#I know I won't like it why is this so hard
Note
You posted about adhd and I was hoping to follow up to clarify something. I’ve explained to my partner a million times about how the borderline-hoarding mess of his space is very mentally draining to me, and he understands but we’ve both essentially accepted he won’t clean his mess because he can’t because of his adhd. You’re saying he’s actually being a shit head?
This isn't necessarily an issue of him being a shithead, but it also isn't a sustainable situation. It's not good for you and there's a level of clutter that's probably not good for him either.
Large bastard is a lot more clutter-y than I am. The solution we've come to is trying to keep our messes at least isolated from one another; he can have his messes and I can have mine, but he can have those messes in his spaces, not all over the place. Sometimes those messes migrate, and that's when it's important for him to make the effort to rein them in rather than trying and failing to make a daily effort to keep our entire shared space tidy.
I think when you say "we've both essentially accepted he won't clean his mess" what I'm hearing is resignation; you're not happy about this but you don't know what to do so you've thrown up your hands and he feels helpless and unsure of what to do to improve the situation. This is the kind of "it's fine" that isn't really fine.
I think it would be worthwhile for you to each separately think about the mess and talk about it together. Are there areas that YOU *need* to have not-messy? Both for utility and your mental health? Are there areas where you can tolerate more mess than otherwise? Are there areas that are going to be harder for him to keep the mess out of than others? Are there things he doesn't *know* about cleaning up the mess?
I'm obviously a big "communication communication communication" person so I'm going to recommend a lot of talking about stuff, which is probably going to mean a lot of thinking about and interrogating stuff. I'm going to say "talk to him about why the mess bothers you" which means you also have to really articulate to yourself why the mess bothers you (for instance I'm not actually *bothered* by a messy kitchen, but I know it's going to reflect badly on us - and me specifically b/c of presumed gender roles - if someone pops by and the kitchen is a disaster, AND a messy kitchen is going to be harder to use). Genuinely, sometimes knowing *why* something is a problem might make it easier for someone with ADHD to do something. And it's not that he doesn't care that it upsets you, it's just that "Oh if I don't wash my breakfast dishes Anon won't have clear counterspace to make lunch" might be stickier in his brain (and less hard to look at emotionally) than "this thing I forget to do upsets my partner so I should do it."
For the record, I think that people with ADHD should read up on Demand Avoidance and see if it might explain some of the issues that they have in their day-to-day life; I've seen some really unfortunate situations with friends where trying to do things that their partner needed became the subject of demand avoidance. *I* have experienced negative outcomes of demand avoidance. The solution to that, however, isn't to stop making attempts to do the thing OR to simply try harder to do as they're asked/told (which reinforces the demand), it's to work on setting up a situation where the partners' needs are not interpreted as a demand. This is fuck-off difficult and requires a lot of patience and care and many attempts to succeed and will be different for each person and relationship.
(Also for the record demand avoidance isn't *super* strongly linked to ADHD and it's not a definitive symptom; like Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, it is something that occurs in some number of people with ADHD and can be a useful lens through which to examine various behaviors; you don't need to have DA or RSD to have ADHD, and having DA or RSD also doesn't invalidate your diagnosis; they're symptoms. For me, DA often feels like "if I don't look at it, it can't get me" - If I ignore all the messages I've got they aren't real and don't have real consequences so I'll just ignore my texts. If I don't look at the vendor email about the order, the problem with the order isn't real and it won't get added to my task list. If I don't look at the requests in my inbox I can't let people down when I don't do them. It's a self-protective coping mechanism but it's *maladaptive* and I can't just ignore the vendor email or all my texts. I need to work on a way of doing the stuff that I'm avoiding in a way that makes it less stressful and doesn't hurt the people relying on me. That takes a lot of effort, personal insight, trial and error, and )
But before I dive into specifics I want to be really really clear about one thing: sometimes people are simply incompatible. Sometimes one person has such a low tolerance for "mess" and the other person has such a high threshold for "mess" that it can't be reconciled. It sucks that this can end up being a thing that people break up over, but it is MUCH better to acknowledge incompatibility as early as possible instead of spending years and years building resentment.
There used to be a great forum called MiL's Anonymous that I spent a lot of time on. It had a lot of people in a lot of difficult situations struggling to get by and hold their relationships together. The question that was used as a litmus test to approach each situation was simple: If you knew today that everything about living with this person would be the same in five years, would you stay?
Because you can't control your partner. You can't control the future. You can only control yourself and your proximity to situations that are harmful to you. If you knew, 100%, that things wouldn't get better in five years, would you be okay with staying in this relationship? If the answer is "no," then that's that. Don't worry about questions of whether or not your boyfriend is a shithead, start the process of ending the relationship because there's a good chance the situation is going to be exactly the same in five years.
If the answer is "yes," and you'd stay in the relationship regardless of whether or not things changed, then it's time to take actions to improve your life within the context of the relationship.
(No judgement on that yes or no, btw. If you would hate living like this for another five years, and you would feel like you'd wasted your time and hadn't done the things you wanted to with your life, get out. Bail. Go. It will be better for you and better for your partner if you split instead of spending half a decade building resentments and and problems that you'll have to spend another half a decade healing from.)
Also, a note: you describe your boyfriend's mess as borderline hoarding - is the issue *mess* or is the issue *clutter*? I have friends who are very tidy, but whose homes are very cluttered. They like things, they have many things, they keep many things around, but their houses are always clean and well-dusted and orderly, just with a tremendous amount of *stuff.* I am addressing all of this as though the issue is mess, not clutter. If your boyfriend's situation is clutter (the space is busy and packed with things but it is functional and clean) and your issue isn't with *mess* (things out of place, things not having a place, things that need to be cleaned up gathering in stacks, falling behind on regular chores like laundry and dishes and taking out the trash) then you definitely need to assess whether or not you are compatible.
For instance here's a room that is messy but not cluttered compared to a room that is cluttered but not messy:
That first room is a *mess* but it would be very easy to clean up in under an hour. The second room is fairly tidy, but would take significant effort to pare down and declutter. BOTH of these can be difficult to live with but the second one is not dangerous or threatening to anyone's health. (The second one is QUITE cluttered and if every room in a house looks like this it can be overwhelming to live with; this is actually harder to deal with in a relationship than the first one in a lot of ways. I don't have a lot of advice for what to do if your partner is a high degree of tidy-but-cluttered because I don't actually think it's a problem or wrong to have thousands of books or bins full of lego or a million kitchen appliances as long as you have the space and can keep it safe and well-maintained; this is a really significant compatibility issue)
Okay, all that out of the way, here's the hard work.
Talk about this shit
Talk to your partner and define "mess." Make sure you are on the same page about what you mean when you're talking about what a messy room looks like versus what a tidy room looks like. Gather reference pictures. DRAW reference pictures.
Explain not just that the mess upsets you, but *why* and *how* it upsets you. In this context don't think of it as your boyfriend's mess, think of it as an unpleasant roommate. Discuss this using "I-statements". "When I have to pick up laundry all over the apartment, I feel like a parent more than a partner." "When there are piles of miniatures all over the table, I feel like I don't have anywhere to do things I'm interested in." "When there are dishes in the sink, I feel frustrated because I have to clean before I can feed myself."
Discuss, frankly and openly, whether he knows how to clean. I'm not trying to make excuses for him here but a lot of people with ADHD have a lot of stress and avoidance around cleaning because they spent a lot of time getting yelled at for not knowing how to clean properly.
Discuss your needs, be firm about what you require but willing to compromise. You *need* some spaces to be clean, and some spaces may be harder for him to keep clean than others. It may be MUCH harder for him to keep a bedroom tidy than it is to keep a kitchen tidy; if you need a clean and empty bedroom with everything put away and he simply cannot do that, that is a compatibility issue. But perhaps you need *your* side of the bedroom to be very orderly and can tolerate a moderate level of mess and clutter on his side. Maybe you're really really bothered by a messy kitchen, but it doesn't bug you if the dining table is covered with projects and papers. Figure out something more workable than "his mess goes everywhere and i live with it because he's incapable of cleaning" because he probably is not incapable of cleaning and you deserve to have places in your home that are comfortable for you.
Reduce friction for cleaning
Sometimes the problem isn't cleaning, the problem is the many many steps before cleaning, or not knowing where something should go when you are done cleaning. One of the absolute best things I've done for myself for cleaning my space is getting a broom holder and mounting the broom to the wall. Sweeping is now essentially thoughtless. I don't have to find the broom or pull it out from a pile of fans or go scrounging around for a dustpan it's right there on the wall, frictionless. So here are some ways to reduce the barriers to cleaning:
Make sure you and your partner both know how to use your cleaning supplies and know where those supplies are. When I switched dishwasher soap I had to re-show Large Bastard where I was storing it and how it was used, because to him what happened was the dishwasher tabs just vanished one day and he didn't know what I was putting in the machine or the process I used. He sometimes puts tools away in places that I can't see (he's more than a foot taller than me) so sometimes I can't get started on a maintenance project until he shows me where he put the battery pack for the drill.
Consider making a how-to chart to or having him make a how-to chart to keep someplace accessible so he can reference it while cleaning. Goblin.Tools Magic ToDo is great for this. Basically a lot of the time people with ADHD have trouble knowing what to do from step to step even if they've done something before, so having a step by step guide can make it easier (I have notebooks full of step-by-step guides for everything from paying for my tuition to removing licenses for my customers to weeding my yard)
Remove obstacles; don't keep cleaning chemicals in the garage in a box that's behind a stack of parts, keep them in the room you'll be cleaning. Don't keep the cleaning supplies that you use to clean the bathroom in the kitchen. Sometimes this means buying two bottles of bleach solution and two scrubbers and two sets of cleaning gloves but having fewer steps (fetch the windex, fetch the paper towels, fetch the gloves) is often the key to getting things done (open under-sink cabinet and grab windex, gloves, and paper towels that are there instead of in the kitchen).
This sort of overlaps with the next category, which is:
Create Dump Zones
One thing that I've found that seems very different between people with ADHD cleaning and neurotypical people cleaning is that neurotypical people are good at getting to a point where the cleaning is "done." They have checked off their tasks and they have finished and it is over. There are *SOME* chores that are like this (taking out the trash is a binary state, the trash has been taken out or it has not) and some chores are perpetual (horrid cursed dishes) but I think with people with ADHD, some chores that are binary for neurotypicals are actually perpetual chores. For instance "clean off the counter" is not a one and done for me. "Clean off the counter" may involve a three day reorganization project. "Clean off the counter" does not mean "wipe down the tile and put dishes away" it means assessing whether or not I need to make vegetable stock and bleaching three tea containers and reconsidering whether or not the sharps container should live somewhere else and going through the mail and figuring out what needs to be responded to and taking out the recycling and on and on and on.
We have had company at the house for the last two weeks, so I asked large bastard to clean off the dining room table, which is largely a project zone for him. Cleaning off the dining room table meant putting away his meds (and since he's a transplant patient that involves a 30 gallon rubbermade tote), throwing away some trash, and totally reorganizing his workshop. It also incidentally involved picking up a table from facebook marketplace and moving my plants, which has now involved moving my former plant rack outside (moving buckets, finding and organizing planters and gardening tools) and taking the former table to the thrift store (not done yet) and cleaning the rug that was under the former table. So "either the table is clean, or it isn't" isn't really true for us.
HOWEVER "hang on we can't eat until the table is clear so let's drive to Pico Rivera to get that console table right now" isn't a workable plan, so you create dumpzones as areas of holding between the start and the finish of the chore.
A dump zone can be a laundry basket. It can be a craft bin. It can be a back room or under your bed. It is a place to put things that you are going to deal with later because if you deal with them now it is going to derail the thing you are actually trying to do, which is set the table for dinner.
Dump zones are vital to cleaning with ADHD and I recommend them for day-to-day cleaning as well. The day-to-day dump zones might be more for you than for your boyfriend. For instance, Large Bastard works with bullets and he sheds bullets all over the house. I used to get stressed when I found bullets when I was cleaning because are these work bullets? Are these recreational bullets? Are they in testing? Do they need to be pulled? Do they go in the workshop or the office or the garage or does he need these today so they have to stay on the counter? And the answer now is "that's not my problem naughty bullets go in the jar." Which is perfectly sensible because he gets to say "mystery yarn goes in the bin" and "art supplies go in the bucket."
I feel helpless when cleaning a lot of the time. I'm frustrated and lost and I don't know where stuff goes and everything I pick up spins off into three projects in my head and every step feels like a wall to scale. Dump zones help me with that when there's pressure or a reason for cleaning beyond day to day home maintenance. People are coming over? The bedroom is a dump zone, I'll deal with that later. I'm just cleaning up because I need to? Okay I can find a permanent home for this new dish soap.
AS A VERY IMPORTANT COROLLARY TO THIS:
Active projects do not go in dump zones while you or your partner are cleaning. This may mean designating a project sanctuary area like a corner of the table or one particular chair in your main room where a project can be placed so as not to be disturbed. (if my current crochet project ends up in the yarn bin, that may mean that I don't pick the project up for another three months, it lives on the windowsill behind the couch because that's where it'll get worked on)
Do not put things away for your partner, put them in the dump zone for your partner. Your partner has to be the one to put their own stuff away in a way that works for them. I tend to find that this naturally puts a limit on the time stuff sits in the dump zone, because eventually you'll go "hey where's my thing?" and will put stuff away. If that doesn't happen, it's still generally better to have stuff in a dump zone than all over the home.
Do not decide you know what things go together from your partner's stuff and try to "put like things together." The neurotypical urge to put like things together is the mindkiller(j/k). You do not know which things are "similar" in your partner's organization schema and attempting to organize things on your own is going to end up with all of the things "organized" being functionally lost forever from your partner's perspective. Large Bastard's mom would do this and it was infuriating, she'd say "oh I put all the electronics stuff in one box" and she would mean soldering irons, transistors, ham radios, HDMI cables, and cellphone chargers. We are *still* going through boxes of stuff that she "tidied up" when he was hospitalized in 2020 and 2021.
To prevent the need for quite so many dump zones over time, you can work on setting up landing zones and "homes" for projects and tools.
Landing Zones
Landing zones are places where things go when you come inside from doing various things. Sometimes your landing zone only needs to be a tray for your wallet and keys, sometimes your landing zone needs to be a place to take off muddy boots and put a trowel and gloves down before you shower.
To make an effective landing zone, consider what behaviors you're trying to minimize and whether the people using it are ACTUALLY going to use it. For instance I was tired of the corner of my hearth getting cluttered with random junk so I hung up some hooks and put a shelf and a basket there and it became a really effective landing zone for my bag and keys and the mail, but it was VERY ineffective for Large Bastard because it's by a door that isn't the primary door he uses to enter the house. As a result I always know where my keys and bag are but he has trouble finding his keys and wallet. He tends to enter the house through our bedroom and has an overloaded valet next to the door and that's usually where his wallet ends up. Mounting a shelf to the wall above the valet and putting a basket and a hook on it will be a better place for his stuff to land. It's not that he's not using the first zone because he doesn't know that it's there, or because he doesn't care about lost time when I'm searching for my car keys after he borrows them, he's not using it because it's not by the door he uses. That's all.
I have a landing space for when I come in for gardening that's different than the one when I come in from grocery shopping. I have a landing space for when I walk into the dining room instead of the kitchen when I get home.
Landing spaces prevent stuff from piling up all over the place because they are a limited functional space that should be used frequently. Mail ONLY goes in the landing zone. If you have mystery mail or if you're not sure it's safe to toss, you put it in the landing zone. You can't let the mail get piled up too high or you won't have a space for your keys. You can't let the change in your wallet tray get too deep or your wallet is going to slide off, etc., but you also don't just put change on the coffee table or your nightstand because the landing zone is right there.
Homes for items are just what they sound like. They're the place the item goes. It lives there. My meds live on my nightstand. You would not believe how poorly I did with taking my meds on my vacation because they weren't on my nightstand. A while back large bastard lost one of his sets of sorted meds and we tore the house up looking for them because he couldn't find them in his nightstand, which is where they live. *I* found them in his nightstand because I emptied out the entire top drawer (he had only looked on the top layer) and found them underneath a radio and a hammock. Even though they were *hidden* they were in their home, so they were findable. I recently needed ink for an art class. Art supplies live in a dresser by my desk. Ink lives in the art bin or the top left drawer. The ink was not in either of these places (it was on a cabinet in the dining room behind a teacup) so it took me weeks to find it.
Sometimes the reason that ADHD spaces are so messy is because objects have been assigned homes in places that are visible and if they get moved they get lost. This is a genuinely difficult problem that requires a lot of effort to solve and can involve a lot of trial and error for creating a tidy living space. For some people, open shelving and visible storage might be a good solution. For some people, assigning a VERY clear home and inculcating that location by habit is the only way to clean up a space. For some people one very cluttered corner to at least isolate the chaos does the trick (for me and large bastard open shelving doesn't work because anything in one place for too long becomes invisible; that means that I rely on assigning things homes and large bastard relies on having contained chaos and a general idea of where to search but what that DOES NOT mean is that he is clean or tidy. His spaces look like an explosion. But he can mostly find his stuff and do what he needs to do and as long as that's limited to specific places in shared spaces I can live with it; the dining room table can be a disaster, the kitchen cannot).
People organize things differently. It often takes a while for neurotypical adults to settle into an organizational style that works for them and ADHD adults may need to settle into a new system every few months for it to continue working. The cleanup and declutter is most likely going to be a permanent project that is always going to demand some level of attention from everyone in a shared space, but "my ADHD means I can't do it" is not really going to fly. Maybe his ADHD means that he can't keep his space tidy, but it doesn't mean you can't move stuff from shared spaces into dump zones or that he can't do stuff around the house.
If he's insisting that his ADHD means that he can't clean it is possible that he's not being a shithead, he just feels helpless and doesn't know where to start and has adopted the belief that he's a useless piece of shit who can't even keep a tidy space like a grownup because he's internalized a lot of shitty attitudes (hello, my internal monologue about keeping a clean house). But it's also possible that he's just being a shithead.
It's something that's worthwhile to investigate with him. If he's unwilling to make an attempt, then he's being a shithead.
It is also not your responsibility to rehabilitate another person. If he wants to clean and it's something he feels bad about and needs some help and support with the way that someone might need help or support for learning to use a mobility aid, that is fine but you don't have to be the one who gives him that support if it's detrimental to your health, and you don't have to be the one to teach him that stuff if it's not something you're capable of. And if he is NOT interested in working on making your shared living space more accessible for you, that is not your suitcase to unpack and you just have to ask yourself the question from the start: would I stay with this person if I knew the situation was never going to change?
IDK, I'm sure a lot of this reads like "anon you must take on the emotional labor of training your partner to be an adult" but it's really meant to be more of a way of assessing yourself and your relationship. If you created landing zones do you think he'd use them? Would he get angry if you assigned a laundry basket as a dump zone for his stuff while you tidy the living room? Is living with him long-term going to be comfortable for you if nothing changes? Do you have enough of a shared definition of "mess" that you're at least in the ballpark for what counts as a clean house?
anyway good luck, and a reminder to folks that I'm compiling a bunch of adhd resources and other information on my personal website, ms-demeanor.com. It's coming along slowly but it will eventually include stuff like ADHD cleaning tips and how to tackle a hoard, so maybe keep your eye on that space.
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pt.4 | 📍pt.5
rewrote, edited and proofread chapter five cause I thought it was horseshit and you guys deserved more from me. 🫶
numb.
you tried to feel numb.
doing everything in your power to push down any kind of emotion that was ready to slip through your mask.
look ahead, stand tall, put one foot in front of the other so no one would know you were wearing a confidence coat that was 2 sizes too small.
don't breathe too loud they'll hear you.
don't step too loud they'll think about your weight.
don't blink too much they'll think you're fluttering your lashes at them.
don't tuck your chin in they'll think you're gross.
gross for what exactly? everything.
don't mess up the stepping pattern or else you'll look like a bumbling idiot as you try to get back on the rhythm.
don't clench your fists they'll think you're mad and unapproachable.
don't smile because you're not in front of a mirror where you can control how much you want to give away.
don't think too hard or else you'll become enraptured with your daydreams and you won't be able to take part in reality.
don't do anything with your lips or else some air will come in and create a sound that sounds similar to a fart. then they'll think you're extra gross.
all these rules you had to follow to 'be normal,' weren't an actual set of rules, but a lifestyle. you wouldn't get collared if you didn't do one of the rules, you wouldn't get yelled at or reprimanded.
you were okay. to your knowledge that is.
on the outside, you probably looked like you had a stick up your ass. always in a rush to get to where you needed to go. like one of those rolling backpack kids back in your world. whenever they would pass they'd take casualties with them. rolling over toes, pencils, teachers- there was nothing in their way they couldn't bulldoze through.
you were just missing the wheels and will of iron it took to be seen with such a… what’s the right word- atrocity, in public, let alone an all-boys school.
underneath the habits and self-induced numbness, past all the anxiety and fear there was a tickle. not an actual tickle, but a sudden feeling you couldn't identify. it wasn't rage or frustration. you weren't sad or envious... you think- it was something gentler than that.
something softer yet just as negative was infesting your heart and mind like a slow-acting poison. poisoning your thought process, your habits, your attitude, and your livelihood.
though the breeze and sunshine walking to class supplied your flesh with warm- there was a chill over your heart. the beams of warmth too short to reach into the many cracks and holes that were created. sometimes you thought there was a bug. a big, juicy parasitic bug that would suck away your hopes and feast on your memories. It had a sweet tooth that was for certain, only targeting happy memories as it kept you with the bad ones.
did you ever have happy memories?
there was nothing you could do about the pestering leech. it wouldn't go away with Kalim's warmth and silver's calm. two sides of the same coin.
but no matter how many times you flipped: heads or tails, heads or tails, heads or tails would never work.
yes, you would smile, you would laugh- put on a poor show to convince yourself and others that there was nothing wrong. Everything was okay deep down and inside your twisted little mind.
sometimes, you weren't sure who exactly you were performing for.
"why am I scared to laugh" you remembered asking yourself one night, putting down your jester's hat for the evening.
looking in the dusty mirror, your eyes carefully roamed your face, ticking off imperfections as you scanned every feature, scrutinizing every fold, and every slight bump on your skin. saving the most obvious imperfection for last, you finally acknowledged the brewing red horn ready to grow on the side of your forehead.
you knew it was a normal thing that teenagers of all ages experienced. but you felt especially helpless now, with the lack of beauty supplies and makeup. but with a quick brush of your hair, the brewing red horn disappeared behind some tresses of hair.
"I look like a demon"
...
"though if it was on my nose, i'd look like rudolph"
there was no punchline. yet the observation- not even an original comparison, made you laugh.
A tiny huff puffed from your chest. though the more you imagined yourself with deer ears and a bright lobster red nose, you could feel your thoracic region start to shake. trying to push the sixth sense of judgment the walls were giving you, you forced yourself to laugh. holding onto this artificial laugh as long as you could. you hadn't laughed in a while. hadn't smiled in a minute. you'd barely look at yourself in the mirror most days.
gripping onto the vanity you watched your eyes crinkle and smile stretch. tripping and stumbling over scattered objects in your room you were still clenching your stomach nonetheless.
you felt like a tumbling tornado. clumsily tripping over everything with no set destination or concern for the things in your path. a shoe got kicked up. a pen you remembered liking got stepped and rolled on. a book you read a few nights ago kicked to the door as you set your eyes on your bed. with a few more violent acts towards inanimate objects, you carried your shaking body to bed.
this was it. you were going insane, weren't you?
all you needed was a canvas and paints and you'd truly become insane.
flopping down unceremoniously you let it linger for a second. sighing in contentment as you stared up at the ceiling.
you loved laughing, it was fun! but you were afraid to laugh, to live. remembering Kalim's quote of 'Everything is fun when you make it fun,' you wanted to scoff at his naivety. but Kalim was right.
if you made things miserable for yourself that's how they'll be.
directing your mind back to your head, you blinked owlishly.
oh. you were so caught up in the daydream you forgot you were in the hallways.
peeking through bumping shoulders, you tried looking towards the wall to check the room number.
"shit"
making a giant u-turn with as many 'excuse me's' and 'pardon me's,' you rerouted yourself back to your class. never having walked this way to class you were a bit hesitant. what if you walked by it again? what if someone is watching you and making fun of you for being a daft idiot?
breathe.
but what if you're late for class? crewel will have your hide- skin? doesn't matter what it is cause it'll be his. what if they all laugh when we're late-
we're not late yet it's only-
but when we get to class we'll be late!
perking up when you noticed the assigned numbers to your class, you weaved through the chattering sardines and beelined it to class.
no bell. no expectant crewel. no eyes besides from the easy-to-ignore front row. perfect.
the sigh you were holding in finally set itself free as you adjusted the grip of your books, and you strolled down the isles.
don't walk too fast they'll think you're strange.
but also don't walk too slow so they don't think you're lazy.
head down absent-mindedly adjusting your books, you followed your hand's cue and put your attention on a fixed thing. aka: your books.
but to your relief, you soon found your seat. with a huff, you unloaded the cargo pulled out some loose-leaf paper, and started writing.
writing what? not even you knew. but it made you look busy and that was important.
you didn't lay around in bed all day. you didn't continuously scroll through your phone to distract yourself. you didn't cry at night looking at everyone's socials, wishing it was you having fun. envy bubbling like a nasty tar in your bloodstream as you scorned everyone for having fun when you're miserbale-
"y/n!'
"oow"
sliding in next to you was silver. hair disheveled and tie ever so crooked, though he still looked really good-
pervert a voice whispered. tensing, you looked around and saw no one paying attention to your little corner.
"I tried calling you in the hallway." his boyish smile eased a beat in your rhythmic heart, only for it to take 2 more beats.
"y-you did?" you gulped.
silver nodded as he organized his books. "Yeah, but it's so chaotic and loud I'm guessing you didn't hear me" you nodded in agreement, tongue slipping over itself as you tried conjuring up an excuse.
"I- uh I'm really sorry I didn't hear you. I didn't even know you were there! I was kinda worried about not being elbowed to death." you didn't know why you were chuckling at the end but it felt scene-appropriate. you weren't sure if you believed what you told silver despite it being the truth.
was he going to refute it? was he going to give you a once over and mentally think 'how dare they ignore me' because all the diasomnia students you'd interact with had that very haughty, entitled personality?
but to your slight dissatisfaction, silver only nodded in understanding.
"I'm real-"
"There's no-"
you both started at the same time, sharing a shy smile at the pause.
"you can go ahead" he nodded. Waving your hands, you disagreed. "you were talking first, I'm sorry, go ahead"
even though you gave the green light, silver still heisted to go. giving the air another few seconds before he started talking.
"there is no need to ask for forgiveness. I understand if you couldn't hear me, I'm not the most vocal after all. if only sebek were here" he mulled the last part. wincing at the name, you wanted to pinch yourself for slipping up. damnit you showed that you didn't like a person he was friends with- he'll hate you now. you're screwed, you screwed yourself. don't you understand that he's probably planning on running to sebek as soon as you leave? then everyone in diasomnia is going to hate you-
you nodded, tiny little yellow sponges in white shirts and red ties ran around your brain as a fire roared throughout- wherever they were inside your head.
you tried to push the flood of incoming thoughts into a box, a big red crate with a crab lock to be exact. you were feeling antsy, looking for anything to focus on besides the silver-haired upperclassman in front of you.
sometimes you wish you were a computer. unable to feel and to only run on logic. it seems easier that way.
a thought bubble popped into your brain like an internet pop-up ad.
did they even have computers in twisted wonderland? duh of course they do, they have phones after all.
the thought of twisted wonderland's technology started to swarm and hijack your train of thought. effectively taking out the conductor and changing its course.
did they also have an Industrial Revolution like the United States had? what was the start of it? which kingdom had it first? was there something to set off the alleged revolution? How is it the same and how is it different from your world's?
did magic have allay in it? of course, it did. but how did magic make it different than-
"y/n"
snapping your head at the familiar voice. you looked to silver. only able to take in physical information as the new conductor saw a hole in the tracks, pulling the breaks almost immediately.
"you okay there?"
slowly you nodded, as a few members of the hijacking team jumped out of the train- some ideas and questions with it.
"yeah.. sorry about that, kinda got lost in my train of thought there"
nodding with understanding, silver started talking about how he would sometimes start nodding off when he was talking to someone. half paying attention, half trying to save the train- your brain was split in half as you took in all internal and external information.
until you heard the magic words everyone loves to hear: "what were you thinking ab-"
"The Industrial Revolution"
"... pardon?"
anddd you failed, the train fell into the deep deep gorge that the tracks would normally allow the said train to glide over... but alas! they were gone! blown to smithereens as it guided the train into the deep cavern. a big explosion followed soon after.
"dont worry about it" you brushed him off. saved by the bell as Crewel stood up, riding crop in hand yelling out orders like a drill sergeant.
silver scooted closer. you scooted back, the original distance between you two doubling. you were focused on writing your name, date etc & etc, on another loose-leaf paper.
the dreamy-eyed second-year made some noises before he knew what he was going to say. he started softly "are you okay"? but then grew slightly louder as unease set in "from... last class? I mean I know yuu told me it was a touchy subject but... i just wanted to check in"
your pencil screeched to a halt as the words 'yuu told me-' chanted in your head. it was the only thing you could focus on because what did he mean 'yuu said-'. "what did yuu say." you spoke, voice stable for the first time that morning.
silver's tongue tied itself as he fixed his hair a bit. "well..." he straightened up slightly, "after you stormed... no, escape is a better word. after you escaped the classroom yuu followed before i could. but crewel ended up stopping me before i could even move. and i asked yuu what happened the next time i saw them and asked how you were doing.. to sum it up: they told me you get nervous around new people soo"
dread set over you like a fast-approaching shadow.
oh no. he thinks you're a weird socially inept loser doesn't he? he thinks you're some kind of loser that doesn't go out weekends, weekdays, any day for all that matter. he probably makes fun of you with sebek. right?
"ah well," you cleared your throat. a lie already on the tip of your tongue "I mean it's like- a yes and no kinda thing. I didn't have a lot of guy friends when I was younger so being thrust" you thrust your hands in emphasis "into an al guys school has been quite the adjustment."
quickly, your mind conjured up a painting of a small house in a meadow filled with wildflowers. it was the only thing you could see for miles. it was a nice house with a straw roof, a smoking brick chimney, and a little garden outback. the only problem with the house is that you blew it up.
with nuclear missiles.
and the intensity of the blast was so strong that it created a small crater in the earth, no traces of the house were left as it's entire existence was reduced to ash and rubble all because of you.
the urge to bash your head into the nearest wall like intruding hornets slipping through a crack in an attic to terrorize a small family. there goes your social life right?? what soil life? you killed it before you could even nurture it!
your mouth and mind were running on autopilot while your conscience went blank.
your mouth was a fountain that spewed water everywhere. trying to get yourself out of the hole you dug yourself- crater, more specifically.
"but uhhh yeah, no you're good! you're different and I'm quite glad I got partnered with you since you're not as..."
"boisterous?" silver quipped.
you nodded. silver chuckled, leaning further away from you. "yeah me too. if I got paired with one of your friends only the sevens know how much damage that'll do to my physical and mental well-being"
you both discreetly looked over at the rest of the class watching as all pairs seemed to be in some kind of chaos. whether it's floyd being impulsive, grim trying to add the wrong chemical into a potion. (you didn't even need to know what they were making to know that whatever he's trying to sneak in- doesn't belong there.)
and you were thanking whatever god the people of twisted wonderland worshipped that you weren't paired with one of the adeuce combo. ace would try to take control of the project, pretending he knew what he was doing while simultaneously giving you backhanded compliments on your intelligence. only to ruin the entire project and somehow find a way to blame you for it.
meanwhile, deuce and you would be two peas in a squished pod: not knowing what you're supposed to be doing and ultimately winging it as you tried to match your hot barbie pink potion to crewel's muted blush potion. knowing the both of you, it would end up navy blue and when crewel went to fix it he would add a pinch of fleabane- a literal pinch, and it'd be fixed. embarrassing the both of you for all eternity.
"I wonder which group is gonna blow up the lab first mused quick to shut your lips, you were quick to wish for a sewing kit to forcefully shut you up.
but a small voice whispered 'it's better to take risks than stay comfortable.'
and silver seemed... nice.
silver looked out at the crowd for a moment longer, turning to you he started slowly, "while the yuu, grim, and ace trio seem to be the most obvious choice...." he thought carefully, "epel and deuce seem to be at a loss of what to do and are about 6 shade off. which surprised me since epel is in pomfiore"
"he's actually sh- really-" you started again, taking a moment to think over what you were going to say "I heard that epel's not that great at potions despite being under vil's careful watch...." silver's eyes widened, replying with a soft 'really?' as he looked back to the groups with newfound interest.
you to yourself "never judge a book by its cover" you shrugged, immediately turning to your work. anxiously, you waited for a response.
although circumstances are vastly different- is this how people felt when in the talking stage? if so it was a dreadful experience.
before your pessimistic thoughts could even start, silver responded with a chuckle, enviably agreeing with your statement. you could almost sweat with relief as an invisible weight got lifted from your shoulders.
silver seems nice...
a new voice, meek and unsteady although louder than the usual pessestimic ones in control. and for once, you allowed yourself to feel the slight comfortable tingle it gave you.
the hope and drive to that you haven't felt or experienced in a while.
you wished to get closer to him.
taglist : @abell2029cluster @a1-ic3 @ars-tral @xingyunny @creamsweets @skei2p @dn4su @jjsmeowthie @h0rr0r-10ver-69 @nefe-kav @d3sperate-enuf @y2unagiz @im-here-for-the-fun-of-it @mel-star636 @7yu @lucky-whispers
#twisted anxiety 🌀#I was low-key ashamed with the last chapter ngl despite all your comments. I hope this makes up for it 🫶#twisted wonderland#twst#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#tiyoin 🔎#azul x reader#silver x reader#malleus x reader#idia x reader#vil x reader#leona x reader
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Ranted about this elsewhere already buuuuut . . . Hot take: OB Jamil keeping the reader as a pet/slave is pre-relationship.
Jamil's whole shtick is wanting to free himself from servanthood and getting the equality, freedom, and respect he deserves. Why would he not want that for his lover? Hell one of his biggest insecurities is trapping them with him under the Asims and being unable to give them the life they deserve.
A Jamil who's in a relationship where he 10000% smitten, comfortable, and genuinely open with s/o would rip his own heart out before even thinking of trapping them or seeing them as lesser. This goes double for his overblot (we've seen with the Shround's that it is possible for overblots to do things out of love).
So what doth thou thinketh of this scenario: OB!Jamil who's just finished sending the gang to the middle of the desert having the immediate thought "FUCK YEAH! Now I can finally spoil my beloved!"
OB!Jamil just throwing embarrassment out the window and spoiling the absolute shit out of his lover. I'm talking shameless PDA, no filter whatsoever about how much he loves them, giving them just about anything they could want. Feeling hungry? Here's a feast of your favorite dishes and Jamil is the one feeding you. Little chilly? You're now dressed in enchanted fine silk fit for a queen and cuddled up next him. Worried about your friends out in the desert? Now you get an adorable pouty overblot asking for your attention and making it really hard to say no. Ironically any manipulation he pulls will be the light hearted kind he usual do to get their attention. Also worth mentioning that Jamil is calling them every pet name under the sun while being kissed constantly by the snakes.
Just Overblot Jamil willingly and happily going full malewife mode for his Sultana.
God it will be hard to convince him that overblotting it bad, won't it?
You know I usually have a hard time wrapping my head around Yuu being in a relationship with any of the ob boys pre blot, but the events make it pretty clear that the actual order the blots happen in is pretty flexible σ(￣、￣=) so after squaring that in my head:
Pre-Relationship OB Jamil would want to keep Yuu in a cage because he subconsciously knows they aren't his but he still feels the desire to keep them close. The walls of the cage area physical manifestation of Jamil's emotional repression surrounding his feelings towards Yuu but that's not we're brainrotting about today~
Overblot! Jamil (and just Jamil in general really) is pretty hard to convince that overblotting was a bad idea. Granted he doesn't want to die so yes he'll agree that's bad once he comes to his senses but for now he's really pleased with himself. Finally, he gets to have your attention all to himself and there is no one to judge or interrupt him. He made sure to throw the biggest annoyances across the desert, you can stay right here with him in his embrace exactly where you belong. Being kissed by the snakes is such a cute concept TᴖT He has so many things he's wanted to say, so many many kisses he wanted to give, times he's wanted to touch and hold you that he was never able to do because of his place in the world. I like the idea of Overblot Jamil dancing with Yuu while he sings the sappiest love songs imaginable. Anything to make up for lost time, now that he's free there's so much he can finally give you.
That's what you've wanted this whole time too... right?
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sorry to add this on, but what if I hurted them aswell?
everyone makes mistakes I tell myself but yet hatred and spite and shame clears my brain. I made mistakes and realized but why is forgiving so hard? the thought of being a villain in someone’s story is so fearing and something I never want. should I forgive ? What if I’m not forgiven. what if I’m in the wrong.. the bad one even
thank you for answering my other one. Your words so well placed and I resonate with your work heavily.❤️
It's like when you get physically hurt: The pain is there to tell you to not do that again. Continuing to fret over it is like letting the fire alarm keep blaring after you already put out the fire. You screwed up, you know that now, and you know you're not doing that again. Forgiveness is a gift that's only given freely, without pressure, and if aknowledging where you messed up and letting them know you learned from it won't prompt them to forgive you, then the lesson you got is "don't treat the next one like this", assuming that you really did do them wrong for real.
You're always going to be a villain in someone else's story. There are complete fucking strangers out there who think that I have the moral obligation to kill myself and that the people who love me are wrong for not pushing me that way. There's always going to be someone who thinks that whatever you're doing is wrong. That's why you have to learn to ask yourself: Who got hurt by what I did? What could I have done to avoid that?
And then you tell the person that you unwittingly hurt that it wasn't your intention and you now know better than to do that again. And if you can't point to a specific person who was hurt by your actions, or think of anything else that you could have done instead that could have avoided this, then it is simply not your fucking problem.
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|| this man is an exposed live wire in my brain ok
|| notes: uhh prequel to [this] and [this], semi Canon compliant, pre-s1 but mentions of pre-war Cooper, I love the dynamic 😔👌✨️
|| warnings: hopefully IC Cooper, asshole x asshole dynamic we love to see it, weapons/supply dealer!reader, Canon typical violence, mention of blood/reader is injured kinda, spoilers? Abt Cooper's backstory, kinda enemies to friends/lovers
He doesn't know why he's here.
No, that's a lie ㅡ he does know why he's here, he just doesn't want to admit it. To himself, or to anyone else, for that matter. That he needs help.
Those fancy little bullets for his gun are hard to come by, few and far between when he can't get them by looting and places like Ma June's enjoy extorting as much as they can for so very little.
There's a difference between business transactions and highway robbery, even now. Which is why he's here ㅡ he'd gotten talk about a place that sold weapons and weapon-related supplies at a fair rate, and necessity had made him swallow his pride to go and find out for himself.
Which is why he's not just turning around and fuckin' leaving.
The building is crammed between two others, as ramshackle as the rest being made of recycled tin and wood that's rotted by time and rain in places, but still suggests a stability that won't crumble if somebody breathes too hard on it.
Cooper's spurs jingle as he walks, lost momentarily to the chime of something over his head when he pushes the door open. He looks up, forehead creasing.
Is that a bell?
Rusted but still in working order, it clatters again when he shuts the door, looking around. It's about as put together as any other kind of shop, an eclectic organization to it ㅡ a couple of rifles, a pistol or two, along with an admittedly impressive assortment of knives ㅡ but it's the shine of something on the floor that makes Cooper stop.
His head cocks as he studies the stain, the still-slick shimmer to it that makes him crouch and drag two gloved fingers against it, studying the residue. Coppery, with a hefty dose of some kind of chem to clean it, but still unmistakable ㅡ blood.
Well damn. He doesn't know what's happened here and he's pretty sure he doesn't care to, much beyond the fact that if the runner of this place is dead, that puts a damper on things. Or maybe not ㅡ if nobody's here, what's to stop him from taking what he wants?
"If you're thinkin' of stealing," comes a call that snaps his head up as it echoes from further back in the building, "I'd advise you not to. Less you wanna meet your maker, then I'd be happy to assist."
It's a flat bravado that both amuses him and piques his interest, and he leans against the counter to rap his knuckles. "Not stealin'," he drawls, "just wonderin' what kind of business model you've got if you make customers wait."
"The kind where patience is still a virtue, that's what." Foosteps, unhurried ㅡ and then Cooper is staring at you as you round the corner. You've got a jumpsuit of some indistinguishable color opened to rest around your hips, dingy tank-top underneath ㅡ and a stimpak in your hand. No doubt for the mess of your other arm, bicep wrapped with gauze that's already seeped into a bloom of bright red.
Well now. Cooper wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but you still manage to surprise him. Enough that he's staring, which makes you scowl.
"I know that look," you challenge, "if you think I'm easy picking, you'll get a new place to breathe from, courtesy of the hole I'll put in your head."
Cooper's head cocks. "Well now sugar," he says, "that's not very nice now, is it? Wasn't even thinkin' of that." He turns, jerks a thumb at the half-assed cleaning of the mess on the floor. "That's your doin', I reckon."
You nod. "Don't get trouble much," you say, "but when I do, I make sure to prove a point." You jam the stimpak into your arm, and he watches the tension melt from your shoulders. "Now, what can I do for you besides point out the exit?"
Well damn, Cooper thinks again. You've got a pretty face, but it's at odds with the attitude coming from that nice little mouth of yours. About as welcoming as a rattlesnake and probably just as quick to anger, from the way you bristle as he eyes you.
"Need supplies," he says, and you snort.
"What a wellspring of information you are. What kind of supplies?" You eye him, brow furrowing. "You're a bounty hunter, aren't you? Get your kind in here all the time." You tap a worn boot against the floor, hands now on your hips. "Hope you got means to pay for shit, because I don't do tab and I sure as fuck don't do charity work."
Cooper isn't sure if he likes you or he hates you. Bit of both, he guesses. The like is tentative and the hate is more solid ground, because he hates just about everybody. Makes it easier to do what needs to be done.
"Well, sweetheart," he leans into the counter, tips his hat, "depends on what you got to show me that's worth buyin'."
You stare, unimpressed by whatever angle he's going for. He's handsome, you'll give him that ㅡ but not much else. He also reminds you of somebody, with that hat of his and the way he talks ㅡ the low, drawn out drawl that you've only seen in those movies you manage to scrounge up here and there for your amusement.
Rolling your eyes, you hold up a finger and shrug your arms back into the jumpsuit, though you don't bother to zip it up. "Gimme a sec."
You don't know why you're doing this. Entertaining the notion that if you show him good enough product, he'll become a regular. You like regulars, but most of what you get seem to run on about six months worth of visits and then vanish.
Probably dead. Such is the way of the world, and it's still enough to get by. But you like new faces.
To his credit, he doesn't flinch when you slap the first pack onto the counter, followed by a second, and then a third.
"This is baseline stuff," you explain. "Your usual grade of bullet. Black powder, the standard kick." You shove the first pack at him, let him inspect the bullets. "Then you've got these."
The second pack shoved over, thin fabric parted so he can eye the neat little row of what would be hollow-point bullets if they didn't end with a tiny, pointed bulb of red glass.
"Explosive rounds." Your expression is unreadable. "They do the job, but they need special packing. Unless you wanna be blown up before the damn things even get loaded into the gun."
Cooper hums, eyes the bullet he holds up, the barely there shift of powder in the glass. He watches as you push the third over. "And these?"
"Same, but they pack even more of a punch. I'd recommend only shooting them at shit you want up in smoke." You shrug. "Or people, deathclaws, whatever the fuck you do out there."
Cooper studies you. "Where did you get this stuff? Thought bullets were hard to come by."
You give him a flat look of annoyance. "I make 'em myself."
Cooper stares, then smirks. Another little tip to his head. "Really now," he says, watches you bristle like a viper, ready to strike. Wonders if those fangs of yours pack a punch, what he'd need to do to get you to spit at him. "How 'bout you show me, darlin'? Wanna make sure what I buy is good quality."
You should tell him to shove it. Tell him to get the absolute fuck out of your shop, take his fuckin' yeehaw personality to someone else in the mood to deal with it ㅡ but you don't.
Instead, you sigh and tug the packages back, moving away from the counter. "Well c'mon then," you prompt, irritated. "Don't have all goddamn day."
The back of your shop is half a home and half a workshop, sprawled mess of equipment rusted with time but otherwise well maintained, smell of grease and hot metal and gunpowder that clings to everything.
You don't have to look back to know he's followed you, the jingle of his spurs as he takes his time, eyes missing nothing. The boxes of empty casings and empty glass bulbs ㅡ and the Mister Handy that's slumped in the corner, sparks spitting from it.
"Poor thing got shot first with that...situation earlier." Your voice is quiet. "Gotta fix 'im if I can."
Kind of funny, you sound sadder about the damn machine than the fact you'd killed someone over it. Then again, they'd been trying to kill you, so...eh. Justified, in your book.
The rest of the room is a haphazard attempt at something like a house ㅡ a couch with blankets on it, a short stack of books gone yellow at the edges, a coffee table ㅡ and sitting on it is a shitty little television, staticy and without color ㅡ but that doesn't matter. What matters to Cooper is that he knows what it's playing.
Your flitting around fades a little as he watches himself on screen ㅡ forever ago, a lifetime ago. Before the bombs, before vault-tec ㅡ when he'd been happy.
He'd loved his life, his family ㅡ and they'd loved him too.
"I've got enough stuff to make another round of flash-baㅡ" You stop, blinking at the way he's staring at the television. "Somethin' wrong? I know this isn't much, but it's my way of living, soㅡ"
"Stop your yappin'," Cooper rasps, and you glare as he shakes himself out of whatever reverie he was lost in. You scowl.
"Look, I know this doesn't seem like much of anything, but this is my business, and my shop." Your eyes narrow. "So try to be a little fuckin' nicer if you want me to sell you anything."
Whatever patience he'd had left promptly snaps like a bowstring as he snatches your arm, grips it tighter than he should. "Listen, sweetheart," he hisses, "what exactly is stopping me from just takin' what I want and leaving?"
Something whirrs behind him, distracts him just enough for the cool, sharp kiss of metal at his throat.
"Do it," you taunt, expression unreadable, grip tight on the blade you hold to his neck. "You're not the first one to try, and you won't be the last."
And there, Cooper notes, are your fangs, ready to sink into his skin. The two of you stare at each other for a good, long minute while the Mister Handy spits and sputters. And then Cooper huffs something like a laugh. "Glad to see you've got some bite to you, darlin', but I still think I could handle you."
A threat and something a little less hostile all in one, even as you yank your arm out of his grasp. "You couldn't handle me even if I came with a fuckin' manual," you snap back, but there's a playful gleam to your eyes. "You gonna buy anything or just lookin' to be a pain in my ass?"
A crooked grin tugs at Cooper's mouth. "Both."
ㅡ
The truce between the two of you is tentative. An understanding in the barest sense, because neither of you are dumb enough to pass up a lucrative, beneficial deal. He gets his supplies, you get caps. Simple.
You won't go as far as to say you're even friends, up until the point that you greet him on a visit with, "You know, you remind me of somebody."
He eyes you. "Really now. And who would that be, sweetheart? You workin' with more ghouls than just me?"
You snort. "Careful," you tease, "you almost sound jealous." Your tone quiets as you drum your fingers on the counter. "Nah, you remind me of that one actor, Cooper Howard."
Cooper stills. Watches you warily, turning a spent bullet casing over and over between gloved fingers.
"He played a cowboy," you say, nodding to yourself. "Talked like you do, too. Good movies, at least the ones I've gotten my hands on." You eye him, playful light to your eyes. "Wouldn't happen to be a fan of him too, would you?"
Cooper debates. He's not sure if you've put the pieces together and if you have, you're polite enough not to say it. He appreciates that, makes that fleeting temptation of putting a bullet in your head all the more temporary. He likes you. Be a shame if he had to cut ties.
"No," he answers. "I can safely say he and I are nothin' alike." Not anymore. He lets himself lean over the counter, too close to your face. Intimidation, maybe, or perhaps just because he likes being able to look at you like this. "Got anythin' else to tell me?"
Your eyes flick over his face, down to his lips as you lean a little closer, the suggestion of your mouth just shy of his. "Yeah," you murmur, quiet. "Next time you come by, work on your fuckin' manners."
#ㅡmine.#fallout x reader#cooper howard x reader#the ghoul x reader#now to get the norm thing done for Lexis!!
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Things Wukong has definitely said to his kids at some point:
"*child's name* you get that fuzzy little tail of yours back here before I climb up after you!"
"If I have to get up from my meditation you won't like what happens!"
"Now, why would you want to bite your own tail!"
"*screeches in shock* That's it! No more shadow portals in the house! Actually... no more shadow portals in general!"
"Kids, if you're gonna make a mess... at least try to keep it to one room. Please?"
"Don't make me call your other baba! One! Two..."
"*reaches hand out to scruff a kid* Sorry, they missed snack time. I'll be sure to reimburse you for all the food... and the expensive set of dishware..."
No matter the au (im assuming LMK), Wukong is the more authoritive parent. He's a worrier deep down. Macaque is more likely to let the cubs run wild for a bit and since he hears Everything its hard to hide mischief from him. So if Wukong has to call Macaque in, the kids know its *serious*.
So many chaos babies. So few hairs to make clones out of.
I love the idea of a few of the babies inheriting/learning shadow magic from Mac, and Wukong just has to deal with the occassional portal from the kids room-to-fridge.
One of my fave things about monkey parents irl, is that they will grab/hold a baby's tail to stop them from running off to cause mischief. You can see the tired frustration in the mom's eyes. XD
First time the Celestial Realm invites Wukong and his mate to a fancy dinner, they quickly regret it. Mac brought the Eclipse twins and soon the banquet table was a massacre.
#sun wukong#six eared macaque#liu er mihou#shadowpeach#shadowpeach being parents#lmk aus#lmk#lego monkie kid#lmk hcs#lmk headcanons
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>> start the adventure! <<
while starstruck makes her merry way to the @kirbyoctournament, why not keep her company with some questions?
for the next month, as propaganda for the tourney, dream land's favourite little anxious amnesiac will be taking asks directly!
couple of little notes, suggestions, and rules!
though this is hopefully obvious, i don't guarantee i'll get to every ask or interaction! i'll do the best i can, but if i don't make it to yours, it's nothing personal!
where possible these will be answered "in character" from tourney!starstruck, though you can still ask me tournament related things too! this is my first time trying "in character" asks, but i want to make one thing really clear: please no text rp. makes me incredibly uncomfortable.
for plot consistency, this is set during her Present Timeline, and she knows as much about her own backstory as the average reader. has no idea who This Guy is. she has similarly not yet encountered the star spears or any weapon like them.
questions can come from ocs, especially if they're in the tournament! i may not draw your oc in the response though. i probably won't respond to any "how are you" generic type deals because those will get hard to answer pretty much immediately. i am hoping to find some fun personality combos to riff off, so if you have an interesting interaction idea for our ocs, feel free to share!
starstruck is Technically Romancable and OCs who are at least 25+ are totally welcome to make an attempt to flirt with her (pspsps evil lesbians especially if you're out there come say hi. any and all wings havers also), but remember she is dense as a pile of bricks. also please no nsfw.
#my art#starstruck dee#oc (2024): starstruck dee#<- using this one for tournament stuff in particular because it matches the format of the tourney blog! might change it later but for now#i'm pretty nervous about this but i will do my best!! tourney stuff will likely be the majority of my content for the next month.#fair warning that she will take *any* opportunity to talk about her friends & how cool they are & how much she loves them if you let her#or just about any other topic. info dumper supreme! 📣🌟🌟🌟#also re: evil ocs. i would say maybe she could fix your evil oc but actually maybe your evil oc could make her worse. wink wonk.#looking at a few mutuals in particular here. come into my inbox. do it. do it. do it. pspsps.
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Saved — Kyle Garrick x F!Reader
Three years of marriage with your husband who you thought would change for the better and he didn't. And finally being saved by someone who has been around you all along but both of you didn't know it.
Warnings — fem!reader, light angst, unhealthy relationship, cheating (not reader), attempt of sexual assault, a bit of violence/blood, fluff, fingering, oral [fem!receiving], cum eating, 18+ MDNI, etc.
3,2k words (maybe I'll make a second part, but I don't know when).
Main Masterlist COD Masterlist
You know this is not a healthy relationship to be in. But you still hope your husband can change for the better, giving you the attention you deserve like when you were still dating. Even though you know all this is tiring, you still try to serve your husband well. Cooking food for him, cleaning the house and running errands for you and your husband.
Like right now, you are cooking dinner for you and your husband who will soon be home from work. You cook his favorite food and you hope he comes home from work in a good mood. Especially since today is the third year anniversary of your marriage. You really hope that tonight will go very well.
After your cooking is done, you look at the clock on the wall and it's already seven in the evening. Your husband should have been home half an hour ago. Without thinking about it anymore you immediately arrange the food onto the dining table. After finishing you hurry to clean yourself, you want to look very good in front of your husband.
After cleaning up, you return to sit at the dining table while waiting for your husband to come home. But until the clock strikes ten at night your husband hasn't come home. You tried calling your husband many times but there was no answer. You are very worried about him. You sigh and prepare to clear the dining table.
While clearing the table you hear the door being rudely opened making you rush over. You see your husband come home drunk and with his clothes all messed up. You rush towards him wanting to help him walk but he pushes you roughly.
"Dante, why are you home so late? I've been waiting for you and called you but you didn't answer," you tell him in a worried tone.
You again try to help your husband walk ignoring the smell of the woman's perfume and the color of the lipstick printed on your husband's shirt. You try to get rid of the bad thoughts that cross your head. This must be a one time mistake, your husband won't do it again. You're sure of this.
It's been two weeks since the incident with your husband you are currently shopping for supplies that have been emptied. You're so serious about looking at every shelf in the super market that you accidentally bump into someone in front of you with the trolley you're using. Your eyes widened and you tried to apologize to the man in front of you.
"Oh my God, I'm really sorry. Does anything hurt?" you asked in a panicked tone. The man in front of you just laughs softly while shaking his head.
"No, ma'am. I'm fine," he says casually.
But you're not sure he's really okay, you're sure you hit him a little hard earlier. You try to look at him to see if he's really okay. But your gaze is distracted as you look at his handsome face, which is very sweet in your opinion. A gentle look on his face as he turned to look at you.
"I really apologize. I should have paid more attention to my surroundings," you say feeling embarrassed.
"It's okay. I'm Kyle by the way," he introduced himself with a smile on his face.
"Kyle..." you spell his name softly. Then introduced yourself to him with a smile.
"So, did you shop alone or with someone with this much groceries?" Kyle said as he pointed at the items in your trolley.
You look at your almost full trolley, you didn't think it would be this much. Especially since you came here by taxi. You really regret it now.
"Ah no, I'm alone," you reply as you push your trolley again.
You thought Kyle would leave after hearing your answer but you were wrong he walked after you. You walk side by side while talking casually, Kyle even helps you pick up the items on the high shelves. When you have finished shopping you smile happily because you were faster than usual, thanks to Kyle. You looked at him with a smile full of gratitude.
"Thank you Kyle, you shouldn't have helped me. But I'm really grateful and once again sorry for bumping into you earlier," you say to Kyle who smiles at you.
"I said I was fine, and I was happy to help you too," Kyle replies.
"But I made you stay longer, even though you didn't shop as much as I did," you say pointing at the groceries in his hand.
Kyle just laughs. He walks with you to the cashier. After you guys finished paying, Kyle took more of your shopping bags and helped you carry them out. You try to take your shopping bags from his hands but he still wants to carry your stuff.
"So where's your car?" Kyle asks.
You feel embarrassed again, you should have brought a car but your husband's car suddenly didn't start so he brought your car to work instead.
"I took a taxi here, just leave it and I'll find a taxi," you reply as you put down the groceries you're carrying.
"Let me take you home," he invites.
You can only shake your head. You've just met, you don't want to take any chances. Besides, it's not good to go home with another man when your husband isn't home. Kyle seemed to know what you were thinking, trying to calm you down.
"Believe me I'm not a criminal who would kidnap people," he said with a laugh.
You laughed stiffly at his words, Kyle who saw your expression at his unhelpful words scratched the back of his neck with an embarrassed smile.
"I'm sorry, I just want to help you that's all," he said.
You tried to consider his request. If you went with Kyle you wouldn't spend any more money than you had to. Finally, you nodded your head in acceptance of Kyle's invitation. Hopefully you made the right choice. Kyle carries your groceries back to the jeep that you believe belongs to him.
You try to help Kyle put your groceries in but he takes them all and puts them in by himself. Then he opens the passenger door and lets you in. Even your husband when you were still dating until now has never opened the car door for you. You thank Kyle and he follows you into the car. After starting the car Kyle asks where you live.
"What?" Kyle says after hearing where you live. You think he didn't hear you so you repeat yourself.
"I heard what you said, I just didn't expect you to live there," he says with a chuckle.
You looked at Kyle with a puzzled expression. "Why?"
"Because I also live there, if you know the house at the end of the street is my house," he said.
"That's your house?"
"Yes."
"But as far as I know it's often empty," you confirmed.
Kyle just nodded in confirmation of your words. "Because I rarely go home, if I come home from duty I always sleep in the barracks."
"You're a soldier?" You asked in a surprised. Kyle just nods answer your question while smiling at you briefly then refocuses on the road.
When you got to the road, you showed Kyle which one was your house. Until now you still don't believe that you and Kyle are neighbors because you've never seen him. Or maybe it's because you have a hard time socializing, is what you think.
When you get to the front of your house you panic seeing your car in the garage. It's a sign that your husband is home, but it's still noon and not even lunchtime. You and Kyle get out of the car to get your groceries. Before you can thank Kyle you hear your husband's voice yelling your name. You're so grateful that it's quiet in your neighborhood so you don't become the talk of the neighbors.
"I'm sorry, it looks like my husband came home early," you say while holding your groceries.
"Husband?" You hear the hesitant tone of Kyle's question.
"Oh God, I forgot to tell you that I'm married. I'm really so–"
Once again your husband's voice rang out loudly calling your name. You see your husband standing at the door looking at you and Kyle. Your heart was beating fast, you were afraid that your husband would get angry and do something bad.
"I apologize in advance and thank you for your help, Kyle," you say as you run a little with your groceries.
Kyle who saw you struggling to carry the groceries wants to help but he doesn't want to interfere in someone's household. But Kyle felt angry when he saw you struggling to carry the groceries but your husband didn't help. Still standing by his car, he saw your husband violently close the door to the house. Kyle sighed harshly, he was just attracted to someone but it turned out that the person he liked was married.
It's been three days since he met you, but Kyle is still thinking about you. He feels something odd that makes him not stop thinking about you. He knows he's wrong, you're married and he shouldn't be thinking about someone else's wife. But Kyle felt something was wrong. Since that day, every morning he did his morning running past your house but didn't see you come out of the house. He didn't even see your husband go to work.
It was the fifth day he saw you come out and it looked like your husband wasn't home. You were watering the plants in the yard. Kyle walked up to you and called out to you, making you startle and accidentally splash Kyle with water.
"Kyle!" you yell in surprise at him.
You frantically disconnect the water hose and walk towards Kyle. You tried to dry his face with your hands, Kyle could only laugh and said it was fine. Hearing the sound of his laughter makes you laugh too. Your hands return to your sides. You look at the surrounding area which is quiet because people have gone to work.
"Is your husband home?"
Hearing Kyle's question about your husband makes the smile on your face disappear. Ever since your husband saw you coming home with Kyle he had become more grumpy, especially with your husband having been fired from the company making him dare to hit you when he was angry with you.
"He went out," you reply. The truth is that you don't even know where your husband is at the moment.
Seeing the change on your face made Kyle try to change the subject. But before he could ask about anything else Kyle's eyes caught the bruise under your eye. Even though he knew you were trying to cover it up with makeup, he was sure it was a bruise. Kyle walks slowly towards you and holds your face gently which makes you surprised by his actions.
"What's wrong with your face?" he asked. His voice sounds different in your ears. You instinctively held the bruise under your eye. The bruise caused by your husband last night. You try to smile and answer that you fell in the bathroom last night and hit your face. But Kyle can see through your lie. He moves away from you a little, afraid that if anyone sees your closeness, it will become a problem for you.
"You know I'm here if you need anything, right? I can help you anytime, if I'm not home you can call me."
Kyle looked for something in his pants pocket and found a pen and a small book that he always carried around. He wrote down the number and tore off the paper to give it to you. You can only be silent while accepting it. You are so grateful to have someone like Kyle in your life even though you have only known him for a few days.
"Thank you Kyle, you have no idea how helpful you are right now," you say with a grateful smile.
Tonight you're cooking for your husband who hasn't come home yet, the rain is pouring down with thunder and lightning. As you finish cooking you hear your husband's voice with someone else's voice that you never heard. You walk up to your husband and see a man who looks older than him.
"Dante, who is that?" you ask. But your husband is only silent while looking at the man who is with him. He whispers something to the man then walks out and drives back in his car.
"You know I paid a lot of money for this with your husband. I hope you taste as good as he says," the stranger says.
You try to process the situation in front of you. You try to run towards the door but are quickly stopped by the man. The man pulls you towards the sofa in the living room, he tries to rip off the clothes you are wearing. With all your might you try to escape his grasp. You grabbed the man's face and pressed your thumb on his right eye until he screamed and blood came out of it. He immediately releases you and holds his eye.
"Bitch!" he yelled at you.
Before he could touch you again, you picked up the vase on the table and smashed it on the man's head. After that you ran outside barefoot. The area near your house looks empty because of the heavy rain. You run towards Kyle's house at the end of the street. You hoped he was still home and not on duty.
When you get to Kyle's house, you knock on his door with all your might. Tears are already mixing with the rainwater on your face. Your body shakes with fear and cold. You feel like you're going to faint if Kyle doesn't open the door. He looks at you with a worried face and brings you in. Kyle hugs you from the side to take you inside his house. He finds clothes and towels for you to wear. He takes you to the bathroom and asks you to change without demanding any explanation from you. When you come out of the bathroom Kyle takes you to the kitchen and makes you some hot tea.
"If you're calmer and want to talk I'll listen," Kyle says as he places the hot tea in front of you.
"He wanted to sell me, my husband wanted to sell me to someone and that person was still in my house when I ran away. I wounded his eyes and hit his head with a vase. And I don't know if he's still there or not," you explain in a trembling voice. Your tears fall again remembering what just happened to you.
You see Kyle taking his cell phone out of his pocket and calling someone, you can only hear a little of what he's saying. All you know is that he's on the phone with someone he calls captain and there are strange words like 'ghost' and 'soap'. You try to calm yourself down and drink the tea Kyle made. Kyle sits back down next to you and holds your hand gently.
"Everything will be fine, maybe tomorrow I need you to answer some questions. So you can sleep here, I'll prepare a guest room for you," he said while stroking your hand.
And sure enough, the next day Kyle somehow got all the information about your husband. Even your husband was linked to the drug dealer. Kyle also got information about the man last night that you confirmed with his picture in the file. And a few hours later you hear the news that your husband and the man last night were arrested by the police but unfortunately the car carrying them crashed leaving your husband and the man dead on the spot. You know this all seems strange, but you ignore it all. In fact, you feel relieved when you hear the news. You didn't even come to your husband's funeral and let his family take care of it.
You're washing dishes when you feel hands around your waist. You feel little kisses being placed on your neck. You can only laugh amusedly when your neck is bitten lightly.
"Kyle! I'm washing dishes here. Don't distract me," you said with a laugh. Kyle just laughed while kissing your cheek lightly.
It's been two years since that night, and one year since you and Kyle got together. He's been patiently waiting for you to open your heart to someone else ever since that night. He even moved out of the neighborhood and took you with him so that you wouldn't remember what happened that night. He took you to a house near the house of a man named John Price. And you know John Price is his captain and also the person who helped you that night.
"I want to take you out to dinner tonight. I hope you'll wear the red dress we bought earlier," Kyle said. His hand moved to graze your inner thigh which was only covered by his t-shirt.
"Tonight?"
Kyle just cleared his throat and went back to kissing your neck while giving a small bite there. His hand slowly touched your pussy from outside the underwear you were wearing. Kyle carried you straight to your room when he saw you finished washing the dishes. He immediately laid you on the bed and pinned you there.
"What are you doing, handsome?" You ask in a flirting tone that makes him laugh.
"You know what I'm going to do," Kyle said as he took off his your t-shirt. Leaving you with only your underwear.
Kyle kisses you passionately again, he plays with your breasts making you moan his name. Kyle is always gentle with you and focuses on your needs first. His kisses move down your neck and bite there, leaving a lot of hickeys. Then he brings his mouth to your breasts, taking turns sucking on them. He sucks one of your breasts and lightly nibbles on the other.
Kyle goes back down to your pussy and kisses it from outside the underwear you're wearing. His tongue plays with your pussy and makes you moan loudly and your back arches. Kyle quickly takes off your underwear and throws it in a random direction. His lips went back to kissing your pussy and suckling your clit.
Kyle puts one of his fingers inside your pussy and moves it slowly. Soon he fastens his movements after inserting another finger there and curls his finger on your tight walls which makes you cry out his name loudly. He also goes back to kissing your pussy and gives your clit a gentle bite. Your breathing has become ragged and your lower abdomen is tightening. Soon you will come and Kyle knows it so he quickens his hand movements and kisses your pussy even more.
"Kyle I'm coming, please, please, Kyle..."
"Come baby, come in my mouth."
Your hand gripped his hair as you came. Your body trembles and your toes curl. As you came Kyle kept licking your pussy which was leaking cum.
"Tonight baby, tonight I will fuck you so hard. I love you so much," Kyle said. He glanced at the bedside table drawer for a moment. Let's hope tonight goes well.
#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick#kyle gaz x reader#kyle garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick x you#kyle garrick x fem!reader#call of duty#call of duty modern warfare#cod mw2#kyle garrick fluff#kyle garrick smut#kyle garrick imagine#gaz x reader
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Okay but could u write something fluffy with soap. Tbh I feel like he'd be the best friend to lovers kinda thing.
AND YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT i love friends to lovers so much guys u don't understand :(
also, i realize now that this isn't super fluff-heavy!! apologies </3 i got carried away.
johnny "soap" mactavish x gn!reader
warnings: horrid scottish slang from a non-scot (i am sincerely sorry), my writing from 2 am on three hours of sleep (also sincerely sorry)
-
-best friend to lovers with soap except there wasn't really a specific moment you two become each other's. it just... kind of happened.
-growing up with him and supporting his dreams to be a soldier while he supported yours. the first time he came back from a mission, you were the first person he wanted to see once he was allowed back home.
-you used to fuss over any injuries he got from being himself as a little kid, and the worry only heightened when he'd come back from missions with real wounds.
-his mom would always have a cheeky smile seeing you two together. she never said it, but it was always hinted in the way she acted. she was always talking to johnny about how you were such an impressive and loyal young person, often doting on you and insisting you stay for dinner (which, of course, you couldn't refuse).
-the first time johnny started dating someone, it was hard for you to deal with, but it got easier the more it happened.
-what you didn't know was johnny would take it even worse whenever you told him you started dating someone. he'd act all proud and protective in a brotherly fashion, but behind closed doors he was scowling to himself without knowing why.
-one day, you're visiting him in his apartment after he had been away for a few months. you're strangely more subdued than usual, and of course he notices.
-"hey," he calls to you softly, a strange contrast to his usual loud self. "what's wrong?"
-"nothing, don't worry about it," you reassure him, fiddling with the little plushie he got you from his travels--one of the many trinkets he's gotten for you. he always says it's to make up for the fact that he won't be there to bother you in person, but it's actually because every precious little thing he sees reminds him of you.
-"ah ken you're lying," he tells you in a warning tone.
-"i got broken up with, is all," you admit, turning your head away from him.
-"what?" he booms incredulously. how could anyone leave you? "is he insane? after getting an apartment together?"
-"there was this girl from his work and, well, i don't know," you shrugged, fighting back the tears you thought had dried days ago. "he wants the apartment. i mean, he did pay for more of it so-"
-"come live with me."
-it was your turn to be in disbelief, turning your head to face him with a confused look on your face.
-"what?"
-"th' place is empty with me at work. no rent, 's away from yer stupid ex, and ye get to be around me," he added jokingly. you rolled your eyes, but how could you not take him up on his offer?
-from then on, you're living with your best friend and taking care of the place while he's away. if you're staying rent-free, the least you could do was try and be as neat as possible (he insisted it was okay with the place looked like it was lived in, but you refused).
-when he'd come back from his missions, he'd still shower you in little gifts he'd get along the way when possible. you always tried to have some kind of meal ready for him, too.
-"you're always cooking for us, a'm feeling like i should do it sometime," he says, already knowing the answer to that proposal.
-"absolutely not." (the one time you let him cook was when you were both in college. he caught a pan on fire, somehow.)
-"you hurt me!"
-"oh, please."
-eventually, the routine becomes more and more domestic to the two of you. soap's mother always calls out how you two are living like a married couple, but the both of you just laugh it off like neither of you have noticed.
-you eventually notice changes in johnny's gifts. it went from gag gifts and plushies to little pieces of jewelry or intricate pens. sometimes you even think you catch him staring at you, but maybe it was just wishful thinking. he hasn't mentioned being interested in anyone in a while, either.
-it all comes to a head when johnny doesn't come home the day he said he would. sure, it happened at times, but this was the longest amount of time he's been late.
-eventually, he finally walks through the door with too many injuries, a bruise on his lip, and walking with a rough limp.
-you tend to him immediately, of course, interrogating him on what his doctor told him he should do to take care of his healing wounds. the rest of the night goes just like how the others have gone, with you making sure he's fed, warm, and resting.
-by the time you're closing his window for him, you're absolutely exhausted. you had barely gotten any sleep because of johnny's delayed return. normally, you would've let him do more for himself, but the extent of his injuries was worrying you.
-"ye ken am alright, aye?" he asks you in that low, rich voice, searching your eyes for something other than worry and sleepiness. he's sitting up in his bed by the time you walk back to him (despite the fact that you told him to lay down).
-"you're injured. you came home late."
-"what? ye have no faith in me?" he mocks hurt, trying to put a smile on your face or at least get an exhale of amusement out of you, but you weren't in the mood. he could tell by the way you didn't respond and the permanent but subtle frown on your face.
-"i know you're good at your job, johnny," you finally say, ready to call it a night.
-"good. then ye know i'll always come back home to ye, aye?"
-you swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded, too tired to overthink about what he just said.
-"come here," he orders quietly, reaching out to you.
-gently, he coaxes you into laying next to him. the last time you ever slept in the same bed as johnny was when you two were kids. you were having a sleepover at his house with you in his bed and him on a spare mattress. you had a nightmare so bad it woke johnny up, but instead of brushing it off and making a joke of it, he jumped into bed with you and hugged you protectively. he said it was a good way to train for becoming a soldier, and you couldn't help but snort with laughter.
-just like back then, you had an easy time falling asleep in his arms, now.
-you woke up that morning well-rested and still encased in johnny's arms, which was impressive considering the fact that most times he sleeps in a position that looks like he flung himself across the bed.
-when he wakes up, you sit up with the intention getting breakfast up and running, but johnny doesn't like that idea.
-"johnny, it's almost eleven. we have to eat something," you chide, trying to get out of his impossibly strong grasp.
-"ye get all sad when am gone but yer trying to leave, now?"
-"well, i suppose if you're well enough to joke, you're well enough to clean the rest of the house and cook, yeah?"
-he lets go of you immediately in a comical fashion, and you have to catch yourself as you hurl out of bed from the built momentum of your escape. you look back at him with a seriously? look on your face as he laughs at your near fall.
-"doesn't that hurt?" you question him, remembering the bruise and cut near his lips and throat.
-"maybe a little," he admits. "kiss it better?"
-the grin on his face makes you think he was setting you up for that one. how could he be so confident?
-just like the times when his mother called you two a married couple, you laughed it off and headed to the kitchen to start breakfast.
-that wasn't the only time johnny's behavior changed noticeably. now, his longing stares at you were more blatant than ever. he'd hold you by the waist if he was moving past you and even told someone flirting with him "oh, i've got someone at home," while he was on call with you on the other end.
-what more could you do than accept it? it wasn't like you didn't like it, anyway.
-one night, you're both in the dining room with you standing and him sitting down on a chair. his hands are on your waist with his legs on either side of you as you reapply a band-aid to his temple (something he could very well do on his own, but any excuse to be close to you, right?).
-as you finish putting it on, your attention draws itself to his lip nearly healed. gently ghosting your finger across the barely visible bruise, you murmur, "good to see this one's basically healed."
-"awe, but it isn't," he corrects you, a slight pout on his face.
-"it isn't?"
-"no, still hurts like hell." you should've seen this one coming. "kiss it better?"
-"that's the second time you've asked me," you were rolling your eyes as you withdrew your hand from his face, but he caught your hand in his.
-"am being serious, (n/n), only a kiss'll make it better," he insists, that damn smile back on his face.
-you couldn't help but wonder if he was actually being serious or just pulling your leg.
-"how could you be so sure?" you challenged him.
-"seen it in ma dreams." oh, that was a funny one.
-"you dream about kissing people to heal your wounds?" you ask through the remnants of your laughter, but he's still looking at you with that same far-off smile on his face.
-"no, just of you."
-there's a pause between the two of you as you process what he said.
-"oh."
-he squeezes your hand with an expectant look in his eyes, like he knew you were head over heels just as much as he was for you.
-you cleared your throat and tried to ignore the searing burning in your cheeks. "well, i guess if you dreamt it, it must be true," you tell him.
-he places his unoccupied hand under your chin and guides your face to his, but he doesn't close the gap. it was like he was waiting--making sure you really wanted to go through with this.
-but you do, so you press your lips to his and he lets go of your face to put his palm on the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer toward him.
-later that night, when you're back in his arms watching your guys' favorite show and he's calling his mother to tell her the news, you can hear her shrieks of excitement coming through the phone.
-the only thing you don't hear is when she asks, "when's th' wedding?"
-"soon, hopefully," he looks at you leaning against him, head pressed against his shoulder and arm clinging to his like it was meant to be. "but there's no rush. a've waited this long, aye?"
#call of duty imagine#call of duty x reader#cod x reader#cod imagine#call of duty x you#soap x reader#johnny soap mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish x you#johnny mactavish imagine#johnny soap mactavish imagine#soap imagine#cod mw x reader#soap x y/n#johnny mactavish x y/n#rarawrites
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𓆩♡𓆪 ｢better that sleeping pills｣ 𓆩♡𓆪
Hi! Coffee being delusional speaking! This time I was wondering
How did you deal with your sleep problems, dear?
TW: stalking, yandere behavior, delusions, insomniac reader, sleeping pills mention, somewhat willing reader, light paranoia?
Yet again another night dealing with insomnia, being told over and over that you should stop using the phone at night and, instead, pretend to sleep, that eventually dreamland will come to you like that. People that don't know what it is to be alone with thoughts and exasperation. But once again, you try to do so, hoping that maybe this time it would actually help.
tik tok tik tok tik tok
How much time has passed? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? You try to keep your mind on blank but it's impossible at some point.
An unexpected sound catch quickly your interest although you can't really recognize it, trying to dismiss it, thinking must've an hallucination or something outside, in the silence of the night, people tend to be more perspective to any sounds, right?
And just like a bad plot, once your body relaxes, you hear that sound again. . . Unconsciously welcoming the return to old habits, covering more with the blankets and turning around with the eyes still closed, as if that will make a safe shield.
Alright, this isn't your first rodeo, your brain's favorite hobby surely is playing tricks to scare the hell out of you. Taking a deep breath to relax once again, choosing to be delusional to forget everything has to be the best option right now.
What about if the sounds are because a stalker helplessly in love with you just broke into your house? A good night kiss on the forehead sounds lovely, maybe the dark romance or Tumblr posts are affecting your brain already but why care? Cuddling to sleep with someone that loves you unconditionally sounds like a perfect situation, you wouldn't really mind your sleeplessness if you could have that.
Although the normal will be calling the police, why do so if it's not a threat? In your mind, you picture your perfect obsessive s/o, no need to worry about being cheated on if the only thing in his eyes is you, no need to worry about being too much, no need to worry about his feelings ever fading away, isn't that perfect? Yes, it may come with some disadvantages like everything, but nothing you can't handle, you just need to love them, and they will be happy on a daily basis.
As you smile because of your silly fantasies while looking 'asleep' on the outside, you hear an even more unexpected sound. . . a whispering.
“oh, are you having a good sleep? It worries me how long it takes you to sleep every night, it's gonna end up being awful for your health. Maybe it will be better if I start using sleeping pills on you? You always do so much, you need a good rest, my cherry”
You stay still, unable to think what to do, a light but sweet smell invades your nostrils. Does this count as manifestation? Why is he already calling you by a pet name?
“My lovely cherry, my heart ache when I think about how exasperating must feel to hear the constant naging of those who don't really care about at least try empathize, if only I could help with something, I won't think it twice”
Feeling a gentle caress on your hair makes you wonder, this doesn't feel bad at all. Common sense screaming that you need to worry but the warm feeling of his touch disperse that though faster than you're willing to admit.
“Mmm, maybe my desires are taking over my brain already? But I think a perfect medicine for you will be if you snuggle in my embrace, I promise to have the right temperature for you to be comfy all night… if you just let me kiss that addictive face of yours, it will be enough payment for even my soul if you wish to have it”
His voice… sounds familiar, do you know him?
Even if you recognize that self-preservation should be a top priority, it's hard to care when his voice is this honeyed, using the exact words that attract you like a bee as if he can read your mind. As you feel a faint kiss on the top of your head, you start to ask yourself…
Is bad manners not to reply when someone speaks to you, isn't it? Or maybe it's better to keep pretending to sleep to see what he usually does?
Decisions decisions…
sorry for any misspellings or weird sentence structure ❣
images from pinterest
#pineapple our oc#Coffee speaking#yandere#random#yandere male#yandere imagines#yandere drabble#yandere oc#oc#male yandere#yandere scenarios#yandere x reader#yandere x darling#yandere x you#obsessive love#yandere classmate#otome#yandere x willing reader#stalker#tw stalking#soft yandere#yandere writing#drabble#silly#silly writing
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Is it OK if you can do Mr. puzzles x reader Again but Make it even more Romance CAUSE I REALLY LUV IT.😭
Mr. Puzzles pulled at his chains. He grunted and tugged more at it, trying to break it off the wall. Or if not that, then at least damage it enough so he can break it with a rock or something. Mr. Puzzles kicked at the wall, instantly regrets it, then wails in pain. Oh it was no use. Those meme guardians and their weirdo friends were never going to let him leave. He sat down and pulled his knees up to his face, feeling absolutely miserable. Then he heard a door opening and footsteps approaching. It was you! Holding a plate of cookies, a notebook, and dolls in your hands. He glared at you, and backed away a bit. You reassure him that you don't mean any harm and that you just want to help him. He calmed down a bit, but he still seemed upset. You sat down in front of him and set the things down, you had a cute smile on your face, Mr. Puzzles had to look away so that you wouldn't see him blushing at you.
You explained that you had a talk with the gang and they agreed that you can try rehabilitation with Mr. Puzzles. If he is good, you will give him a cookie. If he's bad, well then he'll just have to eat the rats then. Depresso won't like that. Mr. Puzzles laughed maniacally, very sarcastically. He grabbed your arm and pulled you onto his lap, you yelped in shock as you grasped onto him for support. He put a hand on your waist and lifted you chin up to make you look at him, he was grinning evilly. He had his brow raised as he smiled down on you. "And what motivates you to do this, mm? For what reason do you want to help me?" Mr. Puzzles said. You smiled with confidence, you say that you believe in people getting second chances, if they try hard enough, they can be better than what they were before. Smg3 changed, Waluigi changed, Bob (somewhat) changed. So maybe Mr. Puzzles can too. Mr. Puzzles frowned, and his hand moved away from your chin and down to your waist. He looked away from you. He looked... Almost uncertain?
"Darling, I appreciate the offer, but I can't do it. Even if I do change, nobody will accept me. I'll always be alone." You put your hands on his (cheeks?) And make him look you in the eyes. You say that you believe in him, that he can do it, that he will be accepted, even if not everyone will like him. Nobody is perfect, that's why we have to try to be good. He smiled and gave you a tight hug, you hug him back. He seemed convinced now. Wait, feel something wet on your back. You also hear sobbing. Is he crying? "Thank you... Thank you...." He said softly. You patted him on the back and grabbed a cookie from the plate you brought. You pulled away from him and held the cookie over him, he grinned. "I can eat by myself, sweetheart." You know he can. But you felt like taking care of him right now. He blushed a bit from that and he allowed you to feed him the cookie. Of course he wasn't going to reject the food, that dumbass Italian was starving him enough. You put the cookie in his mouth, he slowly ate the cookie until it was gone. He seemed flustered and shy, you laughed at how adorable he looked. You leaned in and kiss him on the forehead, his screen turned bright red aaaaand he malfunctioned. Bro died from a kiss fr fr.
#mr puzzles#smg4 mr puzzles#mr puzzles x reader#smg4 puzzlevision#puzzlevision arc#puzzle#smg4 ships#smg4 mario#smg4#smg3
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too sweet, part 11
dark as a lake
series master list
liked by taylorrose and others
yourusername: ✌🏻✌🏻 see ya in the fall ann arbor
rutgermcgroarty: bro did he fuck up? What's with the excessive flowers?
yourusername: I just like flowers
rutgermcgroarty: is that why your house always smells like a fucking perfume store?
yourusername: my house just doesn't smell like dirty feet and sweat which your nostrils apparently aren't used to
rutgermcgroarty: are you saying that my house smells like dirty feet?
yourusername: and sweat.
taylorrose: brb while i cry over the loss of my best friend for 3 months
yourusername: why you acting like you won't be coming to visit
taylorrose: let me be dramatic
yourusername: no.
edwards.73: nice flowers
yourusername: thanks some random guy gave them to me
luca.fantilli: some random guy is wild
dylanduke25: did you just acquaintance zone the man who bought you flowers?
yourusername: woah big word there bud
markestapa: did someone add extra sass into your breakfast this morning?
yourusername: probably
username24: patiently waiting for the y/n and ethan hard launch
username12: REAL I just want boat and lake content of the two of them
liked by yourusername and others
taylorrose: starting summer off right- thanks for having rich brothers y/n
tagged: yourusername
yourusername: they gotta be useful for something
yourusername: also come back i miss you
taylorrose: please you're too busy being in lala land with a man to notice my absence
yourusername: not true
taylorrose: i'll be back don't you worry your pretty little head
yourusername: counting down the days
jackhughes: you're welcome for being a 'rich brother'
taylorrose: your service is greatly appreciated 🫡
_quinnhughes: you're not allowed to drive that jetski ever again
taylorrose: so dramatic, no one died
lhughes_06: speak for yourself I came face to face with god himself
taylorrose: drama queen
markestapa: I just know they learned so fast that you can't be trusted to operate any moving vehicle
luca.fantilli: probably regretted even letting her step near that jetski
taylorrose: please I'm such a good driver
markestapa: and i'm the freaking pope
_______________
Super quick post while I've had to time to get something written
tags: @jdjgasidkgdf@bunbunbl0gs@love4ldr@lilasianmeat
#ethan edwards#rutger mcgroarty#jack hughes#luke hughes#quinn hughes#trevor zegras#ethan edwards x y/n#umich hockey#ethan edwards x reader#mark estapa#luca fantilli#dylan duke#nhl hockey#nhl imagine
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Imagine baby Sarah angry with Joel for not giving into her asks and wants like idk candy maybe and sides with reader going behind Joel’s back to ask the exact same thing and then in the middle of the day Joel questions how Sarah got a lollipop and reader says that Sarah told her that Joel said yes but to ask reader as well and they then connect the dots to discover that they’ve been played
Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: Sarah's Bargain
Notes: I’ve derailed from this prompt a little because Sarah’s gotta outsmart all of the adults in the room.
- - - -
Sarah and Joel are walking through the gas station mart when she spots the colorful rack of assorted candy.
"Daddy, can I have one ring pop?"
"No," he responds plainly, counting the twinkies in his hand and figuring out how many he can get before you yell at him.
"Why not."
He grabs two bottles of Pepsi in one hand before heading over to the check out counter. “Because I said so."
She grumbles and follows close behind him. "If I clean my room--"
"You can't bargain with me. I'm not mom. My answer is no."
She thinks about it for a moment. Then smiles. "Ok Daddy, I understand."
Joel is surprised she acquiesced so quickly. She seems to have gotten over the tantrum phase. Maybe he's doing a pretty good job at this parenting thing after all.
-
Later on, you take Sarah along with you to go grocery shopping. "Mom.”
"Yes bubba."
"Dad said if I cleaned my room, I could have a ring pop."
You pause, surveying the special deal for pepsi cans. Despite Joel telling you about the suspicious amount of pepsi that’s been disappearing from his stock, you hadn’t touched any. In fact, you had your own stock that you suspect he’s found out and been stealing from.
“What?”
“A ring pop,” she repeats. “Dad said if if cleaned my room, I could have one.”
Thats very uncharacteristic of him to bargain with Sarah.
"He did? So what are you coming to me for?"
"Well he said ONLY if you agreed. Said it was OK but to ask mom first to be sure."
Fuck, making me do the hard decision. Joels always the favorite, and if you say no now, then it’s going to make you the mean mom for no reason. You did see she cleaned her room without being told...
You grab the pepsi case, hoping Joel won't scold you for your own hoarders pile.
You see the innocent batting of her eyes just as you look over to the candy aisle. “Well if Dad said yes..."
-
Sarah and Joel are sitting at the table as he unwraps his secret stash of pepsi and Twinkie’s away from you.
"I asked mom for a ring pop and she said yes,” she mentions while coloring her book.
Joel freezes with half the cream custard in his mouth. “I said—“
"Its ok! I told her since you had said no, that she didn't need to get me one. I just wanted to see if she would..."
"You trying to set me up against mom?"
"No..." she adds quickly. "I just... thought it would be an interesting experiment.” She smiles softly, before turning to a very mature, saddened tone. “But then I realized it was wrong and I should have listened to you in the first place. So I didn’t take it because I know you said no."
He thinks about it for a moment. Now you’re going to come to him lecturing about why Sarah doesn't get things when she CLEARLY has a good sense of responsibility, going as far to say no to something she clearly wants just to respect him. She's also smart to test both of you, and even when she could have had it, she still refused.
“Alright. Just cuz I'm proud of ya.” He dusts the power from his fingers and fishes for his wallet. “You’re a smart kid. But I don't want you testing your mom n’ me for the same answer. And I don't want to get in trouble with her. I'll get you one. Just this once ok?"
She nods solemnly and crosses her heart. “I won’t say anything.”
-
The next day, you hear Joel and Sarah coming in from the garage and you quickly stash your pepsi behind the potted plant. Your daughter gives you a fat kiss on the cheek before running to the living room and turning on the tv.
You and Joel sit at the table. “I saw the can by the way.” He remarks.
You grunt, pulling the aluminum from its hiding spot and proudly sipping it before crinkling it in your hand. “Well I haven’t been stealing from you. I …have my own stash.”
Joel gasps, offended and surprised by your double standards. “And you yell at me n’ my Twinkies!”
"There better not be any f-ing twinkies in this house Joel Miller," you point at him threateningly.
"Nope none Nada. Haven't seen any." he slowly tucks the new plastic back full of them under his legs.
"The two of you talk about Sarah having cleaned her room without being told.
"Yeah, I ended up getting her the ring pop,” he tells you.
You furrow your brows.
“?… but, I got her the ring pop. She said you told her I would get if it I also approved? I didn’t want to be the mean mom!"
Fuck, Joel knows you get too worked up on trying to be too nice and cater to Sarah... "What? I told her no first. I never said it was up to you. Then she said she asked you and you said yes, but she refused yours, so I got her it instead for being responsible. I told you to stop worrying about being the nice mom!”
You also know Joel's a sucker for marveling Sarah's experimental mind and working on being responsible over getting what she wants. "She did NOT refuse my offer. what are you talking about?"
Tommy comes in moments later, and waves to the two of you through the open door. Sarah runs up to him near the doorway, and he greets her first suspiciously. They do a funky little hand shake, and you catch a glimpse of something silver going into his palm before she retreats to the living room
"What are you doing here?" Joel asks.
Tommy shrugs. "Uh nothin’ just.."
"Did you just slip her a ring pop??" You ask incredulously.
He huffs a guilty sigh. "Sarah asked for a ring pop because you guys told her no, so I went to pick one up at the store as long as she didn’t tell either you...."
Fuck. You and Jole BOTH know Tommy's complex about wanting to be Sarah's favorite uncle (despite the fact you keep reminding him he's her ONLY uncle and he has no competition).
Above all else, Sarah knows these weakness about each of you. You all look over to her as she unwrap a third ring pop, putting all of them on her one hand and switching back and forth sucking on them. There's an open Pepsi can clutched in her other tiny palm that she sips from, with an exceedingly satisfied grin on her face.
- - - -
Taglist:
@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop
#joel miller fan fiction#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfiction#last of us fanfiction#joel miller fic#the last of us fanfiction#joel and sarah#joel miller fluff#the last of us fluff#the last of us fic#tlou fluff#tlou fic#tlou fanfiction#last of us fic#joel dealing with preggo wife
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Head up this ask is kinda weird.
So do you think people wear perfume in omegaverse AUs 😀? Because the fact that everyone already has scents, perfume has to kind if clash with it right? Maybe some people use light perfumes to enhance their scents, and then those "Alpha Male" (omg that just gets a whole other meaning) podcast bros call it catfishing.
Would perfume even exist in the first place? I don't really see a purpose for perfume if everyone already has a scent... but bro imagine Yuu (who isn't from an a/b/o world and is getting really confused as to what the fuck an omega is and cringes every time of the guys calls themselves an alpha. Meanwhile everyone else is trying to figure out why this weirdo doesn't even have the slightest sent. Especially jade becuase I'm on that JadeYuu shit rn) that wears perfume or cologne trying to get more. And when they can't find any at Sam's they just try to fucking make it. I mean it's a little weak smelling and some of the notes don't exactly go with the others but hey! They have something to spritz now! :)
And now their friends are doing double takes because bro you did not smell like that last night. Also it smells artificial and it's weirding them out
Anyways I sincerely apologize for making you read that.
oh no you don't go apologizing for this confused, a/b/o is a guilty pleasure of mine (also i am doing concept drawings for asmodeaus rn. the timing of this ask made me laugh real hard) This isn't a smutty ask, but just so all of you know, I am good with those since I need the practice with suggestive stuff. I just won't be very good at it for a bit.
Anyway. I have never actually thought about this, but I have always sort of thought of scents in abo worlds to be a very instinctual thing that no amount of perfume can cover up. I don't know if you've ever encountered a scent you can taste but I have, a light in the room of a pool I was swimming in went out and let out a smoke so foul you could still feel it on your tongue and in your lungs when you pinched your nose. It was beyond overwhelming. That doesn't mean there's any less of a reason for perfumes to exist though, as I talked about in that post about Rollo's handkerchief in the past disease was thought to have been spread through foul smelling odors and bad air. If anything I could see that being an even bigger superstition in an abo world where scent is already super important. I could see people trying to make scents that complimented their natural one, maybe it could even be a courting ritual for an Alpha to give an Omega they are interested in a perfume they've made that compliments their smell and has notes of their own... Oh! Or working in notes of their scent to their own perfume to indicate interest!
a-twistedheartslonging mentioned in their tags on that post about Jade's scent that Morays use scents to attract a mate, so if you take that idea about perfume being a courting step I could see Jade just being so distraught that his beloved pearl has no discernible scent. And what's worse they keep changing what little scent they do have! What's he supposed to do with that huh? I think he'd be the only one excited by Yuu making their own perfume because it gives him an excuse to talk about the scents that Yuu likes and what perfumes are like in their world. Maybe they could make a perfume together next time (⚈_⚈)? Oh haha he's just thinking out loud he knows you aren't close enough for that ye- Oh you... you would like that? You think he smells nice and you want to know what sort of perfume or cologne he uses?
(he'd get so delulu so fast if you said that. sure Yuu you can smell just like him c: just let him dim the lights a bit first he hears that's important c: just remember to be gentle with him ok???)
#<3 asks#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#jadeyuu#jade leech x reader#suggestive#i might#haveabitofabreed1ngk1nksouh#ilikeabostuff#shootmepls#a/b/o dynamics
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PROTECT ME FROM WHAT I WANT
Chapter 1: Don’t try to fight the storm, you’ll tumble overboard
Summary: You've been working with Butcher and his team since your sister died in a plane crash caused by Homelander, and months later, you met Soldier Boy. Drowning between hatred and your desire to have your vengeance, you have to face your feelings for Soldier Boy eventually.
Pairing: Soldier Boy / Female! Reader
Warnings: Angst, Hurt, Language, Asshole Soldier Boy, Mention of Death
Word Count:2106
A/N: English is not my first language.
Its been a year since the greatest supe ever known of America woken from his forty years of sleep, and it did not even take a large amount of time for your thoughts to revolve around him only. Oppressed with grief, your life has been consuming you inside since your sister died in a plane crash caused by Homelander. It changed many things. It made Butcher and his team find you; it turned you into something you couldn't name anymore. Each passing day was the same. You were all alone with despair when darkness took over the daylight; you knew you did not even mourn properly for your sister. What's worse was that you had fought just before the flight. Funny, that was the only time you two had a fight in twenty-three years, and it was over for nothing. Time heals, they say. They are all wrong. It won't heal a shit till it kills and throws you away with one last heavy strike.
The day you rescued Soldier Boy was definitely a hard day to forget. He looked like an unleashed, savage animal freed from a cage. Actually, he was literally something like that. Ben was so hard to control. Besides, the worst thing about himself was not his character; it was his erratic, nuclear-muscled chest, ready to blow up anytime. It was a hidden menace under his thick skin.
At first, you weren't sure if Homelander or Ben were worse. Probably both were pure supe evils in their own unique way. After all, intentionally or unintentionally, they both hurt many people.
All things aside, at least you were certain about one thing you truly craved for. The only thing. Homelander must die.
Walking on tiptoe, your heart was beating fast, and it was not the first time. Your palm was sweaty around the pistol, and your knuckles probably turned white. No need to be humble; you were a good shooter, a very good one, but you weren't sure if you could aim right into the eyes of the supe you were looking for when the right time came. Ben gave you the big eye and almost chuckled. You knew his senses as a supe were highly developed, and that made things embarrassing for you. In addition, the house being so silent and dark was another problem.
You did not know when all these things started when he made you feel such things. Maybe it was just a silly and temporary crush that would disappear sooner or later. However, as time passed, the way you reacted around him just grew irrevocably stronger. It was getting out of hand or already did. You hated that feeling but loved it; you also despised it and became obsessed with it. He was hard to ignore in every way, especially when he was that heartbreakingly handsome.
“Hey,” he said mockingly. “Why so excited suddenly?”
You were both grateful and angry with Butcher for leaving you alone with Ben in such a place like this. You were chosen to work with Ben most of the time since he broke Hughie's arm, got into a fight with Annie and Frenchie, and threw Butcher to the tree. Lucky for him, he was on Compound V, so, no one wanted to spend a single second with him. Especially Hughie was scared as fuck of him.
The only one who did not have a fight with Ben was Kimiko, as she never said a word at all that could make him mad in any way. Though you knew Kimiko was even more savage talking to Ben with sign language, you never dared or needed to translate her words directly.
Checking around nervously, you took a deep breath. “I am not excited.”
“Don't worry, it's not a big deal,” he continued, ignoring what you've just said. “I am used to such things.”
“What things?”
“You know,” he sighed. “Knowing that the strongest supe in the world is with you right now in this house and all alone got you wet. I’m sure your clit is flickering with such excitement that you might cum any moment.”
Judging by the look on his face as he went on acting his fingers obcenely and not stopping talking in an inappropriate way, he was amused. You just wanted to shut his voice completely down. He was not familiar with embarrassment at all. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes, waiting for him to finish his pornographic ted talk.
Taking back some steps from him “Have you totally lost your mind? Every single thing you say is so gross and nasty,” you finally said. “You're so delusional; you should have been an author.”
It wasn't the first time he teased you. His choice of words was getting more obscene each time, even though you never took them seriously. The things he said caused pathetic butterflies to punch your stomach hard. But you knew Ben was being like this to everyone. It was in his nature, after all.
“Say delusional one more time and see what happens.” His sharpened eyes were fixed on you.
Fuck Butcher.
“Ben,” you whispered nervously. You got closer to him and touched his chest hesitantly.It would be a terrible idea to get on Ben's sensitive nerves. It would be easier if Butcher was there. “Are you on coke?”
“Course I am.”
Pushing your hands away from his chest with a rough move, Ben looked around cautiously, searching for any sign of the supe.
You followed in his footsteps. “Do you hear anything?”
“No.”
Stopping for a moment, you sighed. You did not want to push his buttons any further. “Is it true that this Supe can play with memories? Does she change them? Like mind control?”
“Worse.”
You felt his posture suddenly get serious.
“How?”
“The slut has a strange talent that can make you see stupid things, things you desire the most. They’re all fake and all made up stuff. Total bullshit.”
“What happens if you see them, though?”
“It’s impossible to wake up if you are a little pussy. You'd trap yourself like a rat driven by pathetic fake scenarios just because your little brain is a weak shithole and you’re just too scared to face reality. That’s it."
The way he sounded made you even more curious.
“You sound like you experienced it,” you said, raising your eyebrows.
Judging by the way he sounded, you were sure he experienced every single thing he mentioned. But what could be Soldier Boy's nightmare or dream? You were dying to know what he desired the most. What on earth would be his dream? He always looked so confident and sure of himself. It was like there would be nothing in the world he would ever desire. Of course, it would be Crimson Cuntess. Remembering the way he looked at her with disappointment made your stomach crumble in pain and despair.
“Absolutely nothing,” he insisted. “Only pussies desire things they can't get, right? I am smart, and I can have everything I want, sweetheart.”
“I thought it would be Crimson Countess,” you murmered, hoping he would not get mad. You needed him to deny it so bad.
Looking at him with pleading eyes and waiting patiently, he looked genuinely lost in thought for a moment.
“Jealous?”
Looking away, you said, “Why on earth would I be jealous?” You would make him believe you easily if you did not sound that needy and weren't flushed. You could never be completely honest with him. How could you?
Putting his left hand on your chin, he murmured. “You’re so obvious.. Do you really think I’m not aware of the way you look at me?”
With a heavy heart, you looked up at him with beseeching eyes.
“I don't understand what you mean at all.”
“You do,” he insisted indifferently. “I know, you wish you were her, I know you’re so envious of her that you would even let me fuck you as I like it if I made a move, right?” he paused and snickered. Your heartbeat skipped at his harsh words.
You made a move to get away from him, but his grip on your chin tightened hard enough to hurt, so you stopped moving, surrending his cruelty for a moment to catch your breath and let him do whatever he had on his mind.
Despite his roughness, you put your hand on his daring one softly, savoring his touch unintentionally as you try to push him away with helpless and meaningless attempts, hoping to show your affection for him. He didn’t make a move. Getting even closer, his broad chest touched yours ungently. Ben curled his lips into a mischievous smile and lowered his hand to where your heart is. When you felt his forearm touch your nipple, you gasped for breath and struggled determinedly not to melt into his warm touch.
Knowing his hand could easily rip your heart from your chest in a second should have been enough to take him out of your heart and mind right there, but it was always easier to blame destiny and others for what happened and is about to happen. Moreover, his being that dominant, confident, and powerful made your stomach curl in excitement.
“You’re wrong, Ben,” you denied.
You were angry at yourself for being like this and feeling that way. Between all things.. your sister and everything that happened in the last few months- you let your thoughts be driven into something you should stay away from in the very first place. Coming to your senses and accepting the truth about yourself hurt more than Ben’s words. You could never be at his level, but you let your fantasies take over your logic.
As you struggled not to melt into his touch, you tried harder to get away from him, hoping it would convince him. You mumbled, “You’re hurting me.”
His grasp was indeed firm, but it did not hurt at all. You just wanted to save yourself from the intensity of his seductive presence since you did not know if you could resist this irresistible pull for one more minute.
He pulled away his hands from you but remained still.
“How can you fucking normals endure being that weak, huh? You know, I could kill you without even using half my strength, right? It must take great energy and luck to survive,” he said mockingly.
You wanted to say he was nothing without Compound V in his veins, that he wasn’t naturally the strongest but a made-up product. However, it wouldn’t be smart at all to say such a thing. Supes were not known for having reasonable conversations and handling criticism. Maybe Supes were physically the strongest breed, whose emotional and narcissistic fragility was suppressed under their thick skin. And Ben’s short temper wasn’t something you’d want to face.
You both jumped when a noise coming from the second floor filled the house. Ben’s eyes were down. He was probably nervous considering he could potentially be put to sleep by the supe. Unlike Ben, you took a step right up the stairs, tightening your grip on the pistol and holding your breath.
“Be fucking slow,” he warned you, but it was more like he meant to threaten you.
You turned to him and whispered, “Hey, who’s being a pussy right now?”
“Don’t fucking provoke me.”
“Hey,” you said, giving him a playful wink. “I’ll always protect you.” Just before he said something, you’d seen supe’s dark figure behind Ben. Your eyes were fixed on each other. His body tensed with anger as his patience grew thin. He was about to lose his temper, knowing he should kill her without meeting the eye of the fucking bitch. He simply did not know how to do it. Before he turned around, you shot at the darkness randomly, trying to stir panic in the supe. The darkness of the room was in your favor until you met the heinous eyes of the supe just before Ben caught her and slammed her on the floor with a furious growl.
next chapter
A/N: I'm not built for this.
#soldier boy#soldier boy x reader#the boys series#jensen ackles#the boys#the boys tv#jensen ackles soldier boy#the boys season 3#soldier boy the boys#the boys amazon#soldier boy x y/n#soldier boy fanfiction#soldier boy x you#soldier boy x female reader#jensen ackles the boys#the boys soldier boy
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So I've been thinking about how Buddie could happen since the rumors it was teed up and then erased in S4 have been circulating.
This is longish so I'll try not to ramble...
So if the original (rumored) beginning to a Buddie canonization was based on one of them nearly dying and the other absolutely flipping their shit over it, I don't think that's going to work again. For a couple of reasons. First, because that's happened since s4 with the coma story line and it once again didn't result in anything. And secondly because at this point with Buck being canonically bisexual it doesn't need to go down that way - we have lots more options now.
At this point I really am thinking about the chemistry of relationships and the fact that these two dingbats have been in eachothers pockets for six years. And the thing that happens when your with someone for six years is the flare, that spike of butterflies and newness...it fades to this sort of glow. Like a fire that burned hot and now is just a warm pile of embers that occaisionally flame up but mostly just give off a familiar warmth and comfort.
That's why it's called a slow burn. But I digress...
My point is that when you're in a long term relationship you get these little flares where the brain chemistry goes back and cycles through that first hit of serotonin you get when you meet a crush and suddenly those embers run hot again. And it could be the stupidest thing. Like, my husband bought a pair of shoes that are ADORABLE and suddenly I have a crush on the man I've spent 16 years with.
So I think while big revelatory events work to be a catalyst for romance in a lot of situations, I think it's going to be something way more subtle and mundane for these two. Like Buck will get a new T-shirt with the bi flag on it or Eddie will buy fuzzy slippers for the house or something and suddenly these two dorks will be crushing so hard they won't know what to do with themselves.
And with Buck now being way more conscious of his sexuality and really owning that part of himself, the pathway to a less traumatic confession is wide open. It remains to be scene what Eddie's character does over the rest of the season obviously, and I'm fully on the demi-Eddie bandwagon which I don't really see becoming canon because I'm a cynic who's ships NEVER become canon....but ANYWAY.
That's what makes sense for these two. A quiet morning with coffee and love confessions and then just the comfort of a familiar and warm place.
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