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bangarangdarling · 11 months

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blame the “hitting on your mom as a punishment” tiktok i just saw that literally blew my brain up. established because they’re disgustingly in love and because i say so

Eddie would normally consider himself pretty immune to the roar of arguing teenagers. Chaos surrounds their little Party. They’re not a quiet bunch when all together. It’s all shoving and yelling, giggling and roughhousing. Carpet-burned battle scars from the floor of Steve’s living room.

Lord knows Eddie himself wasn’t an inside-voice kind of person. He was certainly wont to standing on coffee tables and screeching demands for the remote when it was unjustly stolen away by villainous hands.

Eddie loved these people to death, and they were a lot of fucking fun to hang out with, it’s just this...this was an unreal level of noise. A normal sleepover night turned a little too rowdy, the adolescents celebrating the start of Summer with a bang.

Steve had already asked them to keep it down four times this evening. Nothing seemed to calm them. Not requests. Not threats of being sent home. Usually their Dungeon Master threatening their characters’ souls did the trick, but no go.

Getting teenagers to listen? A feat more impossible than defeating creatures from an alternate universe.

Dustin and Erica were in a bitching match about the best D&D class. Lucas and Mike had been fighting over movie choices for the last half hour. Eddie’s money was on the VHS player breaking before that, the constant mishandling and shoving of tapes had the poor thing practically smoking.

Will, ever the diplomat, was trying to be an impartial party when asked his movie opinions. Which, of course, caused more yelling.

Max and El had been the only ones being semi-quiet, but that quickly ended when they followed through on their surprise attack pillow fight, pummeling the boys senseless and causing the already unbearable volume to kick into overdrive. Eddie could practically feel Steve’s migraine building, even from where the dude had retreated to the kitchen. Dinner had been pizza. Quick. Easy. Clean. Or, it would have been if it hadn’t had been for the food fight. Steve was still in there scrubbing cheese out of his parents’ tiled backsplash. Dishes clattered in the distance when the cacophony hit its crescendo.

It was the proverbial straw.

“Alright, that’s it! Hey. Come on, guys. Knock it off,”

Nothing.

“HEY!”

He maybe overdid it that time, but the absolute ear-splitting boom of a yell he let out stopped the ruckus dead.

Silence rang for a beat.

Huh. Maybe Eddie should try out incorporating that into his music. He honestly hadn’t known he could get to that range.

The teenagers in the room stared at him, not cowed in the slightest, but curious enough to know what the hell Eddie’s problem was. Max was the first one to quirk an eyebrow at him. “Geez, need attention much?”

Eddie folded his arms to show he meant business. “Steve has asked you guys to tone it down. You’re waking the fucking dead. Why don’t you guys, like, actually go be good human beings and help him clean up your mess you all made in the kitchen, huh?”

Lucas snorted. “Yeah, okay, mom. Why don’t you go help him, you guys will probably just make out in there, anyway.”

It was a teasing comment. Meant to jokingly rib before getting back to doing whatever the hell they wanted to do.

But, see. That just gave him an idea.

Never let it be said Eddie couldn’t be creative with his punishments. He was a DM after all.

“Alllllllright. New plan. Listen up or suffer, ankle biters,”

He really didn’t appreciate the snickers that brought about when he was trying to be intimidating. Rude.

“You going to send us to our room or something? I’m real scared,” Erica’s scathing, dry wit was unparalleled, truly.

“Nope. Better. It’s a new rule: You little shitheads give me attitude and don’t listen, I hit on your babysitter.”

It was silent for a minute, brains audibly computing that statement and coming up ERROR. Will hesitantly spoke up.

“Uh, Eddie, I really don’t think that’s--”

“Yeah, what the fuck?” Mike interrupted. “Why would you beating up Steve hurt us? I mean, like, I guess it would emotionally, but that’s fucked up, man.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, still smirking wickedly as his plan solidified. “Oh, I don’t mean that kind of hitting, young Wheeler. Though, it may yet get physical--Hey, Steve?” He called out. The sink in the kitchen shut off after a second.

“Yeah?”

“Can you come here?”

The kids shuffled around on the floor warily as the other man walked into the living room. The energy had obviously shifted, it was probably an odd vibe to walk in to, but Eddie cut Steve off before he could ask any questions.

“You tired?”

“Uh, no. I’m fine--”

“It’s just you just keep on runnin’ through my mind constantly. I figured you’d be exhausted, sweetheart,” Eddie purred, the words cloyingly sweet and full of exaggerated charm.

There was a countdown, three, two, one...

A collective groan let out. A few uncomfortable laughs. “Dude, what the hell?”

“You guys agreed not to be gross in front of us!”

“Oh, my god, can I actually get sick from how cheesy that was?”

Eddie had to work at keeping in character when his very first line had pulled the intended reaction. He was already reaching forward to curl an arm around Steve, pulling him in in a slow, sultry attempt at being smooth.

“What? Can’t I be sweet on my guy? You all will understand when you’re in love one day. Right, sugar?”

Fake gags and retching sounds, too dramatic to be real protests, but still indignant and annoyed. Eddie was pretty sure Dustin slapped a hand over his eyes.

“Uh...yes?” Steve, who had previously looked like a car accident had happened directly in front of him, was catching on to the play. He eyed the disgruntled floor-children with a growing grin and let Eddie snuggle up to him.

God, his baby was so clever. He always knew what Eddie was thinking.

Too busy having a non-verbal conversation with Steve on how to best annoy the kids, Eddie didn’t see Mike turning his attention back to the tv. He did, however, hear him telling the others to “Just ignore them, they’ll get all gushy and leave us alone.”

Oh, Michael, Michael. Wrong move.

“How you doing, babygirl?” Steve flushed, deep and red and--huh. Okay. Revisiting that one in the future. “You good? You need anything? Your head hurting, sweet thing? I can kiss it better,” Eddie ducked forward to kiss Steve’s cheek. It was chaste, a sweet little thing...that Eddie made infinitely worse by the smacking, obnoxious kissy sounds he emulated there. The chorus of groans and protests started up again. He didn’t even pull his face away to call over to them.

“I’m sorry, is that attitude? Am I hearing more attitude?”

“Dude, Eddie, noooo!”

“Jesus, it’s like watching your parents make out, oh my god.”

“You guys, let’s just go already,”

“Yeah, I’ll take washing dishes over this,”

The grossed out teenagers whooshed past them. Grumbling and glaring--except Eleven, who smiled up at them sweetly--leaving Steve and Eddie standing in the living room, still wrapped up together.

It was too tempting then, with the kids safely out of range, for Eddie to resist the temptation to drop his kisses a little lower down Steve’s neck. To let them get a little less chaste. Just a little.

What can he say? He’s a weak man.

“That was evil,” Steve hummed. His shoulders dropped, though, relaxing into Eddie’s hold, the closest thing they’ve had to quiet all night settling in.

“Hey, I accomplished two things. Got them to chill out and I get the perk of feeling you up in the middle of sleepover night. It’s a win-win.”

A crash and a muffled argument broke out in the kitchen before Steve could respond to that.

The audible scuffling was cut off by Eddie calling out “Your ass looks great in these jeans tonight, Harrington!”

The fierce whispers and shushing were enough to get both of the older boys cackling loudly.

#Listen this is cheesy and poorly written but i HAD to #go find that tik tok because it was hilarious but also radiated love and healthy parenting #they called it 'gentle parenting with malicious intent' looooool #steddie #the party #my brain vomit

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flowersandbigteeth · 1 month

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Looking for a saucy medieval tradition to weave into your historical romances? Have no fear, foot-of-the-gallows marriage is here! Basically, if a man was about to be hanged and a woman stepped forward and said “I will marry this man!” he was spared because it was was seen as like “oh, she’ll rehabilitate him so we don’t have to kill him.” Now, I heard this from tiktok, so I could be wrong, and it could just be a folk tale or something that rarely happened in actuality. Either way, it’s a cool troupe I think more people should use (and I myself will be using). I think it would work really well with Orcs and Elves!

This is such an intriguing idea! I had to try it. If you end up writing it, tag me, if you are comfortable! I'd love to see what you do with it ^_^

I keep getting Orc ideas, and I can't resist them *feral invasive Orc thoughts* （￣ｗ￣）Ψ

Orc (Saber) x GN elf reader

Word Count: 6K

TW: discussion of hanging, bad mother, sfw Orc fluff, a bit of melancholy with a happy ending, nonsexual mention of private body parts in the context of bathing

“Goodness, what’s this all about?” you grumbled, clutching your basket closer to you as you made your way through the crowd.

The stench of rotten vegetables and too many people lingered in the air.

“It’s a hanging,” a helpful imp beamed, hopping on his tiptoes to see over the crowd. Why people gathered all around to watch someone die, you had no idea, but more importantly, the crowd was blocking your path home. Industrious vendors selling ale and popcorn wove through the throng to collect what coins they could from the event. In the capital, everyone had a hustle, and few left the chance to make some money at the table.

“Out of the way!” You shouted, shouldering whoever was unlucky enough to be in your way.

The voice of the city guardsman who was reading off a list of offenses to the crowd drowned yours out, but with a few well-placed shoves, you managed to make it to the front. You were looking around, trying to figure out how to get across the plaza, when you glanced up to see a familiar face.

“It’s you!” you blurted as your eyes locked with the brilliant chartreuse irises of the Orc standing on the gallows.

He gave you a wan smile, lifting his tied hands to wave at you. His straight nose was up in the air as if all the rabble around him should be fortunate to have the privilege of watching him die. The thick olive locs you remembered being long had been roughly chopped short around his ears. Still, even dressed in an ill-fitting prison jumpsuit, he had a regal air about him. His barrel chest was puffed, strong muscles peaking between the frayed fabric.

“Fifty counts of robbery…25 counts of counterfeiting gold coins…seven counts of horse theft…”

The Orc you’d met before’s name was Saber. He’d helped you get your broken cart into town one rainy afternoon…, and then he’d also stolen your necklace, which you’d realized after he’d disappeared.

“As per the King’s edict, If any citizen pledges to save this soul from the gallows by way of marriage, please step forth.”

Though he was handsome, no one raised their hands to save him. Instead, they all booed. Judging by the rotten vegetables hurled at him, he seemed to have robbed almost everyone in the capital.

“Aye!” you shouted, hiking up your pants to pull yourself onto the stage.

The guardsmen’s eyebrows shot up when you’d straightened yourself.

“I’ll marry the sorry bastard.”

“Are you sure? He’ll most likely rob you and run off. He’s better off dead.”

“I have business with this one,” you informed him, snapping your fingers. “Come on then. Let’s get this over with.”

The guardsman shrugged and jerked the noose off of his neck, a little disappointed. The crowd wasn’t happy either, hurling insults along with their vegetables.

“Quiet! Quiet!” the guardsman shouted after shoving Saber forward for the “ceremony.”

He took a deep breath, jerking a notebook out of his pocket.

“Alright,” he began, snorting. “State your name for the record.”

“(Y/N).”

“Lovely elven name,” he murmured as he jotted it down. “Now then, do you (Y/N) take this here, criminal, Saber Wintermaple to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

You gave him a sharp nod.

“I do.”

He swung a lazy eye at Saber.

“Do you Saber Wintermaple, take this kind elf to be your betrothed?”

He gave you a bright smile.

“I do.”

The guardsman snapped the book closed, shoving Saber towards you.

“I hereby declare you two duly betrothed under the King’s law. This Orc is your problem now, citizen. You’d better keep him out of trouble, or you’ll be up here next to him!”

He handed you the thick rope looped around the binding, keeping Saber’s hands tied, and waved you two off. The audience, bored without bloodshed, had already started dispersing, making it easy for you to tug Saber towards the road leading to the forest.

“I didn’t know I made such a pleasant impression,” Saber said cheerfully, following you out of town.

You whirled around and jammed a finger in his face.

“I wouldn’t describe it as pleasant. You owe me a gold necklace! Give it back, or you can work off the coin you owe me!”

He chuckled.

“I’m fresh out of coins, little elf.”

He scratched his chin and looked up, thinking.

“I’m pretty sure I lost that necklace in a game of dice.”

He shrugged.

“You lost my only possession of any value in a game of dice?”

You scrubbed your hand over your face, counting back from ten so you didn’t explode.

“Maybe I should have let you die.”

Frowning, you looked over him from toe to head.

“At least you look strong enough. I’m sure I can find something useful for you to do!”

You stopped where the two of you stood in the middle of the trail and pulled a small charm from your basket.

“I was going to use this on my coin purse since there was a thief on the loose, but it’s probably better applied to you!”

You looped the charm around his neck, closing your eyes to whisper the spell. A gust of spirit wind, fluffed your hair as the magic twirled around Saber. When you opened your eyes again, there was a blue thread linking the two of you that only you could see.

“What was that?” he asked, narrowing his eyes on you.

“It’s a binding spell, so you can’t run off with my stuff again,” you explained.

His eyebrows jumped, and he tugged at the little talisman around his neck.

“It won’t come off.”

You nodded proudly.

“Exactly.”

He took a moment to examine you carefully, tapping his chin again.

“Interesting,” he murmured.

“What? What does that mean?”

He smiled and shrugged.

“Lead the way, spouse.”

You sighed, turning and pulling him through the bumpy trail in the woods to your little home. When you’d fled your homeland to the Capital, you’d been lucky to find an abandoned cottage outside the city walls. It wasn’t massive, with only the basic living quarters, but it must have at some point belonged to someone’s Saber’s size, as the door and counters were much too high. You’d spent much of the money you earned selling charms and ointments, buying stools and ladders to reach things.

“You poor thing,” Saber sighed as you passed through the magic barrier you’d cast to keep your home hidden from bandits.

“You don’t need to patronize me,” you huffed. “You’re the one almost hanged and run out of town.”

He ignored you, looking around.

“I feel kind of bad for stealing your necklace now that I’ve seen where you live. This place is a mess.”

You examined your home, trying to see it through his eyes. Every available surface was covered in books, alchemy equipment, or ingredients. Even the chairs were covered in cast-off scrolls, books, or charms.

“It’d be nice to have a workshop,” you admitted. “But that’s much too expensive.”

You straightened your slumping shoulders and lifted your chin.

“No matter, you won’t be spending much time sitting down. I’ve got loads of things that need doing.”

He gave you a sharp nod and held out his hands.

“You’ll have to untie me if you want me to work.”

Pulling a small blade from your basket, you sawed through the thick binding. Free to move as he pleased, he wrung his stiff wrists as he perused your living room. Occasionally he would pick something up, then put it down again, finally crouching to examine a bucket filled with water.

“What are you doing?”

He peered up at the leak in the roof that was letting rainwater drip through.

“This needs fixing, or the roof will rot out.”

Pushing off of his knees, he turned to you.

“How long have you been living alone?”

You blushed, embarrassed.

“I dunno, my whole life, I guess. The elven town where I came from didn’t have an orphanage or anything, so when I was old enough, I took off toward the capital. It took a while to get here…but here I am. I thought there would be more…I don’t know…opportunity here.”

“How has that worked out for you? Living in a house clearly not meant for you and marrying a man on the gallows.”

You gave him an indignant snuff.

“At least I’m not a thief!”

He chuckled, leaning against a bookshelf, rolling a gold coin on his knuckles. Your eyes narrowed on it, and you reached in your pocket to find you’d been relieved of your day’s earnings.

“Hey! You stole that!”

He laughed, revealing straight white teeth, and jingled the other coins in his pocket.

“Don’t worry, I can’t get away with it, right?”

You sucked in a deep annoyed breath.

“I have things to do. Make yourself useful and chop some wood. It’s going to be cold when the sun sets.”

“Whatever you say, spouse,” he replied, giving you a sarcastic salute as you dropped your basket and hurried to the kitchen to get started on dinner.

What had you been thinking marrying a criminal? You paused for a moment, eyes growing misty. You didn’t really think he still had your necklace, did you? You let out a sigh just short of a sob. Were you really that lonely? Maybe it hurt that he’d been so kind to you, just to trick you. You should have been happy to see him hanged, yet the lingering magic that followed all elves had whispered that you ought to save him.

But why? You weren’t in any position to support a husband. Though you’d instructed yourself on the knowledge of various potions and charms, you weren’t the only one. The city was teaming with Academy-bred alchemists who far surpassed your skill. They had access to rare ingredients and an army of assistants. You had to scrape out a living selling your wares far cheaper than the competition even to get noticed at the market. Hustling day to day, you certainly didn’t have the time or money to pretty yourself up to find a partner.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you grumbled, returning to chopping tubers for soup.

A thick THWACK, drew your eyes out the kitchen window to Saber splitting logs across the lawn. He’d divested himself of his ratty shirt, and every thick muscle was on display as he lifted the ax over his head and dropped it down again. The logs felt apart like they were nothing more than twigs under his might.

Your eye focused on the dark, wet slashes across his shoulder blades where his jailors had beaten him. He must have felt your eyes on him because he glanced up and waved. Blushing, you hurriedly pulled the curtains, returning to your task.

Unable to get his injuries out of your mind, you felt bad for making him chop wood while he was hurt. When you’d plopped the tubers into your cooking pot, you gathered up some healing and numbing salves, making your way out the door.

“Need something?” he asked, looking up from his task.

“Sit down,” you barked.

A thick eyebrow rose, and he tipped his head.

“Why? Planning on lobbing my head off?”

You wrinkled your nose at him.

“No, of course not! You’re massive. How would I even go about burying your body? I can’t have a rotting corpse stinking up the place. Just sit!”

He leaned his axe against the stump he was using to brace the wood and sat down on it. You dug in your basket, pulling out some cleanser to clean the wounds. Beside the big ugly gashes, Saber’s skin was a smooth, pretty green, the planes of his muscles sharp and defined. The first brush of your hand on his back made him jump.

“S-sorry,” you muttered.

“‘Ts fine. Just not used to people touching me. Go on.”

You spread the thick gel you used carefully over each angry line.

“What do you mean? You’ve never had a partner before me?”

He paused for a moment before he jerked his head.

“I had a girlfriend once, but she left me.”

“Why?”

“Some noble offered her his hand and well…I couldn’t compete.”

He sighed.

“She was happy to keep me on as her side piece, but I’ve got too much of an ego to be someone’s toy.”

Your eyebrows jumped at his candor, but you just hummed, plastering clean wraps to his skin so the wounds could heal. His skin was warm under your fingers, making the tips tingle. When you were done, you found yourself tipping forward on your toes to peck the back of his neck. When you’d realized what you’d done, your ears burned, and you coughed loudly.

“Sorry, ah…sorry,” you muttered, unsure what to say. “You’re…ah…going to have to sleep on your stomach, so you don’t make these worse.”

He swiveled around to look at you, smiling.

“Thanks, doc!”

“I’m not a doctor.”

He shrugged.

“What’s the difference?”

“Ten years of special-”

You shook your head, realizing he was teasing you.

“I think that’s enough wood for tonight. Come inside. Dinner’s almost ready.”

He grinned at you, his stomach grumbling, as he scooped up some of the wood he’d cut and tucked it under one arm. You wondered how much they let him eat in prison, worried he was starving.

“What’d my sweet little spouse cook for me?” he asked.

“Just some sweet potato soup. It’s not gourmet.”

He frowned.

“No meat?”

You blinked at him.

“You have all the money I made today in your pocket. How can I afford meat with those few coins?”

He nodded, appearing to be thinking through the problem thoroughly.

When you returned inside, you dipped the two of you bowls of soup, filling his twice as much as yours. You assured yourself it was because he couldn’t work without proper nutrition, not because you liked him.

“So how far does this magic thingie let me go?” he asked as you sat down at the table.

“Why, trying to run off?”

He smirked.

“No, why would I want to run away from you?”

He chewed on a big spoonful of sweet potatoes before he continued.

“I’ve got a cute little spouse who makes me dinner and kisses my cuts.”

Your cheeks blew up in flames, and you choked on a mouthful of soup. You tried to retain your composure by quickly wiping your mouth with a napkin.

“A couple of miles in any direction.”

“Wow, didn’t think you’d give me such a long leash.”

You shrugged.

“I can’t be right at your side every minute.”

He gave you the biggest puppy dog eyes you’d ever seen.

“You don’t want me by your side every minute of the day?”

Unsure if he was joking or not, you jerked your spoon at his soup.

“Let’s…stop talking for a while. Eat up. You’ll need your strength.”

While the two of you ate quietly, you did your best to keep your eyes on your bowl. Every time you happened to glance up, he was watching you with an odd smile on his face. Almost like satisfaction.

You were relieved when you finally finished and could turn your back on him to rinse the dishes.

“You can take the bed if you want,” you called over your shoulder as you stood on your tip toes to return the bowls to the cabinet. As your arm stretched, Saber appeared behind you, plucking the dishes out of your hand and easily placing them where they were supposed to go.

“Where are you going to sleep?” he asked, extending a hand to help you off of the little ladder you were perched on.

“There’s a couch in the living room.”

He wrinkled his nose.

“It’s covered in stuff.”

You shrugged, trying to hurry past him.

“I’ll clean it up.”

You found your feet swinging in the air as he picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“My spouse is not sleeping on the sofa. I never thought I’d have a spouse, so I’ve got to take proper care of you.”

He patted your butt for emphasis.

“Are you crazy?” you snapped, only not banging on his back with your fists because he was injured. “We can’t sleep together! We just met!”

Your body bounced on his shoulder as he chuckled.

“You weren’t concerned with that when you insisted on marrying me!”

“They were going to kill you!”

He flopped you down on your bed, caging you in with his big arms. His head dipped to drag the tip of his nose along the length of your neck.

“So you do like me!” he whispered into your skin.

“I do not,” you huffed, pushing his chest.

Though your muscles did nothing to move him, he rose so you could scoot out across the bed. You quickly scrambled into the bathroom to change into your pajamas.

When you came back out, Saber was slipping off his pants.

“What are you doing now?” You gasped, cheeks heating at the sight of the thick shaft hanging between his legs.

He glanced up, a slight smirk on his face as he folded his clothes.

“I can't sleep in these prison clothes. I'll get the sheets all dirty!”

You sighed, rubbing your eyes. He was right. He was filthy from sleeping on dirty straw in prison.

“Come on,” you said, flicking two fingers at him. “You need a bath. You’re probably covered in fleas!

Fortunately, your house came equipped with one large enough to fit Saber’s big body. With a flick of your fingers, the tub was filled, and with a few whispers of a spell, the water was hot.

“Get in,” you said.

Making himself comfortable, he looked back at you over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised.

“You tryin’ to watch? Naughty little elf!”

You let out a long sigh.

“No, I’m just going to ensure you don’t get your bandages wet, or it will all have been a waste. Supplies are expensive,” you huffed, picking up the sponge. “Now, sit still!”

Saber smirked but let you lift each of his arms as you scrubbed him.

“So how did your old girlfriend take it when you decided you wouldn’t be your affair partner?”

He glanced at you, eyes ever thoughtful. His long look brought heat to your cheeks.

“Sorry, you don’t have to answer that.”

He shrugged, his jaw tightening.

“She was rather smug. She spent her whole life wishing to elevate herself.”

A long sigh slipped past his lips.

“I could never make her happy. I lied, cheated, stole; whatever I could do…but she looked down her nose at all of it.”

Your mouth fell open.

“I’m…I’m sorry. You don’t have to…”

He waved a thick hand, his warm palm gently landing on your head and lightly ruffling your hair.

“Think nothing of it. It’s kind of nice to get it off my chest.”

“So that’s why you're a crook? To make her happy?”

He smirked.

“I was a crook. Now I’m a married man. I can’t get into trouble. I have a spouse who relies on me.”

He pinched your chin.

“Prison was difficult enough without knowing I was missing out on such a cute little face. Now, it would crush me.”

Your cheeks burned even hotter, and you jerked your head away, grabbing the nearest towel and tossing it to him.

“Careful, don’t jostle your bandages,” you wheezed before making your escape. “Whoever lived here before left some clothes in the chest by the door. They ought to fit.”

You were so busy slowing your beating heart that you blew out the lantern and slid into your bed without thinking Saber would soon follow. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to feign sleep, when you heard his heavy footsteps approach. He paused for a moment, doing Goddess knows what, before he carefully laid down next to you.

The mattress dipped under his weight, and your body slid into his. You heard him draw in a sharp breath as your warm forms pressed together.

“Mind your wounds. Make sure you sleep on your side,” you whispered into the darkness.

You felt him adjust slightly, and then a heavy arm draped over your waist. Despite yourself, it was warm and the weight felt nice. Comforting. Now that he’d used your soap, he smelled like home. His breath brushed the hairs on your neck and another arm slid underneath you to use as a pillow. You would have pulled away, but you’d never slept so close to someone before.

Living on the street for most of your life, left you with scars. You didn’t realize how deep they’d cut you until Saber’s large body curled around yours. You felt safe.

When you woke the next morning, the bed next to you was empty. Your heart thumped heavily in your chest, wondering where he’d gone. Had it all been a dream?

The pile of dirty prison clothes folded and placed on top of a chest proved that it had not.

Breathing slowly, in the meditation you’d taught yourself, you stretched your awareness out, reaching for the blue thread. Saber was half a mile from you. You wondered what he could possibly be doing.

“Orc things, probably,” you muttered, making your way to the bathroom to clean yourself up.

It wasn’t like he could run off; there was nothing in that direction but trees. Through the window, you could see the sun up over the tree line, telling you that you’d slept much later than usual.

Usually, you’d have left at sunrise to sell your wares in the Capital market, but it was far too late now. Instead, you grabbed an apple from the kitchen and started fussing with your alchemy materials. Now that Saber was living with you, you were sure you needed to straighten up so he didn’t break something.

Walking across the room, you automatically skipped around the bucket on the floor; only the bucket was gone. You frowned, but looking at the ceiling, someone had replaced one of the boards with a fresh one. Had Saber done that while you were sleeping?

You huffed, returning to straightening your books. At least he’s putting himself to work.

You were trying to remember the order in which a pair of books written in ancient elven were arranged alphabetically when the bell above your door jingled.

Since your home was hidden with magic, the bell told you someone was nearby. It was a charm you rarely used. No one had any reason to look for you. The most it had rung was when you ordered a special cauldron or tomb and happened to have the cash to have it delivered.

Curious if a traveler was lost, you put your books down and wandered outside.

“Morning, spouse!”

Saber’s voice made you jump when he appeared hauling a deer on his shoulders.

“What’s that?”

He shrugged the creature off of his shoulders.

“Meat!” he announced proudly.

You nodded at him, your eyes catching on his bare chest, glazed with a sheen of sweat.

“Where are you off to?” he asked.

“Someone is here,” you murmured, forcing your gaze from the sharp planes of his muscles to continue down the path.

A shadow draped over you, and you glanced up to see him looming.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going with you. It could be someone dangerous.”

You shook your head but continued on your way with him in tow.

“Helloooo? Helllloooo?”

A female voice was screaming through the trees. When you rounded the bend, your eyes landed on an expensive carriage and a beautiful fairy shouting at the top of her lungs. Her pink hair fell in glittering curls around her shoulders, and matching wings emerged from her back.

“Damn it! Saber! Where the fuck are you?”

“Can I help you?” you asked as you stepped through your magic barrier.

Her eyes narrowed, but not on you. She looked directly behind you.

“Saber! There you are!”

She grinned, fluttering her winds and flying past you. Irritation immediately pricked your heart as the woman threw her arms around him. Turning around, you found him looking at her with wide eyes.

“Melody…what are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“I’m here to see you, of course. I heard you were going to be hung, but an elf saved you! I asked around the market and was told you’d been taken here. I was so worried!”

When she cupped his chin with her delicate hand, you crossed your arms, eyes narrowing.

“Not someone. Me.” you interjected.

You marched towards Saber and grabbed him by the arm.

“Saber is my husband. Who are you?”

She wrinkled her nose at you, ignoring your question. Her hand slid down Saber’s chest despite you.

“Is there someplace we can talk? Privately?”

Saber’s shocked face tightened.

“I don’t think that’s an appropriate ask in front of my spouse, Melody.”

She scoffed.

“You’ve been married…what? 8 hours? Saber, I think I more than deserve a little of your time. Especially as the mother of your child.”

Your jaw dropped, and your hand pulled away from Saber. It was true, you’d only known him for a few hours, but a child was something he ought to have mentioned.

His brow drew, looking between you and her.

“What child?”

She huffed, frowning at you.

“Fine…If you must do this, this way.”

She turned to the carriage and yelled.

“Nora, bring the baby!”

A maid climbed out of the carriage holding a small whimpering bundle. You gasped as the woman presented Saber with a little green newborn.

Saber’s eyes popped, his mouth opening and closing as the maid pressed the child into his hands.

“This…he…is mine?”

Melody nodded.

“Yes, and it’s time for you to take responsibility.”

He glanced up at her.

“You want to get back together?”

She let out a cruel but trilling laugh.

“Oh heavens no. I need you to take him. Dante hasn’t seen him yet. He thinks I’ve delivered his child. I had the maids tell him I was recovering for the past month so I could sneak him out. If he finds out I’ve been carrying your baby this whole time, he’ll throw me out on the street!”

Anger roiled under your skin.

“So what baby are you going to present to him?” you demanded.

She snorted as if that were a foolish question.

“I’ll get a baby from the slums. Plenty of mothers would happily give their child the life of a Lord’s son without question.”

She fluttered her iridescent wings.

“It only need be a fairy child.”

You could see the pain and confusion settle on Saber’s face. Stepping between the two of them, you gently pried the bundle out of Saber’s hands, looking at his cute little button nose and glossy baby curls.

“Of course, we will take him, but on one condition.”

She glanced at you.

“What do you want? Money?”

You let out a tight chuff.

“No. We never want to see you again. If he is our baby, he is ours. Don’t think you can change your mind and come running back here looking for him or Saber. The second you step foot in your carriage, this child and my husband are dead to you.”

Her eyes jerked to Saber.

“Saber. You can’t mean that. Of course, I want to see you…Dante, however, can’t know. You understand, don't you? This is everything we've dreamed about! You ought to support me!"

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"I grew up in the gutter, too," you hissed. "But I'd never treat someone the way you have treated my husband. He is too good for you and I won't tolerate you buzzing around us like a nasty fly."

She glared at you.

"He's my child! You're just jealous Saber and I have history!"

Saber's jaw locked, and he put his arm around you, giving her a disgusted grimace.

“Have you named him?” he asked.

She looked contrite but lifted her chin.

“I…ah…it didn’t occur to me...”

He nodded and glanced down at you, holding his child.

“Then…I agree with (Y/N). You’ll never know his name. You’ll never see him grow. You’ll never return to ruin our peace.”

“But Saber-”

“Don’t say my husband’s name, either.” you snapped. “You thought you’d come here and drop all of your responsibilities in his lap and then keep stringing him along as a toy? It’s not going to work like that. You have your family, and we have ours.”

You jerked your chin at her.

“Make your choice. Either leave the child or be prepared to explain to your husband who he belongs to. Those are the only options.”

Her pretty face contorted into an ugly, wrinkled mask, and she lifted her skirt to turn on her heels.

“Fine! It’s not like I want the child of a thief anyway!”

Snapping at her maid, she hovered back to her carriage, and they disappeared down the road in a cloud of dust. You smiled down at the little baby, who’d managed to sleep through the drama.

��Saber, I know I shouldn’t have spoken for you…I just- He deserves better than to grow up with the knowledge his mother believes him to be less than. Can you imagine him living as her secret? Sneaking around to hide him? If she passed him in the street, she’d ignore him to preserve her status. He’d be heartbroken. I won’t let that happen. I hope I didn’t overstep, but I’m not sorry for it.”

He dropped to his knees, eyes wet, and pushed his head into your shoulder. His big arms wrapped around your waist, squeezing you tight.

“You said just the right thing,” he murmured, then turned his head to look at his son. “What should we name him?”

You smiled at him.

“Let’s talk it over over lunch.”

The two of you walked back down the path together, both having a hard time keeping your gaze off the baby. He wriggled in his sleep, making you both see hearts.

“Maybe we should move,” you murmured. “Just to be sure…and to give him a fresh start.”

He looked down at you.

“You won’t miss this place?”

You sighed.

“No…this is just a house. We have a family now. He should grow up in a happy little town, not the capital…we’ll have to save for a few months, but I think we can do it.”

“We don’t have to save. I have plenty of money.”

You froze in your tracks, looking up at him.

“What? I thought you said you were broke?”

He smiled down at you.

“I meant I didn't have any coin on me. I didn’t just piss all of my ill-gotten gains away. I hid them. Follow me.”

He tugged the two of you into the forest, walking quite a ways until you reached an oddly placed rock. Saber crouched down and uprooted a bush with a stiff jerk. Then he cleared the soil away, revealing a wooden chest. He turned the little dial a few ways until it clicked, and the chest opened with a creak. Your eyes widened at the hundreds of gold coins piled inside. He casually tugged the gold he’d lifted from you out of his pocket and tossed it inside with a metallic clink.

“I think we can buy a nice place with this.”

You were still completely confused. He rummaged around in the coins, producing the gold necklace he’d stolen. Standing, he fastened it around your neck with the nimble fingers of a thief.

“I thought you lost it gambling?”

He shrugged.

“I lied.”

“Why did you keep it?”

He gave you a long look.

“I’m not sure, to be honest. Something told me not to sell it.”

“But…what about the rest? I thought you gave it all to Melody?”

“I tried to…we grew up in the capital, in the same slums she wants to buy a baby from. It wasn’t ever about what I could provide her. She wanted to erase her past. She wanted a title…to be a lady, to be able to lift her nose at the very people she grew up with.

I started saving after she failed at her first attempt at seducing some highborn. At the time, I had this romantic dream that I could surprise her with a big house, start a business, and be the Lord she wanted so badly…but… as time passed, I realized I was already tainted in her eyes. She wanted the right blood attached to her money. It took me too long to be ready to pull away. Dante was the nail in the coffin, so to speak.”

He tugged the chest from the ground, hauling it onto his shoulder before leading you back through the forest.

“Even though I knew I wasn’t enough…I foolishly still loved her. I was a mess when he proposed. That’s why I got caught. I went on a bender that lasted most of a year…Fortunately, I never touched this. Maybe I held out hope since Melody still entertained my attention…but I got sloppy and ended up in jail.”

His gaze dropped to the baby.

“If it weren’t for you, I wouldn't have ever known about him. Anything could have happened to him if you hadn’t-”

He choked a bit, a couple of tears slipping down his cheek. You didn’t push him to finish his sentence. You knew what he was trying to say.

“What about Arel?” you asked.

“Arel? That sounds like an Elvin name.”

You smiled at the little baby’s chubby cheeks.

“It is…it means ‘treasure’.”

He stopped, bending down to examine his son more closely. The baby’s eyes opened, and you saw that they were the same pretty chartreuse as his father’s. The two of them looked at one another in awe.

“I like Arel,” he said, brushing a thick finger over his cheek.

Arel’s big eyes grew wet, and he started to croon.

Shock and worry bloomed on Saber’s face.

“Is he okay?”

“I think he’s hungry. I have some goat milk at home.”

Saber straightened, and you had to almost jog to keep up with him, the two of you hurrying home to start your life as a family.

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lizardsfromspace · 27 days

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The queen of dubious Hollywood plagiarism cases is Sophia Stewart. She's the woman who The Matrix and The Terminator were stolen from, if you've heard that legend; she won a billion dollars and her victory over the studios was so big it was only ever reported by...the college paper of Salt Lake Community College. In truth she didn't win the case, she won the right to not have it dismissed, which it eventually was when she failed to show up.

Like, she wasn't claiming The Matrix and The Terminator were stolen from her work as a whole; she claimed they were stolen from the same story, even though the only real similarity they have is "robots destroyed the Earth and there's human rebels". How can this be? Well the story was unpublished in the 80s. But you can buy it now! ...but that version's from after she made her case, so who knows if it looks like the original. The Amazon reviews include a lot of glowing ones from people without avatars, and a lot of one star ones from people who seem to exist saying that it's more or less a plot outline and the majority of the book is just legal documents

But you don't have to dig into that bc she claims she sent it to a contest for story ideas run by the Wachowskis. In 1986. When they were not only not filmmakers, but a teenager and in college respectively. That's ten years before they made their first feature film, and she claims they were running a contest for story ideas in a national magazine she cannot name, even though she obsessively documents every other aspect of the plagiarism case. You literally don't have to look up any other facet of her argument: this one basic fact making no sense chronologically, and being the only element she can't produce, lets you dismiss the rest. The Wachowskis simply were not running national filmmaking competitions when they were in college

And yet! It spreads. It still spreads. When the fourth Matrix movie came out there were "Actually, the Wachowskis stole The Matrix from an African-American woman" reminders everywhere. It spreads on TikTok, Twitter, and even Tumblr. All from people who haven't actually tried looking up her story, and who are going off a Utah community college paper's misinterpretation that her slightly delaying losing her case was somehow her winning billions. It sounds good, and that's all that matters

#film #movies #plagiarism

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ikigaisvt · 8 months

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laundry room

in which your husband is really good at cleaning - and he looks hot doing so.

pairing: seungcheol x she/her!reader, husband!seungcheol x wife!reader, somewhat dom!seungcheol x somewhat sub!reader & somewhat sub!seungcheol x somewhat dom!reader words: 2.6k content: smut, fluff (minors dni) warnings: reader uses she/her, seungcheol picks up reader twice (sorry), they're so in love with each other, sex standing up, vry horny reader tbh, seungcheol is a teasing shit, swearing, fingering, begging, multiple orgasms (for reader), unprotected sex, cum eating(?), petnames (for reader : sweetheart, darling, baby, wife, pretty wife / for seungcheol : baby) note: i had this idea after seeing a tiktok of a married couple cleaning up every night,,, MINORS DNI or you'll be blocked. anyway seungcheol is so husband material and i can see him doing the most for his partner irl (i love him sm) i hope everyone likes it, pls don't forget to reblog!

You always knew you were lucky to have such an amazing husband; in fact, all your friends asked you at least once where you found him.

Seungcheol is truly a dream come true: he is a hardworking man, he always finds energy to cook for you, clean around the house every night, but most importantly, he never fails to make time to love you but also to satisfy you. Ever since you two started going to bed – to do more than sleeping – he always found a moment to fulfill your needs, with no shaming.

It's been over three hours since your husband came home, looking as good as ever and a little over an hour since you two started cleaning up around the house after dinner; your daily cleaning time started in the kitchen with Seungcheol doing the dishes while you were wiping down the counter tops. You stole glances at your husband the whole time, noticing the way his arms bulged at every one of his movements, his white shirt hugging his body tightly, his back tattoo showing through the thin material making you drool at the view. He was truly a sight to behold with his blonde hair gently grazing at his upper cheeks as a natural smile hangs on his lips. A few times, he took you by surprise as he turned around to meet your eyes, a chuckle leaving his lips almost every time, knowing you were turning into a puddle – down to your panties – at the way he looked.

Your cleaning made its way through the living room as you were in charge of fluffing the sofa cushions and dusting the coffee table while your husband was vacuuming. The stolen glances followed you all throughout the housework, as if you were still a shy student having a crush on your senior, as if you were not looking at your husband who fucks you every night. As you keep working on the cushions, fluffing them over and over again, being too flustered at the sight of your husband, you wish for time to go by faster so you can hop in the shower and burn your skin with cold water.

But since your husband is none other than the teasing shit Choi Seungcheol is, he keeps making exaggerated noises, groaning every time he has to bend down or push out a chair. He even goes as far as to wipe the sweat on his forehead with his shirt, his torso all in the open for you to feast your eyes upon. You almost snap a few times because his antics were distracting you from your task in hands but you know that sooner than later, it will be time to go to bed and you will somehow get what you want – like you always do. Because as much as Seungcheol is a teasing shit, he is first and foremost a simp for you.

“Are we ready to take care of the laundry, sweetheart?” your husband asks you, wrapping his arms around your waist as you organize a console in your living room, “Because it is hell in there.” He pouts, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Yeah, all done here!” you say cheerfully, caressing his hands before making your way to the laundry room, “Come on, the quicker we finish this up, the quicker we can go to bed!” you tell him as you push the door open.

“Oh, you want me in bed so bad.” He teases you making your ears burn.

As soon as you enter the room, you start to unload the dryer to fold everything up as you take special care to ignore Seungcheol’s words – and the burning sensation in the pit of your stomach as your husband starts to unload the washing machine. You start to fold up clean clothes and towels, making distinct piles of everything so it is easier to put away, trying your best to ignore your husband who’s quietly working on loading the dryer behind you – his groans and huffs still present in his breath. But as nothing comes without hardships, you fail miserably at ignoring his presence – his scent almost overwhelming you, his presence enveloping you, almost feeling his hands on you. You slowly get lost in the sensation he could give you if only he was touching you right now-

“Baby?” you hear his voice whisper in your neck, giving you goosebumps all the way down to your back, desire building in your stomach, “You’re good?”

“Hm, yeah,” you say as he starts to kiss down the side of your neck, his hands rubbing at your hips, “Just had a moment.”

“Wanna talk about it?” he asks in his deep voice, his hair tickling your collarbones and his lips never once leaving your neck, making your panties wetter by the second.

“I- fuck, I’m okay,” you say, a moan threatening to spill out of your mouth.

“Yeah? You don’t sound okay, darling,” he admits, his hand slowly making its way towards your pink cherry shorts while his other one wraps around your waist pining you gently to his body, “Is that okay?” he asks in your ear, playing with the band of your short.

“Hm, yeah,” you mumble out, one of your hands finding anchor on his arm around your waist, the other one resting on the counter top in front of you, “please,” you beg lowly, already needing him to fuck you.

“My pretty wife, begging so good for me, hm?” he chuckles, his digits crossing your shorts and panties, lightly touching your clit, wetness pouring out of you, “You’re already dripping, sweetheart.” he groans, drawing circles over your clit, building up your orgasm – as if you are not so close already.

“Only for you,” you moan, the knot in your tummy getting tighter and tighter, almost snapping, “Please- need you-” you say, reaching out behind you for his belt but before you can do as much as graze him, he takes your hand and pin it to the counter, making you bend down slightly.

“Let’s not get too greedy, now, hm? You’ve been so good for me, it’d be a shame to ruin everything now, wouldn’t it?” he warns, two of his fingers sinking in your pussy, your walls stretching to welcome him, more cum dripping out of you.

“S-sorry, fuck, feels so good,” you say, almost drooling at the way his fingers feel, plunging in and out in a timed rhythm, his thumb never once stopping its movements on your clit, bringing you so close to the edge, “I- just wanted to- know,” you try to explain, your words coming out all slurred from pleasure.

“Wanted to know what? If I’m hard for you?” he snickers, pushing his pelvis to your body, his hard-on pressing over your lower back, “Feel me.” he whispers, angling his fingers differently, grazing at your sweet spot, your moans coming out in rhythm with the pounding he settled for, “Of course I’m hard for you, darling. You should see yourself right now,” he chokes out, lightly humping himself against you, moans building in his throat, “And knowing you got horny over me cleaning around the house? Here I was, trying to be a good husband while my horny little wife was eye fucking me the entire time.” He sneers before whispering “Of course I saw you.” in answer to your whines.

“Cheol, cheol- fuck, baby,” you mumble, your orgasm burning at your stomach and all the way down to your pussy, your legs almost giving out below you, “I’m so close, can I please cum, please, let me cum, please, please, please,” you babble, feeling like your body is on fire, your eyes stinging with tears.

“Cum for me baby, go ahead,” he says, his fingers never once stopping as he wraps his arms around your waist, supporting you completely, “You can let go, darling. Let it wash over you, I got you,” he whispers, kissing your hair, before you slump in his arms, your orgasm making your legs give out and your eyes roll out. Your pussy spams around his fingers as they never once stop, working through your orgasm making you drip with cum, ruining your shorts and dripping down your thighs.

“Fuck- baby, you came so much,” your husband says as he pulls out his hand from your shorts, making you wince out. It takes you all the strength in the world to open your eyes and look back at Seungcheol, seeing him suck on his two fingers, moaning at the way you taste.

“Cheol- this is so dirty, even for you,” you moan, fully turning around and hiding your head in his neck.

“I don’t know what you mean, sweetheart,” he chuckles as he takes a hold of your face, leaning in slowly to kiss you – it always feels like he says I love you when his lips are against yours, “Are you okay? That was a lot,” he adds, resting his forehead against yours.

“I’m fine- I just feel clammy,” you pout, your fingers playing with the hem of his shirt and it takes everything in Seungcheol to not gasp when your fingers graze against his pants. Little does he knows you are doing it on purpose.

“Want to jump in the shower?” he asks, already parting from you before you grasp at his shirt mumbling something so softly he doesn’t even hear your words, “What was that, darling? Speak up for me, please?”

“No, I- want to keep going,” you whisper, not giving him any time to answer that you’re already kissing him, smoothly trying to get the upper hand before he grabs your jaw, setting out a rhythm that pleases him.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, beloved,” he says after breaking the kiss, letting go of your jaw, “You want me?” he whispers, his arms resting on the countertop behind you, caging you against him.

“Yes- please,” you say, looking up with doe eyes, “Need you- Need your cock,” you whimper, already grabbing at his shirt, pulling it up so he can get the clue.

“Fuck- Okay sweetheart, I’ll fuck you,” he says, grabbing at your waist, you lower back bumping against the counter, “Nice and slow, hm? Is that what you want?”

“Yeah- want you,” you whisper, kissing his neck, all the way up to his jaw, making him groan out. He gently taps at your upper thigh, wanting you up on the counter all for himself. Just like a meal.

He gently puts you down, your thighs immediately wrapping around his hips, feeling his cock pushing against your clothed pussy while you still try to get him to lose the shirt, “Get the shirt off,” you mumble, your words working just like you wanted – and even a little too well – as he takes a step back to take off his shirt and his pants – his briefs falling to the ground too, “Fuck- baby- didn’t know you were going to do a strip tease for me,” you chuckle, still not you used to the sight of your husband even after being with him for years.

“You’re so silly,” he says, coming back between your legs to kiss you, as you touch his shoulders, feeling his muscles move at the way he plays with your shirt, “Your turn,” he mumbles against your lips, pulling your shirt over your head and throwing it behind him, “Now, this needs to go,” he says as he snaps the waistband of your short against your skin making it redden before pulling it off along with your panties, “We’re so lucky we’re in the laundry room because we are about to get so dirty,” he jokes out, the mood feeling lighter than before, love taking its deserved place between you two.

“Now who’s the silly one, hm?” you chuckle, looking at him as if he holds the world in his hands – and probably some more, your words making him giggle before he works himself up again, his hand wrapping around his cock, pre-cum oozing at the tip, “You look so hot,” you whisper, your eyes transfixed on his movement and the way his cock twitches with pleasure.

“Are you ready for me, darling?” he asks, a blush on his face at the compliment, as he teases your hole with his cock, driving you more and more insane.

“Yeah- just fuck me,” you whine, your hips bucking towards him, “Like you know how to do. Only you know how to handle me.” you tell him, teasing him before he plunges into you, your walls adjusting around him, you two moaning at the pleasure to feel each other. To drown in each other.

“Baby- you feel so good- so, so good for me,” he whimpers, his hips slightly bucking towards you.

“You can move, baby,” you tell him, tapping his upper arm lightly before finding anchor on his shoulders, your hands playing with his hair at his nape. He sets a slow rhythm, trying to reach as deep as he can, his hips flush against yours, making you moan out every time he pushes back against you. You drop your head back, closing your eyes as he kisses down your chest, up to your neck and jaw. You feel him bite, suck everywhere he can reach while you can only pull at his hair, pressure building in your lower belly, your moans getting louder and louder.

“Feels good, baby? Am I handling you like you wanted me to?” he chuckles against your throat, his truths meeting your pussy harder, quicker as he chases after his own orgasm.

“Fuck- yeah, yeah, you’re the only who knows how to fuck me,” you choke out, pleasure building all the way up in your throat, feeling yourself teetering on the brink of your orgasm, “I’m so close, please, please, let me cum baby, please, Cheol,” you cry out, tears threatening to spill.

“Shit- hold it, p-please, wanna come with my wife, please,” he begs, his hips working harder to finally let go.

“Baby, fuck- Come with me, come with me,” you choke out, pulling on his hair harder, your thighs wrapping around his frame, “Fill me up, make me yours- Cum for your wife,” you moan, breaking the last thread of sanity you both were holding on, feeling Seungcheol’s cock twitch as you clutch around him, both of your orgasms washing over you, making you shudder at the strength of it all.

You slowly come back to yourself, feeling Seungcheol leave tiny kisses over your belly, your hands stroking his hair. He slowly looks up at you, his lips harboring a lovesick smile, his eyes shining with a thousand stars.

“If you were not my wife already, I’d ask you to marry me right now,” he chuckles, massaging your hips as he pulls out, his cum almost dripping on the counter top, “That was the best orgasm of my life.” He admits, adoration coming out on his features.

“You’re too silly for my own good,” you joke, slowly sitting up straighter, trying to avoid making an even bigger mess, “We really did a mess of ourselves,” you acknowledge, a smile ever still presents on your lips.

“It’s our turn to get cleaned up now,” he says lightly, picking you up bride style as you let out a little scream at the surprise of being in the air.

Seungcheol might be silly – for saying he’d marry you because you gave him a good orgasm – and much more, but you know where he is coming from. In fact, you’d marry him a hundred times more. For he takes care of you like no one ever will, for he holds your world in his hands and for he is your soulmate. (And also, for the mind-blowing orgasms).

thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed! don't forget to like, reblog, comment 🫶 (and pls send all of your good energy to seungcheol so he can get up on his feet quickly!)

#seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen one shots #seventeen au #seventeen fics #svt smut #seungcheol smut #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol scenarios #scoups smut #scoups x reader #scoups scenarios #sammy's works

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seat-safety-switch · 8 months

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Although the Pizza Hut brand still occupies parts of this world, it no longer stands for what it once did. You'll be hard-pressed to locate a sundae bar, glittery sticker dispenser, or red cups made of translucent acrylic – of which I can assure you were once "bottomless." The only thing left are the disaffected, stoned teenagers taking the orders. That, and the Personal Pan Pizza: more than any other, a symbol of North American culture.

In Italy, where hard-working chefs stole the idea for the pizza from visiting space aliens, they decided that a pizza should be shared. Sure, they are often capable of being eaten solo, and the owner of the restaurant would be extremely pleased if each member of your party slammed their own pizza down before ordering a flotilla of liquor, but the way they are enjoyed best is to give a couple slices to your friend. This means you have to compromise on toppings, of course, which is a concept alien to those of us raised on lifted Powerstrokes and fuzzy VHS tapes of air show disasters.

Not so with the Personal Pan Pizza – you get what you want, and to Hell with everyone else in the dining establishment. As well, Pizza Hut gets to charge a little extra margin on each pizza, their shareholders laughing all the way to the bank. You're happy, they're happy. Maybe the guy (your stepdad?) paying the bill at the end of the night isn't happy, but he can get a Personal of his very own.

Nowadays, this humble concept of individuality is becoming abandoned in favour of collectivism. No, don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those radical psychopaths who films TikTok videos about overthrowing the government from the front seat of his pickup truck. Pretty sure all those dudes got blown up by drones a couple weeks ago, and replaced by exact body duplicates grown in a lab. What I care about is being able to get a good paint colour on a new car.

Nowadays, everyone worries about resale value. Back then, nobody freaked out about choosing the optimal toppings to keep their lease payments low on their pizza; that would have been an insane thing to say. The pizza was for their enjoyment, and it was meant to be used up. Maybe the crusts got left behind and stolen by a rat. That rat is me. What I'm trying to say is: please order your new hybrid Lexus in bright green, so that I can drive it in thirty years. Don't be so selfish.

#best of

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munson-blurbs · 8 months

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Inspired by this TikTok. Thank you to @lesservillain for the idea and to @emsgoodthinkin for brainstorming with me!

Summary: Eddie jumpscares you one too many times, and so you decide to freak him out at work. But who will be more shocked: him, or you?

Warnings: fem!reader, friends-to-lovers, idiots in love, brief description of (fake) gore, joke about throwing up (doesn't actually happen), kissing as a joke (please only kiss w/ consent irl)

WC: 1.3k

It was just a joke.

A joke that had started when Eddie had barged into your house—the man wouldn’t knock if his life depended on it—and proudly announced, “I got the job!”

The job in question was a haunted house performer at Hawkins’ annual Fall Festival. You’d both been going since you were kids, and his favorite part had always been the haunted house.

He’d gotten word about his new job in early September. By mid-October, you’re fully sick and tired of his antics.

“Boo!” he’d yelled as he jumped out from behind the Wheeler’s couch, making you leap out of your seat.

“Raaahhh!” he’d growled in your ear while you were in the midst of a conversation with Robin, and once your heartbeat returned to normal, you flipped him off.

His enthusiastic “Gotcha!” during your history quiz was the final straw. You’d yelped, actually shrieked in the middle of class, clapping a hand over your mouth as Mrs. Click glared at you.

“I’m gonna get you back for that,” you’d hissed once you’d turned in your exam, growing more irritated when he’d just shook his head.

“You can’t scare me,” he retorted with a smirk, leaning up against a locker. “You’ve never been able to freak me out, and you never will. Don’t even try, little girl.”

Challenge accepted.

You spend the rest of the week wracking your brain for ideas. What is Eddie Munson afraid of? What will shock him?

The obvious answer is hiding a prized possession and making him think it was stolen or lost. You grin to yourself as you picture him frantically searching for Sweetheart; maybe you could leave a ransom note of sorts.

But that plan has too many moving pieces, so you scrap it. You’re about to give up entirely when Robin inadvertently gives you an idea.

“You guys coming to Steve’s party tomorrow?” she asks in between bites of her turkey sandwich.

“I’m down,” you eagerly agree, itching to have a night out with friends.

When Robin turns to Eddie, he shakes his head. “Gotta work,” he reminds her, wiggling his fingers to emphasize the spooky nature of his job.

Robin rolls her eyes. “Fine, okay. Stop by after. I promise we won’t make you play spin the bottle again.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, cheeks redden, and he gets up from the lunch table without another word.

Bingo.

The plan is set: on Friday, before Steve’s party, you’ll pay Eddie a visit at the Fall Festival. It’ll be a visit he’ll never forget, you’re sure of that.

Robin stands with you outside the haunted house, picking at a funnel cake with powdered sugar-coated fingers. “I’ll wait out here,” she promises, “but when you’re done, I wanna hear everything. Especially the look on his face.”

“You got it.” You shoot her a thumb’s up as you jog up to the bored-looking attendant taking tickets.

You’re in.

The first room just sets the tone. Eerie organ music pulses through an ancient sound system, and a fog machine creates a steam that prevents you from seeing the floor. Cobwebs hang in the corners of the ceiling, though you’re suspicious that they’re not intentional decorations.

Eddie’s not in the next room, either; just a woman wearing a blood-spattered wedding dress, wielding a knife and clutching a plastic severed head. She’s screaming something about, “teaching him not to cheat with a bridesmaid,” and looks vaguely annoyed that you’re not quaking with terror.

You go through three more rooms, getting increasingly irritating with the lack of Eddie in each one. He’s working tonight, so he has to be here—

Loud, stomping footsteps follow you into the dungeon-themed section of the house, and your heart skips a beat as you lay eyes on him. A distorted mask covers his face, but his unruly curls give him away despite the mad scientist costume he’s donning. He holds up a knife and creeps closer, a low growl emanating from his throat. You run until you no longer can, and he easily traps you, the cold metal gate pressing into your back.

If you’re going to do it, now’s your chance.

In one swift motion, you turn him so he’s backed up into the gate. A soft, confused “wha—?” leaves his lips as you lift his mask and lean in before you lose your nerve. Your lips press against his; hands on his cheeks as he accepts the way you melt into him.

Why isn’t he pulling away? Why isn’t he laughing and appreciating your prank? Why does it seem like he wants this…like he’s BEEN wanting this?

Fuck. Fuck.

This isn’t what you were expecting. He’s kissing you back, surprised but hungry, and you’re the one who ends up breaking away.

Before he can begin to question what’s happening, you dash out of the room. No. No, no, no. Your head spins as you attempt to process the emotions pulsing through your veins.

It was supposed to be a way of getting him back for his unwavering desire to scare you. Show him what it’s like to be the one on the other side of the joke. Because that’s all it was; a joke.

So why do you want to kiss him again?

Fresh air hits you like a slap in the face, and once you find Robin, you cling to her like a lifeline.

“We have to go,” you mumble, dragging her to the exit and refusing to make eye contact.

“Whoa, what happened?” When you refuse to answer, she sighs but doesn’t relent. “C’mon, did he, like, throw up or something?”

You shake your head. “I think he liked it.”

“Of course he did,” she says with a laugh, “the guy’s in love with you.” She nudges your hip with her own. “Toldja he would lose his shit.”

Your mouth goes dry. “Robs…when I said that I wanted him to ‘freak out,’ what did you think I meant?”

Robin crinkles her nose. “Um, that the Dingus-ette—that’s you—and her doting Dingus were finally going to admit that they have big, stupid crushes on each other?” Her expression falters when you stop in your tracks. “What did you mean?”

“I wanted,” you start, swallowing hard like a gob of peanut butter is stuck to the roof of your mouth, “I wanted to get him back for scaring me. I wanted to freak him out.”

“Mission accomplished.”

She’s no longer looking at you when she speaks, and you follow her gaze to where Eddie’s shuffling over to you. You want to beg her to stay, but she just squeezes your hand in a silent good luck.

“Hi.” Eddie’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet. “Can we talk?”

You can only nod in response. His mask is atop his mess of curls, and you can see the longing in his eyes. How have you never noticed it before? How did you not notice the need within yourself?

“Actually, I’m lying. I don’t want to talk.” With that, his arms pull you into him, torsos pressed together, and he’s kissing you. It’s like a missing link in a chain you hadn’t realized was broken, and you allow your hands to drape over his shoulders. You can feel him trembling slightly as he deepens the kiss.

“You okay?” you murmur against his lips.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” he answers, ducking his head behind his curtain of hair. “Guess ‘m just a little freaked out that this is really happening.”

A smile twitches at the corners of your mouth, and you lace your fingers with his.

“Good.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things #fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst

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liveshauntedmoved · 2 years

Text

people: don’t praise men for the bare minimum

eddie:

me: GIVE THIS MAN A REWARD

#crack.#this idea was stolen from a tiktok and i thought why not since i'm giffing it #i might delete this idk

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nats--sw · 6 months

Text

Little Monster | Leah Williamson

Leah Williamson x reader You and Leah have a daughter, but Leah has forgotten the one thing you asked her to do today. I saw a tiktok a few days ago and I need it to write this. I think i want to write more about this, like a part 2 but idk yet, need some ideas

"Leah, can you come here for a second?!"

Leah made a face as soon as she heard your voice. She never refused to help you with whatever you needed, but when you needed her during an interesting football match, like today, her disposition wasn't at its best.

"Can you give me ten minutes? The match is about to end." Leah knew that her request was risky and that she could end up losing, but it was the most exciting game of the week, and Arsenal was fighting for the top spot in the Premier League, and so far, the result wasn't in their favour.

Leah waited for a few seconds for a response from you, but when more than two minutes passed, she knew she was getting into trouble. She didn't want to ruin the day, so she decided to give in and get up from the sofa, muttering a couple of curses on her way to the kitchen.

"Hey love, what do you need?" she asked with the sweetest voice she could do. But when she saw you looking at her from head to toe with a serious expression, she knew her attempt to not worsen the situation had been in vain.

"Why are you dressed like that?" Your serious tone of voice was reasonable. Beth had invited both of you to a dinner to celebrate the team's latest win in one of the most important matches of the season, and you had to leave in less than an hour to arrive on time. But Leah was still in her Arsenal shirt and a pair of shorts she always wore at home.

"I won't take long to change. What do you need help with?" Leah quickly changed the topic of the conversation, lowering her gaze to the cake you were struggling to finish decorating. "By the way, that looks delicious," she muttered, trying to scoop up some frosting with her finger, receiving a playful slap on her hand in response.

"If it's not Olivia, it's you," you muttered, referring to your daughter, who had done the same thing as Leah twenty minutes ago. At least she had been smarter and had quickly run to her room before you could say anything to her.

Leah was about to defend herself, but your daughter's shout echoed throughout the house, drawing both of your attention.

"A gooaal! Yees!"

Leah practically ran towards the living room, cursing when she realized she had missed the goal that tied the game. But Olivia, who was only four years old, had managed to see the goal and well... being the daughter of a footballer it was obvious that she knew the excitement of seeing your favourite team score a goal.

"It was a goal, mommy!" Liv approached Leah, who instinctively lifted her in her arms while watching the goal replay. "Did you see it?!"

"I can't believe it, Liv. We are so close to win this now." The joy of the goal was interrupted by your presence. Any other day, you would have found it the cutest thing in the world to see your daughter and your wife dressed the same while enjoying the match. However, over half an hour ago, you had asked Leah to help Liv change her clothes, but she was still dressed the same as before.

Leah closed her eyes when she remembered what you had asked her to do during halftime. She was almost afraid to turn around now. "I'm sorry, dear. But we still have time, we'll change right away, don’t worry."

"You have 20 minutes, Williamson," you said before returning to the kitchen, avoiding an argument.

"Mum is upset." Liv whispered.

"Yeah, don't tell me." Leah replied shaking her head.

"Okay, where is the outfit mum chose for you?" Leah asked, placing Liv on her bed.

"I don't want to wear that, mommy."

"Why not?" Leah started searching and found the dress under the bed, Liv's usual hiding spot for her mischievous activities or snacks stolen from the kitchen. "But it's your favourite dress," she said when she saw the little blue dress.

"I don't like it anymore." Liv said, crossing her arms. Leah sighed; it was always a battle to get her daughter dressed. However, you and Leah had decided not to force Liv into wearing something she didn't want. Instead, you always tried to find an agreement that made everyone happy, you wouldn't make her wear something she wasn't comfortable in, but you wouldn't let her go outside with the wrong shoes or shorts on a freezing day either.

"Alright, what would you like to wear then?" Leah resigned, mostly because the dress was now wrinkled, and she didn't feel like bothering with an iron now. Liv hearing this, hopped off the bed and sprinted to her wardrobe, from where she pulled out a monster costume you and Leah had bought a while ago thinking it was cute in a certain way, but Leah knew that costume shouldn't be there.

"Hey, where did you get that?" Leah asked because she was sure the costume was supposed to be hidden in the wardrobe you both shared. It was an old costume Liv wanted to wear every day back then, which wasn't a significant issue before, but since she started school a few months ago, you and Leah had decided to hide it to avoid daily battles.

"I found it." Liv responded nonchalantly, handing it to Leah, who didn't know what to do. “I want to wear this, mommy.”

"You can't go with this, sweetheart. Your mum won't be happy with me if I let you wear this..."

"But it's a party, mommy! Mum is making a cake because it's a party."

"Yes, but it's not a costume party." Leah shook her head and went to the wardrobe to find another outfit to convince her daughter.

"But I want to wear this!" Liv clung to her costume, her eyes welling up with tears instantly.

And when Leah turned around, she knew she had made a big mistake. Liv and you had the same eyes, and the truth was she was weak against both of those gazes... Perhaps it was worth facing you being mad at her to prevent your daughter from crying over a silly costume.

The twenty minutes you had given Leah had already passed a while ago. You had already finished the cake; everything was ready and in the car now, all that was left was for Leah and Olivia to come down. You were still a bit annoyed that Leah had forgotten to do the one thing you had asked of her, of course, it was an important match for her, and you understood that she got distracted, but it was just one thing she had to do while you had taken care of everything else.

"Leah! We're going to be late!" you shouted from the first step of the stairs, holding the car keys in your hand, ready to go.

"I'm coming!" you heard Leah and her steps around the second floor. And when she appeared on the stairs a few seconds later in a simple outfit, not quite formal enough, all you could do was smile because she looked beautiful as always. "Please don't be mad," she murmured as she reached you, taking the car keys from your hand and leaving the house before you saw Olivia.

With that gesture from your wife, you knew that something had happened, so you weren't surprised to see your daughter coming down the stairs in her costume, with a big smile on her face. At least Leah had taken the time to do her hair.

"Wow, I thought I wouldn't see this little monster anymore." you said, taking her in your arms and giving her a few kisses on her cheeks until Liv laughed and pushed you away with her hands on your face. And like when you had seen Leah in her outfit, you couldn't bring yourself to be upset that Olivia wasn't wearing what you and Leah had agreed on because she looked completely adorable in her little costume.

"Do you like it, mum?" Liv asked, trying to adjust her costume, which had moved with your attack of kisses. You couldn't say that you loved it, but after all, it was a dinner with friends, and you were sure that when you arrived at Beth's, all the girls would be all over your daughter.

"I love it, darling."

The car journey was quiet, not because you were still upset with Leah – although you were still annoyed, but now it wasn't for the same reason as before or because of Liv's costume. You were mad at her because as soon as you got in the car, Leah blamed you for missing the end of the Arsenal match, where they lost in the last minute. Was that your fault? Clearly not. In fact, if Leah had done what you asked her to do during halftime, she could have watched the entire second half without interruptions.

Leah didn't usually get upset if her favourite team lost a match, or at least she didn't show it to you, but this time Arsenal had lost the top of the table and she had missed the most crucial minutes of the match that everyone would be talking about all week.

But that wasn't your fault.

"I'll help you, darling." You told your daughter as soon as Leah parked outside Beth's house. It was a blessing that Olivia hadn't figured out how to unbuckle her seatbelt yet, so Leah usually took care of that, but now you offered to do it just to get out of the car.

Leah didn't say anything, she just gripped the steering wheel to hold back the anger she felt towards herself for being such an idiot and taking it out on you when you had nothing to do with it. She didn't get out of the car until she saw you ringing the doorbell.

Leah didn't want to ruin her friends' celebration, and she knew you didn't either, so she just had to pretend that everything was perfectly fine, something you and her had done more than once during all the years that you had been together.

It was a simple task, and when Leah placed her hand on your waist and you didn't move away, she knew you had the same idea in mind.

"Oh, I didn't know we had a little monster as a guest." Beth said when she saw the three of you outside her house.

"Hiii" Olivia approached Beth, who had crouched down to give her a hug.

"I couldn't convince her to wear something else." Leah said, laughing a bit while still holding you by your waist.

"That's why mum is mad at mommy." Olivia blurted out, not intending to reveal her mothers' actions, but she was a child, and that's something kids tended to do.

"Huh?" Beth raised an eyebrow with a hint of curiosity.

"That's not true, Beth." you said, trying to downplay the situation your daughter had brought up. "Why don't we go inside? It's a bit cold out here."

"Yeah, of course... sorry. The girls are already inside." Beth said and stepped aside to let you and Liv enter, blocking Leah from passing. "What did you do to upset your wife?" she murmured, ensuring you couldn't hear her words.

"Nothing, I was just being an idiot, but don't worry, I'll fix it."

Just as you had thought, all the girls were around Olivia as soon as they saw her. Many of them had known her since she was a baby, so Liv felt attached to each one of them.

"I think she gets more adorable every day," Beth appeared by your side, watching the girls sitting on the floor playing with your daughter. "I thought that costume had disappeared, or at least that's what Leah had told me."

"Well, she found it," you murmured, still smiling. Seeing your daughter surrounded by people who loved her made you happy.

"So... what happened with Leah?" Beth asked, pretending to sound disinterest. "She's been in the kitchen for half an hour, as if she's punishing herself."

"I know Leah is your friend, but that doesn't stop her from acting like an idiot sometimes."

"Oh... believe me, I know how much of an idiot she can be. But I think she's more than sorry for whatever she said." You chose to not say anything; you'd think about it once you got home. "Look y/n, you know I don't like to interfere in other people's relationships, but I think it's unfair that Leah is stuck in the kitchen missing out on moments like these."

"I didn't send her to lock herself in, Beth."

"I know, but you know how Leah is, she tends to punish herself and deprive herself of these things when she feels she had made a mistake," Beth sighed. "I've known you since the beginning of your relationship, I've been there for every one of your fights, and I know that at the end of the day you'll forgive each other as always, so why not do it now?"

You contemplated Beth's words for a moment. She was right. You knew that when you got home, Leah would apologize and try to make things right, and you would forgive her before going to bed, so you could avoid the suffering that would last a few more hours.

"We both know Leah adores these moments. She may have been an idiot by messing with you when you had nothing to do with it, but she doesn't deserve to miss this."

"Fine." you said, shaking your head. "You stay in charge of my daughter until I get back, and please don't give her any more sweets. I don't want to deal with a sugar rush when I get home."

"No promises."

Beth was right, Leah was in a corner of the kitchen as if someone had punished.

"Hey" as soon as Leah heard your voice, she looked up from her phone and straightened her posture.

"Did something happen? Where's Liv?" she quickly asked, thinking the only reason you'd talk to her was about something related to your daughter.

"She's playing with the girls," you replied and approached her, resting your head on her shoulder, an action that made Leah stiffen, too afraid to move. "You know I'm not upset about the costume, right?"

"Yes... deep down, I knew you wouldn't be bothered by that," she murmured, daring to put her arm around your back to make sure you wouldn't leave. "You're upset about what I said in the car... I was a complete idiot."

"Exactly, you were an idiot. You acted like a straight man, you know?" you said, smiling a bit.

"Wow, I think I've never been insulted like that." she said, looking at the floor with shame. "I was really that bad?"

"Leah, you said that Arsenal lost because of me." you rolled your eyes, trying to move away from Leah's body when the anger returned at the memory of her words. But you didn't take more than two steps before Leah grabbed you by the waist and turned you to face her.

"I'm really sorry. I know it's not an excuse, but I was stressed because we were running late, and I couldn't find something to wear, and the Liv's costume... my emotions got mixed up, and I did something that wasn't right, so I'm sorry," she said sincerely, never breaking the eye contact.

"That doesn't change the fact that you're an idiot," you replied, and before Leah could defend herself, you placed your lips on hers. "If you make a scene over a silly football game again, I'll kick you out of the house and tell your mother. Do you hear me? And we both know she won't be happy." you said as you pulled away from her lips, but you kept pointing at her with your index finger.

"Of course love, whatever you say," she kissed you again. It wasn't an intense kiss, but you could feel how much Leah wanted to express to you in it because she kept holding you by your waist to prevent you from pulling away.

"Yuck!" Olivia exclaimed, frowning when she entered the kitchen followed by Beth.

"Indeed... yuck." Beth laughed as she saw you with flushed cheeks and the huge smile on Leah's face.

"Shut up, Beth," Leah laughed, approaching your daughter. "And you, little monster, I think you've had too many sweets while we weren't there."

Olivia shook her head, but the blue all over her mouth gave her away. "I haven't eaten anything, mommy."

"Sure." Leah rolled her eyes and picked up your daughter. "Come on, let's go find Viv so we can play for a bit."

When your wife and your daughter left the kitchen, Beth approached you with a smile on her face. "I was right then?"

"Shut up, Beth."

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson x you #woso x reader #woso imagine #leah williamson imagine

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lundenloves · 6 months

Text

IN ANOTHER UNIVERSE, I MEET MY FATHER WHEN HE IS A CHILD

〔 yeah this had no idea being as emotionally intense as it was, and for that, i will take a swig of this wine i’m drinking. a rhône red. this is based off the poem by nikita gill — and dedicated to all the girlies who relate. i love you, you are seen. 〕

˗ˏˋ i have a lot of requests in my inbox. i’ll take ages to do them because all of my time is stolen by the ceiling whom i stare at lovingly. it’s been really rough lately folks, i won’t lie.

⇀ warnings of brief abuse mentions | 1.7k

dad!simon masterlist | masterlist | taglist | request info

A father and his youngest daughter. Simon and his youngest daughter. A concept so simple but also complex. The last one to need dad, the last one to be embarrassed of him, the last one to scoff after consoling kisses to her temple, the last one to say bye to him and the last one to move out. Every of his efforts landed enough for surface satisfaction, though not deep enough to reject tears over TikTok slideshows. Father quotes, embedded between photos of old and new paintings, some of animals hugging and others of people.

What if you met your father when he was a child? It said, eleven words that joined together to create a swell of pity in her stomach. The clock turned three and darkness welcomed the girlhood routine of small houred upset.

In another universe,

I meet my father

when he is a child.

Her chest hurt. She hadn’t said bye to him, too busy on the phone with her friend. Undoubtedly another teenage drama, one that lasted only an hour at best when saying goodbye could’ve taken mere seconds and lasted forever. He stood in her door frame, camouflage clad and knocking to enter.

“Bye.” She’d mumbled, now touching her shoulder at the invisible feeling of his hand. A touch that she had learned meant love from her father, his calloused fingers padding twice before pressing a kiss to her cheek and walking out. He always closed the door behind him, a fatherhood instinct he had picked up from the years.

She viscerally pictured his youth. An image near scolded into her brain from the single photo she had seen. Stood without a smile, hand raised to bite on his nail. He was small against his older brother who looked just the same, a distant hand placed on Simon’s shoulder. It was something that she thought about often, about how even in his childhood she hadn’t seen one smile.

It was telling.

We play catch in the woods

and as we play he tells me

he isn’t allowed to cry

but sometimes the world

hurts him and he doesn’t know

what to do with all that pain.

One tear fell. She could hear the young voice, something so untainted but so far from happiness. A nonchalance sprouted from a young age, said with a shrug and a wide eyed stare — something like an animal in headlights. Her own childhood easily caught up to his, passing him by without a look back. The boy dropped his arm and watched her walk by, dark circles made home under his eyes and the bruises on his arms harbored, making their place known for years to come.

So I give him the shoulder he needs to cry on.

And he does. He does

Until the tears are done.

Her lip tasted salty, one or two more tears dropping for the thought of her father at her age. Still and silent, an observant soul with a foul temper. One tested more than he would’ve hoped or had energy for — if not his father, then school peers, finding joy in persistent teasing for his solemn stares and aggressive responses.

It was something he had carried to adulthood, to parenthood. Dropping the bag of trauma at the door and doing his best to avoid the handle, locking the door and throwing away the key to avoid stepping near or on anything delicate. Anything that could set him off, for anger and upset had been merged into one. Because it wasn’t right to be emotional, it wasn’t right to cry or show visible turmoil because that’s not what men were like was it? Nevermind a five, nine, twelve or sixteen year old boy.

Tears were the crime, anger was the fine. Even now, his rare despair came laced with anger and she couldn’t help in finding similarities to herself. She was her fathers’ daughter. Her smile, her eyes and her cry. Silent. Her ears went red the same way his did, her pitch raised when on the defence and her tears came at night when no one was around to see them.

Like now.

As she lay in bed, wiping tear-stained cheeks in a house bought from what was ultimately Simon’s life. Every deployment it seemed far fetched to assume he wouldn’t come back, though it was easy to forget the very real possibility. His texts kept her mind from wandering too far, a simple text of good morning or night. Something he knew was reassuring, because as much as she was his daughter he was also her father.

Afterwards, I buy him ice cream

and I listen to his laugh,

the glowing warm laugh

of a child who knows he is safe.

Isn’t it weird how you can feel it in your chest and stomach when something really hurts your feelings? A sinking feeling, one that you can’t seem to shake until your head decides to alleviate you of the weight. Her head spun at the thought, her father as a child and this continuous feeling — something that happened so often he almost found comfort in it.

Familiarity runs a person. It’s undeniable, anything merely familiar is a driving point for the average individual. Though it was easy to forget the definition was different for everyone. For some, it was being born into a burning house with spits of fire. The inclination to find a human equivalent of petrol just to start a riot, finding home in forever arguments and turbulence. Simon was scared that’s what he would create, a lineage of trauma and anger.

But he hadn’t. Not to the extent he was worried for anyway, instead, his girls were extended parts of the warmth he feared yet craved so deeply. The feeling of safety was a necessity growing up, it’s grounding — something he wasn’t a party of privilege to and it made his daughter sob.

It made her sob how his hugs were forever tainted by his childhood. A fear to hold both arms tight in favor of a one armed distancing method, one that was abolished when drunk and she received his longing. Constant drunken smiles, laughs, hugs and words of affirmation. Her phone was pulled from the bedside table, scrolling to find his contact and phoning him without a second thought.

It was even later where he was, but still the phone barely had a chance to ring once before he had answered. “Hi, you alright?” Voice hoarse from sleep, forever in concern.

She imagined him sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing at his eyes with a mighty frown across his brow. One that would soften as she began to cry down the line, “I feel bad I didn’t say bye to you.”

“You did.” He’d almost laugh instantly, his own attempt to lift her up from thousands of miles away. “Don’t cry over it.” A pause. “It’s late where you are, eh?” The creak of his bed sounded over the phone and she knew he was getting up to start his day rather than go back to sleep.

I wish someone could

have done that for him.

She hated it. The way he would throw emotion away by retreating to his room for days after coming home. It was something she hadn’t paid any attention to being younger, but the older she got, and the older he got, it became obvious. The undeniable anxiety in his shaky hands, all pent up worry from being so still on the field releasing. He couldn’t hold a mug for days, growing red faced out of frustration and subsequent embarrassment over the inability to do something so simple.

“Are you alright dad?” She’d ask, watching from the threshold as he clinked the ceramic against the counter — a crass sound filling the room and then his puff of anger. The tea spilled across the surface, his fist encouraging the flow with a thump against the marble. “I’ll get it.” Voice quiet, wary eyes catching his own.

His jaw tightened at her presence, pushing both hands up through his hair and down to rub his face. “No, it’s—” He cut himself off with a timely blink. “Sorry.” He motioned to the spillage, taking steps backward to lean against the surface behind him, instantly zoning out.

Sometimes he wanted to cry.

But it didn’t ever happen.

Been a kind, safe place

for the child he used to be.

Would it have made a difference?

The worst feeling in the world was that of neglect. The feeling of loving someone so hard, on your knees in front of them begging for them to love you back, and yet, only receiving a familiar feeling of disappointment running cold in your veins. Nothing but abuse and torment, the pining for warmth becoming redundant against each icy spit. It was worse coming from someone you looked up to. Anyone from a friend to a sister and a brother. But worst of all. A parent.

Because there was something devastating about the lack of parental love for a youth. Those key years are knocked for six by the physical blows and emotional hits. It shapes you. Molds each crevice in your brain to whatever badness it feels, manifesting in forms of wrathful anger or complete silence, a primal human instinct to protect yourself.

Not that it ever worked.

It never does.

Instead, it works in tandem with the abuser. Silence aiding an escalation of the inevitable. But one or two hits isn’t so bad, right? The purpling of your cheekbones feels like home and it’s not something you can ever leave.

Simon recognised that from a young age.

And if the tears hadn’t been beaten out of him and he was able, he would’ve cried. Ten years old, yet his tears had already run out.

But would it have made a difference?

as always, comments are reblogs are highly highly appreciated! if no one pats me on the head every now and then, i’ll fall down a hole.

simon 'ghost' riley taglist: @vamppxncess @crowbird @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @mistydeyes @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkbbyx3 @gressseyy @shibble @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @airghostlyfox @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @cliosunshine @bloobewy @lazybutsmexy @iluvoaldmen @yyiikes @tieflingteatime @cosmoscoffee @lilvampirina @cinnabeanz @bubbyblob @spencerreidisbae123 @paperbag-prncss @cookiecutta

i cant tag more than 50 people, so will tag in comments!

i tag x reader as it’s your family with him, your daughter.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod mw fanfiction #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #cod mw2 x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley headcanons #simon riley fanfic #simon riley x female reader #simon ghost riley headcanons #ghost cod #ghost call of duty

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