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#it's been a long long time
winniemaywebber · 20 hours
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It's Been A Long, Long Time • Part 2
💕 Jean 💕
warnings: 18+, oral (f receiving), mention of sexual intercourse.
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taglist: @sagesolsticewrites @ginabaker1666 @agir1ukn0w @precious-little-scoundrel
Putting the finishing touches to your famous cherry pie, you remove your apron and walk into the living room, trying your best to swipe flour off your dress as you enter. 
“Pie is done, Binger,” you say quietly so as not to wake the baby in his arms. Yours and Harry's son had taken to mixing up his days and nights. Not a wink of sleep from midnight - what Bing liked to call his witching hour - until at least 5am. It had started to take its toll on the pair of you, the both of you sleeping in shifts for the most of a fortnight. You missed your husband dearly, despite being back in the same house. There was just something about savoring his arms around you, his nose snuffling into your neck as he slept, the comfort you'd been craving for years. You knew it was hard for him too: waking alone from a horrific nightmare, your soft hands not there to soothe him back to sleep and reassure him he's home and safe. 
Placing the baby in his bassinet, Harry gets up from the couch and stretches, yawning heavily before walking into the kitchen. 
“It looks wonderful, my love. He'll love it.”
“Are you sure?” you question, eyebrow raised a little. “You're sure he said that was his favorite?” 
“Yes, Mrs Crosby,” he laughs, kissing your forehead. “I like to think I'd remember these little things about my friends. Don't worry yourself so.” He pulls you into his arms and strokes your back, his nose falling into the crook of your neck. You feel yourself purr into him at the sensation of him tickling and kissing your neck, gasping a little. 
“He's asleep,” your husband murmurs. “Come to bed with me, darling.” 
“But Rosie will be here any moment and…ahhh–” You can barely piece the rest of your thought together because of Harry putting his mouth on yours, his tongue entering soon after. 
“Fine, we won't go to bed,” he murmurs, pushing you against the counter. “Here is more than fine.” With that, his strong, pretty hands are lifting up the skirt of your dress and gripping your legs, lifting you slightly to get you to sit on the counter. 
“Harry…” you groan as you watch him kneel down in front of you, pulling your underwear to the side. 
“What, my little wife? Do you want me to stop?” he questions, those brown, puppy dog eyes looking up at you as he begins to plant soft kisses on your the inside of your thighs, getting closer to your core with each one. 
“N-no,” you finally stutter out. “It-its just…oh, my gosh.” You're cut off by your husband's tongue taking you apart in seconds. He pulls away, gently pushing a finger inside you. 
"It's just what, darling? Tell me. Tell your Bing just what it is.” 
You can't seem to formulate words due to the pleasure fogging your brain, so you just shake your head, breath ragged. 
“That's what I thought,” he murmurs, returning his face to in between your legs, throwing your leg over his shoulder. “Now, let me make my wife feel good.” 
You're a mess, moments later, Bing mumbling filthy praise as you writhe in front of him. “Wow…you needed that, huh?” He stands up, wiping his mouth and kissing you, you moaning at the taste of yourself on his tongue. 
“Mhm,” you reply, your mouth still on his. “I always need you.” 
“Good,” he grins. He plants a sweet kiss on your nose, winking at you. “We'd better go clean up.” 
---
It's just as Harry's spitting toothpaste into the sink that you hear the doorbell ring. You both look at each other, wincing and waiting for the inevitable screech that strangely, doesn't come. You take a final look at yourself in the bathroom mirror before running to the door, Harry following close behind you, his hands squeezing your butt as you turn away.
“Hey!” you squeal, playfully swatting at him. He chuckles, pulling you towards him again for a quick kiss. 
The doorbell rings again, and Harry goes to open the door. “Here he is!” he shouts, pulling his friend into a hug. “Robbie Rosenthal!”
“Croz, how are ya?” he responds, slapping him on the back. He makes eye contact with you stood behind the pair of them, giving them time to greet one another after so long. 
“Jeez, Croz,” He pulls away, smiling at you. “Wonderful to see ya. And this must be the Mrs Jean Crosby.” 
“Hi, Rosie. A pleasure, finally!” You go to shake his hand, but he pulls you into a huge bear hug. 
“So, so, good to finally meet you.” 
He follows you and Harry into the house, placing his bag by the door. 
“How was your journey, bud?” Harry asks, placing a cold beer in front of him. 
“Ah, not so bad,” he responds, taking a sip. “Jo says she's sorry she couldn't be here.” With that, he glances over at you, and you share a sad glance.
“Oh, my sweet Jo,” you respond wistfully. Jo had been part of the team of ladies keeping you upright in many ways during the time Harry was away. She was always there with a listening ear, a kind heart and a shoulder to cry on when things got especially tough. Because of that, she is now one of your most treasured friends, and holds such a special place in your heart. “I miss her terribly. How is she? Of course, we write weekly but it's not the same as being around her.”
“I know, Jean. She's doing great, beautiful as ever. We've been fixing up a little house to move into after we're married. You guys are gonna come, right?”
“You think we'd miss that, Rose? Come on, man, you know me better than that!” The men laugh, clinking beer bottles as you're pulling vanilla ice cream from the freezer to serve with the pie when a soft cry pours through from the living room into the kitchen. You nod apologetically towards the men and go retrieve the baby.
“Hi, sunshine,” you murmur, picking him up. “That was a good nap, huh? Good boy, I'm sure you feel much better now. Guess who's here?” You lay him down on the changing mat to change his diaper, cooing all the while. “That's right, my boy! Uncle Rosie. Uncle Rosie's here to see you!” 
You feel the presence of someone in the doorway, and look up to see Harry, his arms crossed, smiling at you and the baby. 
“What, darling?” You say, buttoning the baby's romper. 
“That never gets old, sweetheart. You and him, me being here to see it. I love it.” He walks over and takes the baby from you, kissing his chubby cheeks before kissing yours. “I love you, Mrs Crosby.”
“I love you more, Bing.”
Rosie gasps as Croz brings the baby into the kitchen, his eyes lighting up and softening at the same time. He stands up, the chair squeaking on the kitchen floor as he reaches his hands out, holding the baby to his body.
“Hi, buddy!” He chirps, smiling down at him. “How's it goin’? Huh? You running mom and dad ragged? Yeah? That's what I thought, little guy. Good job!” He carries on like this, rambling in a voice that's several octaves higher than you just heard, the baby gurgling in response.
“Oh, you guys,” he says, back to his normal husky tone, his eyes shining. “He's beautiful.” 
---
The rest of the day passes quickly, both men rushing around you and switching the baby between them, so you can sit down and rest. Thankful for the extra pair of hands, you take the opportunity to take a long, hot bath and relax, your Bing coming in for just a moment to sit on the edge of the tub, telling you a story from their time in England that he'd just remembered thanks to Rosie and that he just had to tell you immediately, all while rubbing lavender soap into your legs. 
While you're getting ready for bed, you reread Jo's latest letter, which you plan to reply to in the morning.
Darling Jean,
How are you? Good, I hope. I'm so sorry to read that the little guy isn't sleeping well. I imagine that can be so exhausting.
I'm glad Robbie will be there in a few days. That extra pair of hands around so you can relax will be welcome, I'm sure. I'm just so sorry I cannot be there too, to be with you while the boys share their anecdotes. While our men may have lost so much in the years they were away from us, I'm glad it gave us something: each other. You are one of my dearest friends and I am forever glad and grateful that your Harry and my Robert became friends, thus putting us together. I wouldn't know how to live without you now. 
Back to not being able to join Robbie on this trip: tell him to hurry up and marry me so I'm able to come see you and the baby. Start dropping hints now, lady! I'm dying to see you and my beloved nephew. 
Goodbye for now, my dear. All my love, always.
Your friend,
Jo
You smile, placing the letter back on your nightstand, sniffling a little. She is right; the men losing so much, yet you both gaining this friendship is bittersweet. Her being there for you when Harry came home on leave, your nerves wrecked after not seeing your husband for years. She was one of the first people you told when you found out you were pregnant, both of you weeping with joy and hugging. Wiping your present tears away, you run downstairs to take the baby so that Bing can take the first sleep shift. 
“Harry, darling,” you coo. “You'd better sleep if you want to take Rosie golfing tomorrow morning!”
“Oh, thanks, honey,” he says, clumsily standing from the couch so as not to disturb the dozing baby in his arms. “Here ya go, buddy,” he says, placing the baby in your waiting arms. “Go to mama. Goodnight, my son.” He kisses him on the head, then it's your turn, placing a deep kiss on your mouth. 
“Hold on, you guys,” Rosie starts, placing his whiskey glass on the table in front of him. “You aren't going to bed together?”
“We can't right now, Rosie,” you say, sadly. “Little guy here wakes at all hours, so we take it in turns right now.”
“I'm not having that!” he says, shocked. “Go to bed together, I'm here for a reason. Uncle Rosie and his new best buddy can have a few hours to get to know one another a bit better. You've got jazz, a record player and I've got arms that aren't exhausted to be able to hold him all hours.”
“Are you sure, bud?” Harry says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.
“Yes, Croz. Go curl up with your wife. I'll be here.”
“Thanks, doll,” you say, a grateful smile on your face. “Come wake us if there's any trouble, okay?” You place the dozing baby in his bassinet next to the armchair Rosie is sitting in, and gently pat his shoulder in thanks.
“I wouldn't dream of it. Goodnight, you two!”
---
You and Harry ascend the stairs together, breathing a sigh of grateful relief. Pulling his shirt off, your Bing walks towards you, his hands finding their way up your night dress. “How's about we pick up where we left off earlier?” he winks, his hands getting further up your bare skin.
“Hmm, yes please.”
“Good,” he murmurs, kissing you deeply. “Just be quiet, Mrs Crosby. We don't want the cops called on us.” 
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fawnshy · 29 days
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Opening two slots for headshot commissions at $50 if anyone would like to grab one ❤ my hands have been feeling great lately (yay!!) and I'm raring to draw, so turnaround would be a week or less. Visit my website for more information, and please feel free to DM me here or shoot me an email at [email protected] if you're interested! Thanks!!
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moo-blogging · 11 months
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Hey! How are you? 💛 wanna write about comforting Levi after a nightmare or an expedition gone sideways? I’m a sucker for hurt/comfort 🥺
Late night (hurt/comfort) thoughts #110:
It was too fast. It came too fast from your right. An abnormal titan grabbed your horse and you almost fell off. Panicking, you grabbed the wrong smoke gun from the bag hanging on your horse. You shot it on the titan instead. It angered the titan and it squeezed your horse too hard your horse's neck broke in its fist. By then, you grabbed the right colour and fired it onto the sky. The loud bang angered the titan and it threw the horse into a lake nearby, with you along on the horse.
You felt a strong grip around your neck and oxygen was cut off. Gasping for air but mouthful of water gushed into your throat instead. Fear started to kick in as you pulled on the horse lead rope around your neck. You tried to yank it free but your horse was dead and it was sinking fast, and you were sinking with him. Your lungs burnt with pain as water filled your lungs instead of the air they craved.
You watched as you sank further away from the light. All you could think of was Levi. You could see him waking up next to you. The way his brows tightened before he opened his eyes, and how they lit up as his whispered a 'morning, love' with his sleepy deep voice. It was your day off but Levi was used to waking up early so you laid together just grinning sheepishly at each other and waiting for the sun to rise.
You felt heavy and slowly your eyes closed...
.
When Levi heard the first shot of smoke gun, he was looking frantically at the direction it came from. He memorised your position in the scouting formation and he, although desperately hoping it wasn't you, certain it was you. And then he heard the second gun shot. Before he could see the black smoke, he was already riding toward you after yelling at his team to carry forward. He knew Erwin's orders in not engaging in any titans unless necessary. You were his necessity.
He cursed under his breath how far you were stationed away from him. He knew your ability to fend for yourself, he trained you enough to know you can fend for yourself and even protect others. He only agreed to having you being stationed alone because you were not in the furthest out. But accidents happened.
When he reached the smoke location, the couple of scouts behind you had caught up to your position and was attacking the abnormal titan.
"Stand back!" Levi yelled at them as he leaped from his horse and sliced the left cheek of the titan. Turning its head, Levi flew above it and sliced its nape. The titan was down within seconds.
"Where is y/n?! Where is y/n?!" He yelled at the stunned scouts. They shook and said they never saw you.
No, Levi thought, no, this can't be.
He scanned around, taking every drop of blood on the grass in and analysing. He saw a pool of blood a few meters away from the titan's steaming body and the empty guns your fired. The blood then dripped towards his left, each drop further to one another as it went. Following the blood trail, he saw a deep red in the middle of a lake. Without a second of hesitation, he jumped into the lake.
Pushing the dark water behind him, he swam deeper and deeper. Please please please please please, he prayed. He was too afraid to find out what was under the lake. His heart sank as soon as he saw a glitter among the darkness. Your mother's necklace. He swam harder and your ghostly face appeared before him. Grabbing the back of your neck, he felt the ropes immediately. He tried to pull at it but he saw your headless horse. He pulled out his knife from his back pocket and cut the rope, dragging you to the surface as soon as the rope snapped.
Dropping you onto the grass, Levi blew air into your mouth and pushed his palms onto your chest. "Breathe, y/n! Breathe! Please, breathe!" Levi begged. After 30 compressions, he blew into your mouth again. Pumping on your chest, your face blurred as his eyes were filled with lake water and tears. After another 30 compressions, he blew into your mouth again, this time he cried out in desperation.
"No, no, please, y/n, please," Levi started sobbing, "no, come back.. Come back to me, y/n.."
Just then your body jerked forward and you vomited a mouthful of water. Your throat burned as you coughed the last bitter water out of your lungs. You were squeezed between Levi's arms and you felt him shaking. You lifted your arm weakly and rested on his back. The field was silent except for Levi's wailing.
.
That night at camp, lying in the same sleeping bag, Levi held you underneath him as if he was trying to physically shield you from all harms. This was the first time Levi openly held you for so long. He couldn't stop caressing your hair and touching your heart, convincing himself you came back to him.
Tilting your head, you kissed his cheek softly. He snuggled closer, pushing his cheek to your forehead.
Inhaling your hair, Levi then exhaled in relief. He asked for the millionth time, "promise me you will never ever leave me."
Turning your face to fit on his neck, you whispered, "I promise," for the millionth time.
~ Thank you thank you thank you so so much for sending in a request. I feel so much better after I wrote this and I can't wait to write more during the weekends! I do enjoy writing hurt/comfort fics too and I almost forgot that feeling. Thank you so much for bringing it back, I do hope you enjoy it ~
wait, is this angst? or hurt? or both? but definitely comfort :)
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Sitting in my favorite tea shop writing, and "It's Been a Long, Long Time" just came on their radio. I knew there was a reason I liked this place 😁
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lavender-long-stories · 3 months
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This is going to seem very of topic for me, but hear me out.
I wish it was still common for a bunch of artists to record the same song. They all come out a little different.
It's Been a Long, Long Time - Kitty Kallen - classic - my favorite - feels like a long hug after not seeing someone for a long time
It's Been A Long, Long Time - Louis Armstrong - jazzy - quicker - improv-y - classic Louis
It's Been a Long, Long Time - Doris Day - dreamy airy
It’s Been a Long, Long Time - Bing Crosby - slow - sounds like a lullaby
I want to see all the twists and turns different artists put on one song and not just in live shows where they do a cover. I want a recording. I want a good song to come out and then watch people play with it.
It's like fanfiction (I told you it was on topic). I don't care if I have seen this trope with these characters before. I want to see it again, slightly different. I want to see what someone else does with it.
Who cares if it's been done if it's not been done by you yet.
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missstar489 · 2 days
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guess who's trying to remember how to draw again
I realized there is a severe lacking of the Best Girl of the X era so if I gotta flood the tag myself so fucking be it
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Time to break your heart : in Captain America - The Winter soldier, “It’s been a long long time” is playing not as a soundtrack to the movie but as a real song being listened to in Steve’s apartment.
Which means that Steve owned the vinyl.
Which means he probably listened to it thinking about Bucky and the fact he’d never see him again.
You’re welcome. Always cry, never keep it in.
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noxwithoutstars · 10 months
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First of all reqs open again
finally doing the desolation and hunt neogender umbrellas and gendies ahhhhhhhh
If anyone wants a tag pls say !
Also @radiomogai were you just going to do the spiral and the eye ( which are occunous and imosril ? )
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would you kill for me ? -Maddie to Mal
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The former Dark Elf paused, looking up from the book he'd been casually thumbing through. He studied her a moment, only partly ignoring the painful thump of his dual hearts whenever he did. Would he kill for her? This fearsome, fiery mistress of dark magic?
'That depends, Malekith. Is she worth fighting for?'
A little smile tugged at his mouth; he reached across the table, and after hovering a moment, placed his hand over hers.
"Yes."
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bubblebear5000 · 1 year
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honestly if i don't someday get to dance with my lover in the kitchen after dark to some old jazz/50's/love song then what's the point in living anymore
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I’m convinced whoever wrote this on Wiki is a stucky shipper. 
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huminahon · 1 year
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Kiss me once, kiss me twice, then kiss me once more again.
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spideyofwinter · 2 years
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Guys, help me out: should I take prompts for winterspider shortfics?
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the fact that shakespeare was a playwright is sometimes so funny to me. just the concept of the "greatest writer of the English language" being a random 450-year-old entertainer, a 16th cent pop cultural sensation (thanks in large part to puns & dirty jokes & verbiage & a long-running appeal to commoners). and his work was made to be watched not read, but in the classroom teachers just hand us his scripts and say "that's literature"
just...imagine it's 2450 A.D. and English Lit students are regularly going into 100k debt writing postdoc theses on The Simpsons screenplays. the original animation hasn't even been preserved, it's literally just scripts and the occasional SDH subtitles.txt. they've been republished more times than the Bible
#due to the Great Data Decay academics write viciously argumentative articles on which episodes aired in what order#at conferences professors have known to engage in physically violent altercations whilst debating the air date number of household viewers#90% of the couch gags have been lost and there is a billion dollar trade in counterfeit “lost copies”#serious note: i'll be honest i always assumed it was english imperialism that made shakespeare so inescapable in the 19th/20th cent#like his writing should have become obscure at the same level of his contemporaries#but british imperialists needed an ENGLISH LANGUAGE (and BRITISH) writer to venerate#and shakespeare wrote so many damn things that there was a humongous body of work just sitting there waiting to be culturally exploited...#i know it didn't happen like this but i imagine a English Parliament House Committee Member For The Education Of The Masses or something#cartoonishly stumbling over a dusty cobwebbed crate labelled the Complete Works of Shakespeare#and going 'Eureka! this shall make excellent propoganda for fabricating a national identity in a time of great social unrest.#it will be a cornerstone of our elitist educational institutions for centuries to come! long live our decaying empire!'#'what good fortune that this used to be accessible and entertaining to mainstream illiterate audience members...#..but now we can strip that away and make it a difficult & alienating foundation of a Classical Education! just like the latin language :)'#anyway maybe there's no such thing as the 'greatest writer of x language' in ANY language?#maybe there are just different styles and yes levels of expertise and skill but also a high degree of subjectivity#and variance in the way that we as individuals and members of different cultures/time periods experience any work of media#and that's okay! and should be acknowledged!!! and allow us to give ourselves permission to broaden our horizons#and explore the stories of marginalized/underappreciated creators#instead of worshiping the List of Top 10 Best (aka Most Famous) Whatevers Of All Time/A Certain Time Period#anyways things are famous for a reason and that reason has little to do with innate “value”#and much more to do with how it plays into the interests of powerful institutions motivated to influence our shared cultural narratives#so i'm not saying 'stop teaching shakespeare'. but like...maybe classrooms should stop using it as busy work that (by accident or designs)#happens to alienate a large number of students who could otherwise be engaging critically with works that feel more relevant to their world#(by merit of not being 4 centuries old or lacking necessary historical context or requiring untaught translation skills)#and yeah...MAYBE our educational institutions could spend less time/money on shakespeare critical analysis and more on...#...any of thousands of underfunded areas of literary research i literally (pun!) don't know where to begin#oh and p.s. the modern publishing world is in shambles and it would be neat if schoolwork could include modern works?#beautiful complicated socially relevant works of literature are published every year. it's not just the 'classics' that have value#and actually modern publications are probably an easier way for students to learn the basics. since lesson plans don't have to include the#important historical/cultural context many teens need for 20+ year old media (which is older than their entire lived experience fyi)
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wasabi-gumdrop · 5 days
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local ladies man’s signature move totally useless against autistic monster enthusiast. more on Kabru’s fumble era at 6
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 22 hours
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Expertise can't help you here.
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