Tumgik
#i actually like this quite a bit
phoenixkaptain · 2 years
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“Din got to his feet. He patted Boba on the shoulder affectionately.
“You should watch the recording of Skywalker fighting the death troopers,” he said, then pressed a kiss to Boba’s cheek and told Grogu to stop eating his blocks.
Boba watched the recording. He was pretty sure he would never be the same again. He was positive that he never wanted to meet Skywalker ever again.”
Boba Fett falls for Luke Skywalker. It isn’t the funnest thing he’s ever done.
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nyerusnova · 1 year
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yeah... things are pretty yikes right now in the current batfam storyline,
but at least Tim is rocking those thigh-high boots and I just wanted to appreciate that for a sec
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cherryfennec · 2 months
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Summer Times
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Hi! I'm finally back from my two week abroad trip!
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crunchchute · 6 months
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My Sam & Max cosplay I debuted at a local con during the weekend!
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heybaetae · 15 days
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maknae line + gestures of love 🫰🏼💋🫶🏼🌹🤟🏼 happy birthday @jkvjimin! ♡
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vaguely-concerned · 2 months
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the fact that irving canonically survives through the end of asunder to be at wynne's funeral is so fucking funny to me. nothing but love and respect for MY unstoppable cockroach morally grey machiavellian mage dad!!! he's survived in his position through multiple attempted rites of annulment and blood mage plots popping up left right and center around him. the chantry keeps trying to stamp him out but his dodge game is simply out of this world, divine. civil wars, political machinations and minefields, chantry atrocities, this wily old motherfucker is dodging and weaving his way through it all, not-quite-no-hits-taken-running-it-but-honestly-close-enough-under-the-circumstances style. if solas does succeed in tearing down the veil I would fully believe that one of the like three people still alive at the end of it all would be a very weary 90 year old first enchanter irving going 'oh this shit again huh'. the maker has cursed him for his hubris and his paperwork is never finished (affectionate, it's fine he canonically loves paperwork)
#we should have had the option to leave him in the fade instead of hawke or a warden#he would've just annoyedly shuffled his way back out of there a week later#dragon age#dragon age origins#first enchanter irving#he must be SO annoying to the chantry because it's heavily implied he's made his playground#out of tirelessly finding technicalities and loopholes to exploit that they can't *quite* call him on without domino effects going off#I think first enchanter in the circle system at origins times is a position that invariably and inevitably leaves you morally compromised#but I feel he really does his best within the rules he's given to play with and personally i love him a bit for that. and also#for being an unkillable lil shit. insufferable. inconquerable in his 'I'm about to be such an annoyance to you' impish spirit.#the I'm going to suffer but guess what. so are you of it all. traumatize the chantry back#I just imagine sophia sending letters home right before the vote for independence like '...dad I am hearing some INSANE rumours out here#what the actual fuck is going on back home???'#and he's like 'nothing that you need to worry about sweetie just keep living your best life and have fun killing darkspawn <3'#(there's something that makes me feel So much about how consistently his stance is like... 'you'll always be welcome here#but the circle doesn't *need* you; go be a warden and live your life'. he managed to fineagle freedom for you somehow and won't let you#turn and glance back. not even once. I feel somehow both so abandoned and so incredibly loved it's wild)#oc: sophia amell
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tea-cat-arts · 4 months
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Shen Yuan getting transported into pidw isn't "the system punishing him for being a lazy internet hater," but instead representative of "step 1 of the creative process: getting so mad at something you decide to go write your own fucking book" in this essay I will
#svsss#scum villian self saving system#shen qingqiu#shen yuan#the fact that people think scum villain#-a series that examines and criticizes common tropes in fiction-#is somehow against criticism or being a little hater is wild to me#especially since shen qingqiu never gets punished for being a hater#heck- he's still a little hater by the end of the series#he mostly gets punished for treating life like a play and like he and the people around him are characters#(or in other words- he suffers for denying his own wants and emotions and his own sense of empathy)#I think some of y'all underestimate how much writing/art is inspired by creaters being little haters#like example off the top of my head-#the author of Iron Widow has been pretty vocal about the book being inspired by their hatred of Darling in the Franxx#I think my interpretation of Shen Yuan's transmigration is also supported by the fact that this series is an examines writing processes#side note- though i understand why people say Shen Yuan is lazy and think its a valid take it still doesnt sit right with me#i am probably biased because my own experiences with chronic pain and depression and isolation#but ya- i dont think Shen Yuan is lazy so much as he is deeply lonely and feels purposeless after denying parts of himself for 20ish years#like yall remember the online fandom boom from covid right?#being stuck completely alone in bed while feeling like shit for 20 days straight does shit to your brain#the fact that no one came to check on him + he wasn't exactly upset about leaving anyone behind supports the isolation interpretation too#+in the skinner demon arc he describes his life of being a faker/inability to stop being a faker now that he's Shen Qingqiu#as “so bland he's tempted to throw salt on himself” and “all he could do is lay around and wait for death” (<-paraphrasing)#bro wants to be doing stuff but is stuck in paralysis from repeatedly following scrips made by other people#another point on “Shen Yuan isn’t lazy” is just the sheer amount of studying that man does#also he did graduate college- how lazy can he really be#he doesnt know what hes doing but he at least tries to actively train his students#and he actually works on improving his own cultivation + spends quite a bit of time preping the mushroom body thing#+he's experiencing bouts of debilitating chronic pain throughout all this#but ya tldr: Shen Yuan's transmigration is an encouragement to write and not a punishment and also i dont think its fair to call him lazy
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crestapex · 3 months
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So… do we all just collectively agree that one of Simon’s go to nicknames for his love is ‘Sweetheart’? Also ‘Dearie’, but less commonly so.
And then Price also strikes me as a ‘Sweetheart’, but also a ‘Darlin’’. Maybe even a ‘Hun’?
Gaz is definitely a ‘Luv’, for sure. But I could also totally see your stereotypical ‘Babe’. (R.I.P. to the server at the coffee shop he likes to go to…)
Johnny though? ‘Lass/Lassie’, 100%. Though I could also see him straight pulling out the Scottish Gaelic and calling you ‘mo chridhe’ (my love).
They all kind of use these terms of endearment interchangeably, especially the three Brits, but they have their favorites. 😂
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hungharrington · 2 months
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ok this is filth adjacent but would u ever write a lil blurb or fic about Steve with a gf whose super insecure about her stretch marks and body? And May be she doesn't want to disappoint Steve bc his exes seem prettier
would i ever! i love these type of requests i love ppl getting a little bit of respite and comfort through fic esp in smut! i hope this makes u feel even a little bit hotter babe <3 1.6k, afab!reader, and just filth adjacent sry! MDNI this entire blog is 18+
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Steve's mouth is on your neck, his tongue hot where it teases against your skin, and his hands are searching your body with a lustful fervor.
Your head tips back. It's so easy to let him in, let him slide his body closer to yours, to get more of whatever he's giving. The hot press of his mouth on your neck feels damn good enough to make your blood sing—and heat travel between your thighs, wetness beginning to pool.
You want to rub your thighs together, if only for a little relief. Steve's toned thigh between them prevents it. You scrunch his polo between your hands instead, trying to wrestle the courage to slip your hands beneath it.
You're lying back on his bed, propped up lightly by the pile of pillows the two of you had stacked when the evening had begun. The television at the end of the bed runs a film idly in the background, completely unnoticed by this point.
"How we doin'?" Steve's voice rumbles out, barely parting his lips from your skin before he's swooping back in to nip at it again. The bastard.
Your hands flex again, finally mustering the nerve to dive beneath the fabric of his shirt. Steve's warm. You feel the muscles of his tummy shudder as you skim your fingers across it, a pleasurable shiver running down your spine at the trail of hair you can feel leading into his pants. Steve's breath hitches, close to your ear.
He nudges your jaw with his nose lovingly, planting another row of sloppy, wet kisses down the expanse of your neck.
"Hmm," He hums, questioningly. "Still doing good?"
You realise you hadn't exactly answered him and something glows in your chest at his insistent checks. Extremely reluctantly, you manage to drag your hands away from his torso, shifting them up to subtly nudge his face out the curve of your neck.
Steve's eyes dart up to your face as he pulls himself back, his expression turning dopey the moment your hands cup his jaw. His cheeks are flushed ruby and his hair has been mussed in all his steamy motions. He looks fucking delicious.
You kiss him — surging up to connect your mouths, warmth exploding in your chest and trickling down, down when Steve responds with a revere hunger. His plush lips scrape against yours filthily, his tongue always so perfectly teasing. You're gasping for air when you pull away.
"So good," You say breathily, finally answering the question.
Steve takes a moment longer to register what you've said—but that dopey look crosses his face the moment he does.
He plants his hands on the bed and shifts his weight back, sitting back on his heels. His thigh is still situated right between yours and you have to shove down the lustful urge to grind against it, lazy pleasure still pooling low in your gut. Though you're pretty sure Steve wouldn't oppose the idea.
Chest heaving lightly, you watch as Steve reaches for the edges of his polo and tugs upwards. It comes off in one smooth motion and you're rewarded with a fine sight. You're pretty sure your mouth actually waters in response. Tan chest, scattered moles, the smattering of hair. Oh god, you want to lick him.
Something in your face must give away your train of thought because Steve laughs. He leans back down, one hand moving to your waist, and nuzzles his nose against yours. He steals a kiss from your lips.
"See somethin' you like?" He says, the smirk evident in his tone. You feel like you might vibrate out of your skin.
"Shut up," You aim for fiesty and fall far, far short. You sound on the verge of a whine when you say, "You know I do."
Steve grins wider. His hand on your waist tucks under your shirt seamlessly, his thumb drawing maddening circles into the skin. Your breath catches, even as your arousal hikes.
"What about you?" He whispers the question between his kisses as he mouths along your jaw again, finding that same damn spot on your neck again. It'll be violet coloured by the morning. "Do I get to see something I'll like?"
He's asking permission. It takes a long moment to realise that—too distracted between the touch of his fingertips skating across your skin and the addicting feel of his lips against your pulse.
You nod without thinking.
Steve pulls your shirt up no more than a few inches before your brain catches back up. Your hand moves abruptly, grabbing his hand and yanking it and your shirt back down in a split second.
Steve's halting in an instant, pulling back from working lovebites on your neck to see what he's done wrong. There's a string of spit connecting his lips to your neck.
Steve frowns in concern, shifting his hand up wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, as he makes an effort to put a little distance between you.
"You okay?" He asks. You're still holding his wrist, which is still holding the edge of your shirt. "What happened?"
Your mouth opens uselessly and closes. You know precisely why you had stopped him and now you're facing up with the fact you have to tell him, lest Steve believe you're actually having second thoughts over being with him.
It's just... you've probably spent far too many hours in the mirror. You've seen it from every angle. Seen it in every lighting. You can't quite ever seem to make your body look good.
You don't look like any of the girls Steve's been with in the past.
Comparison is killer, you're aware of this, but infuriatingly you just can't seem to stop. You think of what Steve will see the moment he gets your shirt off, what he'll realise, and your hand tightens around his wrist subconsciously. Your throat tightens up too.
Steve's face melts into a softer expression, eyes big. "Hey, hey, it's totally fine if you said one thing and- and you realise that you didn't mean it, it's okay."
Words continue to evade you and humiliatingly, it feels more likely that tears will escape you before any explanation will. He's being so nice.
"But..." Steve continues, his tone wary as if aware he's treading on uneven ground. "You seemed like you were into it. Like, comfortable, I mean. Then it was like a flip switched and you froze."
"I-" You finally find your voice. You clear your throat as you try to find the right words, breaking Steve's intense gaze to study the ceiling.
This is worse. This has got to be worse that just Steve taking your shirt off and being disappointed because— because you're goddamn building up to it. Your eyes screw shut and you decide it's better to rip the band-aid off.
"I'm just," You can't quite keep the quiver out of your voice. "I'm not like- like girls you've dated before."
Steve makes a noise of confusion and it's enough to force your eyes open. You glance down, taking in Steve's adorably furrowed brow.
"Okay...?" He says, clearly still a bit confused.
"I mean, Steve," You say, voice a little steadier. Your hand around his wrist finally remembers to relax.
You release the hold on him and tuck your hand under your shirt discretely, covering the skin of your stomach you know is warped with stretch marks. "I don't look like the girls you've dated before. My- my body is different."
The wrinkle between Steve's brow shifts, moving from confused to something a little harsher.
"So?"
You blink. Of all the possibilities that you had run, not one of them had ended with Steve saying that.
"So?" You echo meekly. "So... so you might be like, I don't know, disappointed or think—mfh"
The words get smushed beneath Steve's fervent kiss, stealing one kiss off your lips and all your words with it. You blink up at him again, all your endless arguments of why Steve would be so disappointed suddenly silenced.
Steve grins, evidently pleased with his reaction.
Tentatively, moving slowly so you could intervene if you wished, he drags his hand along the sheets and onto your hip again. This time, however, he pushes the fabric of your shirt up and doesn't pause til it's bunched up, most of your torso on show.
Your nerves gather, gnawing at the edges of your chest. You can't bring yourself to move the hand that's trying to hide part of you, even if a dozen other stretch marks are visible now.
Then Steve leans down and he kisses your skin, right in the middle of your tummy.
"I think," He says, lips dragging across your skin and setting it aflame. He's looking up at your through his lashes, your gazes locked, his eyes dark. Another kiss, this time longer, with just a flash of tongue. "You're hot shit."
Instinct makes you want to scoff. But Steve says it so seriously that you almost believe him off the bat. Believe that he believes that.
He lowers himself onto his elbows, letting both of his large hands settle onto your waist, fingers pressing into the skin lightly. You shiver at the feeling and start to consider the possibility that he actually does think that.
"And I will gladly," He punctuates the word with another kiss, this one evolving into a soft, sensual lick up towards your breasts which peak lustfully in response. Your breath hitches. "Spend all the time needed if you need some convincing of that."
His hands move, sliding down til he's gently knocking yours aside, big warms hands spread across your hips. His thumbs are moving, drawing soft motions down, you realise, towards your waistband. Your pulse jumps between your legs, the heat in your body uncaring about the brief interruption.
Steve kisses your tummy again, further down this time. You acutely realise you've got Steve Harrington between your thighs, looking up at you with darkened eyes and promising filthy things with his fingers. Or mouth. Both if you're lucky.
"So," Steve murmurs, voice raspy and low. His thumbs slip beneath your waistband, just an inch. "You gonna let me convince you?"
You're feeling pretty damn lucky.
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elodieunderglass · 5 months
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I haven’t watched Dungeon Meshi, but I always enjoy the dashboard osmosis experience and have a peculiar visual memory. Here is what I believe Dungeon Meshi to be mostly about. No complicating experiences with the text, or indeed character references, fed into this extremely clear vision, which I believe I torrented directly from the astral plane at the same time as the creator was logged on
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underwaterwasteland · 8 months
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“There’s my sword,” Gideon said. “Pick it up—pick it up and stop looking at me, dick. Don’t. Don’t you dare look at me.”
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i'm suddenly thinking about rockstar!eddie shooting a music video on some naval ship and meeting actual sailor!steve who's all dressed up in his whites 'cause eddie's a big name star and the captain said everyone had to look their best and eddie immediately folding for the pretty guy in uniform
just: eddie wanting a couple of the guys to act in the video 'cause hopefully then they'd actually know what they're doing, and asking the capt to point out his most competent sailor. the capt immediately points out one of his low-ranking ensigns (like, brand new baby officer 'cause that's the kinda shit an officer would pull) and eddie, having been raised by wayne (who i'm hc-ing as a navy vet) knows better and is immediately like "No sir, I said your most competent, not your least. someone point me to THE second class. Where's he? I need an enlisted guy." and a higher-ranking chief that's been following the band around the ship all day bellows out a laugh and says "You're gonna want Harrington, Mr. Munson."
idk idk, it's niche but for some reason my mind went into the cold clammy depths of my time in the navy this morning and i was like 'NOPE! don't wanna dwell here, make it fun! make it about the blorbos so you dont get sad!!' lmao
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hoshiina · 3 months
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pairing: hoshina soushirou x gn!reader (no prns)
summary: he still dreams of you and wishes for another chance to make you his, some lines are inspired by hakujitsu by king gnu
warnings: reader is rather lively/bubbly,
notes: TYSM FOR 100 !!!, a/n (yapping) in tags
wc: 1800
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Hoshina Soushirou still dreamt of you. Every once in a while, you’d come to visit him in his sleep and it would make him believe that a miracle had occurred, that he had another chance. Every time, he would tell himself that he would never let this go, that he would give it his absolute all this time.
Yet, every time, he would wake up from this dream.
And every time, he would feel his heart drop at the realization of that. He was disappointed, and he knew, but there was no reason to be. It wasn't like anything had happened between the two of you. He liked to believe there was something going on— something more than mere acquaintances or friends, but he knew there wasn't. It must've been all in his head because the last time he had heard of you was before you were moved to the first division. He hadn't heard a single word from you since then, nor has he said anything— but that was just the way it was. There was nothing to do at this point anyway.
He wasn’t with you for all that long, and it was probably just the fact that both of you joined at the same time that naturally started the first conversation. He was far more weary of everything and far less cheerful at the time, and you didn't even work with him most of the time being a researcher, but you didn’t mind that one bit. If you had something you wanted to say, you would tell him and he’d just have to listen. At first, he had no idea why you kept talking to him when he paid hardly any mind, but after a while, he found comfort in your conversations. He had started to look forward to talking to you.
It had only been a few months before the defense force noticed how spectacular your work was and quickly called you over to the first division. There wasn’t a tearful farewell, or even a casual goodbye for that matter. You disappeared along with a cheerful ‘I’ll see you around!’ while you were moving your boxes out and he would hear those words ring in his head for the years to come— in your voice. Yet, at the time, all he could do was force a smile and nod.
It had been so many years since you had moved, he didn’t even know what you looked like now. Probably still stunning. Definitely still stunning. Although he had the chance to see the 1st division officers a lot, you were a researcher who worked behind the scenes. Naturally, there was no reason he'd bump into you, and he didn’t. He never did.
He loved to remember you, but he hated to think about you. He loved to remember the way you would laugh at his silly jokes, the way you would ramble on about the work you had to do daily but would still put in your all, and the way you would always visit him with some cold tea when he trained late into the night if you were still up as well. Actually, he hated thinking about the tea— it would make him start thinking about you. He would think about how you were now, if you were still pilled with work, and if you remembered him.
If he bumped into you, would you remember his name? Maybe if he cracked a lame joke. Maybe if he gave you a few days to think about it. Maybe if he started listing the things you talked about— his most treasured memories. Maybe then you’d say his name again.
See? This is why he hated thinking about you— he had things to be doing.
It wasn't like this happened everyday and it wasn't that big of a deal. It just ruined his day a little when it did happen. So if he had to say, he hated dreaming of you.
As you took over his thoughts again, the emergency alarm started to buzz, as if to tell him to snap out of it. He was thankful, he couldn't still be daydreaming like this.
A smaller-sized identified grade kaiju had appeared near the first division quarters, so the third division was doing more backup work this time. Hoshina was taking care of the smaller kaiju in the vicinity that had spawned from the presence of the honju. It felt nice for him to be doing work, it took his mind off his ramblings and cleared his head. He wasn't too worried about the honju, however. Although it was an identified grade, it wasn't anything they hadn't dealt with before and as much as he liked to tease Narumi about how he was always better at smaller kaiju neutralization, he knew Narumi was extraordinary at what he did.
At least that would have been true for any other kaiju of that size and strength, but Narumi seemed to be struggling far more than expected with this one. From his earpiece, he heard Okonogi notify him that the 1st division was asking to send Narumi some help if possible, and he immediately rushed over.
Yet, by the time he got there, Narumi had already neutralized the kaiju in question, although horribly beat up.
“I don't need your help, Hoshina!” Narumi still managed to yell while on the floor, absolutely bleeding out.
“Oh, shut up, do you want to die?” Hoshina asked. It didn't take an expert to see that Narumi’s condition was concerning.
Narumi soon fell quiet, probably unconscious, while Hoshina found his earpiece lying on the floor near him. He picked it up, hoping it'd connect to the first division just in case they had lost connection to his vitals.
“He's unconscious right now, but he seems to still be breathing. However, he's bleeding dangerously from multiple spots. I think a few ribs might also be broken,” Hoshina said. “There aren't any kaiju nearby at the moment and I'll take care of them if any do come— bring the stretcher right away.”
He waited a moment, but there was no response from the earpiece.
“Hello?” he asked, hoping for a response. After another moment, he heard it.
“Hoshina…?”
It was you. He would still recognize your voice from anywhere. Oh, how he missed you. His eyes were wide and he had nothing to say all of a sudden. You remembered him. You recognized his voice.
You remembered his name.
“Thank you for your report, we lost connection to some of his vitals halfway through. The medics should be there in a few minutes,” you said.
“I'll stand by,” Hoshina said and kept Narumi's earpiece in his ear. He had nothing he wanted to tell you, not one thing in mind, but he wanted to be on the line with you— even in silence. The medics came in a few minutes like you had told him and took care of Narumi right away.
“They got here, he should be fine now,” Hoshina said, as if you didn't already know. He just wanted something to say to you.
“I missed working with you,” you said and he couldn't believe his ears. Perhaps he'd wake up from this dream again. Perhaps he'd open his eyes and be utterly disappointed again. But he knew there wasn't even a hint of romantic affection in your words, just the respect you've always had for the work he did, and how you missed doing this job with him. And he did too.
“Yeah, I did too,” he said. “I still do.”
You chuckled a little and he could still picture you smiling. “That made my entire year,” you said. “Probably not the time for this, but we should catch up sometime. If you don't mind, of course.”
Made your year. What did you mean by that? And If he didn't mind? Oh, you didn't know how many times he's dreamed of this day.
“I'd love to,” he said. While he was a little embarrassed to imagine the rest of the first-division team hearing this conversation, that was not going to stop him. He'd be an absolute fool to let this chance go. He has promised himself to give it his all this time.
“Are you seeing anyone?” he asked quietly.
“Sorry?” you asked, hoping he'd repeat that. You heard it, but you were afraid you were so delusional you were starting to hear things. Your heartbeat quickened and you waited patiently, hoping it wasn't all in your head.
“Do you have a lover?” he asked a little more clearly, but obviously still nervous and flustered. You had never seen him like this, ever.
“No,” you replied, a little too quickly. “I do not.”
Relief washed over him and he felt his heartbeat quicken. Oh, thank goodness you didn't have access to his vitals. He was going to make you fall for him somehow.
“…do you?” you asked quietly, after a moment.
“Me?” he asked. “No, I don't.”
“I see,” you said, but he could hear the soft delight in your voice. He would never miss it.
Perhaps he'd just go for it. There was nothing for him to lose at this point, and he had made his feelings plenty obvious already. If you didn't want him, he'd just try again. He's tried countless times in his dreams already, what's a few more?
“But I'd love to be yours,” he said and heard you gasp quietly. That one he couldn't read. Was that a little too bold? Far too sudden?
“Did I hear that right?” he faintly heard you scream, asking your fellow first division coworkers. That made him laugh, you hadn't changed one bit. “I’ve loved you forever, Hoshina.”
There was absolutely no way. He was going to wake up soon, he just knew it. Well, might as well indulge in the dream for now, then.
“I've definitely loved you for longer,” he said.
“Hoshina, I'm going to kill you if this is a dream,” you said, and that caught him off guard. Yet, even that sounded nice to him, and that made him smile. He'd get to see you, at least.
But it wasn't a dream. The way your voice fluttered his heart could never be felt through a dream. The way your laugh filled his soul could not possibly make him feel so warm through a mere dream.
“I cannot wait to see you,” you said softly, your voice so full of love it made him melt.
He couldn't either, but that wasn't exactly what he had on mind this entire time.
“And I cannot wait to kiss you.”
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6okuto · 5 months
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i was thinking about oikawa and i just KNOW that he LOVES to be babied. that's just him, yk? like that's totally him and i would love to read about 30 year old professional volleyball player oikawa tooru being babied by his wife
(timeskip, fem!reader) he's just like me fr. i actually wrote something different but there wasn't enough babying so here u go 🥹🙆🏻‍♀️
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tooru is one of if not the hardest worker you know, never losing sight of his ambitions and passion. determination lines his veins, and late nights of practice and analysis have seeped into the cartilage between his bones, gluing together what makes tooru oikawa, #17, setter for club athletico san juan.
but it's not oikawa, it's tooru, the boy you met in high school who stumbled down the steps after using a cheesy pick-up line on you and whines when you try to leave his arms for the washroom, who's your husband.
"long day?"
tooru groans and buries himself deeper into the crook of your neck, arms wrapped snug around your middle. he didn't really need to answer—the lit street lights and dim sky outside were answer enough.
holding back a laugh, you comb your fingers through his hair, the familiar scent of jasmine and vanilla dancing its way to you. "proud of you, baby."
your husband's voice is quiet, "thank you."
"you want me to run a bath for you?"
"...maybe later?"
"m'kay. you wanna stay here for a while?"
"yeah." his fingers trace hearts across your back, and when he pouts, you feel it against your skin. "i'm so tired."
pouting too in response, you press a kiss to his head and rub his back. "i know, baby, at least you're home now."
"but then i have to leave you tomorrow."
"and then you come back to me again tomorrow."
"but then i leave again—oh my god, what kind of sick world do we live in?" he whines, letting out a noise that could be described as a choked sob.
and this time, you let yourself laugh. "aw, my poor tooru,"—you cradle his head against you —"the horrors of a job have caught you."
"what if we worked somewhere together?" he lifts his head to look at you.
you raise a brow. "i love you, you're the light of my life, but you are not getting me on that court."
he gapes. "betrayal from my own wife?"
"okay, then come to my job."
"...well—"
"betrayal from my own husband?" you gasp and tooru pouts again—though at this point you're not sure if the original pout ever left to begin with.
it's still just as endearing, and your expression softens. "you'll be fine, 'ru. i'll baby you as much as you want every time you come home."
his pout pulls even more at his lips, and you mirror it. bringing your hands up, you hold his face and squish his cheeks with your words— "i, tooru oikawa, love my wife and my job, and i'm a strong, independent guy who can do anything."
"d'you rilly hafta hol' m'face?"
"it's for the effect and affirmations," you tease, before your amusement softens to something else. "how long are you out tomorrow?"
tooru's jaw drops as much as it can with you holding him in place. "why would you—9 hours!"
and before the dread of leaving you can fully take hold, you kiss his forehead. the apple of his left cheek, the right, then his eyes, his nose, both sides of his jaw, his lips—all with a resounding mwah!
tooru's arms cling tighter, and he leans into each kiss, always chasing your affection though he doesn't have to. you smile at the flush dappled across his face. "see? a kiss for each hour."
he opens his mouth to answer, but then the pout comes back. "each half hour at least. each 15 minutes—"
"tooru." you snort. "what is that, like, 36 kisses?"
"okay, a kiss for each minute."
"babe—"
"you know how hard i train, i know you watched my interview."
and you really don't think you'll make it to 100, much less 500 kisses, but you'll try anyway, even if after the first one, tooru says, "one."
you snicker as you place the next four, and he counts them before pointing out, "you know, kissing your husband is way easier than doing rdl's."
"yes, yes, i know, honey." you softly laugh and press another to the spot between his brows. "i'm not complaining."
he counts again—six, seven, eight, nine—and you remember the determination and patience of oikawa was never separate from tooru, especially not when it came to you.
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hello-eeveev · 4 months
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you wanna know what’s so funny is that we’re all like “omg Essek could NOT shut up about Caleb 🥺💕” but like. he absolutely can.
the only times Essek brought up Caleb unprompted/without relevance to the discussion at hand were gesundheit and nighttime sendings lol. of the four uses of the phrase “my partner,” one is an off-handed mention as part of a clarification (“I have not been following the Assembly’s threads; that was more my partner’s purview.”) and the last three all happen in the span of four minutes before Essek exits the episode.
the problem is that within those last four minutes, Essek hit us with
1) showing off a zemnian phrase he learned from Caleb,
2) “he is kind. and he is smart. and he is so strong,” said with such conviction and pride and love that I don’t think I’ll ever recover, and
3) leaving the crafting party to chat with Caleb before bed
which was just. a lot. it was so much and it was so good. so much concentrated shadowgast in those four minutes
this whole ship is built on layered conversations and implications and skirting the obvious (with the exception of the last two minutes of m9 reunited) so to give us four whole minutes of Essek boasting about Caleb, praising Caleb, wanting to go talk to Caleb was particularly potent
thank you Matt Mercer for my life 💕
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chalkanthit · 9 months
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The main girl!!
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