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#i just can't get destructive thoughts to go away and i don't want to do something stupid i really really don't
soireegurl · 8 hours
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[08:33]
You were once caught in the whirlwind romance with Jake, a charming young man with promises of forever. But as time passed, cracks began to appear, and Jake's love turned into a suffocating obsession with you.
"You can't leave me, Y/n..." Jake pleaded, his voice laced with desperation. "We're meant to be together."
"I can't do this anymore, Jake," you replied, tears streaming down your face. "You're suffocating me."
You wanted to explore the world, chase your dreams, but Jake couldn't bear the thought of losing you. His love twisted into something dark and sinister, becoming possessive and jealous at the slightest hint of another man in your life.
Just recently, you got into the company that you've always wanted to get in... But your profession requires you to interact with many people... And which means, males too...
But Jake can't seem to understand...
Everyday, both of you will quarrel over the same thing over and over again...
"I'll change, I promise," Jake begged, his eyes filled with anguish. "Just give me one more chance."
You tried to distance yourself, to break free from Jake's suffocating grip, but he wouldn't let go. He monitored your every move, lurked in the shadows, and left disturbing messages professing his undying love.
"No, Jake, you said this everytime we quarrel and you always do it again..." you whispered, your heart breaking with each word. "It's over, We are over Jake..."
You ran out of the house without looking back... And surprisingly Jake didn't come after you. You thought maybe he realised that you guys were not meant to be... But how wrong you are...
No matter how hard you tried to escape, Jake's obsession only grew stronger. He sabotaged your relationships, spread lies, and drove away anyone who dared come close to you.
Terrified, you sought help, changed your routine, and even considered getting a restraining order. But Jake was relentless, his obsession consuming him completely.
In a desperate bid to escape, you left the city, hoping to start anew far away from Jake's clutches. But even in your newfound sanctuary, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease, the fear that Jake would somehow find you again.
"I'll never stop loving you, Y/n," Jake's voice echoed in your mind, haunting you wherever you went.
For Jake, the obsession never faded. He searched tirelessly for you, leaving chaos and destruction in his wake. His love had turned into something monstrous, consuming everything in its path.
As you rebuilt your life, you couldn't help but wonder if Jake would ever let go, if you would ever truly be free from his twisted affections. And as you looked back at the city you once called home, tears blurred your vision, knowing that the shadows held the whispers of a love gone terribly wrong, a darkness that threatened to engulf you once more.
Then one fateful night, as you walked alone through the dimly lit streets, a hand clamped over your mouth, dragging you into the darkness. You struggled, screamed, but it was futile. Jake had found you, his obsession reaching its terrifying climax as he kidnapped you, determined to never let you go. And in that moment, as the world faded into darkness, you realized that your nightmare was far from over.
"Shh... It's okay Y/n... You are safe with me..."
That was the last thing you heard as you fell into complete darkness...
Damn Yandere ex Jake! I don't know if this is good but hope y'all like it!!
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thefloralmenace · 3 months
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Somewhat on the vibe of "your glorious revolution doesn't exist," I want to talk to you all, especially the young folks, about effective anarchism.
Spoiler alert, it's not blowing stuff up or arson.
I am considered the most anarchical person of all among my friends. Granted, most of my experience has been wreaking anarchy against the systems present in my high school and college, but the principles are the same.
Practical anarchy is not the big, flashy, romanticizable thing people online make it out to be. It's more about the long haul - digging in your teeth and just being a menace that no one can really get rid of.
Everyone's "Why vote when you can firebomb a Walmart" posts (that they don't follow through on) are just not pratical because this is a surveillance society. With CCTV and DNA testing and cell phone cameras and GPS tracking, if you do something big like that, you are GOING to be caught; then that is the end of your anarchical career. And, keep in mind that you might get caught while you're setting up this big event - it's a crime to blow up a Walmart and also a crime to conspire to blow up a Walmart, so your career in anarchy might end before it begins, and then you are permanently out of the game. No matter what causes you were working for that inspired you to do something big and violent that you thought would get someone's attention, you now can't help at all ever again in your entire life. What you did will be a passing headline on the news, and then everything will go back to exactly what it was because big, acute actions can't compare in effectiveness to small, constant actions (just being a thorn in the side of the system, poking and poking, but unable to be dislodged).
This is just the practical side of it too: think about the risk of hurting innocents if you really advocate for doing things like that. You think blowing up a Walmart would really make a dent in that big of a corporation? But if you intentionally or unintentionally kill a bunch of Walmart shoppers, that's going to devastate families that had nothing to do with whatever your cause is.
So all that big talk about violence and destruction: not practical, not effective, not ethical.
The only way I've started to change oppressive systems around me is by justing chipping away from within the confines of the rules of these systems, and/or only stepping just outside them (never breaking rules in a big way that could have allowed said system to easily and "justifiably" get rid of me).
So if you're going to be an anarchist, you need to consider:
Having the longest career in anarchism possible (i.e. being careful enough and judicious with your actions so that you don't get expelled from the system you wish to fight).
And then for any given anarchical plan:
2. Potential consequences.
3. Insurance.
I'll give you an example. I had serious beef with the culture of my college's science department. Students were constantly overworked, and if they expressed their misery outloud or reached out to any of their professors about their struggles, they got apathetic responses if not direct insults to their abilities or dedication. I had too many similar disparaging interactions with professors in one week, and I realized a lot of the responses I was getting were just the result of professors not really knowing how they sounded when they said certain things to students (ex: If someone says they're struggling with a course, don't IMMEDIATELY respond with "change your major," - you can give that as an option, but if you make it your first suggestion, the implication to the student is that if they're having any trouble with the course, they're not good enough for the program).
So I wrote up a flier of examples of good and bad ways to respond to students having anxiety with explanations and distributed it to every professor in the department. Everyone who knew about this perceived it as a great personal risk - that I would get in some kind of unspecified trouble or piss off an important professor, so before embarking on this project, I considered...
Potential consequences: I couldn't really think of any specific college or department rules I could be violating. People postered and handed out fliers in the department all the time. What I was doing fell pretty clearly under freedom of speech. I just shoved the fliers under professors' doors, so I didn't trespass in anyone's office. Worst I could think is that individual professors would get mad at me and make my life difficult, or I'd simply be told to stop fliering in the department.
Insurance: Just in case there were any consequences that I didn't think of and to insure me against the ones I had thought of, I didn't put my name on the flier. It was typed in Word, something everyone had access to. I came in to do it after professors had all left for the day but before I needed to use my ID to get into the building (no electronic record of me being there). I took the elevator to the first floor offices because the stairs require ID swipe after 5pm, but the elevators do not. I found out the building had no cameras by asking about it on the grounds that something of mine had been stolen a few weeks prior. I shoved the flier under the doors of dark offices and left it outside offices with lights on (so that no one would come out and spot me). And here's one of the most important pieces of insurance: I put up a few of the fliers on public bulletin boards in the building. This was important so that if I slipped up and said something that conveyed that I had knowledge of the content of the flier, I would have an excuse for that, i.e., I read it on the bulletin board before class this morning.
And then I did the thing. And surprisingly, it was incredibly well-received by professors. A few who knew that the flier must have been mine (because of previous, similar anarchical actions rumored to be associated with me) told me that everyone was RELIEVED that they finally had an instruction manual from the student perspective on what the hell they're supposed to say when one of their students is panicking. It sparked a real change in the vibe of the department and student experience. Had it instead pissed people off, I would have simply said I could not claim authorship of the flier but had read it and thought it contained good ideas then gone on creating more anarchy while angry people grasped at the zero straws I had left them to pin the action on me.
That's an example of a single action I took that was part of a much longer (~3 years) campaign of mine to change the culture of my department. Everytime I did something in that campaign, I made that consequences vs. insurance calculation to make sure they couldn't expell me from the program, the department, or the school before I succeeded.
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marvelandponder · 1 year
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one amazing thing about the Owl House finale is that it finally contextualized for me one of the central metaphors of the show. Spoilers for the series finale Watching and Dreaming ahead.
we good? no one spoiling themselves? beauty
for a long time now, I thought we had a pretty standard coming-of-age metaphor dichotomized by the show's central antagonists. you've got your protestant witch hunter Belos who introduces a maturity and ugliness to Luz's narrative; he clearly represents a particular, restricting form of adulthood, and just when Belos becomes his most threatening, boom, enter the Collector, Luz's dangerously naïve inner child to ruin all her development on the Boiling Isles. Seems simple enough
what I didn't anticipate was just how specific and personal their roles in the story actually are to Luz once you have the full context from the series finale
look again
this story - this whole series - is about the grief that a neurodivergent kid experienced at a young age, introducing the cruelty of loss and adulthood before she was ready to handle it. and, how to reclaim a more whole understanding of herself as she rebuilds her life with people who get her
Belos is designed to infect the titan carcass like a disease. a cancer. it's super goddamn significant that the titan is King's dad (King, who became Luz's younger brother). they set up Belos not just to be another fascist kids' cartoon villain (although yeah, he do be doing some of that), but to specifically become a force that oppressed the weirdness from the one place that understood Luz. the Iles. the dad. And by the end of the story, Belos's goopy body-horror isn't just for show, he's just like the cancer or other terminal disease that took Luz's dad from her
he's the thing Luz hasn't processed in season 1 that comes in at the end like a warning. he's the threat that forces Luz to grapple with her own humanity, feeling somehow (often completely unjustifiably) harmful to those around her, through the grief she doesn't want to be a burden or the weirdness (neurodivergence) others don't understand. he's the force that says there is something wrong with you, Luz, give in to your grief, this is what you can't face. this is the lie you've been telling to those closest to you: that you're okay
then you have the Collector. (notable that he's a collector, and we see Luz's mom and dad had quite the collection of nerdy memorabilia)
the Collector is the child too young to understand death. Too young to understand consequences, or why their playmates don't feel like playing anymore with someone so weird and maybe a bit too involved in their own world. The Collector is Luz's inner child, that kid we see right before the "worst week ever" — the one who didn't and couldn't understand what was about to happen even as it was going down. unapologetically weird, a bit destructive and short-sighted, but wholly colourful, wholly themselves. that's why the Collector wants to live out Luz's adventures, but without all the depth. just the fun escapist fantasy
but don't think I forgot the internal conflict! :D
because Camila's role also gets an added depth too: Camila was framed at the outset of the series as someone who loved Luz, but wanted her to fit inside a box that she just didn't. later, Luz completely misconstrued her mom's breakdown when she learned that Luz chose to run away. as many people have pointed out by now, Luz misremembers the actual dialogue that Camila says: Camila only wanted her daughter safe, not to lose her. Luz meanwhile felt like she had to choose to destroy this part of herself, or give up her connection with her mom altogether
but we know now Camila actually deeply relates to Luz. she may not understand Luz's fascination with horrific things like on the boiling isles (very akin to a kid getting more grim hobbies in the wake of a death, like Luz's taxidermy), but she loves Luz for who she is. all of her. she never wanted Luz to change
Luz was the one framing the central conflict of the show as go back to her mom or stay in the boiling isles. Luz was the one who felt like she had to punish herself by rejecting the one place where she felt like herself. once Camila realizes what's been going on, and how deeply connected it is to the loss of Luz's dad, she knows Luz is trying to make a "very bad choice for herself." And she won't let that happen (what a great mom!!)
But Luz does have one real choice ahead of her
because of the inner child who once again has to confront death (this time, Luz's own), Luz is able to connect with a father figure, the titan, the one place she feels understood. in the form of a power-up that makes her into a fantasy witch straight out of the Good Witch Azura, the one place she got joy after that huge loss, the titan gives her the strength to face the cancer—a force draining everything good in her life from her and making her question she deserves it in the first place—but only if she can choose herself
and that means choosing happiness, choosing found family, choosing love and friendship and self-discovery in the place she feels most at home! every bond she's forged, everything she's worked for, it all comes down to choosing to face grief and move on in life with weirdos who stick together.
hoot hoot, that's some good metaphor
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angelltheninth · 5 months
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I am thinking about morax after archon war using reader as a toy and reader tries to escape him and gets caught I wonder what shall reader receive ෆ⁠╹⁠ ⁠.̮⁠ ⁠╹⁠ෆ
Evil Zhongli? He'd be hot ngl.
Pairing: Zhongli x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, non-con/dub-con, choking, rough sex, tail use, possessiveness, degradation, body betrayal, forced breeding, creampie, Reader getting pinned down, evil!Zhongi, possessive!Zhongli
Word count: 1k
A/N: This was supposed to be in the form of headcanons but it got out of hand.
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It didn't matter where you were running to, how far, how long, all it mattered was to get away from the great Morax. Well you thought he was great once, you kissed that reality goodbye a long time ago. In reality he turned out to be an incredibly selfish man, taking what he wanted when he wanted it, his contract designed to bind you to him for eternity.
You didn't know that, how could you have known that? Because when a god comes along after so much destruction you don't ask many questions. Not when you're human.
"And where do you think you're going?" His raspy voice seemed to echo through the halls, everywhere, all around you. You were scared, dizzy, legs shaking from hours before. Surely he could smell that fear on you. It wasn't too late, you could still get away-
A dragon tail coiled itself around your neck, squeezing as you pulled at it, lifting you off the ground and bringing you face to face with the hooded figure, his body floating above the ground. He brought you closer to him, inches away from his face before he took the hood off to look at you directly.
He was truly beautiful. Golden eyes, his brown hair always kept neat, clean, tied in his ponytail, his arms bare, showing the marks sneaking down them. On the surface he was perfect, but underneath he was a monster.
"I need to... I can't do this anymore. Please, let me rest, just one night." You pleaded with him, your god, to have mercy on you.
"You ran from me and now you beg for me to let you go. We had an agreement, human." His warm fingers snaked up your face, so deceptive in their gentleness because you knew the pain they could bring, and the pleasure. "I should remind you of your role here." Your widened in fear and then in pain as your body was pushed to the ground, back facing him. Zhongli was on you on all fours, bracketing your whole body with his frame.
You couldn't even stand up the whole way without pushing your body into his, and feeling how excited he was to have you in this position. His tail once again wrapped around you, your ankle this time, ensuring that you won't get away from him. One of pushed your dress up, it was much nice than anything you owned prior. He always made sure his possessions were the finest.
The other hand traveled up your neck and grabbed your chin, his breath hot in your ear, "I do not understand. Haven't I given it all to you? Shelter, food, the finest clothes, security, protection, pleasure, more than a human woman like you could dream of." Gentle fingers rolled over your clit, making you let out an involuntary moan that was music to his ears, "And all I ask in return is that you be mine." The relief on your clit was brief, only long enough for him to push his pants down and reveal his hard cock. "You're mine. My human. My woman. Made for me, made for my cock, made for my seed."
You hated how easily his cock slid inside of you, how your body responded to his thrusts when moments before you were running in fear of him. It wasn't fair. "Stop. Please. It's too much. If you keep fucking me every night I'll..." You were too scared to scream for him, or maybe unable to because it hurt just to speak, your throat so sore from moaning, from being fucked raw by his cock every morning.
"You will not break on me, human. I'll make sure of that." Zhongli commanded and your body wanted to obey so badly. Your cunt squeezed around him despite the pain, "There you go. Good girl, I know you can take me every time. There's no more force necessary is there, your body knows it belongs to me, your pretty little holes know what they're good for."
"Cock." You answered when there was no question.
"Exactly darling. You're made for my cock, always have been, always shall be." With each hard thrust you found yourself moaning louder, your own voice foreign to your ears. He broke you so easily now, made you roll your hips against his, your ass slapping into him. You couldn't control yourself, only Zhongli could. "I cannot wait for your stomach to grow. I've never made children before, you'll be the first one I sire them with. Aren't you a lucky one?"
Children. Nine months? Shorter? Longer? How many did he want? Could you even handle birthing them for him? All those questions didn't seem to matter in the face of your oncoming orgasm.
Zhongli's breathing got faster, his thrusts sloppy, all the wanted was for his cock to be inside your pussy, it didn't matter how, he just needed to rut into you, fuck his cum into your womb, "I will always love you. I will never let you go darling, never." You came around his cock as you felt the ropes of cum rush into your cunt, his hand tight on your chin, the other palming at your clit, you called to god and he heard you, he was right behind you, fucking you. "I wonder how many times I need to claim that womb of yours with my seed before I see the results?"
He pulled out, finally letting your body hit the ground and let you turn on your back, fighting to catch your breath. You could feel tears streaming down your face, but you were unsure why. Fear? Excitement? Too much stimulation? All of the above. Whimpers were the only sounds you could make. Between your legs was a mess of your cum and his combined, spilling out, so much of it.
"Come darling, we seem to have more work to do." His tail pulled you up by your wrist while his arm wrapped around your hip, cradling you close to his body. You felt him kiss your forehead, happy that you were back where you belonged. By his side.
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nrdmssgs · 9 months
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Dom König scenario
Masterlist
Ok, we had him soft and obedient, how about his other side? Because you don't call someone the King, if they are just tender little angels. Smut under cut.
You were sure, it was you, who actually initiated this all: after months of silent yearning, back and forth dynamics, pinning and practically burning alive with desire you ended up in his hands, your lips pressed against his in desperate attempt to put an end to this slow torture in any possible way: be it with or without him.
He doesn't answer on your kiss, doesn't flinch or frown. Just sits there with a half smile and looks down on you, not breaking the eye contact for a single moment.
Little did you know, you were never in charge. Every interaction, every smallest chat, every stolen smile, lingering gaze - it was all orchestrated.
König loved the good old hunt, thrived on the outrageous hopelessness with which his prey, without realizing it, rushed towards him. Tinkered little traps, mislead, confused, threaded illusions of one-sided hunger to drive you to absolute desperation for him.
He may have always been the quiet one, but one needs not many words, when he can get anything with the slightest brush of fingers, or an 'occasional' eye contact (and of course he squinted and tilted his head slightly to one side, not because he knew what it does to you).
König gradually let you closer and closer. Tricked you into believing that you're the one who's so fearless to fall for him: a living weapon of mass destruction. An absolute menace, turning friendly and smiling around you.
Little did you know, poor thing, little did you know... Until the trap was shut.
His hands barely touch your waist as if he was protecting you from falling off his lap, he doesn't try to pull you closer. You understand, that it is the end of you: he didn't react to your touch, kept silent, his heart was still and calm.
Blush washes over your face. "I'm sorry, König. Oh fuck, this is embarrassing. I didn't mean to... No, I actually meant, but not that. Sorry, I better shut up and leave you be. I promise, this won't happen ever again."
Your babbling amuses him. No, he doesn't want to harm your feelings or bully you, he knows exactly, what is going to happen very soon, but he can't help but indulge in those last moments of your alleged freedom.
It's when you try to pull away, you feel his hands clasp around your waist. "Who said, I don't want this to happen again?" His voice is quiet, lower than usual. Like honey from the Tyrolean forests, it covers your mind with a thick golden veil of lust.
You can't think straight, can't believe your own ears, and yet you dare not resist when he pulls you closer, letting you touch his lips again. Another lingering kiss.
But this time his smile widens. "Nochmal*," he purrs and lets out a low chuckle, when he sees your puzzled expression.
Don't worry, he will make sure you have enough opportunities to learn every single phrase, he might want you to understand and use on your own. He won't translate anything to you though - showing is always better than telling!
So he lets you kiss him once more. "Nochmal". And again. "Nochmal". And again... Till his tongue lazily rolls past your lips.
He tastes you like the most precious drink. Sip after sip, until you lay beneath him, trembling of need.
"My little sunshine, bearing so much love for me... Was it hard to dream of my touch every other night? Did it hurt, when you clenched around your thin, fragile fingers, fantasizing, how good can I make you feel in comparison?" You can't tell if he is genuinely concerned or just loves to fluster you that much.
And don't you even think to look away for a moment, to take a break and collect your thoughts - he'll grab your face while kissing you only to make his point: eyes on him until he commands otherwise.
Yes, commands come too pretty quickly in your life. But how can he possibly resist, when you're so eager to do anything, he lets you doing?
"You may moan into my mouth, meine Süße*, I don't mind some music*" While his fingers are knuckle deep in you. And moan do you, his sweet obedient angel.
He doesn't rush anything and more than happy to please you with his fingers and tongue first couple of times. This may come off as pretty humble, but he in fact just waits, till you are desperate enough to beg him to fuck you properly.
Poor thing too desperate, flustered and overwhelmed... Of course, he would fuck you absolutely incoherent if you ask nicely. He has such a soft spot for your wet eyes, he'd make you go limp, your eyes rolling back, little whimpers leaving your lips with every thrust, as he holds your hips tightly picking up the pace. Fucking your fears and anxieties away. Making you feel high.
Lots of reassurance, praise and confessions. Constantly. Even in the most extreme moments. "Who are you, little sunshine?" "Your fucktoy." "...and?" "Your treasure..." "Gu-u-u-utes Mädchen*... and?" "Love of your life?" "Liebe meines Lebens*."
*Nochmal - once again *meine Süße - my sweet one *Gu-u-u-utes Mädchen - go-o-o-od girl *Liebe meines Lebens - love of my life
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yawnderu · 6 months
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Together — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader
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"In another life, I'd have the privilege of meeting you under different circumstances." His words were comforting as the cold started taking over your bodies, his gloved hand holding yours.
"In every single life, I'll be looking for you, Simon." His name was never sweeter than when it came out of your mouth. Simon was cursed, Simon lived a never-endind nightmare both as a civilian and as a soldier, but right now? Simon was the luckiest man alive, holding his loved one's hand as life began to slip away from them.
"I'll always look for you, love." His voice was weak, yet oddly calm for someone in his situation. They were separated from their group and badly wounded, yet as he began to accept this was their end, realization hit him. For once in his life, he felt deserving of something. All those thoughts about not even deserving to survive after his family was murdered seemed to be pushed to the back of his head. You didn't deserve this. Simon didn't deserve this, and there's no way in hell Ghost is going to give up. He's a fighter, for fuck's sake.
"Stray?" His gaze drifts down to her, taking in the way she's looking at him, the way she's looking at him like he's worth something, like he deserves the world, yet Simon doesn't want whatever the world has to offer.
"Hm?" Came your soft hum, throat sore from screaming into the comms after the mission failed and you were separated from Price and Gaz. It hurt, yet you didn't know what exactly it was. It was a stinging feeling all over that gave you shaky hands. It made you want to throw up, to claw on your skin until you could find what exactly was wrong, and to rip it out of your body once and for all. To be able to feel your body again, to be able to open your eyes without flinching at the harsh light, to be able to hear your own thoughts.
"I just want you to hold me." Ghost replied softly, groaning as he used all the strength he had left to help you up by the waist, making sure you could get on your feet before he leaned on the wall for support, soft groans and pained growls leaving his lips as he limped alongside you. "Don't let go."
Despite all the pain he's suffered, all his struggles and trauma, this moment feels different— it's like a release, a way to soothe the chaos his broken mind faces daily. He'd rather die fighting alongside you than fight alone. Within you, you're holding him together. You hold his heart, his pain and struggles, his mind, his soul.
"What has two legs and bleeds?" He asked out of nowhere, deep voice strained by his pain as he walked alongside you, holding you close. You were about to protest before you remember why he's doing that— he's trying to keep you awake, and he's trying to ease the tension and fear by joking around. Though this is commonly done by SAS soldiers, it's comical to see The Ghost doing it too, so you decide to entertain him.
"What?" You ask softly, a small grin on your face as you prepare for the shitty joke.
"Half a dog." He answers swiftly. Though you can't see his face due to the balaclava, you can see the slight shift on the mouth part of his mask, his eyes twinkling as they narrow slightly. He's clearly fighting off a grin, yet the dumb joke makes you laugh. You don't know if it's the blood loss making you delirious, or if the joke is actually that funny. Probably the blood loss.
"That was awful." You say, yet you're still giggling about the stupid joke. You both manage to make it out of the building, looking around at all the destruction caused by the enemy. No hostiles appeared to be near, luckily.
"Ghost, Stray, do you copy?" The comms break you both out of your daze as you stare at each other, immediately fumbling for the radio.
"Yes, sir." Ghost replies to Price, his deep voice now more professional as he requested medevac. For once in his life, Ghost felt human. Almost dying, yet more alive than ever. Maybe all his torture was finally worth it in the end, maybe for once in his life, he'd be able to have something nice. Something to call his. His hand reaches down to gently hold yours, squeezing it softly. I love you.
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ghstptats · 5 months
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Ineffability - Aziraphale's Choice
✨Obligatory reminder not to bother Mr. Gaiman about this sort of thing! He's addressed reasons for it on his blog, and we don't want to limit his options for writing. Our patience will be worth it in the end.✨
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I probably won't make many posts like this one, but I'm truly baffled by the amount of Aziraphale hate-posts I've seen lately.
It's made me very sad, so I decided to make a post with my thoughts on it. Maybe it will make someone else's day feel a little less sad, too.
A wide range of emotions about the end of season 2 seems pretty normal, but sometimes I find myself wondering if I watched the same show as others or read the same book.
Let me explain. Hopefully it will soften some of y'all on the subject.
I don't go hard on fan theories myself, in part because I know that Mr. Gaiman, master of 'wait and see' that he is, is most likely to pull out an answer that none of us fully expects. Like Crowley says, it wouldn't be any fun otherwise! Clues and hints let us have fun with things like theories (and decoding cryptograms) in the meantime, but It wouldn't be any fun for anyone if they just handed us all the revelations we'd otherwise get in the final season.
It's fun to find little hidden or obscure items in the show, to be curious how that might relate to what's to come, but I can't get behind this new idea I'm seeing going around that Aziraphale is clueless or willfully inconsiderate, or that Crowley is a doormat.
Look at this face and tell me he wouldn't do anything to protect Crowley, just as Crowley does everything he can to protect him:
No seriously, just look at him:
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Someone give Michael Sheen and David Tennant all of the awards, please?
Anyway, it's easy to assume someone doesn't care just because they don't put words to complex thoughts and feelings in a particular moment or in a familiar way, but Heaven and Hell in Good Omens are an apt metaphor for social structures that make people feel unsafe communicating the truth of their thoughts, feelings, and doubts. They've both lived with that danger for millennia. Since before time began, really. Just because Aziraphale hasn't screamed about his love from the bookshop roof doesn't mean he doesn't realize it exists, or that he doesn't care enough about Crowley. There are a few things that stick out to me that are worth considering, especially if The Master Metatron did give Aziraphale the kind of ultimatum that a lot of fans suspect:
Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death A choice between 'x' and 'death' isn't really a choice at all. If there's any hope for a future beyond the choice, one must choose the option that allows for survival at all. I've seen a lot of speculation that this may have been the kind of choice the angel had to make.
They Already Know It's Not Over The last episode of S1, the characters speculate on how 'both sides will use this as breathing room before the big one'. They know it's not over. They've known for years that it isn't over, that something else would always be coming. I can imagine they've both spent quite a lot of time 'waiting for the other shoe to drop,' so to speak. The Metatron showing up was the shoe. Season 2 was where the 'calm before the storm' ended.
Where Would They Go? Aziraphale tells Angel-Crowley that 'they'll be shutting all this down in about 6000 years'. Does that mean they'd have to leave the whole universe behind, if they fled? That it's not just Earth slated for destruction, but the universe? Either way, it still involves the destruction of Earth and its weird little humans, which both of them have grown to love. It's probably much easier for Beelzebub and Gabriel to run away and leave it all behind, since they didn't particularly care about Earth anyway. Crowley and Aziraphale already risked their lives to save it once before. Would seem a bit weird for them to give up on their middle-ground home now, wouldn't it? Plus, if you need another extremely sappy possibility, why wouldn't Aziraphale want to save Crowley's nebulae?
It's About Choices If the speculation about Metatron's offer proves accurate, Aziraphale didn't really have a choice in whether to go to Heaven. What's more interesting to me about this possibility is that Aziraphale STILL GIVES CROWLEY A REAL CHOICE. If this theory ends up being true and the choice is 'Heaven or Death', he doesn't tell Crowley. If that's the choice, and he told Crowley that truth, would Crowley then still have had a choice? Aziraphale obviously doesn't want to be separated, and maybe 'Come with me' is the only way to avoid that in the moment, but he's not going to force the demon to go. If he tells Crowley he's been threatened (possibly with Metatron watching) then Crowley's going to want to save him and would absolutely put himself in danger to do so. They are left with no good options, under the circumstances. If allowing him to bring Crowley to heaven really was part of the offer, even if Aziraphale knew he'd likely say no, doesn't it seem reasonable that he'd at least try to convince him so they didn't have to be separated at all? Or even, as others have proposed, to try and find a way to keep Crowley safe? Telling Crowley everything in the moment could be tantamount to forcing the issue, especially since we know Crowley likes saving him. We already know something's strange about the conversation based on the way Aziraphale is acting. If Aziraphale were threatened and had no choice but to go with Metatron, it probably seems safer for Crowley to not feel like he needs to fight all of Heaven to save him. Who the target of the threat was doesn't really change much. Even if he's faced with a heartbreaking non-choice, it's still a much better start to a plan than giving up and letting Metatron win, especially when you already knew the struggle against Heaven and Hell wasn't over. Regardless, I think this is a much more complex exchange than I've seen it made out to be. I don't buy the idea that 'Aziraphale actually is clueless and just wants to fix Crowley by making him an angel' simplicity. He planned a Jane Austin ball and was so excited to ask Crowley to dance with him. He told Crowley that was how to get people to fall in love, and then tries it himself. He gave away a book to make it happen. He painted the interior of Heaven's embassy to match a demon's eyes. I don't think Aziraphale really cares whether Crowley's a demon or not, and if Shax and her demons hadn't ruined the party, maybe he would have been the one to confess first?
Constant Danger Has Been A Thing This Whole Time Shax mentions in the car that Crowley is 'risking destruction' for Aziraphale. Aziraphale neither tells Crowley about the interaction, nor does he bring up the remark Shax made. We're shown more than once how dangerous it is for Crowley to go against Hell, and how ready and eager they are to punish (or murder) him. The show makes a point of demonstrating how Heaven tends to be a bit oblivious and Hell will take any excuse they can get to ruin Crowley's day (or decade). We have the minisode in Edinburgh where he's yanked back down to Hell and disappears for a time, how he'd be in serious trouble if he was caught saving Aziraphale ('My lot don't send rude notes.'), the way Furfur and literal Nazi zombies come after him in 1941, how Crowley felt the need to keep holy water on hand to protect himself. Even in the book, literally in the text, Mr. Gaiman tells us Aziraphale is an intelligent creature. He's never struck me as the oblivious sort. He knows that, even with the new status quo since thwarting Armageddon, Crowley's no safer than he is himself. Probably less so.
He's Known Since the Beginning Aziraphale is the one in the very beginning to warn Crowley about asking the wrong questions. 'Wanting very much to believe that the community you're stuck with is basically good' and 'willfully blind to the reality that they don't understand how to be good and are unwilling to change' aren't the same thing. He's known there was something not quite right with Heaven for a very long time, but (until now) there was nothing that either of them could really do to change that. It's entirely possible that Heaven doesn't know how badly they just screwed up by separating them and putting Aziraphale into a position to thwart some bureaucratic wiles. He's still going to want to protect Earth, after all.
Bets With Satan? Aziraphale finds out early on that Satan and God are apparently on speaking terms enough to make bets against each other about Earth, with human lives as the stakes. He knows what Heaven is allowing in the Job minisode is wrong. He wants to save them and set things right. He was willing to Fall to save Job's children. Let me say that again. Aziraphale was willing to Fall to save Job's children. He had already accepted that as his fate when he lied to Gabriel. First he finds out that God and Satan speak enough to make bets. Then we get Gabriel and Beelzebub. Beelzebub didn't become an angel again at the end, either. They went off with Gabriel just as they were. The very end of the season could be seen as a confirmation that it should be possible for them to be whatever they want to each other, just as they are, but also immediately puts a whole new apocalypse into motion to keep them apart.
It's easy for me to put myself in Aziraphale's shoes here. It's one thing to let someone 'save' or help you when you know that it both makes that person happy and isn't likely to cause any real harm (remember, they aren't humans, and things like 'danger' and 'harm' would have very different contexts for them, and Aziraphale admits that he does make his own plans anyway).
However, if it wasn't something you could escape, if you were being forced to figure out what to do spur-of-the-moment, would you tell them and knowingly put them in danger? Knowing they would try to save you, even if you told them not to? When you didn't yourself have a plan yet for keeping either of you safe?
Do you tell the person you love everything and either force their hand into either coming with you (to a place where you would both be miserable but at least you'd be together) or knowingly put them in mortal danger (because they want to save you)? Or do you take the responsibility upon your own shoulders in silence to try and solve it alone, at least until you figure out a plan?
It's a theory, of course. We don't know for sure what's really happened, but I think it's safe enough to say that Aziraphale didn't want to go back to Heaven. Even in the moment, he says 'no' until Metatron brings up Crowley. There's definitely more going on here than what we get to see.
Maybe I'm wrong, but I just don't see Aziraphale leaving Earth - or Crowley - if he felt he had any other choice. Crowley's confession and the kiss (with the Metatron possibly watching at that) would have absolutely made it more painful to follow through. Worse yet, if the Metatron is watching, Aziraphale may not have felt it was safe for him to say how he truly felt in that moment, however much he might have wanted to.
I could ramble more, but that's the gist of it.
He might be 'just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing', but he's also 'too pure of heart to be anyone's bit on the side'. Shades of very light grey.
If he's willing to Fall to save Job's children, how far do you think he'd go to save Crowley?
Pretty far, I'd wager.
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sweatervest-obsessed · 3 months
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hello !! rn i'm in the mood for some angst with a happy ending so can i request something where reader's got really bad abandonment issues? 🥹 maybe they fight over something which makes r leave ++ spence is confused bc it's so sudden n unlike them but it's all bc theyre scared he'll leave first n then it's just lots n lots of reassurance🥹🥹 thank you!!
Obsessed.
Thank you for the ask!!
So I wrote you this gorgeous 1k fic. I was so fucking proud of it. And then my computer deleted the WHOLE THING (which is why I am so behind on responding to this lmao). But. I rewrote as much of it as possible, and then changed and added a few things. So now it's better than before.
I really enjoy this version ,and I hope you do too!! so please enjoy!!!!!
WC: 1.5k
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader
TW: Anxiety, depression, intrusive thoughts, self-destructive tendencies, swearing, abandonment issues lmao
“What do you mean….”
You couldn’t look at him. How could you? I mean, leaving the love of your life because you know he could never love you back in the way you love him. He’d just leave anyways.
They all do.
You’re just trying to minimize the pain.
But why did it hurt so fucking much.
Which was why you kept your gaze anywhere but him.
“I-I-I—“ You kept your gaze on the ground. “I can’t do t-this anymore Spencer.”
“Can’t do what. Y/n you aren’t making any sense. What’s going on?”
You should you head. “It’s over. Spencer.”
"Y/n what are you..."
Looking at the ground, you began to fidget, something about his gaze on you was making he whole situation worse. Originally you were going to just send him a text and disappear for the rest of your life, but he came home early. He wasn't supposed to be home for another day.
"Spencer I-I." You flexed your hands, trying to find the right words. "It's done Spence. I can't.."
"You can't what?" His voice was a whisper. You could hear the heartbreak in his voice, but you wouldn't dare look at him. If you looked at him, you would cave and stay and he would take your heart in his hands and crush it to dust.
But why did this hurt so much?
"What is going on Y/n. Talk to me."
You couldn't understand why he was being so caring. Why was he so fucking perfect. It felt like a sick joke that the universe gave you this perfect man, and then put the sinking feeling in your gut when it got too good. Like something was going to go wrong.
And you wanted to be ahead of it. Start the grieving process now before you got too deep.
It's too late for that anyways.
His voice was soft. He didn't move towards you. He didn't want to 'spook' you---he knew you so well.
You know him so well.
Clearly, whatever tactic you had tried to employ when he came home, wasn't working, so you decided to shift. You shifted to the anger resting in your gut. The hot and heavy coals that burned through your skin and made you seeth with anger.
"Y/n, please, look at me."
You couldn't. And he fucking knew that too. You stormed past him and towards the bedroom.
Spencer was speechless, completely unsure as to what was going on.
When he arrived home you had been shoving things into your suitcase, but then when you saw him you froze up and started to try and break up with him.
"Talk to me. What is going on?"
You ignored him and started to pull clothes out of their respective drawers and onto the bed you two shared. It was hectic, and aggressive. You were slamming things, stomping--anything to hide the slight tremor in your hands, and make you seem bigger than you were.
"Y/n!"
His voice made you jump but it didn't stop you. You took the pang of guilt in your stomach and tried to twist it into the anger you so desperately tried to justify.
Spencer slowly moved over to you and tried to take you hand.
"NO." You threw the small pile of clothes you had just taken from the closet on to the ground and pulled away quickly. "No Spencer god. Wh-what don't you fucking get. We're done. It's over."
Spencer rarely heard you raise your voice, let alone yell, and definitely never at him. But you weren't even looking at him.
You fucking hated it when he profiled you. It made your skin crawl when you felt his eyes roaming over you. "Look at me."
His voice wasn't hateful. It wasn't angry. It was soft, understanding.
God why did he have to make this so fucking hard.
"Y/n..."
"Spencer. Stop."
You felt the moment he realized what was happening in your brain., You weren't the easiest to read, but you weren't exactly a closed book either.
"Look at me."
You looked up and made eye contact with him, hoping that the last part of your will would hold strong, and get you through this.
Spencer's eyes were filled with worry and disbelief. You saw the swarm of emotions as he locked eyes with you. But behind all of the disbelief and concern and love and pain was fear. You could see the pain he was so desperately trying to hide from you.
You know him so well.
Spencer could see the straight fire in yours. They were lit with a facade of anger and pain and hatred. But you could never hate Spencer. Never. And he saw right through it. He could see the panic in your eyes. The pure terror and pain.
You hated that he knew you so well.
"Y/n..."
He took one step forward, not trying to corner you, but trying to get closer to you. You took one step back.
"No." You shook your head.
"Please just talk to me."
Fuck him. Fuck him and his stupid wonderful voice and his kind eyes and his love and the way he knows exactly how you take your tea in the morning and all of your favorite books and why you love the 2005 adaptation of Pride and Prejudice so much and what animals you wanted to have one day and why you hated spiders and the ocean so much and which museums and monuments you had on your bucket list. Fuck this man for loving you so hard, and making you want to spend every single moment of your life with him.
"I-I--" and fuck him for making your voice crack. You took another small step backwards.
"Please." Another step forward.
This time, all you could do was shake your head and break eye contact. You were tensing up the closer he got to you.
"Y/n."
"N-No" You chooked on your own voice. A single tear broke through and slide down your cheek.
"Baby please..." Another step. "Just talk to me. What's going on?"
That was the final straw for you.
The dam broke, and tears poured down your face. You let out the most heartbreaking sob that Spencer could have never imagined.
His arms were quickly around you, catching you and bringing you both down to the floor, where he held you against his chest.
You shook your head and tried to escape from his grasp, but he just held on tighter to you, not letting you go. Spencer could never let you go, he just didn't know how to tell you that.
Through your tears, you started to hyper ventilate. Spencer wouldn't let you leave his arms. It felt like a boa constrictor. You couldn't breathe.
You started to panic, not taking in as much air as you should, causing your head to get dizzy. You tugged on Spencer's arms as he tightened his grip on you, determined to keep you safe in his arms while you got whatever it was out of your system.
You screamed at him to let you go. He didn't respond, only holding you against his chest and you angrily slammed your hands against it.
Why was he so fucking perfect. Why couldn't he just let you leave and walk away.
Fuck.
Once your breathing had started to even out a bit, Spencer adjusted the two of you, still on the ground, so that you were straddling his lap with your arms around his neck.
Surrounding you was all of your clothes thrown about, and your suit case barely filled with anything.
He didn't say anything, just continued to rub his thumb against your hip, letting you come down from whatever sort of panic you just went through.
He held you close to his body, deciding in that moment to never let you go, ever.
You felt the world slow down. Time melted beneath you as the sun rose and set, the moon waxed and waned, The leaves browned and fell of the trees, and the earth stopped spinning at the end of time and all of the stars had died out. The world had stopped but you were still in Spencer's arms.
"I don't know..." He whispered in your ear, and the world started to turn again. "What just happened in your head--"
You tried to speak up but he just shushed you gently. "But we don't have to talk about it until you're ready."
You nodded.
What did you do in this world to deserve this man?
"Why don't we make some tea?" He whispered, and you just nodded again, holding onto Spencer as if the floor was going to give out and cause you to fall through the pits of hell and judgment, away from one another.
Neither of you went to move, finding peace in one another's arms.
While Spencer truly had no idea what just occurred, or why it occurred, he was still sitting here with you. And while you owed Spencer an apology and an explanation, he was still sitting here with his arms wrapped around you, kissing your shoulders.
Spencer Reid was going to stay with you for as long as you'd let him, and he would do anything to get you to see that, even if it meant sitting on the floor of your shared bedroom, holding you until the stars burned out and the world stopped spinning.
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hatredofdesire · 9 months
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I'd rather die
Pairings; Yandere!Nanook x fem!reader [I'd rather die/Shinunoga E-wa �� Fuji Kaze] a/n: I had a random thought and I had to get it down asap. I don't see a lot of these too; especially since it's still the beginning of the game— I really wanted to write him because why is this aeon so... [also i have no idea ab these paths, i just writing my own guesses and etcs. so dont take it too srsly] I was drawing him and then i lost interest bc i couldnt understand anatomy at all, but this is a perfect image to use right? tw: yandere themes, obsession, possessiveness, hunting reader (nanook), manipulative, stalking, kidnapping, not proof read, for the love of all gods; i know all aeons are they/them pronouns, but ive already written it and i dont really want to go back and change it bc i can't focus like that
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synopsis: the path of destruction is a lonely battle, one might wonders what you're seeking for in hopes of running away under the guise that Nanook doesn't find you, his precious darling.
The Aeon of Destruction, the antimatter legion, the bringer of death, a malicious yet malevolent being, cruel and unfeeling— this aeon has been a thorn in many eyes. Many speculations have considered this aeon to be the bringer of end, destroying innocent planets that have yet to sprout... Thus is the life of one who follows the path of destruction. However may this may be, there is an odd tale, not well known about a particular woman who was gifted— a sacrifice that was meant to quell the anger of Nanook.
Sacrifices were common occurrences; clothes, necessities, women, girls that do not survive past the age of 15, children that are abandoned— These are the types that have been an offering to appease the Aeon of Destruction. Such vileness, yet only one person stands out from amongst the pile of worthlessness. Only a selective few dedicated followers that have researched preciously for the reasoning sought from the Aeon. Their audacious words have spread to the ears of himself, finding the situation quite amusing.
Nanook, his origins unknown other than the planet he had been born from— a complete massacre that have left the universe in silence. An aeon of long lasting will, a destructive manner that leaves humanity shaking in their shoes... Gentle in front of a woman. The researcher had once come upon out of curiosity, that aeon only shows his gentleness to a human woman.
A sacrifice.
One who was spared, but for what reason—
The loud shut of the book slammed close, a questioning look from the archive guard who peered up questioningly. "What's wrong?" The young woman stood up, stretching her neck to loosen the tension for sitting way longer than expected. The excuse slipping from her lips. "Nothing, I just remembered I needed to take my medicine. Thank you for letting me intrude, Dan Heng." Dan Heng nodded, turning away to hide his fond for her after trying to distance himself from the group. There's just something about her that seems to pull him in, she's isn't very... bothersome like March. Similar to like a younger sibling in any case, but she's tolerable.
Leaving the archive, she went straight to her room to take out the non-scented bottle of perfume before spraying it on her again repeatedly. "That should last me a week... I'll have to ask Himeko for more materials..." She muttered under her breath before heading into the main room whereas the conductor reminded everyone that they were going to jump soon.
"Himeko." The [h/c] haired woman approached the red haired elegant woman who was sitting on the sofa patiently. "Ah, miss [name]. Is there something you need?" [name] nodded sweetly, "I'm beginning to run out again... Is it possible to order a new batch?" Her meaning implies that her perfume wasn't going to last long since she was down to a bottle. "Of course, although we'll have to make a small detour stop at Herta's Space station." Reminded by the fact that Herta had asked Himeko for something came flooding back. [name] didn't mind Herta of the Genius society, but she definitely couldn't stand the fact that Herta wanted her like 'bait' for her simulated universe.
Hearing the description of meeting aeons, she dared to not be within any vicinity of those... living omens. Even if Herta rewritten her data, [name] would never want to cross path with an aeon. Not after—
"What? You want me to go with them too?" She tensed up, hearing the antimatter legion attacking Herta's space station was something she didn't expect. [name] pursed her lips, her teeth sinking into the bottom of her lip as she bit hard enough to draw blood. The stinging metallic taste made her finalize her decision. "...Alright. I'll only be escorting researchers back though." Himeko and Welt knew the reason behind her meaning, knowing the young woman didn't want to talk about it— they left her be.
[name] had split up from March and Dan Heng, who went to fight and rescue scientists while she searched through the rooms in case any of the researchers had been left behind and were waiting for help. Of course, she was with the lead researcher Asta who assigned her a few tasks that resulted in her to walk the halls of each level to find any lingering survivors.
Walking past the antimatter legion monsters, [name] sighed in relief that the usage of that perfume was great. Those that follow that aeon, could never sense her. Messaging miss Asta that nobody else was found, she promptly began to head back to the Express as she didn't really want to stay on this space station any longer. Unfortunately, Welt didn't park the Express yet— not with the doomsday beast hovering, but she really didn't care about that at the moment. All she wanted to do was sleep, close her eyes, and—
"Nanook..." [name] cursed the aeon who probed the station once again, knowing his vision settled on her the second she was about to leave. His baritone mellow voice echoing through her ears, a faint mocking laughter as he reminded her that she couldn't leave him no matter what she did.
The doomsday beast crashed onto the supply room with a loud bellow, its target currently being [name] as she was the only one within its sight. "You're fucking crazy..." [name] who tried her best to be optimistic of the results, wincing in pain as she was thrown across the station— landing in a pile of station boxes. "[name]?! Hold on, we're coming!" March's voice could be heard as she struggled to keep her eyes opened. The doomsday beast landed in front of them, blocking them from getting to the passed out young woman.
The soft whispers of him, the touch she knew yet despised. How could he find her? [name] did whatever she could to escape him, that sick fascination wasn't something she could quell. No— It was her death sentence. The day of her execution flashed in her mind, that bastard caused her to fall farther than hell could accommodate her. If she could go back... If [name] could go back— she would have left that damned planet if she had known.
"Return to your rightful place, my beloved." The familiar taunt rang in her ear, drowning out the sounds of her friends voices as they faded further and further away. "Hey! Let her go!" That was the last time she heard March's voice.
Darkness enveloped her, silence accompanied her tears. Where was she? [name] could not understand nor would she understand his desire.
He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, his gaze softening as the one person he has been longing day and night for— had come to return to him solely. "[name]..." The taste of her name left him shuddering in pleasure, his pretty little doll has come back to him, and stay she shall. Her lashes trembled, a sign of her awakening as the marvelous pair of [e/c] hues focused on his gold colored ones. "Y—You bastard!" [name] hissed, her eyes narrowed to show her disdain for the aeon. Why would he care so much about her?
"You're obsessed." He ignored her scornful words, "So what if I am? All that matters is that you're with me." Burying his face into her neck felt forbidden, a sacred being that haunts his thoughts every second. "You should have killed me." She clenched her jaw, unable to fight against the aeon who held her close to his chest.
His gold colored hues which used to be apathetic, lacking the empathy as he swept through planets like nothing. Staring down at her in a way that terrified her. "You think you're so clever... Trying to hide from me for so many centuries..." Nanook crooned, peppering her skin with his lingering affections that hasn't been forgotten. "I'll never let you leave me." Should she be grateful that her travels aren't as lonely? No! What absurdity is he spouting?! "I'd like to see you try." [name] snapped, pushing the aeon away from her.
The aeon hugged her tighter, "Is that a challenge, my beloved?"
His pretty little darling, Nanook would never let his darling leave him. So go ahead, keep pretending that she could escape him.
Nanook wasn't called the aeon of destruction without a reason.
"I'd rather die than let you go."
a/n: the poll is quite interesting in results of seeing... pls do take the chance to vote on the poll though, we got till like friday PST anyways (check masterlist) pls dont be that one person that has to correct this post (about aeons gender) — sincerely asking nicely.
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mamsieur · 5 months
Text
Don't mess with the Storm | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader
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Summary : Sometimes, Cyclone could live up to his call sign. Especially when it concerned you, his youngest daughter, his little Storm.
TW : slight violence, mention of alcohol, family/domestic fluff
Length : 6753 words
AN : You can't make me believe that Beau Simpson isn't a family man with lots of kids. That's what he radiates.
posted on AO3 August 21, 2023
Your mom always said you took after your dad, but if he was a Cyclone, you were a Storm ; smaller and less destructive. Storm has always been your nickname. 
It described you quite well as much in your way of doing things than in your personality. You were passionate about everything you did and you often left a mess after you.
Being a Vice Admiral, Beau managed to control himself for his work but when it came to you and your well being, he could literally destroy everything on his way. Not that your father was in any way abusive or violent, but he sometimes could over react.
You were your parents’ precious little baby.
You were the youngest of four children; you had three older brothers, all in the military. Two of them, Nathan and Jamie, were naval aviators, like your father, and one, Aaron, was a Marine Officer. 
Needless to say, you were well taken care of ; you liked to think that you had a small ‘army’ for yourself.
But as much as they thought of you as their little princess, they never treated you like one, and you never wanted to be. You were tough and very capable of defending yourself. Your father always encouraged you in whatever you wanted to do. 
You wanted to join the soccer team? Let's go. Switch to boxing lessons? Done. A new passion for karting? He had your back. An interest in mechanics ? He bought you your first tool box.
As long as you put your heart and soul into whatever you did, your family would support you.
So when you told them you wanted to work for the Navy after your engineering degree, they were as supportive as they could be.
You were a genius engineer - your mom’s word, not yours - and you loved working on jets, inspecting them, gathering as much data as possible to make them as efficient as they can be. Working at Top Gun was heaven. Since the pilots were supposed to be the best, you loved pushing them and their machines to be better and better.
Of course, the fact that you were working on the same base as your father had raised some eyebrows. But neither of you cared, and he got you no special treatment.
After the uranium mission, you were assigned to check the status of the Dagger Squad's F-18s. Everything seemed to be in good shape, and while your computer analyzed the flight data, you inspected the engines. You liked to work alone when you could, it helped you stay in your bubble of concentration.
The sun was slowly setting as you finished diagnosing the last jet. Being alone in the hangar, you took the opportunity to put on some music. You hummed and swayed a little while you waited for the analysis to finish on your screen and inspected the engine.
Your head was - quite literally - in it when you heard footsteps behind you. They stopped a few feet away from you to let you finish what you were doing.
"I'll just be two minutes," you muttered and then shrugged, getting no response. You finished inspecting the seemingly defective part and stood up. Your face was covered in dust and motor oil, and your hair was starting to fall out of your ponytail.
You sighed and turned to your mysterious guest.
"Oh! Good evening Lieutenant Bradshaw. May I help you?" you smiled a little and wiped your forehead with the back of your hand.
"Good evening Second Lieutenant Simpson, to tell you the truth, yes, you may..." he grinned charmingly, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the plane, "I was wondering if you'd forgotten our date? It's 7:20, and we agreed to meet at 6:30 ?” 
You stopped smiling and looked at the clock. Crap! You hadn't seen the time.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry! I was servicing the jets and didn't realize what time it was! I should have set an alarm, I'm sorry. Jesus, how could I be so stupid?"
You were starting to mumble excuses as you gathered your things when you felt his hand on your wrist.
"It's okay, I know how you get when you're focused on something. We’ll find another day for that. I'll wait for you at the bar, okay?" he reassured you with a grin.
"Uh yeah, yeah okay! I'll be quick!" you nodded and smiled back at him. He tucked a strand of your wild hair behind your ear, a few inches from you, making you blush slightly. His thumb stroked your cheek. He had that cheeky smile he always had when something was on his mind. He took your hand and kissed your knuckles, his beautiful brown eyes never leaving yours.
" Or , I can also wait for you in the changing-"
" Lieutenant Bradshaw, Second Lieutenant Simpson, what are you two still doing here? "
Your father's stern voice echoed through the hangar, taking you by surprise. Bradley took a quick step back and straightened his posture to greet him.
"I, uh-"
"Lieutenant Bradshaw forgot his keys, sir, he was out. I got carried away with the diagnostics, I'm almost finished here," you replied quickly as Cyclone’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Bradley then at you.
"Hm. You better hurry then, Second Lieutenant, overtime is not allowed. You're free to go Lieutenant Bradshaw."
"Yes sir!" you said in unison and Bradley left as quickly as he could, flashing one last smile in your direction before disappearing down the corridors.
As you started to clean up the mess you'd made, you heard an amused sigh.
"What?"
"Nothing, nothing. You're still living up to your nickname."
"Ha ha, very funny Dad," you rolled your eyes and closed your toolbox, "Don't wait for me, I'm going out tonight."
"Mmh. Is Bradshaw involved?" he asked as he helped you carry your stuff to the storage room.
"Yes? I mean the whole Dagger team is, I need to get to know them to understand how they work."
That was only half a lie. You knew they most likely were all at the Hard Deck, you'd met them there a few times. You got along well with them, especially Natasha, Bob and Mickey. And of course, Bradley... But it was different with him.
You'd known him for years and your very first assignment had been with him. Your friendship had evolved over the years into a kind of friends-with-benefits/fuck-buddies relationship until a few weeks ago. Since the uranium mission, he wanted more than that, and so did you. You two tried to keep your relationship secret because you suspected it could jeopardize either of your careers, and mostly because you knew your father would not approve.
He always thought the guys you dated were not good enough for you. And as annoying as it was, he was always right. He scared away some of them and when you thought back about it, it's a good thing he did.
Truth be told, you have been in love with Bradley for so long that sometimes it hurted. 
You had tried to tell him so many times in the past, but you were afraid of losing what little intimacy you had with him. So when he asked you out, first thing after the uranium mission, it felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. The hope that your feelings would be reciprocated had invaded your heart and mind, and you felt like it was the first time you were in love. It wasn’t of course, but you were all giddy about it.
You didn’t like to lie to your dad, he knew you too much to know everything in just one look. 
But it was worth it, wasn’t it ?
You hoped it was.
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After a well-deserved shower, you changed into clean, comfortable clothes that actually suited you. You put on your helmet and rode to the bar with your motorbike. Your mother hated when you used that ‘death machine’ and your father wasn't really fond of it either. It reminded him of Maverick. He wasn’t fond of Maverick. It always made you laugh watching your dad trying to remain calm in front of the Captain. You’ve never seen a man getting on his nerves that much.
The Hard Deck was already busy when you parked ; a totally normal Friday night , you thought. Looking around, you spotted Natasha’s, Javy’s and Bradley’s cars.
Penny nodded at you with a smile as you entered. The Daggers were in their usual places and Bradley seemed to be winning the pool game against Jake. In a desperate attempt to break his concentration, Jake chuckled, "Your girlfriend's here, Bradshaw”.
The whole team had discovered your relationship, of course, but swore to keep it a secret. You were grateful to them, but Jake being himself, he couldn't resist taking a dig at you. 
You rolled your eyes and took a seat next to Bob, watching the two eternal rivals finish their game. You caught up with Mickey and theorized with him on the last episodes of Kenobi then made your way towards Penny at the bar to buy your round of beers. As you waited for your drinks at the counter, you felt two hands around your waist.
"You're late, Second Lieutenant ."
"Had to fix your teammates’ jets, Lieutenant , tell them to be more careful," you grinned, leaning your back against your boyfriend's torso. You heard him chuckle softly as he whispered that you were an ‘idiot' and kissed the top of your head.
"Sorry about our date, I'll make it up to you."
"You bet your sweet ass you will," Bradley snickered at the squeal you let out as he spanked you a little, “But right now, you owe me a dance to celebrate my victory against Hangman.”
He took your hand as you rolled your eyes but followed him. Your whole body pressed against his, arms around his neck, the room faded away. All you could feel and see was him; one of his hands on the small of your back, the other on your hip, guiding you. The warmth of his body was like a spell that kept you close, not wanting to let go.His hands roamed down your back making you shiver. It felt like you belonged there.
You couldn’t let go of his eyes, hypnotized. He had such beautiful eyes ; those hazel brown orbs were magnetic, so infuriatingly charming. 
One of your hands gently stroked his scarred cheek and he leaned into your touch, smiling like an idiot and humming the song you were slow dancing to. His smile always sent butterflies to your stomach and heat to your cheeks. It was almost annoying how easily you fell for his charms.
The two of you danced until the song ended and you pulled him by the collar to kiss him. You felt his hands slip into the back pockets of your jeans, shamelessly squeezing your ass, and his proud grin against your lips. You bit his as you pulled away from the kiss.
"Okay, lovebirds , get a room," Jake complained and you flipped him off, still in Bradley's arms.
"Don't be jealous Jakey, your time will come," you teased, making your partner chuckle.
"She's right Seresin, just wait till you're a big boy."
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The evening continued quietly, with one beer after another, a few games of darts and pool, and a few songs on the piano for Bradley. 
You watched him from the bar, mesmerized, an affectionate smile on your face. You still wondered how you'd managed to get his attention; this man could have anyone he wanted with his smile combined with a little song, the sweetness with which he spoke, his sarcasms, his eyes so soft and intense at the same time, his stupid, stupid, cocky grin... God, you were definitely and undoubtedly under his spell, mind and heart.
Your eyes never left his form for more than five seconds. You looked at him as if you wanted to learn every aspect of his physique; but to be honest, you already knew him by heart. 
You could locate every beauty mark, every scar - and tell its story - and where his birthmark was. You could describe every shade of brown in his eyes, depending on the light or his emotions. You knew every expression on his face; when he was angry, frustrated, sad, or playful. You knew exactly where and how to touch him to make him putty in your hands, every positively sensitive area and those to avoid.
And yet, every time you looked at him, behind the piano, laughing with his friends, you discovered a new detail that made you love him even more.
The way he cared for all of them - even Jake, his "archenemy" - and knew just what to do to make them feel better and laugh. How he always listened to what they had to share, good or bad, and offered to help. How he'd always protect them as if they were his siblings, his rather hazardous family.
Speaking of hazardous family, it always made you laugh how Bradley could be so like Pete and like your dad. It was sometimes a mixture of arrogance and calm, defiance and seriousness. Part of you was sure that if they tried, your dad and Bradley would get along. But were they willing to ?
As you were lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice a man, a little younger than you, sitting next to your stool. He started talking, trying to flirt, but you didn’t really pay attention, still absorbed by your boyfriend’s silliness, until he clicked his fingers in front of your face.
“Hey, ‘m talking to you doll. You should really pay attention when someone is talking to you, got it ?”
You sipped your beer and looked at him out of the corner of your eye. He continued his flirtatious attempts, bragging that he was one of the best in his class at Top Gun. He kept trying to get your attention by snapping his fingers or grabbing your arm. His breath was clearly too close to your face and stinked a mixture of beer and chips. 
It really started to annoy you, so it was your turn to snap your fingers in his face.
"I'm not interested,” you snapped your fingers again, “If a girl ignores you, it's because she doesn't want to talk to you, got it ?"
You got off your stool, ready to join the Daggers by the piano. But a hand gripped your wrist and the man pulled you close to him. You could see a hint of anger and annoyance in his eyes, but it didn’t scare you. You were used to guys like him, thinking they own every woman they see. 
“Listen doll, I was nice until now. Give me your number and I’ll forgive you,” he grinned, his buddies sneering behind him, as if they were proud of him. You couldn’t help but giggle at the scene. What kind of bad joke was that ?
In one swift motion, you released your wrist and pinned his arm behind his back. You bent him violently over the bar and locked him in that position, pressing down just enough to hurt and immobilize him. 
"One false move and I will dislocate your arm," you threatened in his ear as a few glances turned in your direction. "Now listen to me carefully. This is the last time you'll talk to me or any woman like that. Understood?"
He grunted and struggled a little. You pressed harder and repeated, "Understood?"
"Okay! Okay, I understand! Get off me!"
The man growled again and you finally let go. Penny gave you a look that you understood as a warning and you smiled innocently to her. The man and his group walked away with a grunt, giving you one last murderous look. You smiled broadly and made a mocking curtsy. 
Bradley raised an eyebrow as they passed him, muttering that you were a "crazy bitch". You joined him with two beers, one for him and one for you.
"What happened?"
"Nothing to worry about, just some big macho guy. He didn't like that I wasn't paying attention to him. I just put him in his place."
You shrugged with a smile and Bradley shook his head, laughing a little, knowing exactly what you meant. He put his arm around your waist and kissed your temple. 
"I know you can defend yourself, but don't get yourself in trouble, Stormy."
"Don't worry, if I get in trouble, my knight in shining armor will come and rescue me, won't he?" you teased. He chuckled but nodded before taking you on his lap at the piano. He started a new song that had the remaining customers singing and dancing.
***
The end of the evening was a bit hazy.
You'd had too much to drink to get back on your bike, so it was Bradley who drove you home. You pulled your boyfriend into your small house - he offered no resistance - and kissed him as if your life depended on it, as if that simple contact made your heart beat. His hands roamed your body with hunger, and yours tore his Hawaiian shirt from his back. You thought of nothing but Bradley, his soft lips devouring your jaw and neck, leaving a few marks where he passed, his hands so warm on your skin, his breath making you shiver. 
You wandered back to your room, kicking off your shoes, and your clothes ended up in a pile at the end of your bed. 
You loved doing it with Bradley. He gave you everything you wanted and so much more. You'd never been as fulfilled as you were with him. It was as if he knew everything about how your body worked, that it held no secrets for him. 
Your nightly activities have drained you both of what little energy you had left, and you fell asleep hugging each other, as if afraid the other will evaporate.
The next morning, it was not your massive headache that woke you, but the sound of several cars and children laughing outside your house. What day was it? Was it Saturday? It was Saturday!
You jumped to your feet as Bradley mumbled something unintelligible.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" You shook your boyfriend and wrapped yourself in a blanket as you heard the sound of a key turning in the front door lock.
"Bradley, get up!"
"Mmh, five minutes..." he mumbled, burying his face in the pillow. You heard the door open and small footsteps running toward your room. You panicked and shook him harder.
"We don't have five minutes! Get your ass up!" 
You grabbed the first thing you could get your hands on: panties and Bradley's tank top. You stumbled to your bedroom door to get out before one of your nephews’ innocent eyes discovered their aunt and a man they didn't know naked as worms in her bed. You tried to look as natural as possible as you quickly closed the door behind you. Standing in front of you was Jack, your three-year-old nephew. He was Nathan’s, your oldest brother, son. He laughed as he threw himself on your legs to give you a hug.
"Oh my God, hi sweetie! You're early!"
"Dada said we'd surprise you, Auntie! And Pop-Pop is here too!" the little boy laughed.
"What a nice thought!" you tried not to sound too ironic as you picked him up to give him a kiss and rearrange his wild blond hair. "Auntie needs to get dressed, okay? Go wait with your dad in the living room!"
You gave him one last kiss and made sure he ran to the living room before storming back to your bedroom. How could you forget that your brothers were visiting today? You were so screwed! A million thoughts went through your head and one thing made you snap out of it; Bradley yawning and taking his sweet time getting up. You grumbled and attacked him with a pillow.
"Hey! What was that for?"
"We're in deep shit Bradley! My whole family is here! They weren't supposed to be up this early!"
"What?" he blinked and narrowed his eyes, trying to process what you'd just told him. You started to rattle on about how your brothers got their permission for your mom's birthday, but your brothers were here super early with their wifes, their kids, and your mom and dad. Bradley had trouble following what you were saying because you were talking really fast. 
“Babe,” he tried to interrupt you, but you kept mumbling and pacing next to the bed, “Y/N, baby, calm down!” 
He grabbed your wrist, pulling you to sit in front of him. His free hand cupped your cheek tenderly as he guided you into breathing to calm yourself down.
“Okay… mind explaining slower what is happening here ?”
You sighed and nodded before re-explaining the whole situation to him. “But they weren’t supposed to come here this early ! The surprise lunch for my mom was supposed to be at home, not in my flat ! And my dad is here. My dad ! What are we going to say ?”
You cursed again, rubbing your temples. Bradley took your hands in his to make you look at him and stole a kiss from you. You sighed against his lips, your tension going away slightly. He then pressed his forehead to yours, stroking your cheeks to soothe you.
“How about we get dressed and just… join them in the living room ?”
“You really want to face my dad ?” you raised one eyebrow, surprised but really relieved that he didn’t propose to just sneak out.
“Yeah ? I mean, the man already has doubts, you’ve said it yourself… and it’s your mother’s birthday, your whole army of men won’t be able to kill me. Not today at least.”
You chuckled at his joking tone and at the silly smile he has on his face. You pecked his lips with a grin. “Okay then Lieutenant , let’s get dressed.”
“Yes ma’am!” 
He gave you one last tender kiss, and when the two of you went to get up, a little giggle made you both freeze.
“Auntie who that ? And why he nakey ?”
Your nephew’s voice asked. He was standing by the door, a playful smile on his chubby face, and his little finger pointing at your embarrassed boyfriend. Bradley quickly covered himself more, lifting the sheet at his chin, and you ran to get little Jack in your arms.
“How did he get here ??” Bradley scream-whispered at you, hiding himself while trying to get dressed.
“I don’t know !” you scream-whispered back before turning your attention back to the toddler who was babbling in your arms, “Jack, honey, why aren’t you with your dad and pop-pop ?”
Before he could answer, your sister in law was by your bedroom, apologizing. She didn’t notice Bradley right away, but when she did, a small cheeky smile curled on her lip.
“Hi there, sorry to have him interrupted you two.”
“Annie, it’s not what it looks like-” you blushed when you understood what she implied but Bradley interrupted you by presenting himself and shaking her hand with a wide smile. They chat while you put on a pair of jeans, keeping on Bradley’s tank top. Never in your life had you been this embarrassed.
Little Jack looked at your boyfriend with wide-eyed wonder. He loved meeting new people, and Bradley seemed fascinating to his young eyes. It was no wonder when every time Annie spoke to you, Bradley would make faces at the little boy and make him giggle. 
Bradley already had him in his pocket, so that was a good thing. Annie seemed to like him too, at least you thought so from the mischievous looks she gave you. 
As you crossed the hallway to join the rest of your family, a wave of nervousness ran through you. You grabbed Bradley by the sleeve of his Hawaiian shirt and turned him toward you. You pulled him into a hug to relax and to give yourself courage.
"Promise you won't hate me?"
"Why would I hate you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"They'll probably try to impress you, my brothers I mean... and my dad... you know how he can be..."
"Oh honey... It takes more than that to scare me. I'll be fine."
He kissed your forehead and you walked into the living room.
You greeted everyone, your father not immediately aware of Bradley's presence. You introduced him to your brothers first, Nathan, Aaron and Jamie, and they didn't do anything strange at first; they were probably waiting for you to introduce him to your father to see what sauce to cook him in.
Beau and Vivian, your mother, were too busy admiring your niece, five-month-old Juliet, to notice Bradley's presence. She was fast asleep in the arms of Jamie's fiancée, Alice. She greeted you with a smile when you waved.
"Awake at last, Stormy?" your father asked before freezing and losing his smile at the sight of your boyfriend, " Lieutenant Bradshaw. ".
His cold, hard tone made you sigh a little as the two men shook hands in greeting. 
“Good morning Vice Admiral Simpson.” 
They were way too formal, it was ridiculous. Your mother had the same reaction as you and introduced herself to Bradley with a warm smile and a hug.
"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Simpson."
"Oh, please, just call me Viv!" she laughed a little, waving her hand. Then she turned to you, discreetly gave you both thumbs up and winked at you. 
Good. Bradley seemed to have charmed your mother with just a smile.
Still, you could feel your father tense up behind you as Bradley got to know everyone. He remained very polite and smiled, even letting Jack, Oliver and Tommy - Aaron's twin sons - pull him out to play in the little garden. Your father grabbed your arm. "Kitchen. Now. We need to talk." He seemed a little upset, and you could understand; you'd lied to him.
"Care to explain yourself?" He crossed his arms on his chest, a stern look on his face. 
You didn't like that look. He used to have it when he scolded you when you were a teenager, when you would sneak out of the house to go to a party or to meet up with your then-boyfriend. For a moment, you were 16 again, caught in the act.
You sighed at his insistent and questioning look.
"I uh... He’s... we’re... we've been seeing each other for… a few weeks..."
"A few weeks? So you've been lying to me for weeks?"
"I haven't lied! At least not completely..." you mumbled, biting your fingernail.
"Y/N. Why didn't you tell me?"
"Seriously Dad? You've made it pretty clear that you don't really like him, I mean outside of work."
"I never said that."
You widened your eyes, shocked at his bad faith. 
"Are you kidding me? You've made it clear that you don't want me around him because he's too much like Maverick! Every time I mentioned him, you made your… disapproving face. The same one you made every time I mentioned my old boyfriends, or when I wanted to get a motorcycle, or when the boys tried to bleach their hair in high school !"
"I don't have a disapproving face," he grumbled, "and it's not because he’s like Maverick that I don't want you around him, it's because he can be called back on a mission at any time. I don't want that to break your heart."
"Oh ! But it's okay for Nathan, Aaron, and Jamie to break the hearts of their partners? Of their children? It was okay for you to risk breaking Mom's heart and ours? What kind of cardboard argument is that, Dad?" You raised your arms in disbelief as you started to walk out of the kitchen, but you stopped and turned back to face him. "I know you want to protect me, but... you can't do that about things like that. I know you know better than anyone the risks of this job, the sacrifices it requires. But Bradley knows them as well, if not better, than you do. And as much as it scares me, as much as it scares us... we want to try… And even if you don't like it, we'll give it a try. Because I almost lost him once without really being able to be with him..."
Your father sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. From the kitchen window you could see Bradley playing with your nephews, under your mother's and in laws’ amused and tender eyes. A small smile crept across your lips as the little ones called you over to help hold Bradley down. You hurried to join them, and your mother joined your father.
"Our boys and the little ones seem to like this Lieutenant…”
“Seems like it…”  
“He reminds me a little of you when we first met..." Vivian chuckled to Beau as she hugged him. 
"Really?" the man wondered, "and how?"
"Well, he has that same sparkle in his eyes... the one that calls for adventure, that gentle and loving look when his eyes land on our Storm... and he's also very good with children," she laughed at his slightly embarrassed expression, "You should give him a chance... our princess looks so relaxed with him... look at her… look at her smile…"
He lifted his head and watched the two of you having fun with the three little boys and sighed. His wife was right. You looked so happy in Bradley's arms, waltzing and laughing with the kids. He'd never seen you look so radiant, as cliché as it sounded. Your brothers also seemed to have accepted the newcomer without too much fuss. So Beau seemed to be the only one who was uncomfortable with the whole situation.
He nodded and kissed his wife on the forehead. "Okay, I'll try... but I'm not promising anything."
Vivian rolled her eyes with a smile on her face. She knew for a fact that your father would quickly accept Bradley as well.
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Lunch went off without a hitch, Beau swallowing his pride not to be as awkward with Bradley as possible, although he did draw a few murderous looks from your father when he put his hand a little too high on your thigh or lower back. After dessert, he helped your brothers put the kids down for a nap and let them share the convertible bed in your little study. Your sisters-in-law and your brother-in-law, Evan - Aaron's husband - helped you with the dishes. They gently teased you that Bradley was a very handsome young man and that you had chosen well. 
"I know I did. Look at you all, we Simpsons always have good taste," you sniped back with a wink and a teasing smile, making them laugh.
"Wait, wait, wait... So he was your regular booty call after your first assignment?" Evan seemed to realize. You shushed him and made sure that your parents didn't hear him say that. Annie laughed a little and grabbed your shoulder, making you look into her eyes. 
"I can see why you qualified him as the best sex of your life after the upper body I saw this morning," she teased you again, making your face completely flush. You practically begged her to stop talking about your sex life, very embarrassed. But the three of them could be little bullies and they loved to tease you sometimes.
"Guys, please stop. If my father hears you-"
"Hear what, Stormy?"
You turned and paled a little under your father's cold gaze and tight smile. Your sister-in-law and brother-in-law took the opportunity to run off like teenagers, and of course Bradley arrived just then, smiling carelessly. 
"The three cataclysms are finally asleep. Is everything okay in here?" he asked as he joined you in front of your father. He immediately wiped the smile off his face when he saw the look on Beau's face.
"You're lucky it's my wife's birthday, Bradshaw," he growled, his eyes staring straight into your souls, "but if I hear one more detail about your... nocturnal activities, I'm going to make sure that the two of you are as far away from each other as possible, even if it means sending one of you to Japan or Korea. Are we clear?"
"Yes, sir," Bradley replied promptly, "Clear as day.”
"For God's sake, Dad, aren't you being a little extreme? I'm a responsible adult-"
"I'm warning you, I don't want another grandchild too soon. Keep it in your pants."
"Dad!!"
Just when you thought you couldn't get any more embarrassed, your dad had the right words. He left the two of you in the kitchen, muttering that he was getting too old for this. 
"Oh my God..." You cursed as you hid your face in your hands and turned towards the sink. Of all the weird things that could happen, you'd really hoped no one would mention your sex life. You felt a little angry, but more than that, you were extremely embarrassed. You let out a shaky breath, your hands gripping the counter as you lowered your head. You felt the warmth of Bradley's body enveloping you as he wrapped his arms around your waist, his front against your back and his chin resting on your shoulder.
"I'm so sorry..."
"Why are you apologizing, babe? I told you it would take more than that to scare me off... Maybe your dad hasn't fallen for the Bradshaw charm yet, but I'm working on it..." he tried to cheer you up, "And now I have an army of kids who love me, I can order them to defend me."
You smiled, amused at his silliness. "You're really good with kids, but I think it's them who will command you..."
"Maybe you're right," he laughed a little and kissed the hollow of your neck, his mustache tickling you, "but your mother has already adopted me. I'm protected."
You laughed with him, your embarrassment and anger disappearing. You leaned against him, enjoying the hug he offered you. These simple gestures were so comforting that it was almost frightening how quickly he could soothe you. You closed your eyes as he hummed and softly danced with you in the kitchen. It was so cliché, right out of a rom-com, but you couldn’t care less.
After a few minutes, you regained enough courage to join the rest of your family in the living room. Your in-laws gave you apologetic looks, and your brothers were a little lost, but didn't dare ask. 
For the rest of the afternoon, Bradley learned every little anecdote your mother had to share; whether it was about your brothers, you, or even your father, she was more than happy to share with him. Jamie and Alice had fallen asleep in the garden, making your mother smile in awe. Nathan laughed a little with Aaron. "We warned them that a newborn was exhausting, but they insisted on coming here their own way...". 
You laughed a little too, it was true they looked exhausted. But little Juliet was so cute that they forgot how tired they were. 
Speaking of her, the baby phone warned everyone that she was waking up. You volunteered to warm her bottle and Bradley went to get her. Alice had put the travel crib in your room so the other three children would not be disturbed if Juliet woke up. 
When the milk was at the right temperature, you joined Bradley in your room. Your cheeks flushed and you felt butterflies in your stomach when you saw him holding the little one. He rocked her gently, stroking her cheek with his index finger. He seemed so natural that it made you fall even more in love with him. 
You shook your head, your father's voice echoing in your head: "No more grandchildren for now.”
You joined him and let him gently place the baby in your arms. You smiled and fed the hungry five-month-old in your arms. Bradley leaned against the doorframe and watched you with a soft smile. You, too, were a natural with children. Juliet seemed so comfortable in your arms and you seemed so relaxed. He found himself daydreaming about the two of you having children together. He blushed as he imagined you pregnant with his baby... and Nathan giggled behind him. "Calm your horses Bradshaw, you're not putting a baby in my sister anytime soon."
Bradley's face turned as bright red as yours. "Nathan, shut up!" you yelled-whispered at him, careful not to disturb the eating baby in your arms.
“What? You heard our old man, "No more grandchildren for now!”” Nathan grinned and put his arm around Bradley's shoulders.
"I can't promise that..." Bradley mumbled softly, mesmerized by the sight of you holding Juliet against you as you burped her after she had finished her bottle. Nathan's eyes widened and he tried his best not to burst out laughing. "What did you say, Brad’ ? I think I misheard you?"
You blushed as you realized what your boyfriend had just said.
"I... Nothing!" Bradley defended himself weakly, very embarrassed. Nathan teased him until your mother told him to stop, threatening him with no cake after dinner. He immediately stopped and went to get his son after whispering to Bradley that he wouldn't forget what he had just said. You decided not to talk about it, feeling a little embarrassed as well.
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It wasn't long before dinnertime arrived, and your father was relaxed and talking with Bradley. You even caught them laughing together. This interaction was reassuring for the rest of the evening.
As usual, your mother had cooked for a regiment, and your refrigerator was full of leftovers. She made Bradley promise to stop by the family home and look at the family albums and your childhood bedroom. He laughed a little but agreed. 
You walked everyone back to their cars, helped them with the kids' stuff, and your dad gave you one last hug and said good night. He said goodbye to Bradley with a slight smile and a quick hug. 
When everyone was gone, you collapsed on your sofa, drained of all energy. Bradley joined you with a smile and pulled you right into his arms.
"That didn't go so badly after all..."
You nodded, yawned and put your arms around him. You thought back to the day that had just passed, to that roller coaster of emotions, and laughed a little.
"So... eager to put a baby inside me Lieutenant?"
"Oh my God Y/N!!" Bradley blushed, hiding his face behind his fists in total embarrassment. You laughed and teased him about it. You preferred to take it as a joke because neither of you were anywhere near ready to have children of your own, you both agreed on that. Or did you?
He turned to you, a serious expression on his face.
"And what if I am? Would you... would you be on board to have kids with me? Not right now, of course, but... I... I can't imagine a future without you in it, and I'd like to have kids with you. I know we haven't really been together that long, but we've known each other for a long time... and oh my God, I'm rumbling," he groaned, rubbing his face before looking back at you. "What I mean is that I love you and I don't want to live without you. Maybe it's rushed, maybe you-"
You interrupted him, pulled him by the collar and kissed him. You didn’t know what came over you; maybe it was the fact that he had just admitted his feelings, or the fact that he was already planning a life with you. Maybe both. Certainly both.
"I love you too," you whispered between two kisses, "and I don't want to be without you either... and I would love to start a family with you someday, Lieutenant Bradshaw..."
You smiled, your forehead pressed against his, and he chuckled in relief.
"Today was really like you... a storm..." he sighed, smiling and stroking your cheeks.
"I know... are you sure you can keep up with my family?" you teased, "Now that you've messed with the storm, the cyclone will never be far away."
"Wouldn't have it any other way, Stormy."
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455 notes · View notes
peachypinkygloss · 8 months
Note
omg I've always liked your writings very much.. so can you like do me a favor..
can you write something like uh yk mean high-class hubby x poor wife.. it was kinda forced marriage but they're still fulfilling it like a married couple should but the husband is kinda rude. Of course you can add up smut. Ikr it sounds so cheesy and cringe but it just satisfies my guilty pleasure 💀🔫
And it can be with any member you want. (But my suggestions will be Jimin, Yoongi or Jin.)
thank you so much lovely! 💕 idk if you meant to send it for the drabble game, but I'll answer it rn 🫶🏻 and seriously don't be insecure about what you like :( I like my fictional men to be a lil rude too 😏
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heartbeat
Marriages are rarely simple. Yours and Yoongi's is no exception.
pairing: husband!yoongi x wife!reader
genre: arranged marriage au, smut, angst
warnings: ... wtf 💔, yoongi has a heart and it's big and swollen 😫, no fight but it's implied that it happened, forced marriage, unprotected sex, shower sex, 1k words.
a.n.: i should be a poet fr
This is part of my 2k milestone celebration! Here is the post for the drabble game if you want to participate and send in a request of yours! 🤍
♡・2k celebration masterlist・♡
You and Yoongi don't have a lot in common. Whether it is about your pasts, your passions or your families, they are all vastly different. So having him as your husband is something you never thought would happen.
Yoongi used to be free, that's what he describes his past self as; vacant, unrestricted, unattached. His freeness, he misses it — he regrets it.
He told you, just two days before the wedding ceremony, that no matter where he would be now, it would never be the same. That this ring, the one adorning his annular on his left hand, an object so small yet so meaningful, he can't go anywhere without it.
This marriage was a way for Yoongi's parents to keep him chained to the family, to prevent him from going away like he always dreamed of. But his father wants him to run the family's business and his mother wants grandchildren.
There's nothing more destructive for a kid than their parent's selfishness and Yoongi hates them for that. Hates them for taking away the only and ever peace he found in life.
So when he's with you, he can't help but see the decision of his parents, the decision to force a marriage, to commit a love story that will never see the day.
He doesn't hate you, he could never, but his rage goes sometimes beyond him, beyond his morality. So curses slip out of his mouth. They're meant to hurt, to weaken his enemy, though his enemy isn't you — it would never be you.
He's sorry for everything he said, he truly is. You don't deserve any of the mean things he shouts and he doesn't deserve any of the tears that run down on your cheeks after. This isn't your fault after all. You didn't ask for this, but at least you fulfill it like a true marriage.
Yoongi's too much of a coward to do that. He pretends, but he breaks down often.
"Yoongi?"
When he hears your voice, covering the noise of the shower running for a second, he gets out of his thoughts. He doesn't respond as you let your clothes fall off of you, joining his in a pile on the bathroom's floor.
You open the glass door, stepping in the steamy shower, Yoongi's back facing you. He looks behind his shoulder first, eyes strained down, not wanting to meet yours, not when he knows they're probably red.
He eventually turns around and you're shivering, arms around your chest to keep you warm. He softens and grabs your arm delicately, bringing you under the water with him.
You let yourself be embraced and place your arms around him too, laying your hands down on his back. You blink as you glance up at Yoongi, droplets of water falling down on your face. You look into each other's eyes, feeling the same things, reciprocating the same emotions and sensations.
His heart goes fast, it beats, it screams, it wants to get out, it wants to kiss with yours. Oh, how could he ever hate someone like you? Someone so fragile and sweet.
He approaches his head closer and he settles his lips down on yours. He tilts his head to the side to deepen the kiss, exchanging souls and minds. He feels your heartbeat, going as fast as his, and he understands a bit more what being with you means. When he kisses you, he has only one desire, and it's to be yours.
He stops your kiss and lifts you up, making you softly gasp, holding onto him like a baby koala. He pins you to the nearest wall, the coldness of the tiles eliciting a sweet moan out of you.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it," he apologizes and you just shrug, passing a hand through his wet hair to push them away from his forehead. He notices your ring, a beautiful diamond in the colour of your birthstone.
His mom chose it, not him. She said you would fall in love with it and would never remove it. She was right. You've never once stopped wearing it since he passed it around your ring finger.
"It's okay," you murmur in the softest voice, making him feel even worse.
Freedom could never compete with you. You would always win.
He kisses you again, this time rougher, with passion burning in his chest. You moan and he groans in return, biting your lips, making them swollen and covered in both of your salivas.
You two become hungry and desperate, wanting to be connected in the most intimate way, wanting to feel you around him and him in you.
You whimper into his mouth when he penetrates you, his cock long and thick, your pussy adjusting to his size little by little. When he starts thrusting, he loses his mind, delighted by the feeling of your walls clenching around him.
He cherishes your skin by kissing it, smooching your neck, collarbones and breasts, and you ruin his, scratching his back with your nails.
In another context, the roles would be reversed. He destroys you, he crushes your heart and breaks it, attempting to repair it by fucking you stupid. You worship him, forgive him for his mistakes. You're simply the best wife he could ever have.
Perhaps it's your way of getting back at him; sinking your nails in him so he feels the pain and wears your marks everyday like you wear the weight of this marriage on your shoulders.
After you've cum around his cock, he comes undone into you, filling your pussy with his cum. He stays a bit inside, loving how warm you are, how you hold onto him desperately, quietly catching your breath.
Later, when you're sleeping peacefully beside him, Yoongi is again in his thoughts. He couldn't find sleep as it happens often when he realizes things.
The only time you've ever been saved was when he married you.
.
.
.
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fandomxpreferences · 1 year
Text
Heartbroke Bitch
Series Masterlist
Pairing: Ex!Rafe Cameron x Female!Reader
TW: 18+, drug and alcohol use, angst, fluff, self destructive behavior, I think thats it
Summary: When youre left heartbroken, you cope in a less than healthy way. But what happens when Rafe sees you hanging on the arm of one of his best friends? (Loosely based off Escapism by Raye)
Word count:3.2k
A/N: Let me know if you want a part 2!
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Ever since that night, you've been a different person. Rafe ending things sent you reeling and the words keep playing in your head like a record. 
"It's just not going to work. I'll have Sarah drop off your things."
That was all he gave you before all but kicking you out. He didn't even have the respect to give you a reason, though you've come to the conclusion it's because you're a pogue. You and Rafe never should have started anything in the first place; you knew you were playing with fire. 
JJ and John B tried to talk sense into you, but you were too lovestruck. All you cared about was the misunderstood kook king, and now you're heartbroken. The first week you cried and drank as the group tried to get through to you. 
The following weekend, you went out to a kegger at the boneyard and saw Missy Thompson giggling into Rafe's ear and something inside you snapped. You were tired of feeling hurt, so you decided to beat him at his own game. 
"Where are you going dressed like that?" 
There's a teasing lilt to Sarah's voice, but you don't miss the concern in her eyes. She already knows the answer to her question. You've spent the last three weeks staying out until sunrise, various drugs coursing through your veins and different men sneaking out every morning. 
Your eyebrow quirks as you look down at your less-than-modest outfit and shrug.
"Out. I was invited to that new club." 
JJ frowns and stands to walk over to you. He stops a few feet away and you look at him expectantly. 
"Again? Y/N/N, you can't keep doing this. I mean I'm always down for a good time, but you're going to hurt yourself." 
The pain in his voice causes your chest to tighten and you roll your eyes to cover it up. That's exactly why you're doing this; you're tired of feeling hurt and so far losing yourself in white powder and men whose outfits cost more than your car has proven to be effective. 
"So what if I do? I'll be fine, JJ. Don't worry your pretty little head." You smile while patting him playfully on the arm. 
They watch as you walk off and give each other worried looks, unable to do anything but stand by as you set out on a path of self-destruction. 
An hour later you're in the VIP section sipping on champagne that's expensive enough to solve all your money problems and having a great time. The music is loud enough to drive your thoughts away and you let yourself get lost in the moment. 
You aren't sure who the people here are; you've made a lot of new acquaintances since going out more and you just happened to strike up a conversation with the man that brought you here. You're not even sure what his name is. 
You think it's something along the lines of Andrew, or maybe Everett. You don't really care enough to remember; you just know it's something pretentious that reeks of old money. Not that it matters much. By morning he'll just be another notch in your belt and you'll never see him again. 
You're just about to do a shot when a familiar voice calls your name. You look up with a frown, trying to place where it came from. A smile breaks out when you place its owner and Topper plops down next to you. 
His arm wraps loosely around your shoulder and you lean in a bit, happy to have someone you know around. 
"Didn't expect to see you here." 
Topper isn't exactly known for tolerating - much less liking - pogues but he grew fond of you during your time with Rafe. 
You nudge him lightly with your shoulder and he grins. 
"A pleasant surprise, I hope." 
He leans in a little closer and nods. You can't help but notice his spicy yet sweet cologne as his body heat radiates against your skin and it's almost as intoxicating as the alcohol. 
"Very pleasant. You smell good. Like cotton candy and tanning oil." 
Your eyebrows raise at the forward comment and you let your eyes drop down to look at his lips. 
"You like it?" 
The other man is long forgotten as Topper invades your personal space and suddenly your target changes. 
"I love it. What is it?"
You lean back with a laugh and the way his body chases yours isn't lost on you. The game is afoot and you've discovered you love the thrill of the chase. 
"Something expensive. That's all I'll say, a lady never reveals her secrets."
His smile turns devilish and his nose presses against the column of your throat to inhale your scent again. 
"Something tells me you're not much of a lady." 
Butterflies erupt in your stomach as he flirts back and your hand laces in his hair to tug his head back. 
"You have no idea, Top."
Your words hang in the air for a moment before he pulls you closer so you're halfway on his lap. You watch as he pulls out a baggy and waves it at you suggestively, your face lighting up as you nod while he sets it up on the table. 
You don't think twice before bending down and snorting a couple lines, tilting your head back with closed eyes. This has become a regular occurrence for you, and Topper lets out a surprised laugh before copying your previous movements. 
"Didn't take you as the type to do party drugs." He admits and you press farther into him. 
"Mmm, there's a lot you don't know about me." 
A few minutes later you're both feeling the effects and you gladly follow Topper as he takes your hand and leads you to the dance floor. You aren't paying attention to what song is playing as you grind on your ex-boyfriend's friend, your hands wrapped around his neck as he nips at your shoulder. 
Rafe immediately feels annoyed as he walks into the loud venue, his first instinct being to turn around and leave. Before everything with you, this would have been his scene. However, despite being the one to call it quits, he's been having an exceptionally hard time. 
He thought it would be easy to move on, but every time he tries, his thoughts are consumed by you. He gave up hope after he moaned out your name with another woman and she slapped him before storming out. He didn't realize he was in love with you until he watched your tail lights fade in the rain. 
He downs a shot to settle his nerves, the burning sensation distracting him from the thumping bass. He's just about to take a seat when his eyes land on you. Bile rises in his throat as he watches you party without a care in the world.
He thinks this hurts worse than the initial breakup. Seeing you laugh and dance as if you aren't feeling the same heartache as him is bitter and he doesn't like it. 
He knows he's the one that tossed your relationship in the trash, but he thought he meant more to you. At least enough for you not to be living it up a month after he left. 
You were never one for the. club scene, and he's honestly not sure why you're here. It's not until you bump into him on the way to take another shot that he really takes you in. 
You stop to apologize and his eyebrows pinch when it takes you a second longer than it should to realize who he is. Recognition finally crosses your features and much to his surprise, you give him a short hug with a smile. 
"Hey, Rafe."
He stares at you in shock for a second, trying to figure out why you seem so unbothered by his presence. He's certainly not feeling as relaxed with you standing a foot away. An unfamiliar scent washes over him and he realizes it's coming from you. 
He's always loved the way you smell, and that is certainly not your usual perfume and body lotion. It almost makes him sick to his stomach. His eyes rake over your face for a moment as he tries to place what's so different about you. 
He doesn't even recognize the woman in front of him and his heart breaks as the realization sets in that this is his fault. He broke you. 
Your body is covered in a skin-tight dress that's six inches too short and glitter. He notices you seem taller than usual and his eyes pan down to the sky-high stilettos on your feet. 
That's not what concerns him most though. You're clearly drunk as you struggle to keep your balance and your pupils are completely blown. 
If he had to guess he'd say coke or Molly, maybe both based on your apparent indifference to your life. Either way, it makes his stomach turn and he barely resists the urge to break Topper's hands as they sit a little too close to your ass.
"Hi." 
It's all he can manage as guilt and pain consume him and he wants nothing more than to go back in time. He doesn't get to say anything else before you're stumbling away, resembling a newborn fawn. 
He ignores his friends' protests as he pulls out his phone and steps outside. His thumb finds Sarah's contact and he presses the call button without hesitation. The line rings a few times before she answers and he leans against the brick wall. 
"What do you want?"
There's music in the background and he knows he's interrupting her night but he can't bring himself to care. 
"Is Y/N okay?"
There's a moment of silence before his sister sighs and his eyes squeeze shut. 
"Rafe, you lost the right to ask about her." 
He knows she's right, but he's going to get answers even if he has to drive to the cut himself. 
"I know, okay? I know. But I'm at this night club and she looks absolutely wasted. I'm worried." 
He can almost hear her mulling over her next words on the other end of the line when she finally responds. 
"We all are. Between me and you, she's been on a bender. She's gone out almost every night since the breakup. She comes back completely fucked up with random men at like 6 am. We thought it would pass, but it seems like she's not slowing down anytime soon." 
His stomach lurches at the idea of you going home with strangers while completely intoxicated and he takes a deep breath. He hates that he's been sulking while you've been sleeping around, but that's not what's at the forefront of his mind. 
His main concern is your safety. He knows that sooner or later you'll take too much or trust the wrong man and something will happen. 
"Thanks." 
He hears her start to ask something but doesn't wait to listen, quickly ending the call and heading back in. He's on a war path to find you and when he does, his blood boils. 
You're laid on a table while Topper does a body shot off you and his feet carry him forward before his brain can catch up. He rips his friend backward and Topper is about to cuss him out when he sees the look on his face. 
His hands come up in surrender and before you can process, you're being thrown over Rafe's shoulder and carried outside. Your arms and legs flail as you slap at his back and his grip tightens. 
"Fucking put me down!" Your voice is slurred but loud, and your heels click as your feet hit the pavement. 
You take a second to get your bearings before snapping your head up to glare at your ex-boyfriend. 
"What the fuck, Rafe?!" 
Your anger does nothing to deter him and his arms cross over his chest as he blocks you from going back inside. 
"I could ask you the same thing."
His voice is firm yet gentle as he looks at you and it pisses you off. 
"Actually, you can't, asshole. What I do is none of your business." 
He scoffs and if you weren't so far gone, you'd probably take your shoe off and stab him with it. All of this is sobering you up and you definitely need to be high to deal with this conversation. 
"This isn't you. Why are you doing this?" 
It's a stupid question, he's aware of this. Still, he wants to hear you say it. 
"Maybe it is. You don't know who I am anymore."
The words are harsh as you snap at him and his fists clench while he tries to hide how much it hurt him. 
"Yes, I do. So I'll ask one more time. Why are you doing this?"
He softens when he notices the way your chest is heaving and you're gnawing on your lip the way you always do when you're trying to fight back tears. 
"Because I don't want to feel how I did that night, okay? I want to be numb. Is that what you want to hear?"
His heart clenches when your voice wobbles and he reaches out to grab your hand. Pain shoots through him when you recoil from his touch and take a step back. 
"Don't fucking touch me." 
His hand drops back to his side and his mind spins as he tries to figure out how to fix this. That first week was hell, especially when you sent him drunk texts and left voicemails with jumbled words. He figured you were drinking away your sorrows the same as him, but he never imagined it was this bad. 
He fought the urge to call you back and fall to his knees while he begged for another chance. He figured pushing you away was in your best interest. He knows you think he did it because you're a pogue; Sarah called to chew him out over it. 
If that's what helped, he was happy to let you believe it. In reality, it couldn't be farther from the truth. He didn't care about that at all. He knows he's fucked up and all he did was hurt you. 
He figured cutting ties and letting you find someone else was the better alternative to hurting you over and over again. 
He knows that you would never leave him, even if you should. So he decided to do it for you. 
"Okay, I won't touch you. Just please come back with me so I know you're safe. You don't have to talk to me or look at me the entire time if you don't want. Just crash in the guest room and I'll take you back to John B's in the morning." 
You know it's a bad idea, but you're starting to come down and you really miss how comfy the beds at Tannyhill are. He does an internal victory dance when you nod your head and has the valet pull the car around. 
The ride back is dead silent, but he doesn't mind. He's just happy to have you back in his passenger seat where you belong. It's a relatively short drive, and before you know it he's pulling into the long familiar driveway. 
He opens the door for you and you have to remind yourself not to grab his hand the way you normally would. He puts his hand in his pocket to keep from placing it on the small of your back and lets you take the lead. 
An amused smile splits his face when you stop to take your shoes off and thrust them into his stomach. He takes them without any hesitation and carries them without complaint. 
This is familiar to him; your feet always hurt at the end of the night and it wasn't uncommon for him to end up carrying you or toting your shoes and bag around while you were dating. 
He even went as far as keeping a pair of flats in his truck; they're still in the back seat and he kicks himself for not remembering to offer them to you. 
"You're back ear-"
Rose stops mid-sentence when she sees you, and Rafe shoots her a look that tells her not to ask questions. His heart leaps as you trek up the stairs, the path second nature to you. 
He isn't expecting you to swing the door to his room open though and he wonders if it's intentional or just because you're too inebriated to realize. 
He takes a detour to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and painkillers before joining you. He stops in his tracks when he sees you rummaging through his closet and watches as you pull out your favorite hoodie of his, struggling to put it on. 
He debates offering to help before deciding not to push his luck. You're already back in his room when he never thought he'd see it again. The last thing he wants to do is drive you away.
He stands in place as you crawl under his comforter and settle into your side of the bed, nuzzling your head into the soft pillow. His scent is overwhelming and it brings you comfort.
You're sure you'll regret this tomorrow, but right now all you can focus on is being back in his white Egyptian cotton sheets. 
He hesitates for a second before going into the bathroom and grabbing a washcloth and moisturizer. His movements are calculated as he sits on the edge of the mattress and starts wiping away your makeup. 
You don't protest and he takes that as his sign to continue. Once your face is clean, he rubs the expensive lotion that you love into your face, making sure to use upwards movements the way he always saw you do. 
He grabs a pair of joggers and starts to leave when your voice rings out. 
"Just get in the fucking bed, Rafe." 
He doesn't need to be told twice and moves at lightning speed as he slips off his shirt and throws on his sweatpants. He makes sure to leave plenty of space and his heart stops when you roll over and lay on his chest. 
You seem to sense that he's about to say something because your hand comes up to cover his mouth. 
"Don't ruin it with words. Just enjoy it while it lasts."
He nods against your palm and you return your arm to its previous resting place across his abdomen. He hears his phone vibrate and grabs it off the nightstand, careful not to disturb you. You're already snoring softly when he unlocks the screen. 
There's a text from Sarah. 
Do you know if Y/N is okay? We can't get ahold of her and Topper said she left with you.
He snaps a quick photo of your sleeping figure and sends it. Her response is a red heart and he locks the phone before setting it back down. He settles in and falls into a peaceful slumber, elated to have you back in his arms.
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softest-punk · 7 months
Note
37. "I missed you for" Ineffable Husbands after the shit that went down in ep6, if you wouldn't mind please ^-^
yesssssssss
---
Three weeks after The Fight, Crowley stands on Whickber street, in the rain. As it's London, the rain isn't entirely unexpected. It is still wet.
"That's a fun colour," Nina says from somewhere over his shoulder.
Crowley turns and looks at the Bentley again. The daffodil yellow Bentley.
He might as well have painted I miss you across the windshield.
It's not just him, though. It's the car. It won't go back. It's bloody sulking.
Because it misses Aziraphale. Because he misses Aziraphale.
"Is it?" Crowley says, aiming at nonchalance and maybe even hitting it. "Wanted a change."
"Is this what men do instead of cutting their hair when they go through a bad breakup?" Nina asks.
Crowley makes a dismissive sound. "What breakup?" he asks, looking neither at the Bentley nor Nina. There's a very interesting puddle forming in the gutter, a rainbow oil slick floating on top of it.
Nina snorts.
"Your fault?" she asks.
"Probably," Crowley admits. "Circumstances beyond my control, some of it. But probably my fault for... loads of other reasons."
"Pardon me for saying, but I'm not sure Mr. Fell was exactly perfection incarnate."
Crowley turns on her then, and has to force himself to tamp down on a potentially destructive surge of wrath that wells up inside him.
"He is," Crowley says. "He's never been anything but good and kind to me. He's my very best friend in the whole world. Thing is, I was so angry at first because how could he be such a coward, but it's not as though I've exactly stood up for myself, either. I've skirted and hedged and broken the rules but only as much as he has. I was never brave enough to make a clean break. Why should I expect him to be? When he's so good and he so believes he really can fix everything. He really does believe in good, you know."
Nina raises an eyebrow.
"Don't look at me like that. Aziraphale is perfect, and I ought to have been telling him I thought so for—for a really, really long time. So it's no wonder he left, really."
Both of Nina's brows rise higher.
"I deserved it, I think, for being such a coward for so long. I didn't even... and then I was so desperate. So desperate I ended up pushing him away when I'd just realised maybe I could hang onto him, if I was just a little braver. I was about to tell him. How much he meant to me. And then I stuffed it up and now he's gone and I miss him like... like... I don't know. My other half. Because he is. He's... my other half. And it hurts to be half a person."
Nina looks outright alarmed now, which Crowley isn't sure is entirely the appropriate reaction when a passing acquaintance who tried to set you up with a really very nice girl pours his heart and soul out to you on the street.
"Crowley," a voice says behind him. Soft. Tentative. So familiar it feels...
Well. It feels like a part of him. Like it just belongs in his ears.
That will explain the look on Nina's face.
She, being much, much smarter than Crowley, busies herself with getting out of the way as quickly as possible.
Crowley turns on his heel.
He wants to say something. Anything, really.
It's just that he can't quite seem to get his jaw to work. Maybe it's come unhinged.
"Aziraphale," he says, looking first at the puddle, and then at the Bentley, and then realising Aziraphale's looking at the Bentley and staring at him, even though it sort of hurts to look at all. All that extra grace, he thinks. Burning his eyes, even behind his sunglasses.
No. No that's not... he's looked at archangels just fine before. He's stared down Gabriel at full power.
It's just hard to look at Aziraphale, because there's a sucking Aziraphale-sized hole in him.
He watches Aziraphale reach out and tap his fingers on the roof of the Bentley. No disguising how incredibly yellow it is.
"Other half?" he asks quietly.
He's not looking at Crowley, either.
"Umm. Well. Yeah, actually," Crowley admits. What else has he got to lose? He's already lost the only thing he's ever really cared about. "Always have been. First in a sort of... counterpart way. But. Now in a sort of right hand side way."
Aziraphale swallows visibly.
"I missed you, too," he says, so soft Crowley wouldn't have heard it if he was any less attuned to his angel.
Right. Well. That's.
Something.
"Okay," Crowley says. "Great, good. That's a good starting point. Any ideas what we might do about that?"
Aziraphale looks at him then. He looks so tired, but there's still a spark in him. Goodness. Hope. Tiny touch of righteous fury.
"Well I think we ought to avert the impending apocalypse first," he says. "But then, perhaps dinner?"
Crowley, despite everything—particularly, despite having just learned of aforementioned impending apocalypse,— grins.
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p0orbaby · 7 months
Note
Can you write about wanda maximoff x gn !reader
Enemies to lovers kinda thing
Wanda just pretend she didn't like R and say hurtful things but R keep asking her on a date. But after a mission R takes a bullet for wanda and saved her. Then wanda slap R and say "don't die idiot, i can't live without my idiot" something like that
Please make it more angsty fluffy one
Thanks😊✌🏻
Cat and Mouse
a/n: close enough
warnings: slightly suggestive, way too much sarcasm, like seriously too much, reader being a cocky shit, mentions of blood and wounds, pain, battle
word count: 1k
-
“You’re relentless, please tell me you’re not too stupid to realise that?”
Wanda Maximoff. The bane of your life. The thorn in your side. The cause of the throb at the apex of your thighs on more than just lonely nights.
She loved it really. The chase. The tease. You saw the way she smirked at you when she thought you weren’t looking. The reflection of the coffee machine ratting her out more times than she would ever care to admit.
“Me?” You asked aghast. Hand on your chest to feign shock. “Relentless? I’m offended, Miss Maximoff. I think the word you’re looking for is determined”
“Determined, you say? Well, determination might be your forte, but patience is certainly mine," Wanda retorted with a raised eyebrow. Fire behind the green of her eyes. "And let's not even get started on your penchant for dramatics”
You leaned in with a sly grin. Closing the gap between the two of you. Crowding her between your body and a bare wall of the compound's many corridors. "Oh, come on, Wanda. Admit it, I've caught your attention in more ways than one”
Wanda rolled her eyes, curling her gloss covered lips in disgust. "Caught my attention, sure. But whether that's a good thing or not, well, that's still up for debate"
You were so close now you could feel her annoyed sighs ghost against your skin. Now warm with, you weren’t quite sure. Satisfaction perhaps. At how her stoic facade always crumbled around you.
"Debate?" you chuckled. "I'd say it's more like a thrilling tug of war, and I intend to win"
She shook her head, mock exasperation in her tone. Stepping out from underneath your gaze. "You do love a challenge, don't you?"
"Only when the challenge is as captivating as you, little witch" you replied smoothly, causing a faint blush to rise on her cheeks.
"You're unbelievable," she muttered, but there was a sparkle in her eyes that betrayed her amusement. And even as she peeled herself away from the wall, out from underneath the bracket of your arms around her frame, turning away from you, you knew she was smiling. You could feel it. It was in the air like static. And you were certain just one spark will light the way to something brilliant.
-
Sometimes you wondered why you chose this life. Well, chose is subjective. You could leave if you wanted to. Fury wouldn’t be too thrilled about the whole ordeal. But who was going to stop you? Ross?
Or perhaps the bullet that was currently lodged in your side.
"Well, this wasn't exactly on my to-do list for today" You managed to say as you clutched the wound.
Wanda's eyes widened with a mix of surprise and concern. Her chest rising and falling from the effort of defeating the guy who shot landed a bullet into your flesh. “Did you just… don’t you dare say you just took a bullet for me"
You chuckled, wincing in pain. "Oh, you know, just felt like adding some excitement to my day. Saving the world from certain destruction can be a bore sometimes. Am I right?"
She tried but failed to not roll her eyes at you. Her favourite form of response as of late. "You're incorrigible," she said, kneeling down to shelter you somewhat from the fallout of an explosion the went off behind you both.
"Guilty as charged," you replied, attempting a sit up. You hissed at the sharp pain that spread through your body as you bent at the wait. "I'm wounded, fair lady. Perhaps this is my moment to confess my undying affection"
Wanda raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her features. A look starkly contrasted by the gash above her brow and the bruise blooming around it “Undying affection? Is that what they're calling it these days?"
You laughed, wincing a little as you held your abdomen. Hand now saturated in blood. "Ouch, that one hurt more than the bullet"
With a dramatic sigh, Wanda leaned in, her tone gone from teasing to worried at the sight of you. "Alright, alright. You've earned it. I'll go on a date with you."
You grinned, despite your predicament "Ah, the lengths I'll go to just to secure a dinner reservation"
As the battle reached its climax and the enemy forces retreated, you and Wanda found yourselves sitting amidst the rubble, your injury a harsh reminder of the dangers you faced. She looked at you, concern etching her features. "You know, you're not just a chatty know it all. You're actually a decent person”
You feigned surprise, a broken chuckle escaping your lips. "Wow, high praise. I’m honoured, truly”
Wanda rolled her eyes, her concern mingling with something akin to fondness. "Don't let it go to your head. That’s the only compliment you’re getting"
You winced, shifting slightly to ease the discomfort. "My head is perfectly fine, but this bullet wound could use a little attention”
She leaned in closer, her voice quieting now the sounds around you have dampened. "For all the sarcasm, you've got a way of making near death experiences slightly more forgiving"
You smirked through the pain, your eyes locked onto hers. "What can I say? I soften up even the harshest of battlefields”
Wanda chuckled, her fingers reaching out to brush against your arm in a gentle, comforting gesture. Your skin prickled underneath your tactical suit. "You're ridiculous"
"You say that like it's a bad thing," you replied with a laugh, coughing and straining slightly as pain shot through your body again.
With a sigh and a concerned frown of her brow, Wanda leaned in even closer to assess you. "Okay, fine. Once we patch you up, we'll go on that date I know you’ve been dying to ask me on”
"Don’t act like you haven’t been waiting to say yes" you teased, your heart skipping a beat when she smirked, eyes lighting up like she was glad you’d finally called her bluff.
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circeyoru · 24 days
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hello, damn I fell in love with your yandere Alastor, it's too much jdkdkfkkd it's so sweet it kills me, I wanted to ask you how Alastor would react and his darling gave him his soul. I told myself I was going to stop reading so many Alastor fanfics but I can't with yours, they are very addictive.
To those that have no idea what this is talking about, check out {Unwanted Soul}
Thank you for your read and interest!! (can't believe someone says my stories are addictive, feel like I committed a crime)
OKay, back to business. Interesting ask. We never explored Alastor's side of the soul ownership huh. (since it's different from canon)
Basically, what's Alastor's response and reaction to Reader breaking the contract and returning Alastor's soul to him to own.
Alastor would see this as you not wanting him around. Full stop. Whatever your reason and currently established relationship (like how close you two are). He'd have a full breakdown and his confidence all gone. He gave you everything and treated you like an entity beyond. What did he do wrong? Tell him and he'll fix it!
By now, like after part 3. You have already mutually returned his feelings, but just not as strong as Alastor's. At least you're more lenient and accepting of his love and affections to you. He doesn't understand that you want him to hold his soul again without abandoning him. He knows you fear his power and Overlord status that can bring you to ruin, so giving you his soul was a way to show you he didn't care about these things that anchored his pride when compared to being by your side. To him, you accepting his soul was the same as you letting him stay by your side and accepting his twisted love for you. If you give back his soul to him, you're saying you don't want him and his presence around you.
He's not stupid, while he builds your reliance on him, he knows you could just as easily remove him from your afterlife. As such as he hates to admit it, you didn't need him as much as he needed you. (now isn't that odd?)
That's his feelings, now for his reaction and response.
While he wouldn't harm you, he'll frighten you to use the ownership power over him. Showing you that if you set him free from your hold, he can and will wreak havoc. Aren't you regretting the very thought of suggesting that? It's laughable, you want to free him. He'll show you, even when his powers are limited, he causes destruction to demons around him, think about what would happen if he's at full power.
Both of you are aware of this manipulation and you knew Alastor was using it to his advantage. Odd that the one that owns his soul is so powerless against his words and persuasions.
Oh, those don't work? Well. That's too bad. The hard way it is.
Alastor will lock you up somewhere. Keep you away from any paper-related objects. You're powerful, but you can't compete with him in combat. "You're sloppy, darling." He'd laugh when you tried to immobilize him with your summoned angelic weapons. They're deadly, but nothing if they don't land on their target. He'll push you into a corner so that you have to defend yourself till the point of exhaustion (like that time with Adam). Then he'll catch your tired and defenceless self in his arms lovingly. Once you're in your slumber mode, you're all his.
Charlie and the others are trying to find you? Even Lucifer? Well, he has his shadows and he will hide you from them. He's stronger now, before he played nice because you were there, but you're out of commission at the moment so he can let loose a bit. He would have pointed the finger at Charlie or even Lucifer and the others for your silly actions, that is, if you weren't always in your room with your entertainment. It took him years to get close to you, how can they do the same in such little time and you weren't caring for them as you did him. Even during you activities with the group, you weren't as involved and chose to stick close to him.
He'll nurse you back to health, but not fully that you can run away, he'll keep you at that borderline between energetic and exhausted. He gives you the same life you've lived with him during those 7 years, eveything's the same. Like the world only has you two in it. Back to the good old days.
Just don't worry about the times he's gone. He needs to ward off some pests around you. You don't care for them, yes? Alastor knows and understands. He'll take care of it as usual. You can ignore it all with your anime and comics, or take a nice long sleep to pass the time.
You let Alastor go? He's not letting you. Not on his soul.
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Note: Hope this answers your question. I actually thought you were asking what if Reader gives Alastor their soul. Idk how I got that
Welcome other asks about my stories too!
Other Works: MASTERLIST
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ineffable-endearments · 4 months
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Crowley and His Plants in Season 2
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I've got this complicated post about Aziraphale and the bookshop brewing, but I want to give Crowley and his plants their own post.
It's really important that Crowley hung onto his plants for juicy characterization and symbolic and thematic reasons. It's a major character development portrayed with relative subtlety, an excellent example of Showing, Not Telling, and I think it's a thrilling sign for Crowley's character development.
Before having a chance to think about it, I thought keeping the plants in his car was a funny and odd - but sweet - detail to include. In fact, it was so sweet that it was one of those "felt like fanfic" things!
In Season 1, and in the novel, the plants were very much there for trauma reenactment, for Crowley to vent his hurt and fear and anger and betrayal onto. In a sense, they seemed to be Crowley's way of roleplaying with himself, if we assume they were only sentient because Crowley thought of them that way. Through the dynamic of yelling at his plants, which he assumed could understand him, Crowley could emotionally act out both the terrified, powerless plant (subconsciously) and the big scary entity threatening it with destruction (consciously).
If we take everything at face value, we can also guess that Crowley disposed of plants that he no longer liked because of their imperfections, which would seem to imply he didn't have much of an attachment to them. Where they went doesn't matter that much to this particular line of theorizing. He could have given them to his elderly neighbor, he could have plunked them in a community garden, he could have left them on a doorstep, he could have shredded them in the garbage disposal. In any case, they were gone from his kingdom.
And after Season 1, I wondered if he would care to keep the plants if he wasn't using them to act out trauma anymore.
But in Season 2, the plants are in fact the ONLY thing from the flat that Crowley has hung onto as he moved into his car. Sure, it's possible that he has other possessions squirreled away somewhere and he just carries the plants around because they need sunlight, but most of the other possessions go unmentioned, so we have to guess that the plants are specifically important. They're also important enough to follow him into the bookshop and back to the car instead of just staying in the car for the trip to Edinburgh.
We also don't see a single instance of Crowley berating the plants in Season 2, but they do still express his emotions somewhat (shaking when he's afraid). He still has whatever subconscious connection to them he was experiencing before. Notably, there's at least one scene where a brown spot is visible on a plant, so whatever Crowley's doing, he's not getting rid of the plants like he used to.
This seems like an obvious example of Crowley's attachment to Earth condensed into a handy symbol. Crowley has started to admit to himself that he cares about these helpless living things, that he just likes them for their own sake. They're not a sign of a job well done for Hell. They're not a memory of Aziraphale. They're not a tool to make life easier or numb the pain. They're just Life On Earth and Crowley likes to have them.
Crowley has gone from using his plants as a tool for trauma reenactment to holding onto his plants because he has a genuine attachment to them. And, for a character whose arc I believe is going to involve forming more outward connections to others, that's a big deal.
Crowley's still got a ways to go. He's carrying these plants around, but the Bentley can't be an ideal environment for them. The whole process of driving them around, not to mention bringing them in and out of the bookshop, has to be kind of awkward for Crowley, too. It's very reminiscent of a character whose attachment to Earth is ambivalent, but who is moving in the right direction.
I wonder what'll happen next. His progress could be relatively linear, wherein he just goes off and forms more connections to humans on Earth after Aziraphale goes back to Heaven.
My suspicion, though, is that he will return to Hell with the specific goal in mind of thwarting the Second Coming and possibly trying to bring the entire system crashing down. In this way, Crowley experiences a massive setback in his position (he wants to be on Earth, not in Hell!) but is actually demonstrating a redoubled dedication to Earth and humans, so what he's doing is not backsliding. Compare it to Season 1, when Crowley is charged with delivering the Antichrist and complains, as late as the Antichrist's 11th birthday, that he didn't want to be involved, that Hell shouldn't have chosen him - when Hell choosing Crowley was the only reason he was ever in a position to try to thwart Armageddon.
But that's a lot of speculation. The point is, the plants are a meaningful connection to Earth and Crowley is taking care of them.
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