#there are lots of ways to do permission statements! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

captainsophiestark · 6 months ago

Text

A Very Dagger Christmas

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: Top Gun

Summary: Jake's down bad for his SO in a way his friends have never seen before, and they want to make sure his SO knows it.

Word Count: 2,015

Category: Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"You cheated! I saw you bump the ball, don't try to deny it!"

"I did not cheat! You just suck at pool!"

"Pilots! I will ban pool for the rest of the night if I have to. Don't test me."

"Sorry, Penny..."

I watched the unfolding drama around the pool table of the Hard Deck with a smile as I sipped the last of my hot chocolate. Penny had closed the whole place for a little early Christmas celebration between her, Amelia, Mav, and the Daggers, and as the partner of Jake Seresin, I'd been invited along this year. The atmosphere, food and drink, and free entertainment all combined to make this my favorite Christmas party attended so far.

"Hey."

I looked up to see my boyfriend, Jake, crossing the room towards me with a big smile and two mugs in his hands. I shifted over a little on the cushy loveseat Penny had moved in for the evening's party, giving Jake room to settle in next to me.

"I brought you another cup of hot chocolate," he said, leaning in to kiss my forehead as I took the mug from him. "Not spiked, although I still don't know how you're putting up with all these idiots sober."

I laughed. "I love your friends, Jake. And I want to remember all the embarassing shit they pull clear as day, so I can use it against them later."

"And that's why you're the best. Amazing." Jake leaned in to punctuate his statement with a kiss, this time on the lips. I smiled into the kiss, then snuggled into Jake's chest once we broke apart. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, holding me closely, and the moment was one of absolutely perfect peace and comfort despite the chaos continuing around us.

"Thanks for inviting me along to this, by the way," I said, my voice low as I curled into Jake, more relaxed than I'd been all week in the leadup to this party. Jake hummed, and I could feel the vibrations all through his chest.

"Thanks for agreeing to come. I've been to a few of these now, and this one's already a lot better with you here. A lot." I leaned even further into Jake, squeezing his thigh gently with my free hand. After a moment, Jake continued. "Although, honestly, you might want to wait to thank me until after we play Dirty Santa."

I let out a long, heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of my nose.

"Babe. I hate it when you call it that. You live in California now, it's White Elephant! Dirty Santa sounds like something much different and much worse than a fun gift exchange."

"Worse?" asked Jake, a familiar grin and note of mischief in his tone as he leaned down to whisper in my ear, his arm wandering from my shoulders to my waist. When he spoke again, it was nothing more than a low growl in my ear. "Or better?"

I considered for a moment, then shook my head and leaned back as much as I could in the small loveseat.

"No. The delivery and everything normally would've worked, but not for the phrase 'Dirty Santa', and not at the non-blood-relative family Christmas party. Nice try, through."

Jake just smiled and shook his head. He leaned in again, pulling me towards him like he was about to double down, but before he got the chance, we were interrupted by a few of his friends shouting from the pool table.

"Hangman! Get over here, we need some fresh blood at this pool table!"

Jake just rolled his eyes and waved the guys off, but they refused to take no for an answer. After a moment, I leaned up and kissed Jake on the cheek and gave him a little smile, then moved his arm from around my shoulders myself.

"Go," I said. "You've got honor to defend in pool, and you should probably get a game or two in now before Penny inevitably has to ban it."

Jake grinned, but he didn't move from the seat next to me.

"...Are you sure? I don't want to abandon you."

I just waved him off. "I'm fine, I like all your friends, and I already know most of them pretty well. No risk of abandonment here, I promise."

"Great." Jake leaned in to give me a quick kiss, then pulled back with a grin that spelled trouble. "Then I have some people who need to get their asses kicked in pool."

With that, he hopped up and took off to join the group at the pool table. I watched him with a fond smile, a warm glow sitting in my chest. He was absolutley ridiculous, but he was also absolutely wonderful.

While I was busy watching Jake, Natasha wandered over and took a seat in the chair next to me. I gave her a little smile, then turned back to watching Jake. After a moment, I heard her huff a little laugh, and I turned my attention back to her with a raised eyebrow.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just... I've never seen him like this."

I frowned, trying to figure out what she was talking about.

"Nat-?"

"Hangman. It's been... nice, but really weird to see him like this."

"Nat, like what?"

She shook her head, her attention drifting to where my boyfriend was in the middle of trash talking at the pool table. She huffed another laugh, then turned back to me.

"He's wearing an ugly Christmas sweater. That matches with yours. Do you know what happened the last time someone tried to get Hangman to do that?"

"...No..."

"He dumped the one Coyote tried to force him into in a pool of oil from the planes."

I snorted, my hand flying to my mouth to cover a disbelieving laugh. I kept waiting for Natasha to smile or something to let me know she was joking, but her expression stayed dead serious.

"...Really?"

"Yes, really! And you're the first partner he's ever brought to more than one of our events, the first one he hasn't given a bunch of shit to for not drinking with him, the first one in years any of us have bothered to learn the name of. He's in a good mood, he's clearly just as happy to sit with you over here as he is to be in the middle of the pool game over there. Even right after he and Rooster get into it, he smiles at you two seconds later and it's like nothing even happened. Do you know how long those stupid moods of his usually last?"

I huffed a laugh and shook my head. Everything Natasha was saying had my heart racing, but I didn't want to let my imagination run away from me. Surely I didn't have that big of an impact on Jake, no matter what Natasha seemed to think.

"Hey guys," said Mickey, coming over to join the two of us with a smile. "I needed to get the hell out of that pool game while I still could. It's about to be a knock down dragout between Mav, Rooster, and Hangman. We're taking bets on how long it'll be before Penny bans pool and who's going to be the final straw to cause it if you guys want in."

"...What are the current odds?" asked Natasha, leaning forward. Mickey quickly walked her through the bet layout as it stood, then continued with a grin before she could stake anything.

"There's one other rule you should be aware of: no one's allowed to send our newest extended family member into the fray to influence the odds."

He nodded towards me when he said it, and I raised an eyebrow, but Nat almost shot out of her chair in indignation.

"What? Come on, where's the fun in that?"

"The fun is that we can actually take bets without a win card in everybody's pocket that can keep the game going all night."

Nat threw her hands up and flopped back in her chair, which was my cue to lean forward.

"Mickey... what are you talking about?"

"Hangman's one of the three live wires over there that's going to get way too competitive and ruin the game. If you go over there, you're gonna calm him down and totally ruin the fairness of our bet."

I laughed and shook my head, copying Nat and flopping back in my chair.

"I think you guys are seriously overestimating my influence on Jake's fundamental personality. We've been together long enough now that I think I would've noticed if he was a completely different person around me."

"Okay, first of all, no you wouldn't have," started Mickey. "If he were a different person around you, you'd only ever see the person he is around you, because you're necessarily around him when you're seeing him. And second, we're not saying he's a totally different person."

Nat hummed like she might disagree, and Mickey gave her a little nod.

"Okay, at least I'm not. What we're really trying to say is... he's obviously pretty committed, and very happily tied down. It's made him more grounded in a way that I honestly never thought I'd see. But it's nice, and it's definitely because of you."

I just hummed, processing Mickey's words. Jake and I had been dating for a few months, and although we hadn't really sat down to talk about it, we were clearly getting pretty serious. At least, I was. And it was nice to know that Jake's friends seemed to notice the same thing coming from Jake.

I stayed in my seat chatting with Natasha and Mickey for a while longer, until pool was eventually called off with Amelia having won the bet, to no one's surprise. Everyone wandered over to join Nat, Mickey, and I to begin White Elephant, and Jake settled into the loveseat next to me again.

"How was pool?" I asked as he handed me another mug of hot chocolate, further defending his position as my dream man.

"Fine, until Rooster started cheating. And then he has the nerve to call me on it when I started doing it to, to level the playing field!"

I just laughed and curled further into Jake's chest as he shot Rooster an aggressive stink eye. Luckily for all of us, Rooster didn't catch it.

The rest of the night passed much more peacefully sans pool table, even though White Elephant was as explosive as Jake had been expecting. Still, once it was over and we'd all settled in to relax together by the fire, any of the negatively chaotic moments of the night were long forgotten.

I laid my head on Jake's chest, listening to the soothing rythm of his heartbeat as Jake ran his hand gently up and down my arm. I was honestly on the edge of drifting off to sleep when Jake's voice drew me back. He was speaking quietly, right next to my ear, so softly that I wasn't sure he even meant for me to hear him.

"I love you. So fucking much."

I shifted just enough to meet Jake's eyes. He seemed surprised to find me awake, but a determination I usually only saw when I got to visit him on base was shining in his eyes.

"I love you," he repeated, louder this time. "And it's okay if you aren't ready to say it back or don't want to or whatever. But... I need you to know. I love you more than I've ever loved somebody before."

I smiled, my heart melting as I leaned up to kiss Jake. I ran my hands through the hair on the back of his neck, then pulled back just enough to meet his eyes again and whispered against his lips.

"I love you too, Jake. More than anyone or anything. So, so much."

His face lit up like the sun. His arm wrapped tight around my waist, and he pulled me closer to him than was probably appropriate for our current setting. He kissed me, hard, and I kissed him right back. I'd been in love with Jake Seresin for a while now, but it was nice to finally say it out loud. And even nicer to hear it back.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen @misshale21

Top Gun Taglist: @elenavampire21

557 notes · View notes

babyjakes · 1 year ago

Text

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinkmas 2023

prompts | exhibitionism + piercing

pairing | soft!daddy!lloyd hansen x little!reader, feat. lloyd's friends: andy barber, ari levinson, ransom drysdale, steve rogers

warnings | ddlg dynamics (lloyd is a soft sweet daddy.) months of no touch/orgasms. clit hood piercing (+ me not knowing much about them.) fivesome with a sixth watching; exhibitionism. fingering (vaginal + anal.) nipple play. clit focus + rubbing. overstimulation. asking permission to come + she comes hard. so much praise and encouragement. probably some light mocking/humiliation. sooo many petnames. aftercare!! :) brief alcohol mention

word count | 1,580

an | sorry for the weird formatting? tumblr wouldn't allow me to use the bulleted list bc of too many characters i think- but ahhh omg the very last kinkmas piece 🥺 this event has been so much fun i hope you've all enjoyed the stuff i've written!! make sure to check out the event masterlist for anything you might've missed and thanks so much for reading along with me this month!! happy holidays and merry christmas to all of you sweet friends 😌💕

thinking about daddy!lloyd piercing your clit hood and then inviting all his friends over to show you off 🫠 piercings do take time to heal so maybe he's away on a trip for a few months after it happens, and when he returns home he has his buddies over to come play with you 😌 you were touch-free for that time period, so by the time the big night comes you're more than ready for some attention down there

lloyd dresses you up in a pretty new dress he got while out on his trip, short with lots of cleavage showing as always. and panties are skipped entirely; they'd just get in the way. he has you wait in your room as he brings his guests in, getting everyone settled in the fancy lounge with drinks and snacks. then he sends one of his servants to bring you down from where you're patiently waiting upstairs

andy, ari, ransom, and steve all coo and fawn adoringly as soon as you appear. you recognize every face in the group quite well; these are your daddy's closest and most trusted friends, the only men he would ever allow near you besides himself. this isn't the first time they've come over to play under lloyd's supervision. while these sessions can be overwhelming with so many players involved, things never get out of hand, as each of your daddy's friends treat you with just as much respect and care as he would, himself

"there's the pretty girl. we've missed you, sweetheart," ari's cooing from his seat on one of the armchairs

"that's a cute little dress, sunshine. s'it new?" ransom winks at you as he stands near your daddy's chair, finishing a glass of scotch

"come on over, doll. your daddy said you have something very special to show us," steve says gently, patting the space on the long leather couch between him and andy

the lawyer nods at the blonde man's words, adding, "come here, honey. got a nice spot saved just for you"

lloyd's on the other couch, across from steve and andy. "go on, princess. they've all been waiting so patiently to see," he encourages you

you find your way over, sitting down obediently between the two broad men. ari comes and sits on the edge of the coffee table in front of you. ransom makes his way behind the couch, gently placing his hands on your shoulders and easing you back a bit

"you wanna show us, angel?" ari asks gently as he leans in a bit, helping the men on either side of you bring your legs up to bend at the knee, your stocking-covered feet falling to either side of you. when you give a timid nod, the skirt of your dress is lifted up to expose your most intimate parts to the eager men surrounding you. a soft gasp is shared as they all lay eyes on your leaking cunt, swollen and sensitive from months of neglect

"aww, little one," steve's murmuring sympathetically at the sight of your arousal

"look at that ring- so pretty, sweet girl," andy marvels at the sight of the gold loop that now runs right through the fleshy hood covering your needy little nub

"your daddy told us it's a very special ring," ari hums steadily as he reaches out and gently spreads your messy folds apart, all of the men watching as your little hole twitches. "it goes right through the hood of your sweet little clit, doesn't it baby?"

"and that means," ransom chimes in from behind as he reaches down into your low-cut top, gently collecting your tits in his hands and squeezing at them, "that every time it moves, it rubs right up against your poor little button. isn't that right, pretty girl?"

you manage to give a shaky nod, a small whimper rising in your throat as the men all close in to finally start giving you the relief you so desperately need. there's no fumbling or hesitation, each of them settling in on their own task to contribute to the system of pleasure

steve brings two huge fingers to line up right at your opening, swirling the tips around briefly in your pool of slick before steadily pushing in. "okay sweetheart, let's get this pretty little pussy nice and filled up"

ransom continues up at your chest, his fingers rubbing and pinching at your pebbled nipples. "there you go, doll face. just relax," he's encouraging as your back arches lightly, making you sink a bit down further into the couch

andy drags some of your plentiful wetness down, carefully teasing the tip of a single digit over your puckered rosebud. he chuckles when you let out a startled whine, his voice low and soothing in tone as he croons, "easy, baby. i'll be gentle, i promise"

and ari seems maybe the most pleased of them all as he begins tapping and tugging gently at the small gold ring settled so perfectly against your now hardened clit. the feeling of the metal bumping and moving against your throbbing button is already more than enough to make you squirm, ari's patient gaze settled on you as he murmurs, "look at that, so responsive, just like always. does that feel good, baby doll? here, i wonder if we just-"

the others continue masturbating you in their various ways as the man before you pulls up on the ring, forcing the hood of your clit back to reveal your swollen little nub. "there it is," ari breathes happily as he steals some of your slick, bringing his thumb up to begin swiping repeatedly over your exposed bundle of nerves as his other hand keeps its hood retracted with the ring

"oh-... o-oh..." you're immediately stumbling over your words, your breaths shuddering as your clit burns brutally beneath ari's quickening pace

"think someone likes that," steve's chuckling beside you as he stretches you out on his fingers, curling them upward to stroke against your weak spot

andy's gathered more of your arousal to coat his pointer finger as he gently begins easing it up into your tight little ass, his eyes shining with pride as you weakly take the intrusion, "yeah? you like that, baby girl? that's it, honey. you're being so good for us"

"let's see if we can make this pretty little girl come for us," ari speaks to the others as your tummy quivers, your little legs shaking on either side of you as the stimulation becomes more and more overwhelming. but as soon as your knees begin trying to close, steve and andy are holding them open, giving you no choice but to lay there against the hot leather and let the men bring you to orgasm

"remember to ask permission, baby," ransom's reminding you as his head leans down next to your ear. the hands all over your body continue, but everyone glances over in lloyd's general direction as he sits just across the coffee table on the opposite couch, watching intently with a hand placed at his chin. one of his big rules for shared play time is that you always get his permission to come

"p-please daddy," your little voice comes out begging as both your holes are fucked forcefully now with large, slippery fingers, your nipples being rolled and rubbed as your clit is flicked in rapid succession. "please, c-can i-... can i-i come?"

lloyd scoots forward a bit, giving a simple nod as he lowers his hand from his face. "go ahead, princess. being so good for daddy's friends, you can come. you've earned it, baby"

as soon as you're allowed, you let go, your orgasm washing over you with impressive force. being the first climax you've had in months, it's quite the sight to be seen

all the praise coming from the men surrounding you blurs together as your holes contract around the fingers still pumping inside you: "oh- there it is" "good, very good, little one" "look at that, coming so hard for us" "keep going, baby. keep coming, that's it" "poor little girl, needed it so bad, huh?" "so cute when she comes, isn't she? such a precious girl"

when the waves of pleasure are finally dying down, their cheers turn to softer, soothing words as their hands still against you: "did so good for us, pretty girl. we're so proud of you" "that feel good, angel? seemed like a pretty big one" "you're okay, sweetheart. here, let's get your daddy over here" “no little one, don’t move. we’ll take care of the mess; you just hang tight”

everything feels like you’re experiencing it through a haze as lloyd comes over with the supplies needed for aftercare. you’re cleaned up and put in a comfy pair of fresh panties, your dress being repositioned on you to cover you up. someone wraps you in a blanket, and soon you’re safe and content in your daddy’s arms

the men all spend the rest of the night doting on you, helping keep you in a tiny headspace where you feel so safe and cared for. you get all the snuggles, tummy rubs, hair strokes, nose and cheek kisses, and gentle loving words you could ever want from each of your daddy’s wonderful friends

wow holy cow i got carried away with this 😮‍💨 all of them at once is so much but like,, , the i need that kind of so much 😔🙏

1K notes · View notes

atxchiphxbix · 3 months ago

Text

DRAW ME LIKE ONE OF YOUR FRENCH GIRLS

synopsis: Rafayel says he wants to paint you as a present to himself, you agree. He ends up painting something else instead.

Content. mdni afab + f! reader, blowjob, handjob, oral (m! receiving) raf comes on your face and you lick it off his hand, swearing, he calls you cutie, he also bites you like once, no p in v

a/n: this is late and super short but HAPPY BIRTHDAY FISHIE 🎉🎉

You tell your mind that you’re doing this because it’s his birthday and because you’re such a good girlfriend. That’s why you’re in the comfort of his velvet studio couch, dressed in nothing but a svelte robe with lacy undergarments underneath (that he specifically chose) allowing Rafayel’s lithe fingers to paint the image of your body onto a blank canvas.

You find your eyes drawn to the handsome Lemurian artist, shamelessly admiring how gently his delicate fingers coil around the wooden handle of the brush. As he concentrates on capturing every nook and cranny of your splayed body, he surprisingly falls silent, bottom lip captured between his teeth and eyes narrowed on every stroke that glides on the portrait, dedicated to capturing your perfection at its finest.

And it’s sweet of him, wanting to personally paint a portrait of you to hang in his studio. A “burst of inspiration” he says it’ll bring him. Though you’re not quite positive on how true that statement will hold whenever he’ll see your form in this position, and though you love him dearly…

It feels like an eternity since you’ve been in this position, thirty minutes he spent selecting an outfit for you to wear and another thirty spent arranging your limbs to his liking. He took his sweet time during it all, letting the delicate pads of his artistic fingers to linger and eyes settling onto the expanse of skin that your robe didn’t cover (which was a lot of skin) — it brings you to the quick conclusion that this is also a ruse to doll and feel you up.

“Rafayel, are you alm-”

“Perfection takes time, cutie.” He cuts you off, peeking behind the canvas with a whisper of a simper on his rosy lips, though the glimmer of mischief in his eyes tells you otherwise.

What he would not tell you is the way he was admiring you for the past 15 minutes. How could he not? The way your body lay so perfectly, stilling in the precise angles that he puppeted you into. The sheer fabric of the robe that barely covered anything and coming gradually undone, offering tantalizing glimpses of your skin, a tease of your collarbone, the dome of your breast with soft breaths, then another peep of your thighs when you moved ever so imperceptibly. He wouldn’t tell you that it sends all the blood in his body coursing south like a vigorous tsunami.

“Yeah, but we can’t take a break? I’m getting numb over here!”

A small scoff comes from behind the canvas but he doesn’t bother to spare you a glance, “It hasn’t even been a little over an hour! How can yo-”

“You’re not the one in this position! Come on, Raf… just ten minutes?” Without waiting for his permission or response to move, you comfortably rearrange yourself on the couch, eliciting a dramatic groan from the lavender-haired man who resigns and notches his color palette on the easel.

“I was in the zone.” He huffs out, coming to join you on the comfort of his ridiculously expensive couch.

Like a damsel, the man theatrically falls into your arms, throwing his body onto yours with an exaggerated thud, landing face-first into the plush of your chest. The cushions jolted slightly from the force, but the muffled groan he buried into your soft flesh only sprouted a lilt of laughs to fall from your lips before your hands come up to his hair, burying into the lilac tendrils as if to soothe him.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll live.” Your voice murmured into his hair like a quiet melody, whispered only him in the safety of where he was able to express himself with the one he loved most.

“I deserve compensation for being distracted.” The words are punctuated with a light bite in the flesh of your breast, evoking a gasp to fall from your lips, followed quickly by a soft whimper when his salivated tongue drawls over the reddening bite with salacious intent. “And because it’ll be my birthday soon, how about an early present, hm?”

“I thought we were only going to take ten? You know, since you were ‘in the zone,’” A coquettish grin graces the edges of your lips, curling into a smile that effortlessly charms the artist — wrapped around your finger, as always.

He drags his hand down to your ankle, tugging to raise it higher — trailing the pads of his soft fingers along the arch of your heel, the sole of your foot, turning his head to place a gentle kiss to the inside of your ankle as his hands venture to the hill of your calf and all the way down to your knee. His finger tickles as it dives underneath the silk robe, gracing under your thigh, dipping toward the inner side, and tracing mesmerizing shapes into the silky flesh before he drapes your leg over the curve of his waist.

“Plans change. Now I’m in the mood.” He lilts melodically, before he proceeds to pebble a multitude of seductive, calculated kisses onto the canvas of your neck, painting it in hues of ruby.

“Seriously?” An amused sigh flutters from your lips and a gasp from his when you’re suddenly switching the positions between the two of you. From his warm body hovering over your frame, you’re suddenly moving over him, hands gripping at the fabric of his silk white shirt as his instinctively come to rest on the curve of your hips.

“Wha- ohmy, okay?” A wide grin paints his lips, artistic fingers coiling around the silk of the robe as he slides it off to unveil the enticing skin of your torso.

Your own hands lightly trails down his chest, tracing a teasing line that has sweet gasps escaping him, finding his hips where his ridiculous belt lays. With your experienced fingers, it falls easily, clinking to the floor as you toss it haphazardly somewhere.

Adrenaline pumps through his veins as your fingers inch lower and lower, impatient whines falling from his petulant lips, hips bucking up in an eager acquiesce when you move impossibly slower. His mind turns muddled from your touch, zeroing in on how the warmness of your soft pads seep into his smooth skin, feathering on the veins that lead like a map to his cock that strains against the tautness of his pants.

“You’re, ha… so mean to me, you know?” He mumbles, sucking his bottom lip into the junction of his teeth. His eyes watch as you lather his torso in feathery kisses, down the skin of his smooth, pale stomach and just along his prominent v-line. A practiced pull of your hands has his pants and briefs sliding low on his hips, pooling loosely around his thighs. With the expensive fabric pushed down, his stiffening length, freed from its confines, ached visibly — twitching and throbbing for relief as pearly beads of his pre cum drooled from the leaky tip.

“If I’m so mean, I could just sto-”

“No! No, no, no, you’re so kind the kindest person ever! I love you sooo much, the most gorgeous, kind, smart, fantas… ha.”

His words are cut off when your fingers wrap around the shaft of his swollen cock, offering him smooth pumps in a rhythmic tempo, up and down over its stiff tip, watching him intently as he shudders out a moan at how incredibly smooth your hand glides over the sensitive flesh.

“Ah… fuuuckk,” he hisses, hips thrusting upwards to catch more of your touch, desperate for the way your hands perfectly rub and grind with careful intentions. His head falls back when your tongue tantalizingly caresses over the bulging vein running along the underside of his length, causing a breathlessly, melodic moan to spew from his reddened lips.

“Feel good, hm?” He can't even look at you when you say those words, too lost in his sea of bliss that crawls up his spine, licking at his pink cheeks.

You, on your knees with your swollen lips, suckling on the crown of his throbbing length. Your fingers coiled around the sensitive flesh of his cock, settling into a steady cadence stroking his tip, curling and cupping your palm over his leaky slit and upwards along his pulsing flesh. His soft whines and breathy groans that escape his kiss-bitten lips encourage you, squeezing tighter every few strokes until you smooth your tongue up the bottom of his twitchy length, smiling when he bucks his hips up, eager for your touch.

His arm is thrown over his eyes, basking in the ripples of pleasure coursing through his body with every tantalizing drag of your tongue, every pop of your lips around his tip, and every smooth pump of your hand that glides over his hard cock. His eyes flicker to your kneeling form, watching you pleasure him through dark lashes, breathing heavily through parted lips, swollen from how hard he bit down on it. Rafayel almost chokes on a moan when he sees how the beady pearls of his glistening pre dribble generously down the skin of your fingers that so delicately curl around his achy length and the only notion that flies through his muddled brain is that burning need to cum. To shoot his load over your face; painting your cheeks, eyes, and mouth in his ivory seed.

Just the thought has his balls tightening like a vice and fingers fisting into the soft fabric of the couch, itching to bury into your strands and push you down further.

“Like that — nnhhh, yeah... so good, so good, moremoremoremore-” His whimpers fill the steamy air of his studio, covering the space with the scent of his arousal and the sound of his pleas. "I can't hold on much longer. Need more, I need more. Tighter, baby, please.”

The sweet harmony of his staccato moans crescendoed when you sunk down on his dick, taking him all the way down your throat. Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, mouth full of his cock, and dewy eyes batting up at him as your throat struggles to take his length, contracting in a way that has his fingers gently threading into the tendrils of your hair, petting softly like a praise his mouth fails to form.

“I’m close, so close, I’m gonna — fuck!”

The corners of his vision pulsed white as he humps into your mouth, hips uncontrollably bucking, and veins pulsing wildly against the the slope of your tongue, evidence of the frenzied tempo of his heart that pumps liquid bliss through his limbs.

You feel it against your slick tongue before he says it. His veins throb erratically, cock twitching in the cheeks of your warm mouth, and his fingers tighten around your hair, a telltale sign that he’s close and teetering on the edge of euphoria. With a pitch of his prolonged moan, his hips buck one last time before you’re pulling away with salacious strands of saliva webbing his glossy cock to your swollen lips. Your wet hands immediately replace your mouth, pumping and rotating your wrist slowly around his cock until he’s spurting out thick, warm ropes of his white seed onto your face.

And Rafayel thinks it’s the prettiest sight he’s ever witnessed. The sight of his cock — sheened with your saliva — lying on your face, painted in the splatters of his ivory seed that roll down the apple of your cheeks. Your eyes are dazed and lovestruck, a soft smile gracing your swollen lips as you kiss along the shaft of his softening dick, attentive as always.

“Think that was longer than ten minutes?” You whisper against his cock, watching as a tired smile makes its way to his lips, his hand coming up to pet at your hair.

“Maybe, but it doesn’t really matter anymore.” His hands push back strands of your hair, tucking it behind your ear before resting on your cheeks, swiping at the cum that painted your skin.

You keen into his touch, tongue darting out to lap at the cum that lingers on his hand. His palm is warm and wet, even more so when your pink tongue darts out to suck at his fingers, mirroring the way your lips were just nestled around his length moments prior. “What do you mean?”

“I think I’ve just found something else that I want to paint. Consider it an extra birthday present for me, cutie.”

this is my first time writing raf and idk how I feel about it

#crescent.creates #c.rafayel #love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #lads rafayel #lnds rafayel #lads x reader #rafayel x reader #rafayel x mc #rafayel smut #divider by cafekitsune

150 notes · View notes

fluffylino · 1 year ago

Text

you show minho and hyunjin that they don't need their husbands.

(literally got this idea while showering.)

(boypussy les go and threesome?)

-contains mature themes

"you feel hurt, don't you. doesn't my baby deserve so much better"

hyunjin is leaning into your hand thats cradling his face. his eyes are glassy and filled with so much love. he nods slowly.

"you work so hard, take care of channie and do most of the work at home...and what do you get in return" you state.

its obvious. hyunjin's husband is cheating.

"lets forget about him, yeah" your hands are on his hips. making him grind down on you.

"f-feels good" he mumbles, blinking his tears away. hips rolling in circles on your strap.

"i know baby. how long has it been?" you ask, noticing how his breathing was already becoming heavier.

"three years" and you feel your heart break.

three years without any relief. no touching. no pleasing. no source of pleasure. and hyunjin is crying again. shoulders shaking.

you thrust up hard. hitting that spot inside that has him doubling over himself.

"ahhh-hhm" mouth forming an 'o' shape. fingers balling the fabric of your shirt.

"princesses deserves to be fucked like royalty"

you say, bringing your hand up to wipe the tears on his cheeks. moving lower to thumb as his sensitive nubs.

"m'princess?"

its asked so innocently. you're ready to give him the world. more than ready to knock out his husband. the next statement being high pitched whines.

"yeah baby..yeah" your voice cracking at how truly pretty hyunjin was. bouncing on your dick. shoulder length hair moving around. his arms hooked around your neck.

so you slip your hand down. pressing it to his swollen clit. and he keens.

squirming when you rub at him in a way that makes his orgasm speed up.

"please, c-can i? please p-please mmh-" he's begging. holding out till you give him your permission.

what a good boy, you thought. you wanted to make him yours. and he wanted to be yours.

"cream all over doll"

and he's cumming. melting into you. no longer able to hold himself up. you help him ride it out. not pulling out. instead letting him stick close to you.

"w-want you as my...wife" he mumbles, lifting his head up. moaning when you cup his face.

kissing him with an intensity that makes his heart race.

"stop being a fucking brat" minho yells harshly. getting up to walk towards the other. hyunjin throws the book on the floor, standing up.

"you probably slept with jisung" he says. poking a finger at minho.

"Never. and you. you kept flirting with seungmin"

snapping you out of your thoughts. you take off your headphones. realising that if you hadn't at that moment, the two of them would have started to fight physically.

"go fuck yourself!" is what hyunjin shouts back, storming into another room.

maybe it was a bad idea to bring them both here. to your apartment.

"yeah ill fuck you instead" and that sends a sinful thought in your mind.

what if.

just what if. sex was the solution.

to bring them closer. to make them forget about their husbands. instead make them grow closer.

and realise.

"minho please" you ask, straddling him to keep him from running away. he refuses to look you in the eye. "hyunjin is going through a lot right now-"

"so am i. its always hyunjin this hyunjin that. what about me"

"listen to me." your tone is firm. one thing you hate is getting cut off midway while talking. and minho shuts up. because he knows.

"eat him out" in any other situation you'd be laughing at his expression. he looked like one of those bewildered kittens. his immediate response is a no. and there is a couple minutes of silence before.

"w-why?" he asks. but you don't feel like explaining. so you ask him to trust you fully on this.

when you walk into the room. hyunjin is sulking in the pillows. face completely hidden.

"aah" minho huffs out, as hyunjin bucks his hips at his teasing. tongue laving into his warm cunt.

filthy lewd sounds filling your ears. you stand behind minho. sliding your fingers into him. taking him by surprise.

"bet your husbands were never this good"

its a casual statement. but the reaction it gives you is enough. the realisation setting in. the compromising positions. the fact that they were doing this.

"the two of you are beautiful. just tainted by this horrible world"

minho whines when you take your digits out. and hyunjin starts tearing up again.

you're ready to comfort him but minho is quicker. moving away to clamber over him. holding his shaky hand.

"don't cry doll shhh" gently pushing his hair away from his face.

hyunjin is taken aback by the sudden kind gesture.

minho and him were always a bit...awkward. and there was always this lingering tension between them.

And when they found you. it had strengthened. you had made them realise they were loved. they deserved to be loved. they loved you. and you loved them. regardless of everything they were going through.

and maybe you end up fucking hyunjin in doggy style.

overstimulating his tight little pussy while he's gasping and struggling to eat out his beloved minho.

959 notes · View notes

spotsandsocks · 6 months ago

Text

A Place for You, Next to Me Chapt 1 and 2

Buck finds out that Eddie doesn’t really ‘do’ birthdays so what’s a best friend supposed to do, obviously he can’t let Eddie think he doesn't care. So he makes a plan to celebrate and it’s a good plan, it really is and is it really his fault if one little thing goes wrong with their booking.

It’s certainly not his fault that Eddie’s reaction to the unexpected problem would turn a pleasant weekend away into an agony of temptation.

A tale of pining and love and only one bed.

Fans of only one bed shenanigans - this one’s for you.🥹🌈🛏️🎂🛏️🥃🥃🥃🛏️🤯😍🌈❤️‍🔥 Chapt 1&2 today 3&4 tomorrow 💕

Now I was half way though writing this when @bobbysfirehose posted this stunning piece of art that blew my mind away (all their art is magnificent btw so go check out and shower with love) and with permission I tried to describe the pose towards at the end of the fic because it was just perfect for the situation, so you have a nice visual to go along with the words.

Eddie hadn’t expected any reaction at all, least of all the one he’s getting. Standing in his kitchen he watches Buck process the information he just casually mentioned as part of thier conversation about Chris’ next birthday.

“Are you serious?”

His best friend is standing there with his mouth hanging open, eyes wide, a puzzled frown on his brow, it’s adorable and amusing and God he loves this man so much. Eddie however is wise enough to look away and keep the sentiment out of his voice.

“Yes I’m serious, Buck. I’ve never done anything special to celebrate any of my birthdays.”

If anything that simple statement makes matters worse, Buck's mouth opens and shuts. He looks like a goldfish, apparently he’s managed to render him speechless and that’s quite an impressive feat.

Eddie takes another sip of beer to hide his smile as Buck flounders. The other man is looking horrified, “Your 15th? That’s special right?”

He shrugs. “Dad was away. We did some stuff at church, nothing big. I got a cake.”

“What about 18? Or or your 21st?”

He throws Buck a raised eyebrow, “Think about that for a second.”

A pained look crosses his friend’s face “Oh.” Then his nose crinkles “ Oh.. I don’t think I want to.”

Buck sounds upset. Eddie can just imagine what he’s thinking, how he’s comparing the life that he himself had between 16 and 21 with the one Eddie had. The tragic sympathy emanating out of sad pools of blue is a bit much though, it really wasn’t that bad. Yeah, he didn’t get a lot of time to be young but that’s ok he got other stuff instead. He ended up with the best kid in the world so he can’t really complain about missing birthday celebrations.

“You don’t have to feel sorry for me, so my life’s been a bit different than yours, but that’s ok . Still got cake, even got a balloon once.”

His joke falls flat, Buck looks devastated .

“Honestly, all completely normal, I promise, don’t freak out on me.”

He moves around him heading back to the couch and if he touches his arm on the way past, well it’s a tight space to squeeze through. Buck’s own fault really, for filling so much of it. His friend's voice follows him out of the kitchen.

“But nothing since you got old?”

Eddie turns just so Buck can appreciate the eye roll, “I'm not exactly old Buck, I’m the same age as you.”

“Are we sure about that?”

Abruptly Buck’s mood shifts and he’s teasing, humour replacing the tragic look that had been there only seconds ago.

“You do kinda look older than me. Pretty sure I spotted some gray hairs on you the other day.”

Eddie glares and throws a handy cushion without aiming. Buck catches it easily and grins, before taking another swig of beer. Eddie tries not to watch his lips or his throat too closely.

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie fic #911 abc #complete #but coming in two parts #today and tomorrow #911 fanfic #911 fanfiction #buddie fanfic #one bed trope #911 fic #911fic #love pinning idiots #the usual

153 notes · View notes

rivendell-poet · 10 months ago

Text

𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐄𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐡 « one-shot »

Pairing : Legolas X Reader

Wordcount : 2.3k

No TWs | Gender-neutral reader | Elf!reader | Read on Ao3

Summary : “I was,” You hesitated, not wanting to reveal you were slacking off, “Observing our immediate upward surroundings, to make sure a… bird, doesn’t attack us,” At the end of your speech, it honestly sounded more like a question than a statement, and Legolas let out a soft laugh accordingly.

“It is ok, I think the stars are very beautiful too,” He looked up, then back down at you, hesitating for a second, “They are pretty, meleth nîn.”

There had been a pause after he’d said that, and you made eye contact for a brief moment. He seemed to be searching for something, but you weren’t sure what. And it didn’t matter if you had a brief thought it might be a love confession (and you liked him back-) you were not misreading signs and acting on unrequited love.

- - - -

You and Legolas should really be together already, but neither of you will admit it, and neither of you will confess. Until someone does. But, as an elf, you really should know Elvish. Miscommunication/misunderstandings occur, but everything work out in the end.

You had never regretted not learning Elvish more in your life. Well, that wasn’t strictly true, you could think of a few other times it’d been worse, but this had to be up there. As an elf, people always expected you would know your mother-tongue, but you’d been brought up by humans and never learnt it for most of your life. And even when you moved to Rivendell, you still hadn’t learnt it - even though you’d been able to.

Technically you could understand a few words, those being; gresta (help), dagor (battle), baura (need, or require), mann (food), and pen-channas (stupid, or idiot). To be honest, that last word was probably the reason most elves thought you could understand Elvish, as you used it fairly frequently in your vocabulary, and it was one of the first things you’d said to Legolas.

When you had said that to him, he looked at you with these slightly hurt eyes, then realised you were joking, and said something back in elvish (fôf you were pretty sure), and you had simply rolled your eyes in response. Looking back at that moment, you really should have informed him you didn’t know Elvish, but oh well - he thought you did, and you were way too prideful to admit anything otherwise.

Besides, although Legolas (and very infrequently Aragorn) spoke to you in Elvish, whenever it was something important they’d speak in Common tongue, as to make sure the hobbits understood too.

But to the point. You were regretting never telling Legolas you didn’t speak Elvish, because he’d started talking in it to you. Quite a lot. Never full conversations, mainly just phrases sprinkled in - but you had no idea what it meant. And you desperately wanted to find out.

Afterall, at one point - you and Legolas had been on watch together, him peering into the trees that weren’t illuminated by the fire, and you leaning up against him and looking at the stars. You felt him shift slightly, and leaned back off him, realising he was looking at you.

“Sorry, should’ve… asked permission, I know.”

There was a soft spoken smile in his voice when he spoke back, “Oh, don’t worry about it. I don’t mind it at all mellon . I was simply curious as to what you were doing.”

“I was,” you hesitated, not wanting to reveal you were slacking off, “Observing our immediate upward surroundings, to make sure a… bird, doesn’t attack us.” At the end of your speech, it honestly sounded more like a question than a statement, and Legolas let out a soft laugh accordingly.

“It is ok, I think the stars are very beautiful too,” he looked up, then back down at you, hesitating for a second, “They are pretty, meleth nîn .”

That incident had been two nights ago, and things had stayed awkward between the two of you. You had tried to approach him, going out to scout together, but he’d been reserved, and excused himself. All conversation was about what had just happened, and if you all had food. The only other thing you’d gotten out of him was a quiet muttering (that you weren’t sure if you should’ve heard), “ Im crumguru”

And being the Elvish genius you were, you had zero clue what that meant. But you could tell you’d done something wrong, you’d hurt Legolas. And that thought weighed you down, made even the supposedly limitless elf energy drain from you, being replaced by guilt.

Eventually you stopped walking for the day and set up camp, but despite all your companions around you, you still felt suffocated. Glancing up, you saw Aragorn and Legolas in hushed conversation, and conversation in Elvish for that matter. As you looked closer, although trying not to seem like you were staring, you saw a hint of sadness in Legolas’s eyes, before he turned away to Aragorn, who actually sent a brief look your way.

Frodo, bless his soul, saw your discomfort and gently sat down next to you, saying nothing but sitting in companionable silence. Before eventually something broke it, it was Sam, piping up, “Is anyone available to go get firewood, I want to start cookin’ before it gets too late.”

“I will.”

The exclamation went at the same time, from both you and Legolas. But before either of you could back out, Sam clasped his hands together, smiling, “Two is better than one I suppose, be back soon.” Stretching, the two of you got up - with you not missing the look that Legolas gave Aragorn. “Just be getting firewood, mind,” Gimli calls out, right as you begin to leave.

Normally, that would’ve elicited a dark blush from you (and sometimes a lighter one from Legolas), but tonight it just made your heart ache slightly. Normally, you made a light hearted reply at him, maybe nudge Legolas a bit, but this time you stayed silent. Instead Legolas responded, “Do not worry Gimli, it will just be collecting firewood.”

If it could, your heart would’ve sunk further into your chest, and you hurried along towards some of the trees, blindly stopping to see if any broken branches were lying about. You needed to apologise to him, or tell him the truth about why you’d responded the way you did. But instead you chose the cowards way, silently gathering fallen timber for a fire.

A few times, you could feel his blue eyes on you, not invasive, and more curious if anything - but you didn’t address or turn round and face them. It had only been a few minutes, and you’d gathered much more timber than you usually would with him, when you turned around, blurting out, “I think we have enough - do you want to head back?”

Great, that wasn’t at all what you wanted to say to him. But screw apologies, you know, why have them when you can ask your c̶r̶u̶s̶h̶ - Legolas, about how much wood he’d collected. “Wait, Legolas, I meant to-”

“Yes, I think we have plenty between us,” he cut across, his voice quiet but instantly making you silent. For a second your throat hurt, and you swallowed hard, turning sharply and your heel and beginning to make your way back to Frodo and the others, clutching the bundle of logs painfully tightly.

As you hurried back, you could hear Legolas say something, but you cut him off, dropping the logs in front of everyone, “We’re back. Is this enough?” As you interrupted what small chatter had been ongoing, you saw as they looked in confusion to only you, before they saw Legolas appear a bit away, also holding quite a few logs.

Dinner was quiet, to you and Legolas at least, as you both sat alone and off to the side, only speaking to mutter a quiet thanks as soup was served around. At one point, everyone had finished eating and was settling down. The matter of who would watch went on, and you volunteered, knowing you probably wouldn't be able to sleep.

There was a brief moment of silence as people waited for Legolas to volunteer, you two always did watches or scouts together, but when he remained silent Aragorn stepped up, volunteering with a brief hand up, and an almost chiding look at Legolas.

Everyone had settled down, as much as they could at least, and began to sleep.The first thirty minutes went by silently, with Aragorn giving you concerned glances every now and then. And the guilt was awful, consuming even. Every now and then your eyes would flicker to where Legolas was sleeping, and then to your bedroll - as far away as was possible. This wasn’t right. And, you’d never admitted this before, but it wasn’t right because you loved him.

Then, just as the hour mark approached, and you could see Aragorn beginning to speak, you blurted out, “I can’t speak Elvish.”

Simply silence, and genuine surprise on Aragorn’s features. You continued, “I know, I’m an elf - I should be able to. But I just never learnt, I know about five words - and one of them I called Legolas when I first met, so I think he thinks I can speak Elvish. But I really can’t, and I need you to translate for me.”

There was a chuckle, and a slow whistle from Aragorn, “That… was not what I was expecting. But of course, what do you need me to translate? And why?”

Without you thinking, blush began to spread around your face, and when you tried to whisper it out you couldn’t. There was something intimate, in that moment in the woods, and something that you almost didn’t want to share with Aragorn. Until, “Well, first… he called me mellon , but not like the fruit, I hope… it, sounded Elvish.”

“I imagine he meant the Elvish translation too,” Aragorn smiled, “And it means friend. But you said that was the first one?” There was a more reserved element to his prying, and you were grateful for that. And you were getting mixed messages. You had thought that night was romantic, but what if it hadn't been. What if he didn’t view you the same way?

But still, friendly or not, you felt a reluctance to share the second word, and Aragorn gave an understanding, yet knowing, smile. “You don’t have to tell me by any means, but if you want a full scale on the situation, you need to ask him.”

You nodded, looking over to near where Legolas was still sleeping. “I’ll ask him tonight,” you resolved, sitting up a little straighter, and looking at the stars.

Aragorn had gotten up by this point, rolling his shoulders back, “I may wake him now, and you can talk. And if you need any Elvish translations, please ask me,” there was a sudden sense of butterflies in your stomach, and constriction in your throat, so you just nodded.

There was just a short walk to where Legolas was lying, and Aragon picked up a stick on the way. With a slight grin, he gently tapped the sleeping body of the elf. No movement. Then he tried again, no movement. But the third time a hand shot out, grabbing it before taking a blind shot, and Legolas sat up, reaching for a bow.

Scowling, he looked around the starlight then at Aragorn, “I assume I’m taking over the watch?” He asked, a little stiffly, while getting out of the simple bedroll and putting on his quiver, bow grasped loosely in his hand.

Aragorn nodded, with a slight grin, before moving slightly out of the circle to sleep, like he always did. Wordlessly, Legolas completely stood up, silently moving to the opposite side of the fire and staring into it, face lit strangely by the dancing flames.

This was simple, this would be easy. You had just told Aragorn it after all, so really there should be nothing stopping you from saying the same to him. But your throat was constricting, and you could feel the smoke sting in your eyes a little bit more.

Instead of words, a small choked sound came out of your mouth, as though you were being strangled or a dying animal. Instantly you saw Legolas look up, eyes showing concern as you tried to speak. Before hardening again, as though he could decide. Then he began to look away, when you managed to speak up.

“I can’t speak Elvish.”

There was shock in his face, you could tell. Shock and confusion, as he stared at you, mind working to absorb the information so late at night. Before a quiet, timid almost, “So you could not understand me, when I was talking to you in the forest?”

You shook your head, another almost choking sob sounded out in your throat, “I know five words, the most useful one is food.”

Something was filling his eyes, you could see. Something like relief, and possibly something more… but you couldn’t tell. And you didn’t want to make assumptions. There was a few seconds of silence between the two of you, before he stood up suddenly, and moved over to you. Not touching, but closer than you’d been in days.

“What… what did you call me? On that night,” you asked eventually, tearing your eyes away from the fire and into his.

“I- I’m not sure how you’d respond to it now,” he managed to get out stiffly, eyes not yet leaving yours.

“Legolas, the only reason I didn’t react is because I didn’t understand you, I promise. I was just uncertain about what you’d said, and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.”

Legolas stared back at you, almost warring emotions in his eyes, and almost subconsciously his hands went out, wrapping gently around yours. You could see him try to speak, when he gulped, nervous one - still looking, but with a hint of fear.

“I called you my love,” he whispered, almost as though he was afraid, “In the forest. Meleth nîn means my love, and I said it because…” At that his voice trailed off, and you grasped onto his hands to stop them slipping out from yours.

“As… as in partners?” You asked, gripping onto his hands again when you could feel them slipping away.

“Yes, meleth nîn , as in… I love you.”

(Story from Legolas' POV) Hope you enjoyed! Requests are open <3

thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ wish to be tagged?

#legolas x reader #legolas x you #legolas #legolas greenleaf #legolas x y/n #lotr x reader #lotr fanfic #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #x reader #lotr oneshot #oneshot

361 notes · View notes

avatarofthearchives · 16 days ago

Text

Sasha would have (mostly) stood by Jon throughout the series and that's why she had to die for the plot to work. In this essay I will - No but honestly, I think Sasha would have been a lot more open to the nonsense that happens at The Institute than Tim and Martin were.

She says in her statement about The Distortion that she doesn't want to quit even after Michael had dug in her shoulder for worms simply because she's "just too dammed curious." Not to mention that she spends her last moments making a tape for Jon because "I know you’ll want to know what’s been happening." Sasha has always been strongly connected to The Eye throughout the entire story, and that's why I think she would have been in agreement with Jon that they needed to push further closer to the fears so they could understand what was happening.

However, while I do think she would have mostly been on Jon's side until the end, I do think they probably would have experienced a strain on their friendship. Sasha scolds Tim in one of the tapes for recording Jon's birthday party without permission because it's an invasion of privacy. So I can't imagine that she would have loved Jon's powers, though I still think she would have been more curious about them than Basira was.

Overall, I think a Sasha that survived into later seasons would have Jon's back on the notion that they had to understand what was going on, and considering that Gertrude thought Sasha would be the best person to continue her work, I think it's a non-zero possibility that she would have been very invested in stopping the fear apocalypses as well. However that does leave me with a thought: What would Sasha's dynamic with Tim look like Season 5 if she (mostly) stuck by Jon's side and they both lived that long? It's interesting to think about what would have happened there, and TBH I really wish I could eye-power my way to having a canon answer on that.

#tma #the magnus archives #magnus archives #sasha james

66 notes · View notes

bambi-kinos · 2 months ago

Note

Do you think John was somehow abusive to Paul?

They were abusive to each other.

John's abusive actions towards Paul are well documented at this point but IMO Paul gave as good as he got which was really nasty. But it was a lot more subtle than John's actions, as par for the course.

Paul was very avoidant when it comes to John. He refused to be honest with John about their problems. It's possible, even likely, that this was done out of self preservation where Paul didn't want to pick fights with John over this stuff. He was angry about Barcelona but it's hard to imagine them having a direct confrontation over that especially with Paul's statement that he didn't like getting into arguments with John because John was more cutting than he was. There's also the anecdote about John wanting to them all to get trepanned because he was that desperate for a solution for his problems and Paul put him off with the "well, you get it done and if it works for you then we can all do it."

Which on the surface sounds kind of edgy and funny but it's not actually. Because there's no indication that Paul took John to one side and said "Hey you can't say fucked up stuff like that. That would just get us all killed, don't say stuff like that to us." Paul should have said something to John about it and he didn't. And that's the problem.

I lead with these examples because Paul's avoidant personality meant that he chose to punish John by ignoring him when he should have simply talked straight to him. Paul dragged male companions all around Europe because he wanted John to see and be jealous (and John was very jealous.) He decided to be thoughtless on doing The Family Way score alone. I suppose he's telling the truth when he says John gave him permission to do it but frankly he should have known better. It was an awful thing to do to John at the time and it was an avoidable error. Paul knew better and he already had individual projects going to fulfill him artistically.

When looking at what John says about Yoko, everything is about physical contact and emotional stability. Based off what we know of Paul and these grievances with John feeling unappreciated and condescended to, it's not hard to see what happened. Paul got a big head on Sgt. Pepper, he traipsed around France with other men just to set John off, he disrespected their musical partnership by taking The Family Way job and tried to smooth it over by giving John half the proceeds. Then there's the bullshittery with the shares and Northern Songs which is hard to understand but the fact that Paul bought so many lead John to believe that Paul was threatening Julian's inheritance. Instead of being honest with John and trusting their friendship to take the heat, Paul instead ignored and disrespected him and John couldn't trust him anymore.

While John's behavior in the 1970s was unreasonable I also think it came from a real place of genuine anger. John had a lot of choice things to say about Paul in Lennon Remembers and while he did recant that interview later, I also think that those were his real unvarnished feelings about Paul at the time. You can read Part One here if you want: https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/lennon-remembers-part-one-186693/

And Part Two is here: https://web.archive.org/web/20130203102338/http:/www.rollingstone.com/music/news/lennon-remembers-part-two-19710204

Paul was high handed, played games with John, pushed him around. No matter what state John was in during Lennon Remembers I think that there is a lot of truth in those interviews in the sense that he venting. Paul decided to leverage the other Beatles because he was scared of what would happen after Brian died and that set in motion the course of events that culminated in the break up. Paul was a bully and he was dismissive. He took John for granted. The fact that Paul refused to be honest with John is what drives me insane and then couple that with Paul's pattern of withholding affection and love unless an emergency happens? It's a nightmare. Someone like Paul has control issues, can't express himself, and is willing to step on even the people he loves because he thinks he's making a point or he thinks he has a better idea. That sort of person is perilous to a romantic soul like John Lennon. Paul treated John terribly.

Is that on the same scale of abuse as John? No. John did stuff like the attempt at a group trepanning and John ran around on Paul with Cynthia and then Brian. (And the Brian affair is definitely the one that hurt Paul more.) John leveraged Yoko into coming into the recording studio with him because he wanted to get back at Paul and the other Beatles. John decided to announce he was leaving the Beatles because he wanted to surprise everyone at the last meeting with Allen Klein and he needed a way to do it. John was a massive fucking jerk.

But I really do believe that they mutually abused each other. They neglected each other, they took each other for granted, they cheated on each other, they never took an opportunity to nail down what they were and what they were doing. The worst part is that they refused to be honest with one another. It's not just about saying "I love you," it's that they didn't trust each other enough to go "that thing you said was messed up" or even "don't do that." They kept playing these vapid, mind numbing mind games which eventually lead to them no longer knowing what they were to each other, and instead of trusting each other enough to ask, they decided to hurt each other instead.

And I can see the driving force for Paul: he never gave up on the idea of having a wife and children. He wanted children of his own and he didn't trust John to deliver whatever future Paul wanted from him. So he allowed their relationship to go fallow, he allowed himself to neglect John, he dangled the possibility of him sleeping with other men in front of John. All of it was spiteful IMO, all of it was to get back at John for the slights John had delivered. John was "going through murder" and Paul didn't notice or he tried to treat John's depression with additional work. John was bitter about it for years because he felt like he was drowning and Paul didn't try to help him, from his POV. And it's probable that Paul couldn't have done anything but just telling John "you're important to me" every day could have made a difference. John was right to feel neglected and I'm still aghast that Paul turned away from him. No wonder John slipped into heroin.

That IMO is real abuse. It would be easy to reduce John's issues in 1968 onwards to heroin but the truth is I think he collapsed in on himself after Paul had been neglecting him for years. And then he topped it all off with dating Linda right in front of John in New York City, holy crap. We can't know how clearly Paul was thinking on that trip considering how stoned he looks in all the photos and video but it wasn't a mistake that he brought Linda into the limo. I just...god. The sheer disrespect of pulling a move like that, it's nuts.

All of it could have been avoided if Paul had simply been honest with John. Maybe it would have resulted in their friendship ending and the band breaking up! But that ended up happening anyway and they had to start rebuilding their friendship later.

The important part IMO is that John was definitely not the only abusive party in this relationship. Paul gave as good as he got.

#mclennon #paul mccartney #john lennon #anonymous asks #talktalktalk #beatles meta #my meta

77 notes · View notes

rippedlovelines · 11 months ago

Text

the merits of the twinyards learning to show their love for each other in slow stilted actions r a lot. for me. to me. little things. aaron buying andrew his favorite sweets because he remembers his picky eating tendencies; andrew throwing a blanket over aaron passed out in the living room after pulling an all-nighter. opening up more during their sessions w bee, angry accusations n cold statements melting into talking abt hurts n what shaped them growing up which becomes even conversation n learning abt each other more ( to bee’s not so small delight.)

the glares n perpetual scowls aaron once wore in andrew presence turn into smth more knowing n relaxed. he thinks one day he’ll be able to forgive andrew for tilda’s death; knowing the reasons behind it now, how andrew did it for his sake. (when he tells andrew that he thought he was going to die, during the days he was locked in that bathroom, his voice is raw. andrew’s face shutters. then, he says in what is possibly the closest thing to regret aaron has ever heard from andrew, “If I could make what you experienced during that time less painful, I would.” n really what’s done is done n there’s no going back, but aaron needed some sort of closure, smth, anything ! so he turns away n tries not to shake from all the emotions of what he’s feeling. andrew sits there n waits for him to return to normal.) andrew begins to make eye contact w aaron, he stops looking thru him—choosing to acknowledge his existence, instead. he sees how aaron is making an effort, clumsily attempting to prove that he isn’t letting andrew go, in spite of everything. (“ I’m not going anywhere. I hate you, but I’m still not going anywhere.” aaron says defiantly during one session where andrew said smth abt aaron going on his merry way after graduation. it shocks andrew. he stills suddenly n it’s v hard for him to look away from aaron’s blazing eyes. “Do what you like.” andrew replies stiffly. it’s acceptance n permission wrapped up in one.)

they learn how to mend the fragments of their broken past so they can both move forward. aaron releasing his resentment of andrew slowly but surely. andrew allowing himself to think of aaron as more than someone who will disappear one day, someone permanent in his life. they talk to each other !!! they meet up to do things—in complete silence sometimes, with small comments here n there in other times. after graduation, andrew goes to play on the east coast while aaron does med school elsewhere. it’s a big change. it’s difficult, often times. aaron will look next to himself with words on the tip of his tongue, then realize andrew is not around. andrew will look behind him as he traverses the streets of nyc, hand outstretched as tho to hold onto smth, a shirt perhaps, forgetting that aaron is not there.

But!!!

the two of them call each other once a year,month, week— the occurrences gradually becoming more n more frequent. 3 years pass by. andrew is in town for a game. afterwards, he meets up w aaron for a drink. it’s quiet. not uncomfortable. they take each other in n note how separation n time away has made the other different. aaron is in a good mood , hair shaved close down, face full, n nothing like the raggedy n hollowed boy andrew met years ago. aaron in turn observes how andrew’s eyes r half-lidded w smth one would call happiness if it were anyone else, but it’s js content for andrew; his arms tattooed beneath his armbands, n a looseness to his shoulders that aaron could not have ever believed andrew to posses once upon a time. after some small talk n a small congratulations from aaron for andrew’s team win, andrew slips a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket n shoves it at aaron, face blank. it’s a new team contract. it’s in the same city as aaron’s med school :) aaron decidedly does not smile, but sources say his lips quirked up a bit. they order cheesecake. everything is fine. they r brothers. they walk out together.

#is it obvious how mentally ill they make me ……..#the twinyards reconciling properly is smth so special n dear to me #i love them ur honor 🫶#andrew will deny taking the offer bcs it happened to be close to aaron but neil knows better lol.#katelyn cheering on aaron from the side n she’ll eventually have her own confrontation w andrew abt aaron n stuff n they make it work n #andrew gets used to her !!!!#he doesn’t apologize bcs that isn’t smth he would do but they move forward !#on aaron’s part neil becomes less annoying haha #twinyards #andrew minyard #aaron minyard #aftg #they keep contact w nicky too 🫶#musing

301 notes · View notes

7waystreet · 10 months ago

Text

legacies | ch.8

synopsis — a fiery (y/n) newly enters a university campus dominated by the three trust fund brats. she’s not going to take their shit and they’re not going to let her off so easily either. will this rivalry evolve into friendship, lust or love?

genre — college, angst, friendship, love, slow burn

disclaimer — 18+ strong language & sexual content

chapter index:

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | coming soon

ch.8

"You both probably have no idea why I've called you in here this evening."

Well...

You do have a strong suspicion, especially knowing who's sitting next to you in that moment, this situation only likely sparking up as a result of your secret dealings outside the campus grounds this past week. But you just sit there quietly not voicing any opinions, letting professor Jung navigate the conversation instead, which is taking place in his small office at the back of the dance studio. Jimin, however, who's sitting upright in the chair adjacent to you, seems completely clueless and even slightly worried based on his tense demeanor, his widened eyes cautiously inspecting the dance teacher with bated breath.

"I received a call from Mr. Park this afternoon..." professor Jung continues explaining, a conspicuous smile now gleaming on his face. "... And he's given his permission to let Jimin participate in the annual intercollegiate dance competition!"

"Wait... WHAT?! NO WAY!" Jimin promptly yelps as he jerks up in his chair, his palm slapping up to his mouth in utter shock before a happy chuckle trots out of him. "How did you even convince my dad, professor Jung?!"

"I didn't have to do any convincing. The decision came straight from him" the dance teacher beams brilliantly with his dimples, his attention now gradually shifting from Jimin to you.

It's right then when Jimin seems to realize you're also present in the room, the expressions on his overjoyed face swiftly deviating from happiness back to puzzlement. "So why is she here?" he points at you with a fluster, indeed a valid question on his part, but you still endure the burning silence, not wanting to reveal too much about anything.

"Mr. Park's agreed to let Jimin participate only if his grades remain unaffected. And he specifically requested for you, (y/n), to help Jimin with his studies. I apologize... I do understand this is a lot to ask from you" professor Jung speaks directly to you this time, a remorseful undertone laced with a plea in his inquiring voice.

He has nothing to be sorry for though as you're the one who'd brought this upon yourself, your fortuitous conversation with Mr. Park still freshly etched in your mind. The prominent man had already grown a liking towards you during your first week at the part-time job, surprisingly developing a respect for you and your ideas while you worked closely together with his secretary. It was just yesterday when you'd kindly asked him if you could leave the office an hour early to study for an upcoming exam, explaining in detail how your late night dance team practices were cutting into your time for school work, pressuring you into making some adjustments to your schedule.

"Of course you can take off early, (y/n). Exams come first! If only my son gave the same level of importance to his education" Mr. Park had hung his head with shaken disappointment, only to look up at you in a glimmer when you'd challenged him to view things a bit differently.

"If you don't mind, Sir... I don't think you give Jimin enough credit for his accomplishments."

"And what accomplishments would these be?" Mr. Park had posed, not offended by your brash statement at all, instead appearing attentive to hear your praise for his son, who he clearly thought was a failure for not following in his own business-minded footsteps.

"It's because of Jimin's impressive ability to dance that our university's won the intercollegiate competition 3 years in a row, a milestone no one's ever achieved in the past. Isn't that what every parent wants in their child? For them to actually be passionate about something and excel at it? You might not approve of Jimin's love for dance, but that doesn't make him any less amazing at it. He's the best at what he does... There's nobody better than him."

"But how far can he even get in life with dance? It all sounds exciting at your age, but the real world doesn't work that way. I thought a smart girl like you would surely have understood this."

"Sir, have you considered how much further Jimin will be able to go if you just once show him a hint of support for his passion? It will mean a lot to him coming from his father. At least give him a chance to try achieving his dreams."

Mr. Park had placed his hand on his chin, frivolously rubbing it as he took a while to think, finally meeting your eyes with shocking humility. "Can you ensure Jimin's doing well in his classes if I allow him to dance?" Mr. Park had suddenly sprung the unexpected assignment.

"It's not a lot to ask, professor Jung. I can help Jimin with his studies if that means he can be on the team" you respond similarly to the request in present time, the dance teacher's face muscles instantly relaxing at the sound of your willingness.

"Why the hell would dad put her up to this when he knows we're not even in the same classes, let alone in the same school year? I mean, she's two years younger than me! This doesn't make any sense at all."

"But I'm not complaining, am I? Why are you getting so worked up over it?"

"Because it's unfair to you. You're already busy with your own school work, the dance team practices at night, and you're also interning at my dad's company..." Jimin's voice trails off as if he's hitting an unanticipated realization, his shimmering eyes now sharply turning in your direction to search your face for the truth.

"I told you I can handle it. Would that be all then, professor Jung?" you sternly stand up to leave, not granting Jimin the time to even open his mouth in retaliation, or worse, precisely question you about your involvement in the matter, which he's seemingly recognizing by the minute.

"Yes. I just want to thank you again for committing your time to this, (y/n). We really need Jimin on our team to ensure that win, and now our chances of bringing home the trophy are looking solid. If you ever need assistance with anything, I'm always happy to help. And so will your other professors, I'm sure."

Flashing a faint smile at the elated teacher and totally ignoring Jimin, you hastily exit the office and pace across the dance studio two steps at a time, forcing the metal doors open with all your strength, then deciding to take the longer route back to your dormitory instead of the usual shortcut. However, Jimin eventually catches up to you by the end of the hallway in a breathless sprint. "(y/n)! Hey, stop! WAIT!"

"I really have to get to the library, Jimin. I need to study for—"

But the way Jimin swoops up in front of you compels you to stop short in your rambling sentences, your body banging into his chest from his sudden presence up ahead. It's quite apparent you're hiding something by how your eyes fail to meet his penetrative ones, all while he refuses to move out of your way, your faces just inches from one another in the lonely hallway.

"How did you convince my dad? I know you must've said something to him at work... Why would you do that for me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about..."

You certainly feel cornered as Jimin coarsely sighs with a hint of agitation while you fidget with your feet in an awkward silence, but you figure you've got no choice now but to delve into the discussion the way he's standing his ground with arms crossed across his chest, successfully trapping you with no way to back out of this instance.

"I just had a brief conversation with Mr. Park about your passion for dance and how he should try giving you a chance to pursue this career—"

"But how are you okay with the way he's basically forcing you to be my tutor in exchange for that? It's so not fair to you! You barely know him and what a manipulative bastard he can be. You shouldn't have accepted the deal and you still have time to change your mind. Why are you even doing this for me?"

"I'm doing this for you the same reason you're pissed at him for doing this to me" you blurt out, instantly wishing you'd thought a little before coming up with this response but it's too late, now covertly hoping Jimin catches on by putting some thought into your words.

"I don't understand..."

You're not even sure why you're feeling embarrassed at the thought of having to explicitly say it out loud, a tinge of pink blossoming your cheeks as you nervously lock eyes with Jimin's twinkling ones. Why do you have to spell it all out for him? How can boys be so emotionally incompetent sometimes?

"The Jimin I met when I started school wouldn't have felt angry for any inconveniences I'd have to experience for him. So let me ask you this — Why do you feel pissed that I have to pile on more work in exchange for you getting back on the dance team? The one thing you so desperately wanted over everything? It's a win-win for you. The trophy and a tutor. So why are you even bothered?"

Jimin's clearly lost in thought now, his wavering eyes searching the wall behind you as if the answers are somehow painted on there. The way his cheeks kick up in a red heat all of a sudden makes your heart skip a beat, an indication that he's coming close to working out his feelings for you by detangling the web of questions you'd so distinctly spun on him.

"Because it's unfair. And well... because I guess I care about you" his plump rosy lips press together, his entire body tensing up as he's unknowingly holding his breath.

"I guess I care about you too."

Despite the palpable embarrassment in the lone night's silence, your smiling eyes meet one another for a fleeting second of shared acknowledgement before you begin making your way back to your dormitory weaving the winding corridors. The truth was that through this tumultuous time being at the university, you'd both somewhere, deep down, grown to care about each other. Something had subconsciously changed between you both after you'd spent those vulnerable moments holding hands at the basketball court late that night, battling your personal failures together in quiet company.

The way you'd leaped up to defend Jimin in front of his father, and the way Jimin had felt angered by the unfair way you'd been treated spoke volumes about how you'd evolved in your relationship for the better, even before you both could come to your senses about these harboring feelings.

Tap.

The rustle of a crumpled up sheet of paper landing on your desk catches your attention as you're packing up your bag after your music theory class's dismissal. Upon scanning your eyes across the emptying lecture hall for the source of the mischief, you notice Jungkook leaning against the back wall intently observing you. He playfully points at the ball of paper as if urging you to take a look at it, so you roll your eyes and turn around to open it and sneak a peek.

"My birthday party's this weekend. Invite only."

"I see..." you briefly skim through the flyer which lists out the date, time and outfit expectations, amongst some other event related details.

"Am I allowed to come near you? Or is the invisible restraining order still in action?" Jungkook jokes in an attempt to gage your mood, carefully throwing no direct insults your way, which doesn't go unnoticed and makes you smile to yourself.

"The invite doesn't mention the location. Where are you hosting it?" you quickly hide your smile and turn around to face Jungkook again, giving him permission to come closer with a wave of your hand.

"Have you ever even gone to a college party, (y/n)? We're underaged so I'm not gonna go sharing the address on a flyer in case we get busted" Jungkook laughs, clearly happy you're allowing this conversation to happen in the first place, the pep in his step apparent as he makes his way over to your desk. "It's at Taehyung hyung and Jimin hyung's suite in the upperclassmen boys tower."

"Oh..."

Jungkook observes the sudden frown weighing down your lips, the boy astonishing you with his newfound attentiveness next. "Still fighting with Taehyung hyung?"

"I haven't spoken to him since I went off on him about his evil ways. How's he doing?" you steal the chance to check up on Taehyung.

Despite his cruel betrayal, Taehyung hadn't left your mind since you last saw him, the confrontation you'd planned in your dormitory replaying over and over again in your head at odd times, much to your dislike. Even if Taehyung seemingly hadn't given a fuck about you and had pretended to be your friend, you did care for him that entire time and still missed having that naive version of him around, as much as you hated to admit it. It was just going to be very difficult to trust him again if the opportunity to become real friends ever popped up in the future.

"Oh, he's not really been himself, that's for sure. He's begun acting the way he did after his dad died, withdrawn mostly. What did you even say to him? Jimin hyung and I've been getting a bit concerned. Maybe you could try talking to him? I don't know, he always seemed cheerful around you."

"He was pretending to be cheerful around me, Jeon. That was the whole point of his plan.. to fool me into believing we were friends. I don't even know what he's really like, now that I think about it."

"I know, but he's been scary lately. He clearly needs some type of intervention so I just thought maybe he'd be willing to speak with you. I don't think he feels like opening up to Jimin hyung or me about whatever this is."

"I guess I can try meeting him this week. Thanks for letting me know and for the suggestion... By the way, are you sure you're the same Jeon Jungkook I met on my first day here? Helping me and shit? It's like I don't even know who you are anymore" you fondly chuckle at Jungkook's intuitive side shining through. It was refreshing to have a normal conversation with him, almost therapeutic, as you felt some kind of weight lifted off of your mind about the confrontation with Taehyung.

"I'm full of surprises" Jungkook smirks as you smile in return and begin walking by his side out of the classroom, the sun beaming brightly in the courtyard reflecting both of your matching happy moods. "So you coming to my party?"

"I guess I'll stop by for a bit!"

"Awesome. Also, my real birthday's the day after tomorrow, we're only celebrating it on the weekend. So I'll be expecting two presents from you" Jungkook smartly giggles, your brows immediately raising up in question.

"What do you even gift a rich brat like you who pretty much has everything in the world? Any requests that a commoner like myself can afford?"

Jungkook suddenly stops in his steps after hearing your comment and turns to face you directly, his big bambi eyes gazing deeply in yours, a hint of sorrow lingering in his cast as he mentions "Your friendship. That's all."

He waves goodbye with a sweet smile that travels up to his pretty eyes, slowly turning around and walking away from you as you remain painfully rooted to your spot. You can't help but accept Jungkook has finally begun growing on you, his sincere comment unknowingly touching your heart and leaving you wanting more.

You'd left Taehyung a couple of texts and even called him a few times, all to be ignored by him for over an entire day. It was close to 10pm the day after speaking with Jungkook about Taehyung's wellbeing, the usual time you'd start heading down to the dance studio for competition practice. But your mind's stuck on Taehyung with an uncomfortable buildup of worry, unable to stray away and focus on anything else.

With the brimming anxiousness you're feeling in your chest, you hurriedly decide to walk over to Taehyung's suite to check whether he's okay, if he's even there, before navigating your way down to the dance studio. Call it intuition or a gut feeling, but the moment you knock on his door and watch it swing open, a wave of gratitude hits you like a truck knowing you did the right thing by resolving to visit him.

"Oh... what are you- you doing he- here?"

The sight breaks your heart into a million pieces. Taehyung appears thoroughly disheveled, unlike you could've ever imagined — his unkempt hair sticking out in random places, his usual pouty lips cracked and colorless, the bags under his eyes alarming. His entire face scrunches up when the bright corridor lights swim into the pitch black apartment behind him. He's in a set of pajamas but it doesn't even look like he got ready or left his place at all today. He's clearly sloshed from the lingering stench of whiskey on his breath and from the way he'd slurred his words upon your arrival.

"I texted and called you many times since yesterday but you hadn't replied, so I came to see if you were okay."

"Oh, I'm splendid" Taehyung sloppily smiles with his eyes closed, his tongue clearly heavy and his speech impaired, his tall figure swaying to the side before he presses his forehead against the door.

Without even asking for permission, you walk straight inside with a surge of concern ripping up your chest, Taehyung not really noticing you anyways until you hold him by the shoulders and kick the door shut. Gently guiding him over to the couch and sitting him down while he incoherently grunts, you quietly get a glass of water from the kitchen behind him and turn on a dim stove light for more visibility, also to not directly irritate Taehyung's eyes. He huffs like a child when you hold the glass of water to his mouth but reluctantly gulps it down, eyes still closed and neck now resting back on the sofa as you place the empty glass on a table nearby.

Gonna miss practice. Taehyung's not doing well. I'm with him at your place. Don't worry but come straight back when you're finished at the studio.

You quickly shoot Jimin a text to inform him of your absence, and thank God for how you and Jimin are on good terms so you don't have to deal with his wrath for skipping practice. You now focus your attention back to Taehyung who's begun randomly humming, clearly way too drunk, and you suspect probably high as well based on the light waft of weed drifting through the apartment.

Scooting closer to Taehyung on the couch, you carefully lift up his heavy, lifeless arm and curl it around your shoulder, tightly wrapping both of your arms around his torso after and lightly resting your head on his chest. The overwhelming feeling of sadness seeing your once closest friend here in this condition, mixed with a pang of guilt for never checking up on him after your fight, edges you to the brink of tears, the only thing your heart wanting to do in that moment being holding him close, letting him know he's not alone.

A minute goes by, silent tears flowing down your cheeks and wetting his soft white shirt when Taehyung's motionless arm around your shoulder finally grips you and pulls you in even closer, his cheek resting on the top of your head, his lips pressed on your hair. You feel his entire body vibrating as he begins sobbing, and all you can do then is continue embracing him tightly, allowing him to get it all out, and be there for him to share his pain in those passing moments.

It feels like an hour's gone by but both you and Taehyung just sit there on the couch hugging each other, both quietly crying for different reasons with no words spoken, but certainly lessening each other's burdens. You end up pulling yourself together much before he does, but you don't move an inch until he's gradually calmed himself down, only choosing to tilt your head back a little and look up at his face once his breathing stabilizes as close to normal as you could've guessed.

"Have you eaten anything today? Want me to order jjajangmyeon for us from your favorite spot?"

"Yeah, that'd be great" Taehyung croaks, eyes still closed while pulling in a sniffle to clear his sinuses.

A burst of energy recharges you seeing Taehyung respond positively to your proposal, a relief now that his speech sounds more coherent, although you've never seen him appear so exhausted. With him accepting the idea to eat a filling meal, you're sure he'll feel a lot better after, and with that, you slowly let yourself out of the embrace and grab your phone, quickly placing 3 jjajangmyeon orders through the app, an extra one for Jimin when he returns back from dance practice.

After another couple of glasses of water, Taehyung seems much more awake, his eyes ultimately opening up and taking in your full sight for the first time since you'd arrived. You greet him with a small smile but he just blankly stares at you, his eyes empty and void of the charm they so usually radiantly carry, his gaze lowering down to the carpet as he questions "What made you come here tonight?"

"Oh, I mentioned earlier how I'd left you texts and calls but you hadn't replied for a day, so I just got worried. It's unlike you to not even respond."

"I think my phone ran out of battery so I probably didn't even get half the things you sent."

After asking Taehyung if he remembers where he left his phone and quickly locating it by the tub in the restroom, you put it on charge, crack a window open for some fresh cool night air, and settle down on the couch again. At once when you're back sitting next to him, Taehyung instantly tumbles out "Why did you even worry for me? I thought you hated me."

"I don't hate you. And we don't have to talk about this right now. Let's just get you better first—"

"No. I need to know."

You can't help but sigh, your lips shaking a bit by the way Taehyung's somber eyes meet yours and helplessly wait for a reply, urging you to share your concise yet truthful feelings.

"You were always my friend, Taehyung. I never stopped caring for you. Even if you didn't feel the same things for me."

Taehyung's downturned lips quiver uncontrollably at those words, his swollen nose pulling in another sniffle before he mumbles out "I'm sorry", struggling to hold himself back from another sob.

"I know you're sorry. I don't hold any grudges against you. We'll be fine with time" you reassure him with a comforting tone of voice, placing your hand on top of his and giving it a squeeze. He presses his lips together to stop them from quivering and nods in acknowledgment, resting his head back on the sofa without letting go of your hand.

A few more soundless minutes pass you by, the only noise breaking it being Taehyung's stomach rumbling with hunger here and there. You know for a fact you're not leaving him alone until Jimin comes back, but at the same time your mind's zooming with ideas on how you can help Taehyung pull himself out of this dangerous slope he's heading towards, until a seemingly considerate idea pops up in your head and you decide to voice it.

"How'd you feel if we went to a support group meeting for grief and dealing with the loss of a loved one? We'll go together. I want you to get better, Taehyung. I'm not going to allow you to fall even harder using alcohol and drugs. I know you're better than this."

Taehyung doesn't move or say anything in response, but you're sure he's heard you, so you give him some time to process what you'd just suggested. A knock on the door breaks the silence, temporarily divulging your attention to the visitor. A quick glance at the time and you know it couldn't have been Jimin, the practice usually running longer than this, but a soothing feeling relaxes your mind when you accept the food delivery at the door and begin unpacking the containers on the kitchen counter.

What you're unaware of is how Taehyung's dull eyes are only set on you ever since you'd gotten up from the couch, admiringly following you around and gratefully observing the way you're going out of your way to take care of him, even after everything he'd put you through, only a few hushed words despairingly escaping his mouth once you bring the jjajangmyeon over to him with a smile.

"I'll go with you. Thank you for saving me tonight, (y/n)."

199 notes · View notes

makeila04 · 4 months ago

Text

Some aspects I noticed in Call of Duty: Black Ops 6 Zombies mode about Russell Adler & funny things

His relationship with pleasure Adler isn’t someone who simply “enjoys” something; he experiences it intensely. He doesn’t do anything halfway. He likes control, but also power over others’ sensations. He hides what he truly feels, but when something shakes him, his reaction is almost visceral. He’s methodical, but when something consumes him, he can lose himself in it. We can talk about a “hidden hedonism.” I mean, Adler isn’t just a rough and cold man. Quite the opposite. He’s someone who feels deeply but constantly represses it because he doesn’t want others to see him as vulnerable. That’s why, when he lets go, his intensity is stronger than normal. The way he enjoys sensory things in an almost exaggerated way… all of this reveals that he experiences pleasure more deeply than he admits. We can already see a mix of masculine ego, a need for validation, and a primal side he tries to control.

The fixation on capitalism as sensual pleasure

"The sweet, sweet aroma of capitalism…"

"You put in money, spit out firepower, and that’s the American way." Here, money and power intertwine with physical pleasure. Adler literally enjoys capitalism as if it were a sensory experience… and the way he says it makes it sound almost like a fetish. Freudian conclusion: Adler finds in capitalism a source of satisfaction that borders on the erotic. A substitute for another kind of gratification? Possibly.

3.Dominance and control over others

"Did I give you permission to look at me?"

"You and I have work to do" (when turning a zombie into an ally, i.e., subjecting it to his will).

"Do you mind if I call you Tinker Bell?" (A condescending reference to Bell). Here, we see his need for absolute control. The way he says, "Did I give you permission to look at me?" isn’t just a dismissive phrase but a statement of hierarchy and dominance. Freudian conclusion: Adler has a clear tendency to enjoy control over others. This aligns with his ENTJ profile as a natural leader but also with certain dominance traits that could apply in more… intimate areas.

4. Relationship with rage and aggression

"Rage will only take you so far, and I should know."

"Carnage is my middle name."

"It was you or me, and I’ve already decided." The way he talks about rage, violence, and survival suggests that he sees aggression as a fundamental part of his identity. This is very interesting because in Cold War, we’re already shown that Adler represses a lot and uses anger as fuel. Freudian conclusion: Adler doesn’t just see violence as a means but as part of his psychological structure. Possible war trauma + emotional repression + ENTJ with a need for control = aggression channeled into his identity.

5.The strange pleasure in the physical/sensory

"Mmmh… tastes like broth."

"I think it even strengthened my hair."

"Ah, that’s a good kick." Some lines have an exaggerated tone of physical enjoyment. He gets overly excited about the side effects of things, as if everything he experiences with his body gives him pleasure beyond the norm. Freudian conclusion: There’s a subtext that Adler experiences pleasure more intensely than he’d admit, which could reveal that deep down, he has a hedonistic side hidden behind his tough-guy facade.

6. What would this mean in private? When Adler is in a situation of real intimacy, the subtext is clear: His coldness breaks, but not completely. He’s still calculating, still analyzing, but there are moments when his self-control shatters entirely. He’s not used to being with someone who disarms him. He’s used to having power, but when something or someone touches him in the right way, that power turns into pure intensity. He doesn’t admit what he feels, but his body betrays him. He wouldn’t say, "I need you," but his gaze, his breathing, the tension in his jaw—all of that would give him away. In summary: Adler enjoys, but he doesn’t want to admit how much he enjoys. And when he does, it’s with a level of intensity that’s almost dangerous.

In conclusion: Adler’s lines in Zombies are 100% him, but they also reveal some nuances that could be analyzed from a Freudian perspective: ✅ Overcompensation with big guns → Latent insecurity about his virility. ✅ Fascination with capitalism and power → Almost sensual pleasure in dominance and accumulation. ✅ Need for absolute control → Enjoyment of leadership and domination. ✅ Violence as identity → Channeling of trauma and repressed aggression. ✅ Exaggerated physical pleasure → Possible hidden hedonism. So yes, Adler has a lot of interesting subtexts behind his lines, and some of them can be read in hilariously Freudian ways.

Or is it just that for him, there’s never enough testosterone to spare, and he always feels he needs to be more masculine? Ultimately, Adler’s lines in Zombies mode that reference “testosterone” shouldn’t be taken literally but as a manifestation of his deeper insecurities about his masculine identity. Adler isn’t just trying to demonstrate physical power; he’s also dealing with his constant need to be more than he feels he is. His concern with being “masculine enough” reflects the tensions of a man living under the pressure of meeting extremely high expectations, both from himself and others. It’s important to consider that, while Adler is 54, insecurities related to body image and masculinity don’t disappear with age; in fact, in many cases, they tend to intensify as men grow older and feel the need to reaffirm their virility in more intense ways. The mix of arrogance, insecurity, and need for validation in his comments is nothing more than a reflection of these internal tensions, and it’s in his relationships with others, like younger and less experienced characters, that these insecurities become more evident and, at times, more amusing.

Algunos aspectos que noté en el modo zombies de call of duty black ops 6 sobre Russell Adler

1. Su relación con el placer

Adler no es alguien que simplemente “disfruta” algo, él lo experimenta con intensidad. No hace nada a medias.

Le gusta el control, pero también el poder sobre las sensaciones ajenas.

Oculta lo que realmente siente, pero cuando algo lo sacude, su reacción es casi visceral.

Es metódico, pero cuando algo lo consume, puede perderse en ello.

Podemos hablar de un “hedonismo oculto”, me refiero a que Adler no es simplemente un hombre rudo y frío. Todo lo contrario. Es alguien que siente demasiado, pero lo reprime constantemente porque no quiere que los demás lo vean vulnerable.

Por eso, cuando se deja llevar, su intensidad es más fuerte de lo normal.

La forma en que disfruta cosas sensoriales de una manera casi exagerada... todo eso revela que experimenta el placer de manera más profunda de lo que admite.

Ya podemos ver una mezcla de ego masculino, necesidad de validación y un lado primitivo que intenta controlar.

2. La fijación con el capitalismo como placer sensual

"El dulce, dulce aroma del capitalismo..."

"Metes dinero, escupes potencia de fuego y ese es el estilo estadounidense."

Aquí, el dinero y el poder se entrelazan con el placer físico. Adler literalmente disfruta el capitalismo como si fuera una experiencia sensorial... y la forma en que lo dice lo hace sonar casi como un fetiche.

Conclusión freudiana: Adler encuentra en el capitalismo una fuente de satisfacción que roza lo erótico. ¿Sustituto de otra clase de gratificación? Posiblemente.

3. Dominancia y control sobre los demás

"¿Acaso te di permiso para mirarme?"

"Tu y yo tenemos trabajo que hacer" (al convertir un zombie en aliado, o sea, someterlo a su voluntad).

"¿Te molesta que te llame Campanita?" (Referencia a Bell, casi condescendiente).

Aquí se ve su necesidad de control absoluto. La forma en que dice "¿acaso te di permiso para mirarme?" no es solo una frase de desprecio, sino una declaración de jerarquía y dominio.

Conclusión freudiana: Adler tiene una clara tendencia a disfrutar el control sobre los demás. Esto se alinea con su perfil ENTJ de líder nato, pero también con ciertos rasgos de dominancia que podrían aplicarse en más... ámbitos.

4. Relación con la rabia y la agresión

"La rabia solo te ayudará hasta cierto punto, si lo sabré yo."

"Masacre es mi segundo nombre."

"Eras tú o yo, y ya decidí."

La manera en que habla de la rabia, la violencia y la supervivencia sugiere que ve la agresión como una parte fundamental de su identidad. Esto es muy interesante porque en Cold War ya nos muestran que Adler reprime mucho y usa la ira como combustible.

Conclusión freudiana: Adler no solo ve la violencia como un medio, sino como una parte de su estructura psicológica. Posible trauma de guerra + represión emocional + ENTJ con necesidad de control = agresión canalizada en su identidad.

5. El placer extraño por lo físico/sensorial

"Mmmh... sabe a caldo."

"Creo que hasta me fortaleció el cabello."

"Ah, qué buena patada esa."

Algunas frases tienen un tono de disfrute físico exagerado. Se emociona demasiado con los efectos secundarios de las cosas, como si todo lo que experimenta con su cuerpo le diera un placer más allá de lo normal.

Conclusión freudiana: Hay un subtexto de que Adler experimenta el placer de manera más intensa de lo que admitiría, lo que podría revelar que en el fondo tiene un lado hedonista que oculta tras su fachada de tipo rudo.

6. ¿Qué significaría eso en privado?

Cuando Adler está en una situación de intimidad real, el subtexto es claro:

Su frialdad se rompe, pero no del todo. Sigue siendo calculador, sigue analizando, pero hay momentos en los que su autocontrol se fractura por completo.

No está acostumbrado a estar con alguien que lo desarme. Está acostumbrado a tener el poder, pero cuando algo o alguien lo toca de la manera correcta, ese poder se convierte en intensidad pura.

No admite lo que siente, pero su cuerpo lo traiciona. No diría "te necesito", pero su mirada, su forma de respirar, la tensión en su mandíbula—todo eso lo delataría.

En resumen: Adler disfruta, pero no quiere admitir cuánto disfruta. Y cuando lo hace, lo hace con un nivel de intensidad casi peligrosa.

En resumen:

Las frases de Adler en Zombies son 100% él, pero también revelan algunos matices que podrían analizarse desde un punto de vista freudiano: ✅ Sobrecompensación con armas grandes → Inseguridad latente sobre su virilidad.✅ Fascinación con el capitalismo y el poder → Placer casi sensual por el dominio y la acumulación.✅ Necesidad de control absoluto → Disfrute del liderazgo y la dominación.✅ Violencia como identidad → Canalización de traumas y agresión reprimida.✅ Placer físico exagerado → Posible hedonismo oculto.

Así que sí, Adler tiene un montón de subtextos interesantes detrás de sus frases, y algunas de ellas pueden leerse de maneras divertidísimamente freudianas.

¿O solo que para él nunca es suficiente testosterona que derrocha y siempre siente que debe ser más masculino?

En última instancia, las frases de Adler en el modo zombies que hacen referencia a la "testosterona" no deben tomarse de manera literal, sino como una manifestación de su inseguridad más profunda en relación con su identidad masculina. Adler no solo busca demostrar poder físico, sino que también está lidiando con su constante necesidad de ser más de lo que siente que es. Su preocupación por ser lo "suficientemente masculino" refleja las tensiones de un hombre que vive bajo la presión de cumplir con expectativas extremadamente altas, tanto de sí mismo como de los demás.

Es importante considerar que, si bien Adler tiene 54 años, las inseguridades relacionadas con la imagen corporal y la masculinidad no desaparecen con la edad; de hecho, en muchos casos, tienden a intensificarse a medida que los hombres envejecen y sienten que deben reafirmar su virilidad de maneras más intensas. La mezcla de arrogancia, inseguridad y necesidad de validación en sus comentarios no es más que un reflejo de estas tensiones internas, y es en su relación con otros, como con personajes más jóvenes y menos experimentados, donde estas inseguridades se vuelven más evidentes y, a veces, más divertidas.

#call of duty #russell adler #cod #black ops 6 #cod bo6 #cod cold war #call of duty black ops #bo6 #russell adler cod #call of duty zombies #bo6 zombies

101 notes · View notes

corroded-hellfire · 2 years ago

Note

could we see the boys going into the hospital to meet eliza after she’s been born? 🥺

This just warms my heart so much. Thank you for giving @munson-blurbs and me the sweetest little prompt for this family 💜

Words: 2.4k

[As You Wish masterlist]

The moment that Wayne puts his truck in park, both Munson boys are unbuckling their seatbelts. Luke, who sat in between his grandfather and big brother for the entirety of the ride to the hospital, feels like he’s going to tear his curls out of his head when neither of them gets out of his way fast enough.

“Relax, Luke,” Wayne says as Luke jumps out of the truck with a huff. “Your sister’s not goin’ anywhere. She can’t exactly walk yet, ya know.”

“But I’ve been waiting forever to meet her,” he whines. “Like…a year!”

“We’ve only known about her for six months,” Ryan says with an irritated eye roll.

“Will you two hush up? We’re walking into a hospital,” Wayne chastises, gesturing his grandsons through the automatic sliding doors before him. The strong smell of antiseptic invades their nostrils as they step inside, making Luke wrinkle up his nose in displeasure.

The entire ride up in the elevator to the third floor and the walk down hallways towards the maternity ward, the excitement buzzing between the Munson men is palpable. There’s a pressure building the closer they get, the boys like pots that are boiling over, ready to pop their lids. Every squeak of their shoes against the white linoleum floor feels like it’s echoing their heartbeats. Finally, they step into the waiting room they’re to meet Eddie. When thirty seconds pass without their father appearing, Luke starts fidgeting and heaving out impatient sighs.

“Where is he?” he groans. “Doesn’t he know we’re coming? That we’re here?”

Wayne lovingly musses Luke’s hair. “Hold your horses, buddy. He’ll be right out.”

Sure enough, Eddie comes around the corner moments later. Exhaustion paints dark circles under his eyes, but his bright smile doesn’t leave any doubt of his excitement.

“Are you guys ready to meet your sister?” he asks, wincing when Luke begins cheering and dancing like he just scored the winning touchdown. “Remember, we have to be calm and quiet around the baby. We don’t wanna scare her.”

Ryan nods and holds his forefinger to his lips while Luke tiptoes cartoonishly, making more noise than if he just walked normally. They stick their little heads around the door and see you sitting up in bed and holding a little bundle of blankets.

“Hi, guys,” you loudly whisper, not to wake the baby. Even though the hospital is making far stranger and louder sounds than anyone in the room could. You yawn, fighting to keep your eyes open so you can see their reactions to their baby sister.

Eddie walks over to stand by your side, motioning for his sons and uncle to join him. As the boys lay eyes on their new sister for the first time, their faces mirror one another’s as their eyes widen and little jaws drop.

“She’s so little,” Ryan says, awestruck. He reaches out to touch her before sharply pulling back, looking to you for permission.

“It’s okay, Ry,” you reassure him, punctuating the statement with another yawn. Your heart melts when he brushes his forefinger over her closed fist.

Eliza follows your lead, tiny mouth opening to let out a yawn of her own.

Luke wrinkles his nose. “Why is she tired?” he asks. “She doesn’t do anything!”

“Babies need lots of sleep,” you tell him. “Even more than your dad does.”

Eddie playfully narrows his eyes at you. “You’re lucky you just gave birth to my daughter.” My daughter. It hadn’t felt real when he’d said it when Eliza was still in utero, but now that she’s here, it holds a stronger meaning.

Wayne blinks back tears, trying not to show emotion, but his glassy gaze gives him away. “She’s beautiful, guys,” he manages, clearing his throat.

Eddie claps him on the back, both men sporting matching grins as they look down at Eliza.

Luke inspects his sister’s face, then her little fingers. “I was this small?” he asks.

“Smaller,” Eddie tells him. “You were a little over six pounds. Eliza here is just over seven.”

Ryan smiles when he hears her name spoken out loud, still in disbelief that this name that’s been going around now belongs to a person and it’s this tiny person who just came into the world.

Eliza’s eyes crack open just enough to tell she’s looking in Ryan’s direction, like she already knows that he’s her big brother.

“Hi, Eliza,” Ryan says softly, a huge grin plastered on his face. “I’m Ryan. I’m your oldest brother. But I’m not old.”

“I’m Luke,” Luke chimes in, waving at his new sister. “I’m the one who would always sing VeggieTales to you every night while you were in Mama’s belly.”

You know Luke referred to you as “mama” for Eliza’s sake, but with all the hormones rushing through you it still makes you tear up.

“Do you boys want to hold her?” you ask.

They glance nervously at one another, despite the fact that they both really want to. They’ve been around Amelia Harrington and Tiffany Sinclair as babies, but they’ve never held them, especially not when they were this small and fragile.

“If you’re not ready, that’s okay,” Eddie tells them comfortingly.

“No, I want to,” Ryan pipes up.

Wayne makes room for Eddie to bring the chair on the other side of the room up closer to the bed. Ryan sits down when his dad nods at him, while you make sure the blanket is securely swaddled around Eliza.

Eddie gets down on one knee next to Ryan. “Okay bud, you’ve got to support her head, yeah? She’s not strong enough to hold it up on her own so you have to help her out a little.”

Ryan nods as he scoots all the way back in the chair, eyes wide behind his glasses.

“Don’t worry,” Eddie tells him with a reassuring grin. Of course their father can see the nerves popping up in his two boys. “It’s easy. And I’ll be right here next to you if you need or want me to take her, okay?”

“Okay,” Ryan says, trying to portray more confidence than he feels.

You carefully hand Eliza to Eddie, who coos a bit once she’s in her father’s arms. Eddie holds her in the crook of his arm and Eliza lets out a content little sigh.

“Such a Daddy’s girl already,” you tease.

Eddie grins, still over the moon that he has a daughter. A daughter with you. And she’s finally here in his arms.

Wayne leans in to show Ryan how to hold his arms the best, balancing his elbows on the chair’s arms. “Just like that,” the older man says. “And you’ll hold her little head right here.”

Eddie carefully places Eliza into Ryan’s arms. Ryan’s lower lip juts out, overcome with emotion, as he looks down at the baby he’s holding. Of course, he’s always known that he’s a big brother, taking on the responsibilities and duties that come with it. But Luke’s been around since before Ryan can even remember. They’re only two years apart, it’s always been this way for them. Eliza is his new baby sister, though. A renewed sense of big brother love and protectiveness comes over him as he looks down at the dozing baby. She’s so little and she’s going to be coming home soon. There’s going to be a baby in the house. All these things that Ryan already knew are finally sinking in for him. It makes him chuckle for some reason. As he gazes down at Eliza, her tiny face pinching up and tiny coos coming from her tiny lips, Ryan just grins as a wave of happiness comes over him.

Eddie stands between Ryan in the chair and you in the bed, staying closer to his son just in case. As you watch Ryan with Eliza, you can’t help but get choked up by another round of emotions. The memories of meeting Ryan for the first time are still clear as day to you, as if they happened yesterday, not over five and a half years ago. The little six-year-old who was too shy to even say hello to you at first. It’s amazing how quickly after meeting him you came to adore the person that he is and have such an immense love for him. It seems like you only just blinked and there he is, holding his little sister. Eliza Marie Munson. Your and Eddie’s daughter. Even without the hormones coursing through you this would be emotional, but they’re certainly not helping either.

You slip your hand into Eddie’s and look up to see his own eyes filling with tears. Images of Ryan being born, being the small little baby coming into the world must be playing in his mind, you think. And now to see he’s grown into this compassionate, intelligent, handsome young man who is holding his baby sister with so much tenderness and love.

“H-Hi, Eliza,” Ryan says as he gazes down at her. “I knew you would be small but you’re smaller than a loaf of bread.”

You, Eddie, and Wayne all share a chuckle at that.

“I’m happy you’re here now,” Ryan tells her. “I’ll do my best to make sure Luke doesn’t get you into too much trouble.”

“Hey!” Luke pouts.

“Is he wrong though?” Eddie asks, raising an eyebrow at his youngest son—now his middle child as well.

“That’s besides the point,” Luke scoffs. He notices the tiny Band-Aid on Eliza’s foot. “What’s that for?”

“She had to get a shot,” you explain. “In her heel.”

Luke grins. “For scurvy?”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “No, Vitamin K, you little weirdo.”

“Oh,” Luke sighs dejectedly before adding, “but you need Vitamin C to prevent scurvy!”

Eddie leans in and whispers into Eliza’s little ear, “don’t ever listen to a word he says, please.”

Ryan looks up at Luke and nods his head towards their sister. “You wanna hold her?”

“Is it hard?” Luke asks his older brother, face creased with worry. His voice has a slight tremor, as if he’s unsure if his nerves are getting the better of him or not.

“So easy,” Ryan assures him. “Just gotta make sure you got her head.”

“Okay,” Luke decides with a nod on finality. “I’ll do it.”

Eddie can’t help but think Luke sounds more like he’s agreeing to be a test subject for a science experiment. Ryan carefully hands Eliza back to Eddie and gets out of the chair so Luke can sit. Eliza coos again and you furrow your brow as you look at your tiny baby in your husband’s arms.

“Hey, I know you love your Daddy—we all do, but I’m the one who carried ya for nine months and then pushed you out of my body. Why don’t you make those cute noises for me?” you ask.

“Maybe she’s trying to yell at him in baby language,” Luke says as he sits down. “Who are you and why are you holding me and why do you have so much hair?!” Luke’s impersonation of what Eliza’s high-pitched voice would sound like has you and Ryan laughing. Acting just as childishly as the actual children in the room, Eddie sticks his tongue out at Luke.

Ryan shows Luke how to hold his arms and Wayne watches on with a smile, proud his grandson remembers the things he teaches him. Slowly, Eddie lowers Eliza into Luke’s awaiting arms.

Luke giggles once he’s finally holding her on his own.

“Oh my God, she barely weighs anything!”

“Tell that to my hoo-ha,” you mumble under your breath and slightly adjust the way you’re sitting in the bed.

“Hey, Eliza,” Luke says. At the sound of his voice, Eliza cracks her eyes open to inspect the new person holding her. “I’m gonna teach you all the things. Like ice skating and swimming and bowling and a whole lot of other stuff! And I’ll beat up any boys who are mean to you or break your heart.”

Your heart swells at the declaration he’s making to his sister—and you have no doubt he means what he says. She’s only been in this world a few hours and they’re already such amazing big brothers to her, you think.

All of a sudden, Luke starts laughing, but tries to keep it softer for the baby.

“Look, she’s smiling at me! She knows I’m the funny one.” He sticks his tongue out at Ryan, emphasizing the fact that Eddie was acting with the maturity of a ten-year-old when he just did the same thing.

“Uh, I don’t think that’s what it means,” Eddie warns, but not soon enough.

“Ew!” Luke exclaims, wrinkling his nose. “I am not changing a poopy diaper, nope!”

Eddie takes Eliza from him. “I got this,” he says softly.

You watch as your husband delicately changes her diaper, unable to hide his disgusted expression that matches Luke’s. Loving his daughter with every ounce of his being does not negate the odors that come along with her.

Your gaze drifts over to Ryan and Luke, who are watching their father intently. They take in every gentle touch and every soft word and smile Eddie gives to the newborn. You can feel your emotions welling up just thinking about how they’ll be such great dads one day because they have the best role model.

“Good as new,” Eddie proclaims, wrapping Eliza back up in her blanket. “You wanna hold your granddaughter, Wayne?”

Tears momentarily cloud the older man’s vision. “Give ‘er here.” He opens his arms and Eddie places the baby in the crook of his elbow. “Well, hi there, Ms. Eliza,” Wayne says with a smile. “We’re so glad you’re here. ‘S kind of a crazy family, but you’ll get used to us.”

As he says it, it dawns on you: this is your family. A doting husband who can make you feel loved without even trying, an uncle who would give you all the moon on a string if you asked, two stepsons who keep you laughing on your worst days, and now your daughter, who will grow up in a home filled with love and happiness.

As Wayne takes the boys back home—it’s past bedtime, and they have school in the morning—you can’t help but stare at Eddie. He’s exhausted from helping you through labor, but he can’t stop smiling.

“You did such an incredible job growing our little girl,” he murmurs into your scalp. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you more.” You look at him, then back down to the newborn in your arms. “But I’m pretty sure she’s the most loved.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #older!eddie #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #AYW #AYWS

567 notes · View notes