#and you should look at him in that first gif anyway
Text
the pro
Pairing: Art Donaldson x Reader
Rating: Explicit - 18+ only. minors, please get off my lawn.
Notes: My brain chose violence this morning. Not beta-read because when is it ever.
Length: 4.8K
Warnings: Slow burn; unhappily married reader; divorced Art Donaldson; infidelity; oral sex (female receiving); vaginal sex; unsafe sex
Summary: Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch.
He's the biggest men's tennis star since Andy Roddick.
That’s what your husband says, as if it’ll entice you. As if you know anything about tennis, about the pro that your husband says will be coming to the house to teach you to play.
It’ll be good for you. You need a hobby.
You don’t gripe or argue. You don’t tell him that five months into your marriage shouldn’t have you looking for a new hobby. You should still be in the honeymoon stage, spending all of your time with him, hanging off of his arm, off of his every word. But he works so much and he’s away so often—
I don’t want you to get bored.
It’s a sweet gesture. The maid handles the housework; you have a chef that handles most of the grocery shopping and cooking, unless you insist on making something yourself; you have a housekeeper that arranges for anything you need—dry cleaning, maintenance. And it’s no wonder that with all of his money, his power, he can just order a retired pro tennis player up to your house, like you’d order a pizza. There’s a tennis court in the back of the mansion, a few feet from the pool. You’ll get some new outfits, the best sneakers, the nicest rackets. You’ll finally have something to do to fill your days.
Art Donaldson.
You know his name before the lean, fair-skinned patrician man turns up at your front door. He trails you through the house, politely declines your offer of a beverage.
“You ever played tennis before?” He asks.
You haven’t. Before your husband arranged this for you, you hadn’t so much as given the sport more than a passing thought. You don’t have the heart or confidence to tell that to a man that’s made tennis his whole life, so you just give him a small, guilty smile and say no, you haven’t. He nods, waves you off, insists that it’s fine.
“We’ll start with the basics.”
--
Two months of lessons on the basics make your arms tired, and your hands sore. But where your swings are clumsy and your grip is weak at first, you can see improvement in the way that you move. Your steps are less clumsy when you go after a ball; you’re more aware of the service line and the base line; your forehand stroke from contact to your left shoulder is smoother; your rotation and follow-through on your backhand is coming along, but has a long way to go.
Art’s instruction is calm and steady. He explains technique as much as he demonstrates it. When you get something wrong, he doesn’t scold, just lightly corrects. When you do something well, his encouragement is constant and free-flowing. Every accurate move and motion is met with, “Nice,” or, “Perfect,” or, “That’s it.”
On the days when you don’t have a lesson with Art, you practice. You order a tennis ball machine to work on your forehand and backhand. You attempt (and fail) to learn how to slice on your own. You try anyway—you can only imagine the way his eyes might light up if you manage to surprise him.
You’ve tried to ignore the rising interest that you have in Art, but you can’t help the little…Crush that’s developed. He’s just so attentive, and kind. When you find yourself smiling these days, it’s often because of something that he said, or did. You can’t remember the last time your husband made you feel giddy this way. It was probably when you started dating—before you’d made the decision to marry for comfort, rather than love. Your husband is practical, rarely physically affectionate, more heavily involved in his job and social circles than with you.
But you’ll have to find a way to thank him. He’s given you a hobby, and a man that grins at you like you just painted the goddamn Mona Lisa when you serve your first ace.
--
“So, tell me about the Mark Rebellato Academy.”
Art smiles, dipping his head as he reaches for his coffee. It’s taken a few months, but you finally convince him to have something to drink with you after practice. Your chef is blessedly out shopping for ingredients for dinner, so you have the kitchen all to yourself. Art has watched you putter around, seeming surprised that you know where everything is. You can’t blame him; the kitchen is chef-grade, and you don’t cook much these days.
“Did your husband tell you that’s where I went?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
You’re too embarrassed to admit that you’ve done some googling, and watched a couple of clips of him interviewing before and after his matches.
“I’ve just heard,” You fib. “Tell me about it?”
He leans back in his seat, eyes skating across your face as he seems to consider something.
“What do you wanna know?”
“Did you enjoy it? I mean—” It feels like a dumb question once it’s out, and you hurry to redirect, “With what you know now, if you had the choice, would you have learned how to play tennis somewhere else?”
He considers for a moment, trailing his finger over the side of his cup. Your gaze flits to his fingers, and your own flex around your mug handle. You’ve spent far too much time looking at and thinking about Art’s fingers—their length and quickness; the slight roughness of his calloused hands; the lingering tan line from where his wedding band used to sit.
“Yeah,” He admits, drawing your full attention back to his face. “I would. It was foundational, you know. I’ve been thinking of sending Lily there.”
“Lily?”
A bittersweet smile twists his lips. “My daughter.”
“Oh!” It catches you off-guard.
“Tashi, uh—” He clears his throat, “Lily’s mother, my ex-wife. She and I are thinking about schools.”
“I’m sure they’d be glad to have her. Does she play tennis?”
“Little bit. She didn’t start until last year, but she's a natural.” He clears his throat again, presses, “Are you and your husband planning on having kids?”
“Oh god no.” You blurt it out, and realize as he raises his brows that you’ve spoken too quickly. You lean back in your seat, stirring your coffee quickly to distract yourself from your growing embarrassment. “He actually has kids already. Two girls, seven and ten. They’re at boarding school and they stay with their mother when they're on vacation. I haven’t gotten to spend much time with them.”
“...He seems to be pretty busy.”
“He is.”
“So it’s just you in this big house?” He tips his head to the side, brows knitting with curiosity. “What do you do all day?”
“Play tennis.”
He grins, chuckling, and your stomach flips at the sound.
“It shows, you know,” He says.
“What do you mean?”
“I can tell you’re practicing without me. And,” He leans across the table, running his fingers lightly over the exposed skin of your bicep, “You’re getting stronger.”
You wonder if he can see or feel the goosebumps that break out across your skin at the gentle sweep, his gaze heavy on yours.
“I have a good teacher,” You murmur. Art’s lips twitch with a soft smile, his hand gently cupping your arm.
“Just good?” He plies.
“The best. A real pro.”
His smile widens, and the flash of his tongue sweeping across his lower lip makes your face go hot. You know that you’re caught when Art’s touch becomes firmer, pulling your arm toward him just a little.
The sound of approaching footsteps startles you, and you hurriedly tug your arm away. The sight of your husband makes your heart leap into your throat.
“There you are,” He smiles. “Art, how’s she doin’?”
“She’s killing it.”
You don’t dare look at him, but you can feel the weight of his attention lingering on you still. You just give your husband a smile, tipping your cheek up obligingly as he leans down to kiss it.
“Actually, Art,” Your husband straightens up, hands resting on your shoulders. “I’m glad I caught you. There’s a charity event for a local club this month. It’s for uh…What is it?” He squeezes your shoulders for answers, and you have to keep from rolling your eyes.
“It’s a charity tennis match to raise funds to fix up the local courts. They need resurfacing and they’re raising funding to keep the fees down.”
“We could use a sponsorship from the foundation,” Your husband adds.
“Honey,” You glance back, wary of insulting Art. But—
“I’ll do it,” Art agrees. “Send me the details.”
“Excellent,” Your husband grins. “Maybe we could coax you into a match or two.”
You don’t chastise him this time—not when you see something light up in Art.
“Maybe.”
--
You haven’t seen Art play before. You’ve specifically avoided it. You’ve known that when you saw it, you would be too intimidated to do a damn thing on the court with him. But now, you can’t stop watching him. You don’t even care that you probably look so out of place—where everyone else is watching the ball, you’re just watching him.
His movements are so neat, so precise. It’s like watching a dance. He’s running the poor guy on the other side of the net up and down the court. And the sounds that he’s making—god. Every little grunt and groan is weaving increasingly filthy thoughts in your mind. You already know that you’ll seek out the memory of those sounds, as you reach between your legs later. His shirt clings to his chest, showcasing the muscles that you’ve always suspected he has. Strands of hair plaster to his forehead as sweat drips over his cheekbones, down the bridge of his nose, over his jaw.
When he scores a match point and he looks toward the cheering crowd—when his eyes land on you instantly, without having to search—it’s like you’ve been hit by a bolt of lightning. You can’t think, or move. You barely have the focus to applaud, but you manage to raise your hands and clap.
--
Every lesson becomes an exercise in self-control. You force yourself to try, really try, and not make silly mistakes for the sake of Art coming closer, grasping your arm or elbow, pressing close and redirecting your swing. You don’t know what you crave more these days: his praise or his touch.
Coffee becomes a post-lesson ritual. He starts to stick closer and closer to you as he follows you into the house until he begins to rest his hand on your lower back, guiding you to your door. He keeps nearby when you’re making it, brushes droplets of sweat off of your forehead or neck. Every touch is electrifying; you have to make a concentrated effort to keep your hands steady, your face neutral as your heart pounds and your stomach floods with butterflies.
He pushes you harder on the court, and you force yourself to meet the level that he sets for you, even when you don’t feel confident in it. But you want to make him proud.
It spurs you to lunge a little too far.
The sharp stabbing pain in your left ankle makes you shriek, and you tumble to the ground, dropping the racket with a clatter. You hear the pounding of his feet, glance up just in time to see him clear the net before he’s on the ground at your side.
“What hurts?”
“My ankle,” You grit out, hissing softly as he helps you straighten your leg out. He smooths his hands over your calf, leaning over you and gently guiding your foot in a few different directions. You whimper as he starts to guide your foot to the left.
“Okay, okay,” He soothes, “Let’s get you inside.”
For as much as you damn the throbbing in your ankle, you thank it a little, too. You lean heavily against Art, making the slow, arduous journey back to the house with his arm wrapped tightly around your middle.
When your husband comes home, he finds you with on the couch with Art coming back in from the kitchen, an ice pack in your hand.
You’d hope for concern, but your husband frowns, glances at the swelling knob of your ankle, and simply asks: “What did you do?”
“She lost her balance.” Art sits down on the other end of the couch, soothing you as the chill of the ice pack makes you shift with discomfort.
“Are you going to be able to walk tomorrow?” Your husband presses. “We have dinner at the Fineman’s.”
“I'm still going, don't worry about that."
“...Tomorrow might be a bit soon,” Art warns.
“I’ll be okay. It’s just a sprain, right?” You tip your brows up, hoping, praying that he’ll agree for your sake. His fingers flex around the ice pack, jaw ticking as he clenches it. He doesn’t say a word as your husband sighs heavily, grumbles, “I hope so. Still, we should put a pause on the lessons until she’s fighting fit again.”
Art finally tears his eyes from yours, a tight smile on his lips.
“Of course.”
--
“How’s the ankle?”
It takes you a moment to scrounge up an answer. You can’t believe that he called. You knew that Art had gotten your number when you started taking lessons with him, but he’s never used it beyond texting to confirm a lesson time now and again.
You look down at the still-swollen flesh as it strains against the thin strap of your slingbacks.
“Fine,” You lie, “It’s um—” You glance over your shoulder, listening for your husband. “It’s not that bad.”
“Good enough to walk on?”
Hardly.
“Yes.” You think you’ve gotten away with it, but when you hear Art sigh and chastise, “You should rest,” You know that you haven’t.
“I have,” You insist, “All day.”
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Yes.”
“You can tell him no, you know.”
Your mouth works wordlessly, body going hot with indignation. You can’t think of a thing to say. You can’t tell him that he’s wrong, that your husband’s connections are the lifeblood of his business. You can’t tell him that if your husband’s business falls apart, you won't be able to afford those tennis lessons, and then how the hell are you supposed to see Art again?
You just yank your phone away from your ear and hang up.
--
I invited Art.
It shouldn’t be a surprise, but your husband’s statement makes you feel like you’ve swallowed your tongue. You haven’t seen or spoken to Art in nearly two weeks. Your doctor recommended putting off any physical activity, which your husband surely relayed to him. He was the one whose name was on Art’s checks, after all.
Your husband has always thrown a massive party to kick off the summer. Every year, 150 of your husband’s closest family, friends, and business associates flooded into the house. It shouldn’t be such a surprise that your husband invited Art after the performance he had given at the fundraiser—$25,000 from the foundation, and ticket sales went through the roof when it had been announced that the Art Donaldson would be making an appearance. Your husband owed Art a lot, and probably saw this as an opportunity for him to network, to take on more clients. He had been evangelizing Art’s training to any of your friends that would listen—how good you are on the court, how engaged and energetic you seem to be these days.
It’s one thing to know that you’ll have to put on a happy face for the crowd, but to know that Art will be among them makes your insides twist with nerves. You can’t stop thinking about the way that he had spoken to you when you were hurt; his calm, steadying demeanor as he’d gotten you inside; the careful coaxing and gentle touch that he’d used as he’d taken your shoe off and examined your ankle more closely.
You think about it now, as you strap on another pair of heels. Your ankle really is doing well, though you have a little lingering pain in shoes like these. You’ll likely be on your feet for the length of the party; it’s going to be a long night. You look over yourself in the mirror, self consciously tipping your ankle from side to side for anything that he may spot or catch out. But there’s nothing, you reassure yourself. You slide your hands over the skirt, plastering on a smile as your husband pokes his head into your dressing room.
“Almost ready in here?” He asks.
“All set!”
--
He doesn’t come over to you. On the crowded patio, you can feel him watching you—you’ve gotten so used to seeking out the sensation that you can’t ignore it now. The first true look at him is agony. He watches you from just a few feet away, a glass of champagne in hand as he speaks with your husband and the Finemans. He openly looks you over, eyes drifting over your body to the flash of ankle revealed by the slit in your dress. He tips his head to the side just a little, squinting before his eyes flit back up to your face, lips twitching with a small smile.
You want to hate how good it feels; you want to be angry with him for his smug knowing, his insistence of You can tell him no, you know. But it feels so goddamn good to have his attention again that you can’t bring yourself to be annoyed. You know that you’re staring—that you both are—and you force yourself to turn away and excuse yourself from the conversation you’re in. You go inside, murmuring your thanks for the waitstaff that pass you along the way.
The house isn’t nearly as busy as the patio, and you're able to slip into your darkened study unnoticed. You leave the lights off, certain that if you turn them on, people will be drawn in to bug you, like moths to a flame. The party’s lights and music filter in through the partially-closed blinds.
You lean against the desk, circling your ankle and wincing a little. You’ll hide for a few minutes, let it rest—
Your breath catches in your throat as the door opens. You expect your husband, ready to scold and usher you back to the guests.
You only have a second to get a look at Art before he shuts the door behind himself, plunging the room back into darkness. Your fingers tighten around the edge of the desk as you use it to ground yourself.
“...Do you need something?” You ask, voice wobbling with nerves.
“Wanted to come say hi.”
“Well. Hi.”
You hear him chuckle, his footsteps muted by the carpet.
“Thanks for the invite.”
“It wasn’t my idea.” It’s not polite to admit, but you want it to sting him, just a little. Maybe it does; in the dim of the room, you can’t see Art’s expression as he comes to a stop just a couple of feet from you.
“Do you want me to go?” He asks. You know what you should say, but you can’t bring yourself to say it.
“No,” You whisper. You feel the heat of him as he comes closer, his hands resting on the desk and caging you in. You bite your lip as gently brushes his nose against yours.
“He isn’t taking care of you.”
“My ankle is fine.”
“I’m not talking about your ankle.” He lifts a hand, smoothing it over your hip as your breath mingles. Art’s fingers drift from your hip to stroke over the apex of your dress’s slit. His fingers slip further down, and you nod as he palms your thigh. Before you can say or do a thing, Art sinks to his knees. He curls his hand around your left calf, lifting it. You shiver as his lips press a gentle kiss to your ankle. His hand and lips travel up, easing the fabric of your dress higher with each second. The first brush of his knuckles against your panty-covered clit makes you jolt. Your hands dig into the wood of the desk as his fingers hook between the fabric and your skin. You lift your hips without a word, allowing him to draw them down.
Art presses a kiss to your mound before he lowers his head, giving your lips a sweet, sucking kiss. You gasp softly as his tongue swipes across your clit. You look down despite the fact that you can’t see him well. You can just make out his blissful expression, his eyes closed as his laps broadly across your aching cunt. You lower your hand to his neat hair, winding your fingers through it, unable to help grasping it. His heady moan vibrates against you and you nearly cry out at the sensation. You manage to just catch it, the sound dying in your throat as Art buries his tongue inside you. He sweeps his thumb over your clit in rush, harried circles, panting against your heated flesh. You rock your hips down against his lips, tightening your grip on his hair as you guide him. He lets you do as you please, whining against your skin as your movements become less controlled.
“Art,” You warn, “I—Oh, oh god—”
He hums in encouragement, sucking your clit back between his lips and lashing it with his tongue. Your jaw drops open, your hand shoving Art even more tightly against your skin as you cum suddenly. A stunned, breathy moan slips from your lips as Art leans back, smearing his lips against the inside of your thigh.
You use your grasp on Art’s hair to draw him back up off of his knees, giving him a crushing kiss as he catches his balance. You swipe your tongue across his lips, whining against his lips as you taste yourself on him. He presses close, his hard cock straining against the fabric of his pants. You reach down, palming and squeezing his length as you trade slick, messy kisses. He steers you back onto the desk as you fumble to undo his belt, button, and zip.
“Condom?” He asks.
“Pill,” You reassure, shoving his pants down. You lap broadly across your palm, grasping Art’s length and guiding him closer. He brushes the tip of his cock against your still-throbbing clit, smiling as you whine. You’re going to ache tomorrow, but you’ve never been so happy to be sore.
“Art.”
“Sssh.”
“Please—” It’s hardly out of your mouth before he shoves his hips forward, seating himself fully with a single thrust. You bite down on your lip to quiet your moan, curling your arms around your shoulders. He rocks into you with firm, quick strokes, his mouth covering yours. You can hear things on the desk rattling with each thrust, kisses growing less controlled as he hoists your thigh up around his hip.
“Oh, god,” You breathe, “We have to be quick—He’ll come looking—”
“Not until you cum for me again,” He urges. “I need to feel it, sweetheart.”
“Art—”
“When’s the last time he did this? Hmm?” He presses, “When’s the last time he made you cum? When’s the last time he tasted you?”
“Never,” You admit with a shiver. It seems to renew Art’s passion, his thrusts and hold growing more intense. You squeeze your eyes shut, hands hooking tightly in the fabric of his jacket. He yanks the front of your dress down, bowing over you and drawing one of your nipples between his lips. You whimper as he toys with the bud, tugging it gently with his teeth before swiping across it. You arch into the slick heat, using your leg to tug him even closer as you chased the swelling curl of your orgasm.
“Just like that,” You urge, “Ffffuck—yes, yesyesyesyes—”
Your eyes squeeze shut as your hips buck down against his, pussy pulsing as he spills into you. Your heart pounds in your chest as the two of you slow and still. Art rests his forehead heavily against your neck, peppering gentle kisses across the exposed skin. You have to move—now. You don’t know if anyone heard you, but if someone did, you’re screwed. If no one did, your husband will probably be looking for you anyway, ready with a scold for neglecting your hostess duties.
“...I have to go,” You warn softly. It takes Art a moment to move, but he does, gently drawing himself back from his still-throbbing cunt. You hear the clanking of his belt buckle as he tucks himself away, and you reach down, righting your dress where it’s been pulled away. You take up your panties from where they’d been discarded on the floor, tugging them on before you straighten your skirt and hurry out of the room.
--
“Can I see you?”
It’s only been an hour since the last guest has left, and you are so, so fucking tired. You glance toward the bathroom door. You know that you locked it, and you’re certain that your husband can’t hear you over the shower running, but you can’t help but be paranoid.
“You just saw me,” You remind him.
“Tomorrow,” Art clarifies.
“Where?”
“I’ll send an address.”
You bite your lip, toying with your earring. Your pussy is still aching from the stretch of him, your ass sore from getting fucked on the desk.
“...You regret it?” He asks.
“No,” You don't give your answer a second thought.
“I’ll send an address. Whether or not you see me is up to you. Just…think about it. Okay?”
“Okay.”
You lower your phone, hanging it up and watching his contact information blink away. It’s only a moment before a text with an address lights up your phone. You don’t have to think about it. You already know what you’re going to do.
--
You know that you’re staring, but you can’t bring yourself to stop. Art has spent so much time in your home, so you feel entitled to look around a little bit. You eye the row of trophies on his mantle, photos of him playing when he was young. You come to a stop at a picture of him with a young girl, a racket in her hand and a medal around her neck.
“Is this Lily?” You ask.
“Yeah,” He nods. “First competition.”
“Already getting gold,” You smile. “The Mark Rebellato Academy isn’t ready for her.”
Art chuckles, nodding as he steps around you.
“You, uh…You want something to eat, or drink, or…?” He trails off, tucking his hands into his pockets as he takes a couple of steps back toward his kitchen. You turn to face him, taking him in more fully.
“Art?”
“Yeah?”
“Why am I here?”
He doesn’t answer for a few moments. You can see him weighing his options before he comes closer.
“I…I’ve been thinking about last night.”
Fear shoots through you, but you force yourself to stand tall. “Okay.”
“I could lie and tell you that it should be a one-time thing, but I can’t remember the last time I got through a day without thinking about you. And I think you’ve been thinking about me, too.” Art stops as the tip of his shoes brush against yours, and you let your eyes slip closed as he rests his forehead against yours.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” He pleads. “Tell me to fuck off right now and I will never say another non-tennis related thing to you again.”
--
When he fucks you, he curls close, chest pressing against yours as he catches your lips in a kiss. You sink back against his pillows, your head cradled by his broad palm as he rolls his hips achingly slowly. You don’t bother to hide your whines and moans, and you revel in his. Every grunt and whimper and groan that Art lets out lights you up.
And when you cum, you don't have to quiet yourself. His name tumbles out of your mouth, cushioned between expletives as your nails dig into his shoulders.
--
"What time is he home tonight?"
You don't want to think about it. You want to stay in this cozy little bubble, trailing your fingers over his muscled chest as he massages your nape and kisses your forehead.
But you know that you'll have to let the world back in sometime.
"I don't know," You admit. "Late."
"...Could stay."
"He'll be suspicious if I'm not home when he gets there."
Art sighs softly, running his hand down to rub between your shoulder blades.
"This isn't going to be easy, is it."
"What?"
"Letting you go every day."
"Every day?" You tease, pushing yourself up to get a better look at him. "Don't get greedy, Mr. Donaldson."
He smiles, raising his hand and cupping your cheek. "Is it greedy to know what I want?"
You shake your head a little, lowering your lips to brush against his.
"Not when I want it, too."
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#Art Donaldson x Reader#Art Donaldson x You#Art Donaldson/Reader#Art Donaldson/You#Art Donaldson fic#Art Donaldson imagine#the pro
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Hello!! Could you please do what it would be like to date Luffy?? He's my favorite character and I loved your Zoro headcanons!!
— tysm for requesting !! i've recently came back from my trip and still recovering from my mental breakdown lol, so writing for luffy aka my son is all i need <3 i hope it brings you joy and light ⋆˙⟡♡
i have other requests in my box and i promise to do them all, i won't let you down !!
ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴ : monkey d luffy's guide to relationship (check out roronoa zoro's guide here and here if you're interested)
dating monkey d luffy would include :
endless, countless and heartfelt laughters. luffy is an outgoing and fun person to be around. he's always having fun on the way of making his dream come true, making each day bright and sunny. he won't be trying that hard to make their s/o laugh, his authenticity, fearlessness and lack of danger estimation would do the trick. but expect him to yell his s/o's name everytime he pulls a prank or tests his flexibility by making funny faces. if his s/o happens to be sad, he would also try his best to cheer them up by first, making them laugh to forget about their worry. when in bed with his s/o, he would let soft and intimate laughs escape his throat when talking to them or listening to their stories. laughing is an intimate and loving act according to luffy's guide.
physical touch. luffy's a sucker for hugs, tender gestures and pdas!! he has no shame hugging his friends like a koala, but with his s/o?? they would barely be able to breath lmao. luffy would sleep with his arms fully wrapped around his s/o's back, with his chin on the top of their head, sometimes, he would sleep on top of them with his whole weight just to show "how much he loves them", or with his head on their lap. anyway, luffy’s s/o is always at arms length thanks to his ability, much to his delight. the boy's clingy, but so adorable and natural about it. however, if their s/o needs some space, luffy would understand, although a bit saddened, so expect him to ask for a hug when they're ready. if their s/o really hates physical touch, it would be difficult for luffy to adjust (he's just a big soft plushie please take care of my baby)
receiving random compliments at random times. luffy's very honest and genuine, and even though he lacks real communication skills, he never lies. therefore, if he sees their s/o with a new outfit and he finds it nice, he will vocalize it in his words. "your coat is brown like a juicy steak, it looks tasty! you should wear it more often", "your hair looks like a cloud this morning", "your eyes sparkle like lasers!!".
him being involved in his s/o's hobbies/occupations. luffy is naturally curious. people often feel like he is pestering and "in the way", which can hurt his feelings, but he is genuinely interested in his friends' activities. he has so much admiration for them. but with his s/o? luffy would not only pester and ask what they're doing, he would also be trying to learn alongside them, with stars in his eyes. if their s/o's a fighter and fighting with a particular weapon or style, luffy would sit quietly and watch for some time, clapping his hands and feet at any random movements from their body, before joining and mimicking. if their s/o was reading or doing anything more intellectual or academic, luffy would sit by them, his arms crossed on the table and his head on top and listen to them talk and tell about what they're learning. if his s/o is patient and pedagogical, he would be so happy and confident enough to ask questions. he will then brag to usopp and chopper about his recent learnings with confidence and pride, saying how "(your name) taught me!!" (he will also turn around to his s/o to check if what he's saying is correct). it is very important for luffy to know what his s/o is doing and what they like, and for them to share their activities together. because on luffy's part, he would include his s/o in every single thing, even on shenanigans with usopp and chopper if they'd like.
hungry kisses and messy makeout sessions. the first kiss with luffy was soft, quick and intimate: a simple peck on the lips. also, at the beginning of the relationship, they were few, as the captain is more of a hugger. however, when his s/o would explain luffy that kisses could involve tongue, dear lord. luffy got insatiable. with his first french kiss, the move of his tongue got so messy he let some drool escape from his lips, trailing out from his s/o's lips. he also accidently bit his s/o's bottom lip so hard it stayed swollen for a couple of days. luffy would take note on his s/o's preferences and always surprise them with that one kiss that would leave them out of breathe and shaky. during make out sessions, not only his tongue would be insatiable, but his hands as well. this boy cannot stand still, he would trail his hands all over his s/o's body, especially the inside of their thighs or their ass. oftenly, after pulling away from his lips, he would look at his s/o's eyes and say "more" before diving in again.
aside from the messy kisses from heated and hungry make outs, luffy's kisses are always spontaneous and playful. he's hanging from the chandelier with his legs around it? he'll grow his head down just he can peck his s/o's lips. his kisses are never calculated or protocolar, they're just like his sweet personality. he would try to kiss you when you eat to "taste your food", claiming that it tasted better.
learning to communicate. luffy is not a complete moron, but his communication skills and social awareness may not be the best. their s/o will have to use patience in order to have a meaningful conversation about their intimate feelings or their relationship in general. luffy is a good listener to his s/o, however, his responses are not always fitting to the matter at hand, sometimes even immature. nevertheless, luffy is a willing person, especially with his s/o. he would try his best providing more fitting responses to his s/o's matters and expressing his needs as well, especially if he feels he has been saddened by their behaviour.
entrusting him and reassuring him. of course, luffy is a confident person, not only in his skills, but also in his dream of being the King of the Pirates. however, if their s/o does not vocalize their trust in his dream, skills or character, luffy would be saddened and pouty. it could trigger his jealousy. he is the captain of a fantastic crew with fantastic people and he feels entrusted with that role, but the one trust and validation he needs is from his s/o. if their s/o compliments him or refer to him as "future King of the Pirates", he would be beaming so hard and brag about it a little.
having a number one fan and devoted partner. luffy loves all of his crewmates and would do anything for them. but his s/o is special. he would always cheer them up, be their cheerleader, talk about them at any given times (a little like tom holland with zendaya lol), protect them from the smallest ant, raise them high. he will always stand for them. if his s/o's in danger, the smallest hint of common sense hidden in his brain gets completely lost and he goes feral. he won't let anything happen to his s/o, before letting anything happen to his dream. his dream is with their s/o: there's no Pirate King with his s/o, no matter what. losing his brother already broke his heart, and he knows losing his s/o will hurt the same, so he does not let anything happen to them. <3
he's the definition of a golden retriever boyfriend, but i feel like he would rather eat from your plate than giving you his lmao. he won't mind sharing with you, but he would enjoy stealing food from your plate.
#one piece x reader#op x reader#one piece imagine#one piece headcanon#headcanons#one piece headcanons#luffy x reader#opla x reader#monkey d. luffy#monkey d luffy x reader
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I would like a story where Damian becomes extremely protective of his wife and child after a dangerous event occurs.
i looooove writing about this kind of stuff! let’s say this is kind of an utopia but it could still happen, okay?
anyway
damian priest x reader
‼️angst and fluff
wrong house
your life was perfect.
perfect like in one of those romantic comedy.
you had a loving husband, a beautiful daughter and a big house like you dreamed about when you were a kid. a huge living room, plenty of space for your daughter to run and play, a backyard pool and the classic white picket fence. you were in a nice and wealthy neighbourhood, surrounded by lots of parks and kind people.
what more could you ask for?
a couple of blocks away from your neighbourhood there’s been a few robberies, nothing major, just some teens thinking it was fun scaring old people, but police officers told you multiple times that you didn’t have to worry about it, that they have it handle it.
damian wasn’t so sure about it tho.
he made everything in his power to provide you with a beautiful house, a nice neighbourhood so you could feel safe when he was travelling for work so the idea of having teens breaking into people’s homes late at night made him shiver, especially when he thought about you and your daughter.
“are you sure it’s okay? i can come home early…you know it’s not a problem mi amor” he said through the phone.
“dam…” you said laughing “everything been calm for over three weeks, we’ll be okay…”
“i know it’s just…you know how i get when i’m not home, i’m only thirty minutes away from you and in case anything happens you give me a call okay?”
“i promise you dam…go back to training” you said laughing again.
“i will, tell maya that i love her okay? and that i miss her so much and that i will crush her with hugs and kisses once i come back home” he said smiling, thinking about his two years old daughter.
“i will i promise…go back to training, we’ll see you in a couple of hours…” you said giving him a kiss through your phone and hanging up.
you smiled watching your daughter being completely invested in the cartoon she was watching.
the evening went on normally.
you and maya had dinner together, you got her ready for the night but as usual she didn’t want to go to bed without having a goodnight kiss from her father, so, instead of going to bed, you spent the early night together, watching some cartoons and eating popcorn.
you watched the time and you knew damian would be back in an hour so you took a few seconds to close your eyes and relax a bit.
non even a minute passed that you heard some weird noise coming from the back door.
you knew for sure that damian wasn’t back, you didn’t hear the car and even if he was, you knew he never used the back door, so what was going on?
then you heard them, two, maybe three voices talking softly. saying how hard it was to open your door and that maybe they should go to another house. you prayed that they would let you alone but when you heard the click sound of the door opening you realised it was too late.
you grabbed maya into your arms and pulled her towards your chest. moving fast to the bedroom, you locked yourself in, and then you locked yourself into the bathroom, hiding maya behind you in the tub.
you knew you should have called the police, you knew that but the first person that came to your mind was damian.
you didn’t know what was going on, and if something bad was going to happen you wanted to hear damian’s voice one last time.
“please…” you whispered, waiting to hear his voice.
your hands were shaking and even if you were crying, you were praying no one would be able to hear you from downstairs.
“hey love” he answered.
“dam?” your voice broke.
“hermosa…what’s going on?” he asked, alarmed by the sound of your voice.
“dam they’re here…”
“who?” he knew who, he just didn’t want it to be real.
“someone’s in the house…dam, they’re in the kitchen, looking for something i guess, i’m in the bathroom with maya, we’re locked in…i know they never hurt anyone, they’re just kids but…damian i’m so scared, i don’t want anything to happen to maya” you broke down, trying to muffle your cries.
“listen to me amor, i’m coming back home right now okay?” he said and you hummed “you’re on the speaker, finn is with me and he’s calling the police right now, you stay at the phone with me okay?”
he didn’t know how he was able to remain so calm. in reality he was freaking out, just the thought of you and maya being in danger made his blood boil.
“is maya okay?” he asked.
“she’s okay, she’s scared too but she’s okay” you said, looking at your daughter’s face. she was confused and definitely scared but still she didn’t know what was going on.
“are you okay love? i’m coming back home, right now..you stay at the phone with me okay?”
“okay…” you said.
you hear the noise from downstairs growing closer to you, they were in the living room right now. you were lucky your house was big enough that you had the time to hide.
“damian they’re closer…i can hear them… i’m so scared…”
“i know princesa i know….keep holding on for me okay…i’m driving as fast as possible, keep holding on”
“i love you so much damian…so so much”
“don’t say that like it’s the last time you’ll say this…” damian’s heart broke, he couldn’t imagine how scared you must have been “i love you so much mi amor and i’m not going anywhere, ill stay at the phone with you, finn just told me the police is on their way…”
“okay…” you whispered.
damian kept talking to you but you stopped him when you heard the sirens ringing.
“police is here…” you whispered letting damian know about it.
you heard them breaking down the front door. you heard them chasing the kids around your house and you heard them calling your name.
you waited until they found you. they were police but you didn’t trust them enough to come out yet, you didn’t feel safe. the only place where you always felt safe was between damian’s arms and you couldn’t wait for him to be back.
you and your daughter were brought downstairs. you didn’t care about the broken furnitures, not when something worse could have happened.
damian ran into the house, fighting off police officers who told him to stay outside.
“my wife and my daughter are inside!” you heard him screaming, shoving past one officer.
“dam…” you said, tears running down your face.
“hey…” he whispered hugging you tight. maya was watching the whole scene with a confused smile. she was just a kid, too young to understand what was going on. one police officer was sat next to her, while you couldn’t let go of damian’s embrace.
“i was so scared…”
“i know mi amor, i know…everything is over now, you’re safe, you and maya are safe…” he kept repeating, more to himself, because he couldn’t describe how terrified he was when you told him someone broke into your house.
“i’m so glad she’s okay…i would have fought with all my life if something happened….”
“i know hermosa…she’s so lucky to have you as her mom, i’m so glad to call you my wife…and i’m so happy to see you both here alive, i’m so sorry i wasn’t here”
“damian, it’s not your fault” you said before he could blame himself “you’re here now and it’s all that matters”
“i love you so much…and you too maya” he said moving to bring her up in his arms.
she was just happy to see his daddy smiling at her.
“missed you” she said with her soft voice that always made your heart smile.
“i missed you too princess…and i’m not going anywhere for a long time” he said kissing her head “daddy is gonna stay here with you”
she seemed happy with his decision and so were you.
it was kinda selfish taking him away from his work but he knew that you wouldn’t trust yourself to be home alone for some time now and he didn’t want to leave you alone, never.
#wwe#wwe x reader#wwe imagine#wwe x you#wwe imagines#damian priest#wwe one shot#wwe x oc#damian priest x reader#wwe damian priest#damian priest oneshot#damian priest x oc#damian priest x you#damian priest fanfic#damian priest smut#damian priest wwe#damian priest imagine#damian priest angst#wwe damian priest x reader#damian priest x y/n#damian priest fluff#the judgment day fluff#the judgment day x you#wwe the judgment day#the judgment day one shot
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Warning Signs That You May Have A Toxic/Karmic Significant Other
Hey everyone, you may have seen my recent post about breaking up with my ex partner after 5.5 years. If not, I’ve been deep in reflection after ending this relationship. My reasons for ending it were that he refused to seek professional help to manage his anger which would come out in constant outbursts of violence (not physical ab*se but hitting walls, kicking furniture, scarring my dog, etc) and his mental health in general. After breaking things off I analyzed our relationship and all the red flags became crystal clear in hindsight. This blog is not only my emotional space to reflect, but also a place to give out advice to make sure you guys feel less alone in the world. So I’ve compiled a list of behaviors that made it clear that in hindsight the relationship was destine to be toxic and could not continue. It’s important to take lessons from painful experiences in order to continue to grow, and that’s what I hope I can help with by sharing my experiences here:
(TW Manipulation, Distressing Themes, Emotional Ab*se)
- They hate your intuition: (they work to make you doubt whatever means you have of self guidance. Whether that’s tarot/astrology, or spirituality in general, or therapy, or your simple gut feelings/reactions to things. They hate them because they know that they’ll be singled out at some point by them so they work to make you not believe in yourself through manipulation/gaslighting. My ex would constantly say the tarot is going to tell me to break up with him, but he never really changed he’d just belittle it and say I was getting weird about spirituality and he’d try to make me doubt myself or choose between the tarot and him. When I asked him to go to therapy he would also say that he was worried the therapist would tell him to break up with me-implying I was the problem. When I would ask him to go anyway he would find a way to avoid it- saying it’s too expensive, too hard to find, he doesn’t have time, etc)
-They constant give you advice that puts you in harm’s way: (My ex always told me I was too quick to cut off people that threw me under the bus and that I was paranoid. When I found out my former business partner was being shady and stealing from me, he told me to keep working with her. I said I had to take things over. He said I had no chance of covering the expenses on my own and that he wasn’t going to help me at all even though he was working a consistent 9-5. I rationalized this as putting too much pressure on him to support me through my apprenticeship over the previous few months, even though by the time we were having this discussion I had picked up a seasonal 9-5 to compensate for starting the business. I still felt guilty because I was asking him to cover the rent at home while I built this business up. I ended up wracking up debt over trying to cover everything myself and he was telling me I was going to fail every step of the way. When I didn’t fail and the business remained open over a year later, he said he had always believed in me every step of the way.)
- They rewrite history (that’s the other thing- when I broke up with him he said it was his idea to open the studio in the first place. This was a lie. A bold one at that. At the time I would have had to become self taught due to dealing with several egotistical mentors (wow thematic) and I looked for positions in other studios and there were none. My ex told me I should “pause” my goals. I told him I’ll open up my own space with another artist. He had a long talking down to me about how we couldn’t afford any of that, and how impossible it was, etc. But I went through with it anyway, effectively doing all the work on my own. He constantly told me what I was doing was crazy. But I made success out of it, thank God. Now my ex is trying to take credit for the whole thing as if I don’t remember what happened. Audacious.)
- Instead of having their own dreams they focus on wearing yours down (I have so many big dreams I want to accomplish and every other idea I shared with my ex was pushed back on or breadcrumbed. I wanted to live abroad, he’d say it’s too expensive but maybe he could find a way to make it work if I stopped putting so much pressure on him. I took over my own business, he told me I shouldn’t do it and should quit while I’m ahead. He would always try to counter every idea I had with a “logical reason” of why it wouldn’t work. He would try to control me by doubting me and in turn trying to get me to doubt myself. I never actually listened to him in hindsight, and when I pushed through successfully he would pretend to have been on my side the whole time.)
-They always compare you to their exes, in bold ways (My ex would always go out of his way to bring up his past relationships. The examples and instances were never appropriate. But one of the first worst early examples was when we were at a show. My friend’s band was playing. In the middle of the set he decided to look up his ex on social media. I was clearly uncomfortable but he continued. Then when we’re talking he brought up a nickname she used to call him that was inappropriate. When I was upset by this he threw a shirt (merch gifted to him by my friend’s band) in the booth almost hitting me with it and he stormed off. He made himself seem like the victim in a situation where he was trying to bait me into starting a public argument and yet made me soothe him afterward.)
- The betrayal of not ever being believed (early on this was another giant red flag in hindsight. I’m black and I tried to explain colorism to him, while I was having a bad experience with it. He’s white and should have been listening and understanding with open ears. Instead he tried to argue me down for being “mean” to light skinned black people. In the experience I was talking about how a mixed femme at work established a boundary with our white bosses to try to avoid racist harm. They let the femme do this without any pushback. I tried to establish the same boundary in the same meeting and those white bosses accused me of actively refusing to do my job. I told my ex this was colorist and that’s when he argued with me about this. He didn’t believe my experiences until he googled “the right articles”. When I brought this up in the future he would say he was just trying to see all black people as equal. It was a pretty disgusting defense.)
- Throwing insults in your face about past trauma (I told my ex about how emotionally abusive my mother was (wow there’s that pattern again) and he would throw this in my face and blame me or compare me to her at the slightest provocation in several arguments. When I was disrespected at work, he would blame me for misinterpreting things. Complaining about how I used him for money whenever I had asked him for help managing the business’ expenses. And so many deep cuts of things he should never said to me and names he shouldn’t have called me if he ever cared about me. He always wrote it off as me misremembering or him meaning it as something else or a distraction tactic of whataboutism -‘what about when you complained that I left dirty clothes on the floor?’ For example. All ways he tried to manipulate me from seeing this pattern of messed up behavior. Every argument he would make us talk in circles until I would have to give up from frustration and exhaustion.)
-They’re full of hot air, and if they seem like they aren’t they’re probably mirroring you (when I broke up with him I stopped hanging out with him pretty much immediately. Although I had to coordinate moving out still, I started keeping my head down to focus on my work. Essentially I had already moved on. I thought we had had deep discussions about the world and life but when I had less to say he had nothing to add. He would just keep filling up the air with anecdotes about nothing and commentary on anything just to keep crossing my boundaries and to try to force me to pay attention to him when it was clear I neither interested or comfortable doing so.)
- They try to force you to become as cynical and jaded as they are (I was never antagonistic per se, but when we were together I had unconsciously started looking/preparing for the worst in every scenario and every person I’d meet. Because of my ex’s toxic influence. Getting along with coworkers? They must be just “kissing up to you” according to him. Like that tv show most people are fond of? No way that has to be trash. Want to try something new? No there can’t be anything good about that. He was a very stuck person that refused to find the joy in almost anything. Unless it was too impressive to ignore —but even then he had to nitpick it apart. I would wonder why his compliments would feel so hollow- it was because he really had trouble seeing the good in anything. Like a day or two after we broke up I was already feeling lighter and more optimistic. When people were kind to me I embraced it easier and in turn every aspect of life got a little brighter. The contempt for others was palatable. Because he expected everyone to be ready to undercut him like he was ready to do to them.)
- Before you know it, they’ll have you romanticizing breadcrumbing behavior (I asked my ex to get on meds for his mental health and to find a therapist so many times over the course of 5 years. 4-5 months before I broke up with him he got on medication. Then after a peace period of a month or so, we were back in a cycle of petty arguments and he was saying the meds don’t work. He didn’t even try to go to therapy until I broke up with him. he got an appointment the next day because he “was trying to win me back” Essentially, he’d never work on himself or actually actively improve things. He’d always make one or two half steps to placate me then complain about how it was too hard and completely impossible to put the work in. Even with the therapy example, he wanted to display that he could make progress in order to win me back. Don’t worry, I had seen this tactic before and knew he would just fall back into toxicity. So, it didn’t work.)
- When you do leave they get cocky about how you’ll have nowhere to go (I leaned on my ex to support me when I became overwhelmed by figuring out my business on my own. I worked several temp jobs in addition to the business but it was stretching me thin. So I needed his help several times and only had so much saved up by the time I broke up with him. After begging me to take him back the entire night and pretending to be supportive, the next day he was scoffing and boasting about how “[he] didn’t even know what [I] was going to do.” He did this over everything from buying my own detergent-even though I always bought the detergent- to managing my bills on my own-even though I usually managed most of my bills on my own- until I finally was able to move out and leave him behind.)
- They never defend you and always make it seem like it’s your fault if you get attacked (My ex was always siding with abusive people and gaslighting me when I noticed that behavior. As many of you may know, my mom was a terror throughout my childhood. I confided in my ex about how much of an impact this had had on me. Before I went no contact with her we all got dinner when she came in town to see me. Despite all my warnings and preemptive begging to be supported through the difficulty of meeting with her my ex threw me under the bus immediately. He laughed at her jokes at my expense and didn’t stop her at all from singling me out. I shutdown in this moment and began to draw to cope- I’m neurodivergent so that’s one of the things I default to doing when I’m overwhelmed. They continued to make fun of me together and when I asked him why he didn’t have my back afterward, he blamed me for “not being friendly enough” and “not interacting with [my] mom enough”. This pattern of doubting and failing to help me would continue through our entire relationship.)
- They’ll have -self aware- moments that aren’t quite what they seem (I truly cannot count the number of times my ex would start an argument just to talk me in circles then try to get me to believe I was in the wrong too. It was truly maddening. He would always push to say he “understood” how we had gotten there. Then ramble on and on and on saying that I was attacking him and he was the victim of things. I asked him to do the dishes? I’m “criticizing [his] housework and putting too much pressure on [him]”. I ask him not to throw things when he’s upset? I’m “overly criticizing [him] and making [him] so anxious he can’t help but hit things”. And on and on and on it went. He would always tidy it up by saying he forgave me because we were “both wrong” and he just “would try to be better next time and [I] should too”.)
-They have underlying personality issues that need to be addressed (and when you bring a hint of these up, they lash out about how you’re attacking them and they throw personal attacks back at you because of their fragile ego. If you -somehow- get them to see a mental health professional you may find them lying about what feedback they got. After I broke up with him he said he’d go to anger management class and find a therapist “to win me back”- funny how it’s after you leave them and set the ultimate boundary they do the work to show you they can hypothetically change and it’s never one of the times you’ve begged before in the midst of madness. Before I moved out I overheard his therapy appointment and she asked about his bipolar diagnosis and he said he was just anxious despite the mood swings. When he came to me to tell me the good news of him finally going to therapy he left that out. When I asked if the therapist knew if he had another disorder he manipulated that. He said the therapist asked if it could be anything else but it was just a brief thought. He framed it that way instead of the consistent behavioral issue it was.)
- Usually they attract drama and chaos but blame you for it as their partner (He always kept his ex around in boundary crossing ways. In hindsight I wouldn’t be surprised if he had cheated in any way with any of them because of how murky he was about spending one on one time with them. They also will always encourage you to keep other toxic people in your life so they can keep flying under the radar/blaming the other toxic people when you feel drained/etc. When I decided to go no contact with my parents, he second guessed me. When I decided to go no contact with my friends that were harmful, he second guessed me. He went out of his way to call me paranoid and picky and every other name in the book he could. Even after I broke up with him he went out of his way to tell me I was paranoid and should quit tarot reading “because [he] knew it would turn [me] against [him] one day”. I told him his opinion meant less than nothing to me.)
- Whenever you set a boundary they try to undermine it and take it as an attack (When we met, all of my ex’s small circle of friends was made up of people he had dated or slept with. Once his friend, who had flirted with him multiple times, asked to stay in his apartment while she moved out of her place. He offered her his bed. She even had a boyfriend at the time but she went to my ex first. I told him this made me very uncomfortable. He screamed and yelled about how he’ll always choose his friends first and I have to understand that and that she didn’t want to sleep in his bed while he was in it. It was crazy but the whole time he called me dramatic and made me feel insane for being so uncomfortable with it.)
- They may often act out in public over the littlest things (my ex would get absolutely infuriated when there were lines in places. Insane right? Especially living in cities? with other people? And yet whenever we went out I’d have to prepare my mental for the possibility of him getting angry and breaking down because people were waiting ahead of him in line. In hindsight the entitlement he had was overwhelming in itself. The last time we went out to a movie -which was a whole scheduling fiasco in of itself with him during our entire relationship, he was obsessed with movies. I like movies but spending 6-9 hours in a theater? Every week? On top of hours of mandatory movie viewing at home? It was exhausting. He also made me pay for my own monthly movie pass even though it was his thing. Even in covid, although I’m immunocompromised I had to negotiate with him to wait to get vaccinated before he went back to the theater. And to wear a mask in the showings. He would huff and fuss about those small courtesies the entire time. Anyway the last movie we went out to see had a long line but we bought tickets ahead of time. He pitched a fit and kept storming off away from me and threatening to leave over the line. I kept following him foolishly, and coaxed him into staying. Of course there were enough seats and of course he enjoyed the movie. He apologized after for “getting overwhelmed by the line” but that shouldn’t have happened in the first place.)
- It’s all or nothing for them but breadcrumbs for you (I’ve always been clear that I have no plans of staying in the country I’m from. From the start I’ve understood I’m not meant to stay here. And yet I stayed in a city I hated so he could suddenly finish his associates degree. We moved back to my hometown but we lived in the most stressful neighborhood because he “wanted to be downtown with a pool.” He would always complain about every single idea I had to leave the country. I’m thinking about doing a language school or artist residency? He “did long distance with [his] ex who cheated and it would be too hard”. I want to study this language and go to this -easy-place for a visa? He “kept forgetting to study and had no idea how we would ever afford the move.” And on and on it went until I simply gave up on trying to get him to step up.)
- They twist everything to be about them even grief (my grandma was like a mother to me, so it hit me hard when she died. She even told me she was going and thanked me for my friendship at the end. It was still a very difficult period and I couldn’t accept it until it just happened. When I got the call and burst into tears my ex said “I’m so sorry… do you blame me because we stayed here for me to go to school and you couldn’t be home with her?” It hadn’t even been 20 minutes since I learned she was gone. The extent of his selfishness would shock me until I cut him off.)
- They make you bury things they don’t like about your self expression/goals (I’ll use a simple example. I love fairy lights. When we met I had fairy lights and my ex had no complaints. But when we moved in together they ‘would always bother him and give him headaches’. So I took out the lights. Then he got me a glowing lamp I wanted for my birthday but never allowed me to turn it on when we were in the room. I brought the lights I love to my work and my ex would complain about them there too. He’d say he didn’t know why he “just didn’t like spending time at the studio” and then use the lights as an excuse, and then hed complain all day about how exhausting it was to be there. He’d only offer to come to the studio more if I turned them off just for him. All this time later and all of a sudden I don’t have any lights I like up. This didn’t happen for everything, but there were a lot of little things he was so controlling about just to be authoritative about something I liked.)
- They hate it when you have positive things happen to you (and instead of seeing your success as a good thing they see it as you one upping them, so they often express jealousy and then disguise it as a joke. He would “joke” about how I was going to fail so often I lost count. When I had a great day there would always be a hint of disappointment in his voice. He would always undermine it in anyway he could. “Oh you made X amount that’s nice, but that’s not enough to cover the rent”. I got a lot of compliments on my outfits, so he’d say “no one ever compliments me”. Always something to bring me down and try to get me to focus on a worry.)
- They downplay your trauma (I’m a burn survivor. My dad burned me through hot water and neglect as a baby on around 20% of my body. For that and many other reasons I became sort of a local legend for my time in our local child protective services. In a city of well over a million people. Doctors thought I wouldn’t be able to walk again and it was a miracle when I did. My grandmother had to wrap my scars everyday, twice a day for 3-4 years afterwards. She would tell me the pain would make me cry random throughout the night until I went to kindergarten. All that to say, my scars had a BIG impact on my health and my life. When I told my ex about my insecurity he said “sorry that happened, but it’s not that big of a deal.” Crazily at 21 I took that as flattery. It was not, it was severely downplaying the trauma I went through because my ex didn’t care for that part of my life. I even remember thinking I should tag a post as a burn survivor and he said “isn’t that like advertising your burns, why warn people about it?”. I got better and embraced my scars all through my own healing but damn it was all severely fucked up.)
- They usually have a Fatal Flaw they try to make you contend with (My ex had explosive anger where he would hit something (a wall, the couch, his desk, etc) or throw things at any slight provocations, and he would disguise it as a reaction of low self esteem instead. I didn’t realize how bad the conditioning had got until I broke up with him and I wasn’t getting jumpy from him coming home anymore or my dog wasn’t hiding from him anymore. I was walking on eggshells all the time and I only knew it subconsciously. He would also curse at me and call me the meanest names from the smallest arguments, he would get belittling. It’s their signature style to make you feel small and to desensitize you to truly nightmarish behavior.)
- That’s the other thing- most people and sometimes animals can tell they’re off (I would always wonder why my ex never seemed to make a good impression on others. They could tell he was off from the start.)
- They start trying to love bomb you after you give up or when they sense you are finally giving up (I always asked my ex to pay more attention to my business/endeavors/art/etc when we were together, to respond to texts I sent him at work-within reason-, to give me some support or feedback. His replies were always blasé. “That’s nice.” Or “I will.” As soon as I broke up with him. He was complaining that he always missed texting me at work. Then he started getting more involved on my social media pages. Then for the first time in months he watched my story on Instagram completely unwelcomed and unprompted. It was how fake the performance of interest was that really struck me after everything.)
- They always ask for one more chance when you’ve given them at least a hundred chances (Evem when I broke up with him he kept saying “you cut off other people (for being toxic) but I never thought it would be me!” I feel like I’ve already put plenty of examples of this, so I’ll just say this points to the fact that at their base motivation they don’t really respect you or care about you. If someone actually cares about you, they’re going to go out of their way to make you comfortable, to care about your opinions and feedback, from the very start)
- Even when it’s over, they still always try to blame you for their bad behavior. (My ex painted himself as an introvert when he was in a relationship. I had always asked him to make -newer, healthier- friends and to make a social effort. Since the beginning. After we broke up he made an effort to go out to social events. After he went out one day he came back and said “I was such a girlfriend guy, I never went out and socialized!” In turn I said you’re not a girlfriend guy you never cared about what I had to say, if you were a girlfriend guy I wouldn’t have had to break up with you for literally never taking me into account. So that ended that.)
- When it’s over the relief hits you in waves (I didn’t even realize how much I was doing to cope with the hostility and boredom of the relationship until it was over. I stopped overeating, I actually lost my appetite for days. I went from taking edibles every week to not even craving the ones I had. I wasn’t the most indulgent but I was shocked by how immediately I was fine with going cold turkey. My time with myself became even more peaceful. Even before I moved out, I was more creative and productive. I felt the beauty and the optimism of all the little moments deep in my spirit and my glow was brighter than ever before. My ex kept turning to me in despair and asking “how can you be so okay with this??” I answered him indifferently because he wasn’t worth entertaining. But obviously my spirit had been restored, I wasn’t wasting love on anyone that didn’t deserve it anymore. My energy was finally all mine. And I had faith in God that everything would be alright. And it was.)
You slowly but surely realize that you were formed to be a victim of a narcissistic/antagonistic person due to being raised by narcissistic parents and in an environment full of enabling emotionally and verbally abusive behavior. When we met I was so vulnerable. I had moved to a new city on my own, I was in a financially precarious place. The city was The Worst for Black people (tm). I was so desperate for an ally, I caught an energy vampire instead. I’ve healed and learned a lot from this. To be much more deliberate about who I let into my life. To be unafraid of purging and moving on when someone shows you they’re incapable of growth. To not accept crumbs of affection and appreciation. To pour my love into myself first before I let anyone else do the same. So I write all this to say, it’s not your fault. It’s not your fault that some people are so corrupted to the core that they’d rather destroy you than heal themselves. So… forgive yourself for this experience. Forgive yourself for being a person that just loves and cares about others. That believes in cultivating a world full of warmth and compassion. Don’t let one (or a dozen- ugh the people I’ve had to move on from oml) toxic ass person ruin you and your compassion. I had to forgive myself for believing in a lot of disappointing, inept, bad people. But I won’t stop being kind and compassionate because of those losers. I’ll continue to shine my light on those who need it whenever I’m supposed to. I mean I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to rely on anyone again without fear of their self interest but one step at a time, I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.
Anyway, wish me luck on this fresh start. Buy a reading if you want to support me. But yeah, thanks for reading y’all.
#astro observations#astroblr#astro notes#astro community#astrology#lilith astrology#healing#karma#life lessons#false soulmate
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Go On...
This is literally the first fic I've ever written that's not a request so I feel very proud of that
I wrote this one thinking on my baby (@itzsana-kiddingmenow) (and with her indirect help-) so I hope it's good enough and just as amazing as she is<333
-tickle fic, if you don't like that you can keep scrolling
lee!Jisung ler!Changbin
requested by: no one
warnings: ticklish kisses, nuzzles, kinda short(???
taglist: @itzsana-kiddingmenow @channieissocute125
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Hannie was in his room, doing nothing more than staring at the ceiling, kind of bored but not really.
Changbin had just finished writing a new song he had been working really hard on, and was really proud of it, he wanted to show it to someone, just to listen to some other opinions.
Of course the first people he wanted to show it to were the other 2 members of 3racha, but small problem, Chan wasn't at home at that moment.
That didn't stop the rapper, he went to show it to Hannie anyway, he can tell Chan once he's back.
"Hannie? You awake?" Binnie asked when he entered the room, even though it was only 8pm, you never know with Jisung.
"Oh hey, hyung. Come in" Sung waved the older, moving a little so he can lay down next to him.
Bin sat on the younger's bed showing him his phone with his new song "What do you think? I think is good, but probably not my best job"
Hanji read it carefully "This is amazing, hyung!" He said after a while, returning the phone to his hyung.
The dwaekki smiled softly "Oh, well... I think it's good, yes"
He then felt a bit affective, so he cuddled his dongsaeng, nuzzling a little on his neck.
Hannie giggled a little at this "Hyuhuhuhung..."
Bin just continued at it "What?"
"Yohohohou're..." Sung couldn't complete the sentence, the word was too much for him.
But Binnie finally realized what he was doing "Oh. Am I tickling you?" He stopped "Sorry, I didn't mean to" he said to the younger, just cuddling him now.
The quokka boy couldn't help but pout
He didn't want him to stop
But couldn't ask for it... He was too flustered to do so, so he just kept pouting, hoping his hyung realized and helped him.
However, Changbin seemed to be oblivious at Hannie's wishes, and even closed his eyes, getting comfier there with his dongsaeng.
Jisung didn't want to ask him to tickle him
But ended up doing it anyway
"H-Hyung..." He called him as tapped his shoulder
"Yes?" The older opened his eyes and looked at him
"I... Didn't really want you to stop..."
Changbin didn't understand at first, but then realization hit him.
Hannie wanted him to tickle him
And he will gladly do it
Almost immediately, the dwaekki sat on the younger's hips, raising his arms above his head, to immobilize him.
"You ready for it~?" Bin teased, to which Hanji nodded shyly
The older decided to start on a spot he knew Hannie loved: his belly. Started scribbling gently but extremely tickly all over it, provoking some cute giggles out of Jisung, besides a cute blush on his cheeks as well.
"Awww~ Is this good, Hannie?" Binnie asked, kind of teasing, kind of actually asking.
Han could just nod, making the ler grin.
Soon, Changbin changed of spot and technique, now starting to squeeze his younger's side, making his way to his ribs as well, not limiting at just one side of his torso, but going for the other one too.
Hannie, meanwhile, couldn't do much than giggle and blush. He was totally loving this, and Bin knew that.
Changbinnie felt like trying something he hadn't before, not sure if he should, but risking anyway.
He leaned down a little, blowing some air on Sungie's ear, not expecting it to tickle him that much, but it certainly did.
"OH MY GOHOHOD, that's bahahahad hyung!" Bin just grinned at his strong reaction, and, using the fact he was close to it, decided to give him little ticklish kisses on his neck, while whispering some teases he knew would have him bright red, while at the same time, the tickling on Han's sides and ribs got a little bit rougher. "You just love this too much, hmm~? You can't take it~? Too bad~ You asked for it, you're stuck here~"
Jisung's face soon was extremely red, he was too easily flustered for this- But despite of that, he didn't want it to stop just yet, so didn't say anything.
They kept it like that for a while, until Hannie thought he really had had enough "OkaHAHAHAY hyung! StohohohoHOHOP IT Now please!"
Bin of course stopped immediately, and got off the younger "I'm sorry, was it too much...?" He asked concerned when he saw Hannie panting slightly
But Sung of course shook his head "No, hyung... It was great..." He hugged him "Thank you..." Mumbled shyly
Changbin just smiled softly at him, hugging him and rubbing his back "No problem, Hannie"
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I liked this one😻
I feel it's too short, but good anyway
I hope y'all like it as well :3
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ℳ𝒶𝓎𝒷𝒶𝓃𝓀𝓈 𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇
Chapter 6- just like your father
Series masterlist
Warnings- once again not too much rafe): I’m trying to get more rafe in the next parts, the readers drunk the whole time basically lol
“Now a live update from the sheriffs department.”
“Yeah, after six weeks, the five teens that had been missing from Kildare county have returned, been reunited with their families.” Rafe went closer to the tv, sitting down and staring out. “We’re still waiting for details about their journey. But I’m sure they have quite a tale to tell.”
“We also got word that the father of one of the teens, John B Routledge, who’s been presumed dead for a year now, has also returned live and well. Wonders never cease. Right now, we’re just trying to get those kids settled back into school, with their families. They’ve been through a lot.”
“The teens were down in Kildare island with two other Kildare teens, Sarah Cameron and Y/N Maybank.” The sheriff spoke.
Rafes eyes widened at the mention of you and his sister.
“Sarah’s the daughter of disgraced real estate magnate, Ward Cameron, who confessed to the murder of Peterkin two months ago. y/n is the daughter of Luke Maybank, who is also presumed missing after escaping prison.”
Rafe watched as both of your pictures were put on screen, he recognized yours to be one of you you posted to your instagram, you at the beach. He was in the background, he noticed upon looking closer. Then, a picture of your brother, you and your dad.
You looked at the tv screen, scoffing at the picture they put up when they said your dad’s name. A picture of you, JJ and your dad. It was JJ’s first day of school, you remember that day as if it was your own first day of school.
You gripped the can harder, heavily sighing and leaning back in the chair. Yeah, you’d need more than one drink today.
“When I was there, Rafe was talking about how the cross was his. Not- not Ward’s.” You told them all, hiccuping after and covering your mouth.
“Are you- are you seriously drunk right now?” Pope asked, all of them noticing the way you slurred your words.
“Fuck off. I’m an adult. Can do whatever I want.” You said with a childish giggle.
“It’s like 10 am in the morning.”
“Yo!” Kiara sapped her fingers. “Can we please get back on the topic?”
“Right. And he’s coming into Wilmington tonight at eight. It’s being shipped by train from like… R.. Ra… Raleigh I think? I dunno.”
“You get any other information?” Pope asked.
“Uh, y/n got the cargo number.” Kiara spoke, picking up the paper.
“Okay, well, that’s a start.”
“I mean, they’re definitely fencing that shit off as we speak. So we should probably get a move on.” JJ said, watching you down the rest of the can, and grab a 4th one next to you from your spot on the floor.
“Sarah, you hear from John B?”
“No, I mean, he’s probably off somewhere with his dad. But the problem is they have the Twinkie.”
“Our transportation.”
“I have a car, you know? It’s a hunk of shit, but it works.” You shrugged.
All of them raised their eyebrows at that. “It’s back at Ricky’s. I should probably go talk to him anyways.”
They all were hesitant, you could tell.
“I’m- I’m your only fuckin’ option, so, my car or nothing.”
“She’s right.” JJ told them, already hopping on his bike.
“Ricky?” You shouted when you opened the door. He wasn’t home, you sighed, taking the keys off the counter and stumbling back outside.
“He not home?” JJ asked, furrowing his eyebrows.
“Nope.” You told him, locking the door. You go into the car, trying to get it started. But it never turns on, you groan in annoyance, fumbling with the keys, and trying again.
“Goddamnit!” You laughed, slamming your fist onto the dashboard and going out.
“It’s… not working.”
“Not working? What’s wrong with it?”
“I don’t know! It’s not fucking starting.” You shrugged.
JJ threw his hands up in defeat.
“Alright. That’s okay. We can.. try my dads.” Pope said.
“And I’ll try to see if my parents will.” Kiara spoke.
You ended up going with JJ and Kiara to her parents.
“Jesus, Cleo was not wrong. It does look like the White House.” You mumbled when you entered. You drunkenly stumbled up the steps, JJ rolling his eyes and eventually just helping you up once you almost fell.
“We just found out it’s… it’s gonna be in Wilmington tonight.”
“Okay, and the cross is Popes family-“
“Popes family heirloom.” Kiara finished.
“Shit, this house is nice. Think we could just…?” You told JJ, grabbing an expensive bracelet sitting on the counter and pocketing it.
An idea popped into his head when you did that. If they don’t wanna give them the keys, he can take them.
“He’s alive!” Kiara argued. “JJ.” She turned, the cutlery clanking as he put it away guiltily, getting caught messing with it.
“Do rich people really need to use like… fancy everything? Like fancy plates? Is that necessary?” You mumbled, mostly to yourself as you took another sip.
“A little help?”
He put his hand up, counting off his fingers.
“Wards alive in the Carribean. He’s living off the loot he stole from us, and, uh, yeah, he’s flying across to Wilmington.”
“I was-“ you covered your mouth when you hiccuped again. “With them during the whole thingie. Basically I fell into the water…” you imitated water splashing with your hands.
“And it was like ‘ahhh! Now I’m stuck with my ex boyfriend who’s also crazy on an island, ahh!’ And then we went to some vacation home he has, and I saw Ward and he was like ‘sup, y/n. I’m alive.’ And that’s what happened.” You nodded to yourself, all of them staring at you dumbfounded.
“Give me a break, man.” Kiara’s dad spoke.
“Yeah, you’re right. What do I know? Just saw it with my own two eyes.” You shrugged, rolling your eyes and taking another sip from the bottle. “So did Kiara and JJ but, whatever.”
“I’m skeptical, okay? I am skeptical, y/n as in I think it’s all bullshit. And I think you’ve been led astray, Kiara. And you, JJ, Y/N- let’s get this out in the open.”
“Just take it down a bit-“ her mom tried.
“No. Let me tell you something, you need to understand that I do get it.”
“Sure you do.” You and JJ said in unison, you both laughing at that.
“Do you hear me?”
“Sure. Sure.”
“I like you, guys, and I bet you’re fricking fun to hang with, and to ditch school with, go down to the break, and.. drink beer,” he directed that last sentence to you, eyeing the can in your hand.
“because I was once just like you both. I didn’t think that anything mattered, thought I could make up any bullshit story and these stupid kooks would believe it. But then I learned about hard work.”
“Yeah, well, hard work doesn’t get you shit if you’re like us. I mean- shit, compared to me, you have no clue what hard work is like.” You spat, pointing to yourself. He was getting to close to JJ for your comfort.
He narrowed his eyes at you. “And about what really mattered. All I care about, all that I care about is my daughter. That’s it. And all I know is that she was a lot better off before she met you and your friends.” He said, this sentence directed to JJ.
“Dad, I was never better off!” Kiara argued, you looked at JJ, shaking your head when you saw his reaction. You were gonna kill this guy.
“I was miserable.”
“Miserable? No, no. No!” He shouted, turning to you and JJ.
“No, these pogues have ruined my daughter’s life.” He shouted in your face, you stood in front of JJ, trying your best to protect him.
“Didn’t mean any disrespect, Mr. Carrera.” You told him, turning to usher JJ out.
“Y’all have a good day.” JJ spoke, both of you heading to the door.
“Yeah.”
“What are you doing?” Kiara asked.
“Protecting my daughter.”
“Can we please-“
“Wait a second. Everybody says it, they are liars and thief’s!” Her dad shouted.
You and JJ stopped in your tracks.
“They’re just like their father! I mean, one of them is already drunk off their ass!”
The two words neither of you wanted to hear.
You looked at JJ, who held back tears at the words. You held your own back, throwing the rest of the can, looking at it pour onto the hardwood floor.
You grabbed the keys from the tray, you looked around again, shrugging before grabbing a jacket on the coat hanger, as well as some shoes.
“Wanna talk shit, you’re gonna get bit, right?” You mumbled to yourself, shrugging and following JJ down the steps.
“Is she.. talking with Topper?” Pope asked, all of them turning to you and Topper at the bar.
“He didn’t want me to say anything, but he’s a fucking mess.” Topper said with a laugh, you laughed with him.
“Yeah, well, he was an asshole. So…” you said, taking the shot you ordered.
“Believe me, I know.” He told you,
“Hey, Jayj.”
“What?”
“I bet you Topper has a way to transport the cross.” Pope spoke.
“Actually, Popes right. He does have a rig.”
“No.” Sarah argued.
“Yes.”
“Yes, come on.”
“No, absolutely not.”
“What are we talking about?” You asked them, coming up behind them suddenly.
“Sarah, you already got him whipped anyway, right? So why don’t you just take one for the team?”
“What would John B say?” She said.
“I think John B will completely understand. Think about the circumstances, it’s about treasure.”
“We can handle John B. Just talk to him.”
“Why do I feel like I’m gonna regret this?” Topper spoke, all of you happy when you saw her hug him.
You ended up falling asleep on the boat. Your eyes shut as they all came up with plans.
You can’t even escape him in your dreams. Because when you fell asleep, a fond memory of the two of you popped up in your mind.
“Shit, slow down.” He laughed, grabbing onto your hand as you ran down, pushing past people and making your way down straight to the floor.
“Can’t believe I let you drag me into this shit.” He said with a laugh when the band came on stage and cheers erupted.
He watched you while you paid close attention to the band. And when your guys song came on, he was told to sing with you, he hesitated but eventually did.
“Got the music in you, baby. Tell me why. You've been locked in here forever. And you just can't say goodbye. Your lips, my lips. Apocalypse.”
You both sung to each other, you staring at him with the most love and adoration he’s ever seen, and him staring at you with the most love anyone’s ever seen him have.
You both leaned in, but before your lips connected…
You woke up, quickly sitting up and groaning, wiping the sleep from your eyes.
“Jesus. Think I drunk too much earlier. I’m going crazy.” You told them, all of them turning to look at you now.
Taglist
@cassie0sstuff @rafesgiirl @fals3-g0d @tiaamberxx @callsignwidow @saintnourah
#rafe cameron x you#rafe fluff#obx rafe cameron#rafe cameron fluff#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron series#rafe cameron#rafe x y/n#rafe x you#rafe x reader#jj obx#rafe obx#obx series#obx x reader#obx fanfiction
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OUU WAIT.. can you do a dom x r where essentially they’re both in the judgement day and there tg but hide it cus they think it’ll ruin the dynamic of the group. so like HIDDEN TOUCHES, GLANCES, THE WHOLE SHEBANGHG😫
No One Will Know
A/N: This is like one of my first requests so apologies if it’s bad 😭
Dom is my favorite himbo thooo 💗
Tags: Mentions of sex, kinda sorta allusions to smut but not really, Rhea knows everything, some spanish 🤭
“Where in the hell is he?” You thought to yourself as you walked around backstage. You two had driven to the arena together, and you went to talk to Rhea for a minute, then he was just..gone.
“Dom?” You called out as you neared the dressing room. A chorus of ‘he’s not here’ rang in your ears but you continued on anyway. Dom wouldn’t just up and ditch you like this.
You walked next to a janitor’s closet when suddenly you got pulled in, pinned against the door by him.
“Did I scare you, mami?” He asked as you looked straight up at him, honestly stunned at how close his face was. His hand gently brushed away some hair from your face before moving back down to grip your waist. Your eyes darted between his eyes and lips. He smiled sweetly, but it didn’t make the butterflies in your stomach settle. He really wanted to kiss you, and you couldn’t help but wonder what this little surprise even was.
“Why were you just..hiding in the janitor’s closet?” You asked as he started peppering kisses onto your neck, leaving goosebumps all over your skin. You closed your eyes, trying desperately to calm your heartbeat. It only seemed to speed up more whenever he did that.
He finally stopped kissing you and whispered, “Just wanted to surprise you, mami.” He leaned down and pressed a light kiss into your jawline. When his lips met yours it left an overwhelming sensation behind. One that made you want to pull him closer and never let go again. His hands traveled lower on your body until they found their place around the base of your thighs, lifting you up and holding you flush against him.
While you two kissed, you both heard a knock, breaking the kiss as you two looked at each other and contemplated what to do. He smirked, “Maybe we should get going. Wouldn’t want anyone to think we snuck off or anything.” You blushed as he slowly placed you back on your feet. He reached forward to grab your hand and you intertwined your fingers with his.
The rest of the evening passed by pretty quickly, then RAW started and both you and Dom were hanging out in The Judgment Day clubhouse, waiting for your segment to start.
Dom was currently on his phone while he occasionally shot glances at you. You were looking through your Instagram feed, reading the posts about Dom’s match today.
You always enjoyed getting to see what fans were thinking of your boyfriend, your Dom. It made you feel special.
Your thoughts were interrupted by him putting an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. You looked up at him with a raised eyebrow and a smile. He returned it with a smirk of his own before he spoke, “You know how I always get sweaty after my matches?”
You nodded slowly, “Yeah…”
“Well, I could use a shower tonight so…want to join me?” He mumbled so only you could hear and gave you another smirk that made your knees weak.
You tried to play it cool as you tried comprehending what he said and why the fuck he sounded so hot saying it, before he just smirked and whispered, “Piénsalo, mami.” Before walking off.
He turned to look over his shoulder at you with one final wink before disappearing from sight.
What the fuck just happened? You thought to yourself as your mind raced to catch up with everything Dom said. You knew Dom had a dirty streak. He definitely liked to tease people, and you knew that he did that because he liked seeing them blush.
While lost in your own thoughts, Rhea approached you and tapped you on the shoulder, almost towering over you because of those big ass platform boots she always wore.
“What’d Dom say?” She asked, snapping you out of your thoughts as she looked at you expectantly. You blinked a couple times before answering. “Oh y’know, just shit about how he’d win and all that.” You lied, and Rhea raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Uh yeah. Why?” You felt stupid for lying to her. She was your best friend, sure, but that didn’t mean you could tell her everything.
“No reason, just wondering why I heard stuff in you two’s dressing room last week.” She said with a shrug, and you immediately blushed and scrambled for a reply, knowing damn well what you two were doing. After you caught your breath, you said, “Oh, uh he was just talking to me about some stuff, you know, personal stuff.” You lied, (again), and Rhea nodded with a scoff.
“Personal stuff? So why was he saying ‘oh fuck, right there mami’?” Rhea asked again, sporting a smirk as your face was flushed. She heard?! Well, shit.
“Don’t worry,” She laughed as if she sensed your panic, “I won’t tell anybody.” You let out a sigh and relaxed a bit, smiling at her. “Thanks..” You trailed off, still unsure of what else you could say without being too obvious about how embarrassing this even was.
“No problem. But don’t fuck in my dressing room, please. I like having a clean room.” You chuckled nervously and nodded, thanking her before walking towards the monitors to watch Dom’s match.
While he was doing pretty good (still paired with that fucking bobblehead, you hated that guy) he kept doing moves that made you wince or go ‘damn’, knowing full well that he’d be okay.
Obviously they lost because of JD, but Dom didn’t care as he just went over towards you, smiling as he looked down at you.
“Did I do good?” He asked, his smirk growing wider.
“Yeah, but you keep scaring me with those big ass flying moves. You’re gonna bust your face open one day cause of that.” You said as you crossed your arms, and he pouted like a child before rolling his eyes.
There was a beat of silence before you smirked, looking at him as you fiddled with those shirts he wore around his waist.
“Hey, Dom?”
“Yeah?”
“I think I’m ready for that shower now..”
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How would each Slytherin boy react after you tell them you want to break up with them, and then telling them it was a prank
Draco Malfoy:
Draco's expression would morph from shock to a mix of hurt and confusion as you deliver the news. He might stutter a bit, trying to process what you've just said. When you reveal it's a prank, he'd first be relieved, but then his demeanor might shift to irritation, possibly even anger. He'd likely give you a lecture on the importance of trust in a relationship "You think its funny?".
Blaise Zabini :
Blaise would raise an eyebrow at your sudden declaration, his cool exterior hardly wavering. He'd probably respond with a smirk, playing along with the prank for a moment, before his amusement would turn into a smirk of triumph as he realizes it's a joke. He might tease you back for getting him for a moment,he'd likely appreciate the humor in it "good try baby".
Theodore Nott:
Theo would furrow his brows in confusion, his usually calm demeanor rattled by your announcement. He might go quiet for a moment, trying to process what you've just said "what", before his expression softens with relief when you reveal it's all a prank. He'd probably chuckle"I should teach you how to do pranks cara mia", shaking his head at your antics, and might even pull you into a hug, grateful that it's not real but he is definetely planning for revenge be ready for it.
Tom Riddle:
Tom would likely remain composed upon hearing the news, his mask of indifference hiding any hint of his true feelings. He'd probably nod in acknowledgment, his mind already calculating the best way to proceed. When you reveal it's just a prank, he'd barely bat an eye, but there might be a flicker of amusement "No one laughed", probably annoyed that you acted so immature but likes you too much to kill you, mad at himself that he fell for it...who would even dare to break with him anyways?.
Mattheo Riddle:
Mattheo might initially look taken aback by your words, his usual confident demeanor faltering for a moment . He'd likely try to mask his hurt with a casual remark or a forced smile, but you might catch a glimpse of the hurt behind his eyes "Say joke rn...y/n,princess?". When you tell him it's all a prank, he'd probably let out a relieved laugh, though there might be a hint of lingering unease in his expression.'.
Enzo Berkshire:
Enzo's reaction would likely be the most unpredictable of the bunch. He might freeze for a moment, his expressive eyes widening in shock at your announcement. He'd probably stammer out a response, his emotions bubbling to the surface as he struggles to comprehend what's happening. When you reveal it's all a prank, he'd let out a nervous laugh, relieved but still slightly shaken by the experience "So many pranks and you chose this love..".
*If you liked this please repost it!
#lorenzo zurzolo#slytherin boys#harry potter#theo nott x you#theodore nott imagine#theodore nott x y/n#slytherin#theo nott imagine#fanfic#hp fandom#draco malfoy#mattheo riddle#blaise zabini#tom riddle#enzo berkshire
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Kunsel says:
We should maybe have a stricter definition of what counts as "hacking", okay?
It was a slow day at work, and he decided to guess people's email passwords in 10 attempts.
How does it go?
YESSSSSSSSS
Pro tips: make your password long, that is the most important factor. Use a password manager, most of them have a free option. Adding complexity does help, but focus on length first. Size does matter here. Multi-factor authentication (MFA) also helps a lot.
---------
Kunsel: Zack, gimme your password!
Zack: ...
Kunsel: Come on man, I need it for something!
Zack: 😭😭😭 buddy I would, but I forgot it again 😭😭😭😭😭😭
Kunsel: Ok man, it's ok, let's look around your desk...here, under this pile of chip bags, I think i saw...yeah, here's the penguin toy...and yep, Password Penguin has "Zack'ss00p3rp4ssw0rd!" written on the bottom. Let's try it!
(it works)
Zack: THANK YOU KUNSEL I THOUGHT I'D LOST HIM AND I COULDN'T REMEMBER AND-
Kunsel: *wheeze* Zack let go, I need to breathe *wheeze*
-----------
Kunsel tries to guess Roche's by typing it in.
M0t0rcycle!
ShinyDancer
Sh1n33D4nc3r!
He's in.
------------
Kunsel tries to guess Sephiroth's. On the 9th try, he gets it: Seph+Jenova4ever
Horrible things are uncovered along the way and now he needs to send Sephiroth some information very discreetly.
------------
Lazard. Kunsel knows better. He gives a few guesses, but decides to actually hack this.
He sets up a hash capturing tool over the internal network and waits for Lazard to log on. He does. Kunsel captures the hash and starts cracking it.
Three days later, the hash cracker has not worked and he has to give up on that.
Kunsel: Sir, I need to get into your email, will you please send me your password?
Lazard: Of course not, that is unsafe and against company policy. However, you're welcome to come to my office to perform any actions we both deem necessary.
Kunsel goes over and Lazard is using multifactor authentication, so just having the hash cracked wouldn't have worked anyway. He sets up a keylogger surreptitiously on Lazard's workstation while "performing updates" and showing Lazard new features in his email.
The things he captures with that keylogger:
* Numerous emails covering for boneheaded shit the SOLDIERs did.
* The letter "A" typed about a thousand times into a text file labeled "definitely not screams.txt".
* Moogle searches for "how to convince your employees to get therapy", "pasta recipes", "therapists near me", "child psychology for adults", "play therapy for adults", "cat psychology", and "shrimp pasta recipes".
* The password: &oh'ihiy_-8_gi"it"gi_ipkb0(-ur#3-@--LXS4ever--9(9;0(!08(098+pihjboigig(@ukopih
Then it is a simple matter of finding a zero-day race condition hack in the MFA software, timing things just right, and entering the password and hacked MFA key at the perfect moment.
Kunsel of course has pity on the man after seeing even more emails such as...
* Explaining to Roche that doing squats over his motorcycle makes it look like he's humping it, and it is making people uncomfortable.
* Asking Genesis to please not actually firaga the recruits this week, they don't need a lawsuit. No, it's not character building. No, even though it was part of his home training and Shinra sanctioned training a few years ago.
* Inviting Sephiroth over for shrimp pasta to discuss strategy.
* Asking Angeal to seek therapy so the others will follow his lead.
* Telling Zack that he could not have a therapy flamingo in the office. Even if it was a lawn ornament.
* Warning Hojo not to take Sephiroth this week.
* Warning Hollander not to take Genesis and Angeal this week.
* Reaming Heidegger out very politely for all his BS.
Kunsel logs out without doing anything. Lazard needs a break.
--------
Kunsel calls Angeal pretending to be the help desk. Angeal, a bit embarrassed over his upbringing and unsure because he feels unused to technology, eventually gives Kunsel the password: BanoraBoys123!
----------
Genesis' is guessed on the 7th try because Kunsel didn't want to bother typing in an entire stanza of Loveless with numbers instead of vowels.
1nf1n1t3_1n_myst3ry_1s_th3_g1ft_0f_th3_g0dd3ss__w3_s33k_1t_th7s_4nd_t4k3_t0_th3_sky_r1ppl3s...
He sends an email from Genesis inviting everyone to a Loveless recital on Tuesday. It backfires because several people, including Genesis, show up and have a great time.
-----------
Kunsel tries Zack's little trooper friend next. He's a tough nut to crack. He won't pick up his PHS to get vished, won't click on Kunsel's phishing emails, and won't tell Zack or Kunsel his password.
Kunsel captures his hash and cracks it. It takes a full 24 hours, but he gets it in the end:
!1986fuck_this_shit
#ff7#sephiroth#zack fair#cloud strife#genesis rhapsodos#angeal hewley#lazard deusericus#die hojo die#kunsel#hackerman kunsel
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for @penny00dreadful
Ch 1 Ch 2 <-
Chapter 3: The Emerald City
WC: 3580 | Ch 3/4 | AO3 <-
Steve woke up to snowflakes tickling his nose, and the familiar sound of Robin rambling.
No, not Robin, The Scarecrow, he reminded himself as he blinked his eyes open, because they were still stuck in Oz trying to get back home.
He never thought he’d be so desperate to see Hawkins again.
Wait—snowflakes?
“Oh, it does help! Look, they're waking up!” The Scarecrow cheered. “Steve, Eddie, Lion?! Are you alright?”
“Unusual weather we’re having.” The Lion muttered, letting out a huge yawn to Steve's left.
To his right, where he still faced—where their hands were still laced together between their bodies because neither of them had let go even in sleep—Eddie began to stir.
“Steve?”
Steve sat up, pulling Eddie up along with him and into his arms, crushing the other boy to his chest. The snowfall slowed to a stop as they held each other.
Eddie pulled back, running his hands up and down Steve’s shoulders, arms, and chest, as if he was searching him for wounds, before they found their way to Steve’s face, gently wiping away the wetness left behind by the melting snow.
“Are you okay?” Eddie asked.
Steve stared back at him, feeling lightheaded and a little breathless, unsure if it was due to the poppies or the way Eddie was handling him like he was something precious. ”I think so, w–what about you?”
“Better now.” Eddie smiled, tilting his head as he fully cupped Steve’s cheek.
The touch was warm and gentle, and the look in Eddie’s eyes so tender that Steve couldn’t help turning away to blush—the butterflies waging assault in his stomach returning with a vengeance.
The move had him looking back at the others for the first time, and while The Scarecrow was helping The Lion to his feet, The Tin Woman stood behind them, frozen.
“Damn, the snow—it’s got her rusted again.”
Eddie pushed himself to his feet and offered Steve a hand up. He teetered for a second on the heels, forgetting for a moment that he was even wearing them, but quickly righted himself, and together they searched through the tall flowers until they found the oil can—getting right to work on the Tin Woman’s many joints.
“Do you think it really was the snow that woke us up?” Steve said, passing the can over to Eddie so he could get the other side of their new friend.
Eddie nodded, pursing his lips as he glanced at the clouds above with suspicion. “I think it’s likely that Glinda had something to do with it. Like maybe she’s been watching us.”
Steve rolled his eyes. He didn’t blame Eddie for being wary after everything they’d been through, but he couldn't help wanting to trust The Good Witch. Maybe it was only because she looked like Joyce, but he was pretty sure she was a genuinely good person.
“We should get out of this field quickly then, before it all melts, and not look a gift horse in the mouth.”
“Y’know, I never understood that expression. I mean, it’s ridiculous! Why a horse? Who is looking in a horse’s mouth anyways? And what the fuck does any of it have to do with gift receiving?!”
The short speech had the air of an old Eddie Munson lunch table tirade, and Steve had to stifle a laugh. “I don't know, never really thought about it I guess.”
After one last treatment of oil to her knee, The Tin Woman was good to go, quickly thanking them before rushing off to check on The Lion. Steve shook his head as he watched them together, supposing some things were the same in every universe.
-
Once they got moving again it didn’t take long to reach the front gates of The Emerald City. Unfortunately, they were locked up tight with no one around and nothing indicating a way to proceed save for a bit of rope hanging next to the entrance.
After examining it for a moment Eddie shrugged, and pulled, setting off the ringing of a bell.
A hidden window cut into the thick doors burst open above their heads, revealing a guard in a tall fuzzy green hat, who looked suspiciously like Steve’s ex-best friend, Tommy Hagan, though he knew better by now than to think it actually was.
“Who’s out here ringing that damn bell!”
“Uh–” Steve’s eyes slid sideways, sharing a confused look with Eddie before reaching his arm up high to wave in front of the guy’s face. “We are? Can’t you see us?”
“Of course I can see you.” The guard looked down his nose. “Can’t you read?”
“Read what?” Steve asked.
“The notice!”
Eddie threw his hands up. “What notice?”
The guard looked all around, heaving a put-upon sigh before reaching somewhere behind him, producing a sign that he strung up without a word before ducking away, slamming his little window closed.
“Bell out of order, please knock.” The Tin Woman read aloud.
“Sounded like it worked just fine to me.” Eddie grumbled.
“Stop screwing around and let us in, man!” Steve shouted.
The Tin Woman squeezed past them and rapped her knuckles against the gate three times. “Let's just play their game so we can get inside.”
The little window popped back open immediately, though the guard looked no less annoyed. “That’s more like it! Now, what do you want?”
“We’re here to see The Wizard.” Steve said.
“The Wizard?” The guard scoffed. “No one gets to see the Great Oz, even I’ve never seen him!”
“Then how do you know there is one?” The Scarecrow asked.
“Well b-b-because,” he stuttered. “It doesn't matter! Get lost, you’re wasting my time.”
“But the Good Witch of the North sent us!”
The guard narrowed his eyes. “Oh yeah? Prove it.”
Steve looked at each of his companions, scrambling for any idea of what might serve as proof, when suddenly Eddie perked up, snapping his fingers. “The shoes! He’s wearing the ruby slippers she gave him!”
The guard leaned over the edge of his cubby hole to look, gasping when he set eyes on Steve’s feet, and completely changed his tune. “Oh, well alright then! Why didn’t you say that in the first place? That's a horse of a different color! Of course you can come in!”
“Enough with the horse metaphors already!” Eddie huffed.
The Scarecrow tilted her head. “I think it’s less of a metaphor and more of an idiom.”
Eddie scowled. “I thought you didn’t have a brain, Scarecrow?”
The gigantic doors that served as gates to the city finally swung open, granting them entrance to a grand center, where people of all shapes and sizes, dressed in various shades of vibrant green, bustled about.
The guard reappeared to shake Steve’s hand, having come down from his perch, and was now joined by a female guard that resembled—who else—Carol Perkins. Just like their real world counterparts, now that Steve had proved himself to be someone important, they seemed more than happy to be associated—with him at least.
“So, The Wizard?” Eddie prompted.
“Not so fast.” The female guard said, looking Eddie up and down with clear disdain. “I think we’d better take you someplace to clean up a bit first.”
Steve opened his mouth to tell her where she could shove her attitude, but Eddie spoke first.
“Thanks, but no thanks. We don't have time for a makeover montage. Take us to The Wizard, or—“
“Or what?”
The one who looked like Tommy puffed up his chest, and Steve had officially had enough. He stepped between the guard and Eddie, jabbing him hard in the chest. “Hey buddy, we’ve fought monsters, okay? We can take two stuck up dickheads, so I suggest you back off and take us where we want to go.”
The guard cast his eyes around nervously. They were starting to draw the attention of passers by now. “Fine, follow me.”
As the pair led their group across the square, Steve finally let himself relax enough to take a good look around. He marveled at the floor, so dark green it looked almost black, and buffed to such a high shine that he could see his reflection in it as they walked.
As usual, they didn't get far before something went wrong.
Frantic whispers broke out amongst the crowd, with many citizens pointing up into the air with worried expressions, making them all stop in their tracks to look up too, just as the words: Surrender Steve & Eddie, began to appear, written in the sky with black smoke.
“Shit.” Eddie cursed.
“It’s The Wicked Witch, she followed us here.” Steve said.
The scattered whispers raised to shouts as everyone around them started wondering aloud who this mysterious Steve and Eddie were.
“The wizard will explain it!” Someone hollered nearby, prompting many folks to start rushing towards a certain set of doors, similar to the front gates of the city but on a slightly smaller scale.
Steve glanced around, unsurprised to find that their guides, the Tommy and Carol look-alikes, had abandoned them. “What should we do?”
“Follow the crowd,” Eddie rushed out. “We still need to see The Wizard, and they’ll lead us right to him.”
Somehow they managed to push their way to the front of the gathering mass, only to encounter yet another guard with a familiar face and mane of very long dark hair addressing the crowd.
“Okay, my dudes. Just stay calm, it’s alright! The Great and Powerful Oz has everything under control. Just, uh, go on home and chill out or whatever.”
While the inhabitants of the Emerald City dispersed, taking the guard at his word, Steve, Eddie, and their companions continued to approach.
“We need to see The Wizard, right away.” Steve said.
The guard shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry, brochacho, but no one gets in to see The Wizard.”
“But they’re Steve and Eddie!” The Tin Woman said.
“Woah, the Witch’s Steve and Eddie?”
Steve wanted to scream—who else could they possibly mean?! But he held back, knowing it wouldn’t do them any good to piss off the guy who stood between them, and the one person in this insane place that could get them home.
“Holy macaroni, that does make a difference! Wait here.” With a swish of his hair the guard was gone around the corner.
Steve barely had enough time to wonder how long they’d have to wait, before the guy was back, and he couldn’t quite decide if the quick turnaround time was a good sign or a bad one.
“Okay dudes, good news or bad news?”
The question didn’t bode well, and Steve knew exactly what Eddie would say before he said it.
“Bad news first, always.”
The guard sighed. “The wizard said, and I quote: go away.”
“But–”
“The good news is,” the guard carried on, lowering his voice to a loud whisper, “I heard a field of poppies appeared right outside of the city. Care to partake in a little magical shut eye with a new friend—that’s me—on this fine afternoon?”
Steve turned away before the guy was even done speaking, stalking off to sit on a nearby curb. He’d had enough magical sleep in his life, thank you very much, enough times of falling unconscious only to wake up not knowing where he was. He was done with this shit, it was supposed to be over!
When they defeated Vecna and the Upside Down was destroyed, he thought it was finally his turn for happiness, or at the very least some peace—some normalcy.
But now?
Now he was stuck here in this place, he and Eddie both. They’d done what The Good Witch said, traveled all this way, only made it there by the skin of their teeth, and now The Wizard wouldn't even see them?!
He felt like he was trapped in a nightmare.
Steve dropped his head into his hands, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes, and felt the air shift as someone knelt down in front of him. He knew it was Eddie without having to look, the smell of cigarettes wafting over him, and something else, something warm and woodsy and distinctly Eddie, faintly under that.
“We’re never gonna get back are we?” Steve cried into his palms. “I’ll never get to see Robin again—and Wayne?! God, he must be worried sick about you already. And the kids? We won’t get to see them finish high school, and–”
Eddie wrapped his fingers around Steve’s wrists, gently prying his hands away from his face. “Hey, Stevie. Look at me, please?”
He did.
He looked up because Eddie had asked, but gazing into those dark soulful eyes did nothing to halt his tears. “I just wanted to get us home.”
“I know, sweetheart, I know.” Eddie leaned in, resting his forehead against Steve’s as he took a deep breath. “And I miss everyone too, but let’s not give up hope just yet. We’ve beaten worse odds than this, haven't we?”
Steve sniffled, and despite it all felt his lips twitch into the ghost of a smile. Because Eddie was right. They were alive, and they had each other, and that was more than enough reason to still have hope.
“You know what, man?” The guard called out, looking a little misty eyed himself. “Let me see what I can do, because that was the sweetest shit I’ve ever seen, and love like that shouldn’t go unrewarded. How long have you two been a couple?”
Steve’s heart leapt into his throat as he was forcibly reminded that they were not alone, and how close they now were. He pulled back reflexively, sputtering, “oh, um, well–”
Eddie shook his head, smiling as he rose to his feet to face the guard, though the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “He’s not, um—w-we’re just friends.”
The guard looked between them for a moment, mouth agape. “Really?”
“Is that… is that allowed here? Two men?” Steve heard himself ask.
“Your Tin lady and Lion friend over there have been making goo-goo eyes at each other this whole time and no one cared, of course it’s allowed! What kind of silly question is that?”
“I guess they don’t have homophobia in Oz either.” Steve said quietly, glancing up at Eddie, who was now eyeing him curiously.
“Okay, well, a friendship like that shouldn't go unrewarded either—so!”
With a grin, and a nod, the guard ducked away again, and just like the gates out front, the doors to the Wizard’s chambers swung open wide.
For the third time since they landed in this strange place, Steve looked up to find Eddie’s hand already reaching out to help him stand, and as he had each time before, he took it readily, a warmth settling in his chest along with the knowledge that Eddie would always pick him up when he needed it.
This time, when he was back on his feet, Steve didn’t let go, and with their fingers entwined, he and Eddie rushed over to rejoin their friends.
The five of them set off through the doorway together, walking down a long dark hallway that spilled them out into a throne room, of sorts. Except there wasn’t a throne sitting on the raised dais, or if it was, it was unlike any throne Steve had ever imagined before, with the visage of a giant glowing head floating behind it, the whole scene flanked by two columns of fire.
“Come forward.” A deep voice boomed like thunder, echoing throughout the room.
Steve gripped Eddie’s hand tighter as they all took a step forward. He kept trying to get a better look at what he assumed to be the Wizard, but between the flames and the occasional bursts of smoke that came from nowhere, it was impossible to get a clear view.
“I am Oz, the great and powerful. Who are you?”
Steve gulped, beginning to sweat from the heat and nerves. “We’re Steve and Eddie, uh, sir, and we’ve come to ask you—”
“Silence! The Great and Powerful Oz knows why you all have come.”
“If he already knew, then why did he ask who we were?!” Eddie ground out between clenched teeth.
Steve agreed with him actually, but shushed him anyway.
“And, I have every intention of granting your requests, but first you must prove yourselves worthy by performing a small task.”
“Oh! Like, a side quest?” Eddie blurted out.
“Bring me the broomstick of The Wicked Witch of the West,” the voice went on as if it hadn’t been interrupted.
The Scarecrow sucked in a breath. “But, we’d probably have to kill her to get it!”
“Are we sure about this?” The Tin Woman asked.
The Lion ducked his head. “I don’t know how much help I'll be.”
“I mean, me and Steve—” Eddie bit his lip. “We’ve killed before.”
“Those were monsters though, this is—”
“Enough!” The voice roared, effectively cutting Steve off and ending their debate. “I have spoken. Now go! Bring it to me and I’ll give you what you want.”
-
In one last act of kindness, the guard who looked like Argyle led them back out of the city and put them on the road to The Witch’s castle, though only after trying to talk them out of it at least a dozen times.
It was dark, night having fallen while they were busy trying to see the wizard, and the woods they now walked through were even creepier than The Lion’s.
The path ahead was unclear at first, and Steve worried they might be lost until they came upon a sign.
Haunted Forest. Witch’s Castle 1 mile.
If only all bad guys gave you clear concise directions.
However the sign also said—I'd turn back if I were you—which did nothing to boost morale.
Honestly, Steve wasn’t really afraid of The Witch, they’d gone head-to-head against much scarier things than her, actual magic aside, but that was part of the problem. When you got past the green skin, she looked so human. He didn’t think he had it in him to hurt her unless she was actively trying to end their lives.
Maybe he could charm her into giving the broomstick up?
They followed the sign and ventured deeper and deeper into the woods, the eerie quiet only broken by the occasional owl hooting from their perch in the trees.
The Scarecrow swallowed hard. “You don’t think those owls have rabies, do you?”
“Not them, as far as I can tell, but what about those things?!” The Lion’s voice shook as he pointed up into the sky, what they could see of it between the trees.
Now that he saw them, Steve could also hear them, an army of winged creatures that seemed to be heading their way, emitting the oddest screeching sounds.
His eyes quickly found Eddie’s, and he saw all the blood drained from the other boy’s face. Logically, he knew it couldn’t be the same creatures that had injured him and come so close to ending Eddie's life, that dimension was gone now and these things were far too big to be those, but the incoming attack was all too reminiscent of a demobat swarm.
“Run!” Steve shouted, grabbing Eddie with both hands and pushing him into action, their fellow travelers rushing along behind. They needed to get away—far and fast.
It didn't take long to realize they were fucked.
They had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, and their pursuers were too swift to outpace. In the blink of an eye Eddie was airborne, grabbed from above by a pair of small hands. Steve reared back, digging his heels into the dirt, desperate to keep his hold on Eddie's hand.
Now that one of the things was up close and personal, Steve finally got a look at what they were dealing with, and couldn't believe it.
Flying monkeys.
Of course this fucking place would have flying monkeys.
And of course they worked for The Wicked Witch.
The Scarecrow screamed, loud and terrified, and Steve could do nothing but watch in horror as two of the winged primates ripped her apart limb by limb, her straw flying everywhere, spreading out around her.
“No!” Steve sobbed, wanting to go to her, to try and help, but he could not let go of Eddie.
At least she had The Tin Woman and The Lion by her side.
Eddie shouted as a second monkey joined the first in their little game of tug-o-war, this one gripping him tightly by the hair, but he wasn’t screaming for help, no, he was screaming at Steve to let go—to save himself.
Like Steve would ever leave him behind.
He snarled, doubling his efforts until suddenly his own feet lifted off the ground.
The monkeys had a hold of him now too, one on each arm. They lifted, and tugged, and pulled, and Eddie was wrenched from his grasp. Steve tried to fight the creatures off at first but quickly gave in, realizing that at least this way he and Eddie would wind up in the same place… probably.
On the bright side, now that they had what they’d come for, all the monkeys seemed to be leaving, following the ones who carried Steve and Eddie to their destination.
Steve just hoped the others had gotten away, that they were alright, and that they would take care of The Scarecrow and put her back together again.
Chapter 4
Thanks again to @pearynice and @hitlikehammers for all your help with this!
#steddie fanfic#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things#steddie wizard of oz#adventures in following the yellow brick road with your crush#steve x eddie#steve harrington/eddie munson#steddie fic#fanfic#steddie
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Still alive, then?
Yeah, just about. I understand I have you to thank for that.
MERLIN 1.04 - The Poisoned Chalice
#merlin#arthur pendragon#bbc merlin#merlingifs#syfysource#tvedit#smallscreensource#userashley#mediagifs#filmtvcentral#televisiongifs#ee#gifs#m#arthur#104
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You break it, you fix it!
Leverage S04E03 The 15 Minutes Job.
#leverage#eliot spencer#sophie devereaux#christian kane#gina bellman#look at him in that first gif#he's so proud of his handiwork!#and you should look at him in that first gif anyway#y'know...for reasons#why is he so beautiful it's not fair#ghostly'sgifs
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Mark Alan, Count of Queanbeyan
+ explanation & lore
Okay first I'll explain the drawing itself, and then go into Mark's lore a bit, so stay with me!!!
First of all, yep. Mark with long hair. When I first conceptualized how he'd look in this au, I just genuinely could not imagine him with the typical long curly wig. And that irked me, bcs its just sooooooo historically inaccurate for him to have had short hair, no wig. I sketched him and Jense out as chibis, I drew Mark with short hair, and literally wrote "haha wow he looks so bad with long hair!!" Hello, can I take back that statement? It's actually shocking how good he looks???? Maybe it's a testament to my skill that I could make this work. But I did! And man, shameful to admit, but this might be my best portrait ever 😭😭 Funny tho, guy I've barely drawn, and never as detailed as this, ends up being one of my favs. Mark, you bastard!!
^ lmao as you can see, I tried out a more Seb type wig and then realized ahhhhh nah, he needs a different style. And it worked so, yay!!! I've thought a lot recently, "man it would suck back then if you looked shitty in a wig" and I rescind that. I'm telling you, you think a man would look bad in a wig? I say think again, you're just not conceptualizing the right type of wig for him.
Also wow, its crazy thst I can finally actually visually see what he would look like next to others like Seb and Fernando in this au. Hehehe look at them!!! The boys!!!! Just need Jense :,)
Anyways, I digress, some lore notes about Mark since I don't think I've really talked about him in this au on main much.
He is, of course, Seb's closest servant. His Groom of the Bedchamber(yes that term makes me feel rabid.) He's actually also based on a real guy, whom was described as the Emperor's "favorite" and despite not technically having very important positions, he had a lot of influence because of his closeness and connection with the Emperor. So, yeah, I think that's gives a pretty good pic of Mark in this au :)
He's actually pretty satisfied with his role, but he does feel a bitter and jealous when interacting with others like Jenson and Fernando. Because Mark doesn't have a title, well not in the same way. He's a count, not a King, not a Prince. Yes he's nobility, but not in the same way. And he's satisfied being under Seb, because that's what Mark was raised to do, take care of and keep Seb in line. But often realizes he's never going to be on par with him, not in the same way Fernando can, even if he's Seb's closest confidant.
To build on that. He's very satisfied with his role, and even continues to be satisfied when Fernando comes into the picture. Fernando and Seb don't get along, Mark is always going to be the closest to Seb, always going to know him the best, take care of him the best. But he realizes, he would never get to marry Seb, he's not ranked high enough for that. He was raised to do what's best for the Emperor, he's never going to be able to compete with Seb the same way Fernando can. He really wants Seb and Fernando to succeed! To grow closer! But it still really hurts sometimes.
His closest friend, other than Seb, is Jenson of course(and eventually Fernando, after they stop growling at each other like they're Seb's dogs.) But he does get bitter about Jenson sometimes. Jenson is a prince, who had some great performances in battle. But eventually got tired of that lifestyle, and "retired" to being part of Seb's court. Mark can't really understand that. How do you throw that level of prestige and freedom away. How do you just become the Emperor's servant, when that was never what you were born for. But also, I think Jense definitely uplifts him, they just get along so well, and Jense truly cares for him, no other motives :)
LOL sorry I realize how depressing this sounds 😭 I think all of the above is just Mark at his most bitter, but he's genuinely pretty happy. Think of the whole "not bad for a number 2 driver thing", that's him in this AU. He knows his station, and god damn it, he's gonna be the best, most loyal groom there ever was!! He just cares for Seb so deeply, and it truly is his life path to serve him. Seb cares for him too, feels like he can always rely on him and always be reassured by him and his eternal presence in Seb's life. It's nice to have someone you can always fall back on. Sometimes literally. Yes he makes Mark carry him to bed.
Not to stray away from just Mark, but aaaaahhh the Martian in this AU. Just Mark having to put up with Seb's brattiness all the time, and care for him all the time :) He's so tired of catching Seb naked tho...Seb please put clothes on, this is not befitting of your station. Seb takes Mark with him everywhere, and they share the same bed on trips. Mark is always the first Seb goes to to ask his opinion. I said earlier that Mark feels like he cannot challenge Seb in the same way Fernando can, but Seb really wants him to honestly! He loves hearing Mark's thoughts and opinions. Mark is widely known as Seb's favorite, and is often seen as the second authority in the palace and in the court.
As for Webbonso? I think they really dislike each other in the beginning just because the roles that they're in. They both feel like they're pitted against each other, and ir doesn't help that Seb loves to tease them and often favor one in front of the other(he later realizes how shitty this is, and tries to rectify it, because he never intended to make them actually jealous, he just loves being bratty.) Eventually they realize they're in extremely similar situations(both beholden to and stuck eternally with the Emperor), and find comfort in each other in that.
Yep that's right...the palace is honestly one big polycule djkfkglg. But I hope thay explains Mark in this AU well enougg???? All you need to know: Seb's long-suffering servant.
#heres mark in a wig. if thats your thing! a thing that. no one asked for :)#BUT WAAAAAHHHHH MAN IM SO PROUD OF THIS HONESTLY#how the fuck does he look so handsome???????#i never in a million years thought this wouldve worked. but yep! it does!#but i will say. bro looks like he should be on a dollar bill dhfkkglv#okay anyways yes i understand that this is extremely niche and very confusing to anyone outside my circle#but i hope you like it even if not????? im super proud of this one 🤭🤭#my first time rly drawing him honestly. every other time has been chibis or an obstructed view#BUT THIS. THREW MYSELF INTO THE DEEP END. and i didn't drown!#gotta draw jense next. and his silly bicorn hat. cause hes that kinda guy#i was gonna put mark and jense together. but man i hate keeping art to myself that i finished already#im proud of it! must click post! no hoarding!! or ill never post it lol#aaaahh man im getting drawing men im surprised#im so happy w his expression. w his squiggly eyebrows. he looks very introspective#f1#formula 1#mark webber#boy king au#catie.rambling.txt#catie.art.#*sometimes I realize. man if i just took away the historical clothing and wigs and stuff#my art would have such a wider appeal 😭😭#but then i realize. nah i dont give a shit. i draw what i want!!! and you guys will take 1700s Mark and you will LIKE IT
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#chimon wachirawit#gifs#chimonac#chimon.gif#I CANT WITH THE 10MB GIF LIMIT#I HAD TO SHORTEN THIS TO KEEP IT BIG BC I DID NOT WANT TO RUIN THE QUALITY#AND NOW IT'S SO SHORT UGH#ANYWAYS THIS CHIMON IS MAKING ME INSANE#I HAVENT BEEN NORMAL SINCE I FIRST SAW IT A COUPLE HOURS BACK#IM SORRY FOR WHO I AM WHEN IT COMES TO HIM#BUT ALSO NOT SORRY#YOU CANNOT BLAME WHEN HE'S OUT THERE LOOKING LIKE THAT#CHIMON SHOULD STOP HITTING THE GYM FOR MY SANITY THANK YOU#YEAH I FUCKED UP THE SHARPENING BUT WE IGNORE THAT OK <3#naomivents
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SEA TAWINAN AS TALAY
IN VICE VERSA (2022), dir. X Nuttapong
#vice versa#vice versa the series#sea tawinan#tosnimeat#vishingwell#userpharawee#lextag#zeystuff#gif: vv#for once I tagged more than two people lol#I'd say let me know if I should tag you next time but I'm unpredictable. this could be my only set of VV :D#anyway liked him in the first episode#why these look like crap on the mobile. I swear it looks good on the desktop version#I h4te it here…
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#they should have been the main couple
#milk pansa#jane ramida#lakornet#lakornladies#asiandramanet#dailyasiandramas#thaidramaedit#thai actress#oops! mr. superstar hit on me#ninisdarlings#(nini i’m sorry for tagging you idk if you’d be interested but milk is here so 👉🏻👈🏻)#i was curious so i watched the first ep and…… yeah#it could have been sm worse so i’ll give them that but jesus the main lead is just so…. idk#i have nothing against the actor obviously but the character… like he made the girl sit on his lap to do his makeup#and straight up told her she pretty much implied he should come into her house to you know what. oh and he followed her 😬#they try to make him look romantic and a heartthrob but nope nope nope#look at gmmtv giving us that when we could have been getting THIS#im already mad at them for never giving us a namtan x jane gl so they better do give milk and love one or else 🔪#anyways i’m rambling#i probably won’t make any more gifs of this series but i just wanted a few milk x jane ones on my blog just because#gifs#mine
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