approximation of reality. I think I really do credit that time working on game dev as the thing that finally cracked loose all the gunk that was keeping me stuck -- I could not perpetuate the cycle of toxicity I'd fallen into because I could barely even conceptualize what 'good' or 'bad' pixel art even looked like lol. I just knew that I was making art, and for the first time in two years, it didn't feel like I was having to desperately beg the emaciated husks of my sense of self-worth and confidence to cooperate while doing so.

(I actually sort of abandoned my foray into game dev around August/September lol, as my adhd-brain, flitting around like a little hummingbird to every dopamine-rich-flower, is wont to do 🥲 But I wanna get back into it at some point!)

From there I had a rush of inspiration for an original project I've been mulling around in my head for years, and I wrote thousands of words in my worldbuilding document, made a map, developed the shell of a possible actual STORY. I returned to sketching. Conventional sketching. It was, at first, largely still comprised of that same demotivating struggle against myself, but I was so deep in the throes of inspiration (after several years of this project laying dormant in my google drive) that I NEEDED to sketch. So I kept going. And after a while, it got....... easier. And I started hating everything I made a little less. I painted, properly, for the first time in years. I stayed up late into the night, even if it meant I would be tired at work the next day, because drawing felt so damn GOOD again and I had missed that feeling so much. All I wanted to do was draw. For the first time in two and a half years, I could finally see the light at the end of the fucking tunnel.

I still don't think I'm quite out of the woods yet. My style is changing, as all artists' styles do over time, and that comes with stumbling adjustments. My confidence is still small and shaky and recovering; I still catch myself second-guessing what I've drawn, and even looking at some of the things here on my grid makes me cringe a little bit for one reason or another.

But compared to both 2021 and 2022, the volume of art, and in particular the volume of art I don't actively despise, is WAY higher, and I'm really really hopeful that that means I'm finding my footing again.

So! Here's to 2024, and to continuing to move towards the light at the end of the tunnel 🙏🌟 I'm gonna try.

#art vs artist #art vs artist 2023 #my art #skella's ugly mug #I actually did an art vs artist in 2021 but I only ever posted it on facebook lol I wasn't confident enough to post it anywhere else #purple and orange/yellow continues to be my favorite color pallet apparently #sorry not sorry for being sappy on my own blog <3333 #long post

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sequinsmile-x · 10 months

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One Shots (T-Z)

A list of standalone one shots that do not form part of a series. Please check here for series you might be looking for

Take My Hand, Take My Whole Life Too - Emily and Aaron's love story, and how they never let go of each other's hand. (Young Hotchniss)

Tailspin - They only just got married and she might lose him. AKA the one where Aaron and Emily are in a car accident on the way home from eloping.

Tapestry - It was just a picture, but she wanted it to be perfect.

Tardy - They were running late.

Tethered - Emily and Aaron bring their baby girl home for the first time.

Timeless - Emily and Aaron go to the beach. Based on the photos Thomas Gibson posted of him with a surfboard, sending the fandom feral. (Smut)

The Aftermath - She loved her life, she really did, but there were times when the 'what-ifs' were heavier than usual.

The Beholder - She knew she was being unreasonable, but she couldn’t help it. AKA the one where Emily is very pregnant, and feeling very insecure.

The City's Asleep - A sleepless night changes everything between Emily and Aaron.

The Cycle - Aaron finds out that Emily never learnt how to ride a bike, and decides to do something about it.

The Darkest Night - Emily has Lasik surgery to correct her vision, Aaron looks after her.

The Darnedest Thing - No one knows Emily and Aaron are together yet, not even Jack. Until he sees them kissing each other goodbye the evening before pasta night.

The Final Say - Emily wants to put the Christmas tree up in mid-November. Aaron does not. It's a good thing Emily is an expert at getting her husband to see her point of view. (Smut)

The Go-Between - Aaron and Emily both get hurt. Dave is tasked with looking after them at the hospital.

The Greatest - Aaron loves Emily more than he ever thought was possible, but he knows she could do better, and he dreads the day she'll figure that out too.

The Greatest Gift - It's Emily's birthday, and she spends it with the Hotchners.

The Hook of Your Splendour - The moment they arrived at the New York field office she felt the initial pull in her belly. Something she’d refused to call jealousy at first, even though she knew that's what it was from the start.

The Light in the Morning - Somewhere along the way, they became each other's safe space.

The Monster Mash - Halloween is a big deal in Emily and Aaron's house, especially because it also happens to be their daughter's birthday.

The Name of the Game - Emily and Aaron are having twins, a fact they decide not to share when they tell the team she is pregnant.

The Past Coming Back With the Light in the Morning - It was strange to think he’d spent his life chasing the violence he’d desperately tried to escape as a kid.

The Penthouse of Your Heart - All they wanted was a weekend away just the two of them, but as always life wasn't quite as simple as that.

The One You Reached For - She’d never believed in fate, had never allowed herself to, but in the soft moments at the end of a long day when she sat with Aaron in his living room, a glass of wine in hand as Jack slept just down the hall, she let herself wonder if maybe everything she had endured had led her to him.

The Ties that Bind - She couldn't lose him like this.

The Waiting Game - Their jobs were difficult and they faced death more often than most people, but this was the first time she could have genuinely lost him since they got together and she hates it. For a moment, a very brief moment, she hates him for it too.

The Wreckage of You - The comments from their friends that she knows were intended as playful had chipped away at her biggest fear of all, the pieces of it now laying at her feet. He was too good for her, and it would only be a matter of time before he figured it out too.

Threads of Gold - She puts the ring back onto its chain, and slips it over her head before tucking it back into her shirt. She presses the cool metal against her skin and closes her eyes, blowing out a shaky breath from lungs that felt stuffed with grief. She wasn’t Emily Prentiss here. Emily Prentiss was dead.

Time Went on For Everybody Else - Despite how much he would miss the place he learnt how to be part of a family again, he found himself kneeling on the ground where his blood had once marked the carpet, his eyes fixed on the spot where he had almost lost his life.

To End Up With You - Emily has a job interview and is nervous. Aaron helps her through it.

Took a Tour of the Stars - It happens quickly. A glint of the knife, a familiar grunting sound from her husband, and the flash of red against his shirt that spreads quickly. She barely has time to react before the men are gone with their belongings and Aaron slumps against the wall, his hand pressing into his lower abdomen as his blood spills out onto the ground.

Tranquillity - He was by the book, she knew that, that had already bent the rules a little for her anyway, letting her chase a lead over Matthew’s death that he was sure was nothing at first. He had to draw the line somewhere, even for her, even though he’d tear his heart out of his chest if she asked him to.

Trust - In which Aaron and Emily are trying to buy a house, and he says some things he shouldn't when she offers to use her trust fund.

Vulnerability - They’d fallen pregnant quicker than they’d anticipated, and despite the smell of Aaron’s cologne and coffee turning her stomach, everything seemed ok. Then they found out Emily was pregnant with twins.

Warpath - Emily decides to surprise her boyfriend, but a misunderstanding might ruin things forever. A Young Hotchniss one shot.

Warrior - She was going to make sure he was ok. Then she was going to kill him.

We're Simply Meant to Be - Emily looks after Jack, and he asks her a question she isn't expecting.

Wildflowers - He’d brought her wildflowers. A bouquet made up of poppies, daises, lavender and primrose, but they weren’t real. They were made of Lego. Emily and Aaron go on their first date

Wise - Aaron and Emily's 4-year-old daughter wants to go as the infamous demon clown from It for Halloween, but a bout of chicken pox ruins her plans.

What's in a Name - When she comes back home, everything around her fragile and breakable, the life that had once been her solid foundation shaking beneath her feet, she barely thinks about it. Right up until she starts to date Aaron, and he calls her ‘love’ too.

Wrapped Up in Love - Three Christmases in the life of the Hotchner family.

Yield - She knows he’s wavering, something she’d counted on as she watched Penelope force a third glass of punch into his hands only twenty minutes ago. He was always desperate for her, but anytime he was drinking his ability to hide it was diminished. AKA the one where Emily and Aaron hook up at Quantico's annual 4th July party, despite the fact no one knows they are together.

You Could Stay - He showed her that he loved her every day, and she thought that would be enough for her. But when it came down to it, it wasn’t. She wanted to hear it, to have the confirmation she hadn’t known she’d needed until she didn’t get it. Emily tells Aaron that she loves him, but he doesn't say it back.

You Drew Stars Around My Scars - Emily hadn't thought about the scar on her chest in a long time, but after an impromptu conversation with Derek, it is all she can think about.

You're Gonna Go Far - It wasn't any easier even though they'd been through this once before with Jack. AKA - the one where Aaron and Emily's eldest daughter goes to college.

#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #doing some house keeping

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