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januaryembrs · 4 days

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YOU WERE LIKE AN ANGEL TO ME | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Request: my DARLING @avis-writeshq says- i’m a menace but i ADORED the spencer fic u posted 🥹 UGH THEYRE SO CUTE YOUR HONOURRRR 👹if it’s okay, may i request another fic with the same couple 🙈 perhaps one day reader is not as sweet or chirpy as she usually is, or she gets injured or threatened in the field? much love and lots of kisses xoxo 🫶

Description: Spencer swore he wanted to hate her. She was too happy, too chirpy, too much for a guy who spent months rotting in prison. But how could he ever hate her when she cried in his chest like that?

Length: 5k (I'm feral for these two)

warnings: post prison reid. Angst. depiction of suicide from the Unsub. gory language used. guns mentioned. mention of $nuff video and other murders. Nothing that hasn't been done on CM already.

authors note: if y'all want to see more with these two just SAY because I am all ears I would die on this ship

There were a lot of times in his time at the BAU that Spencer had wished he could have changed the outcome of their bad guy, surprisingly enough. There was the time they found their UnSub a few minutes too late, and one of the victims fathers decided to take him out then and there with a shotgun to the head. He was just a kid. There was the entire time he was with Tobias Hankel, and he lived in a state of both fear and sympathy for the boy trapped in his own body after years of abuse. There was Nathan Harris, the kid who had stopped him at the subway station and practically begged him for help to stop his urges to murder, only to slit his own wrists before Spencer could get to him because he thought he was tainted.

He could see how it was easy in their job to get wrapped up in saving the day, in saving everyone they could. He just had hoped, on some stupid grace of a god he didn’t even believe in, that she would have at least remained untouched by the bad luck.

Spencer had always thought, since the first day he had arrived back into the office after his stint in prison, that she seemed to just waltz through life easier than anyone else. He knew the concept of luck was not quantifiable, that it was just a coincidence that good things happened to some people, and bad things happened to others. He always grouped himself in with the latter, because what was his entire life if not one bad hand of cards after another?

Part of him had been seething with vitriol jealousy when he first met her. He hated how the elevator doors seemed to open without hesitation for her, no waiting required. He hated how her hair never seemed to fall out of place, while his required primping and preening to upkeep. He hated how she was always so happy, whether it had been she’d been given an extra cookie at the bakery for free, or her coffee had just tasted super delicious that morning, or the road works clogging the city had been put on hold the one day she needed to drive into the office. She was one of those people, he had decided, that life just seemed to smile down upon, and she beamed back in that dazzling grin.

He felt sick to his stomach for ever wishing it gone, especially when she looked like she might never smile again.

They never liked to say that they had easy cases and hard ones, all of their cases were difficult to process. But this one had been a handful above the rest.

“UnSub has been killed on site, all units stand down,” Luke said into the radio, and the entire squadron took a sigh of relief, all of them except him.

Because he saw that look in her eye, the way everything sparkly about her seemed to have vanished.

They had been following Bobbie Wrids for a week. Five bodies in, five men shot between the eyes execution style, almost six by the time they’d arrived on the scene.

She’d gone with Tara around the front of the abandoned building; Penelope tracked their newest victim, Henry Frond, through his phone pinging off the nearest satellite towers, and it had been straight forward from there. Or at least it should have been.

Because by the time Spencer and Luke arrived in their own SUV, Penelope had time to access the rest of Henry’s phone, and it was clear to see the victimology behind all six men.

They were distributing snuff videos of women, some between themselves, some to other usernames on the darkweb, and Bobbie Wrids’ daughter had been one of them.

Bobbie had become somewhat of a vigilante, but he was a grieving father above all. He was a wounded animal chomping at the bit to soothe the ripping pain of his daughter's murder, the same one those men were getting off to.

Tara and her exchanged a glance as Penelope relayed the information over their headsets, her once serious expression falling into something sombre and sorrowful. How could she arrest a man she couldn’t help but feel sorry for, one she couldn’t help but think wasn’t entirely wrong in his actions.

“Bobbie Wrids,” Tara’s voice was stern, cutting through the silence of the desolate building. Their footsteps were careful as they made their way through the hallway, down to what had once been a rec-room, or perhaps a staff room, where they knew Bobbie had Henry, “This is the FBI, we’d like to talk,”

They heard nothing, and she looked up to the older woman hesitantly, her finger hovering over the trigger the way Spencer had taught her. Tara took a minute, knowing she was leading the charge here with the girl being so inexperienced, before she nodded to the door knob and the rookie twisted the handle, pushing the peeling wood open gently.

Bobbie Wrids stood in the centre of the room, moth eaten couches either side of the damp rug, the ceiling tiles half caved in from wear and tear. Henry Frond was already a pulp in the UnSub’s arms, and yet it was Bobbie that her eyes shot to first, sympathy shooting through every fibre of her being when she saw the distraught look on the father’s face.

He was grieving. He was grieving his little girl’s death. He was looking for a solution, and this seemed to be his best bet.

“Bobbie,” Her voice was shaky, her and Tara frozen in the doorway as the man brought the pistol to Henry’s beaten face, cocking it towards his temple before they could even explain themselves. “We’re going to come in, is that okay? We just want to talk, just let us talk-”

They had only edged closer by three paces between them as she was speaking before his knuckles turned white and he squeezed the gun tighter to Henry’s skin, the barrel contorting the flesh, “Don’t come any closer, this pig isn’t worth your mercy,”

“We know,” She said, her and Tara slowly stepping over a fallen ceiling tile, cracking under her boot as she met his desolate gaze for the first time, his head snapping to her. “We know what he did, Bobbie. What they all did.”

His throat bobbed, his bottom lip quivering and the sight of it, a man so broken, forced a frog into her oesophagus, and she willed herself not to cry.

“They hurt my little girl,” Bobbie choked out, his face turning mauve as the tears began to build behind his eyes, “She was my girl. She was only eighteen.”

She nodded, his wetted hues seemingly permissive when she stepped closer to where he held Henry hostage.

“I know, I’m so sorry for what happened to her,” She said, her voice croaky, unstable as she wrenched it into something audible, “I’m so sorry,”

“He doesn’t deserve mercy, none of them did,” Bobbie spat, his forearm crushing against Henry’s trachea in a vice-like grip. The man floundered, a wheeze coming from his lungs, not that she felt much sympathy for him.

She sprung into action, flicking her gun onto safety and holstering it, Tara doing the same as she lowered her weapon to her side. He profiled as a vigilante; he had no reason to hurt them.

“Bobbie, listen, I know they didn’t deserve to walk free, okay?” She said, taking the smallest step towards where the men stood, “But she wouldn’t want this for you, would she?”

The man flinched, his jaw hard as a rock with how he clenched his teeth together, as if holding back a sob.

“Come on, Bobbie. Let him go, we have enough evidence to get him sentenced. We can get you a plea deal, I know a good lawyer,” She begged, because she wasn’t beneath it, because she knew he was a good man backed into a corner, “Please,”

Maybe it was the way her eyes were soft when she looked at him, or the fact two more agents burst into the room from the hallway, Spencer’s eye immediately falling to where she was stood so close to their UnSub, her gun out of hand. Tara stood by, but that wasn’t good enough for him. He edged with light footsteps until he was behind her, his gaze cautious, never leaving the gun in Bobbie’s hand.

“Please,” She repeated, and Spencer saw Bobbie’s shoulders drop, every sliver of resolve draining from his body at her gentle tone, a deer approaching a hunter.

Henry was thrown to the floor, the man practically dead weight as he gasped, almost retching at the feeling of air sucking back into his chest frantically, and Luke and Tara were quick to wrestle him into cuffs, the woman reading him his Miranda rights.

Spencer almost made a grab for her then, because she was still creeping forward towards the man who had a loaded gun still live in his hand. He didn’t care for one second that the statistics said Bobbie wouldn’t lay a hand on her since she wasn’t part of his list. He didn’t care that every sign pointed to their UnSub being benevolent towards women, especially younger ones, that she fit his daughter’s description. Spencer didn’t care, he wanted her as far away from that gun as possible.

His heart lurched into his throat when Bobbie did in fact make a lunge for her, just not the way he’d feared. Because she had grabbed him. She’d pulled him into an embrace, a hug, kind and sweet as she always was.

Spencer cursed her for being so soft. It was going to get her killed.

“Agent,” His voice was terse, worried if you dug a little deeper than the sharp surface, but she didn’t listen to him. She held Bobbie tight as the man unravelled on her shoulder, falling into heart breaking sobs and it was then Spencer realised she was crying with him.

“It’s going to be okay, you’re okay,” She was shushing him, the killer, reassuring him he was safe, as if the killing thing wasn’t still between his fingers that clutched at her back with rough hands.

“They killed my girl, they took her from me, and then they laughed about it,” He wailed, and she nodded, squeezing him even tighter if that was so possible, “No one would listen, the police didn’t listen, I had to do something,”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry,” This was wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be sympathising with the criminals. But she couldn’t help it, she couldn’t help the gasping urge to comfort the man who had lost his whole world, “I’m listening. Tell me about her,”

“She was so beautiful,” Bobbie whimpered, sniffling into her shoulder. Spencer felt his chest twinge at the scene. He hated that she was so soft. “She never hurt a soul,”

She cried with him, though hers were choked down as much as she could get them, her wet cheeks the only proof she had ever let them slip.

“I’m sorry,” She said again, because no matter how many times she repeated those two little words, it would never bring his daughter back, “I can help you,”

He pulled away from her shoulder, and it was only then that Bobbie Wrids even noticed Spencer, his face taut in anxiety as he watched the man’s hands still holding onto her body as if she was the only thing that kept him upright, which Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if it were true.

He fished the cuffs out of his back pocket, his finger never leaving the trigger as he stared down at their UnSub cautiously. He knew he may be being cruel, knew that ten years ago he would be just as caring as her. But that Spencer was long gone. And what remained was screaming in terror that she was in the line of danger, that she was holding the danger in her bare hands like she didn’t see the jeopardy she was putting herself in.

Bobbie pulled away to look at her, the creases around his eyes deep chasms, and even with the smattering of grey hair, the stubble, the cold, empty look of someone with nothing left, she thought he might have been a handsome man once. He looked at her with a ghost of a smile, and one of his callused hands came up to tuck her hair behind her ear as if it had been second nature to him for eighteen years.

“You’re a sweet girl,” He murmured, and she blinked at him, her chest easing at the way his wails had subsided into something quiet. She could help him, she swore she would help him. He was a good man beneath it all. “But no one can help me anymore, sweet girl,”

And with that he lifted the pistol beneath his chin and pulled the trigger.

—

She heard someone scream before she realised it was coming from her own throat, but her ears were ringing and she couldn’t open her eyes. Her face was wet and hot, and for a second she thought it was tears, but she was beyond crying now. She felt arms pulling her back into a strong chest, and someone was murmuring to her, or perhaps they were speaking normally and the sound of the gunshot had knocked her hearing. Either way, it was like someone had pulled a bag over her head as she brought her shaking hands up to her eyes to wipe.

She managed to crack her lids then when the sludge was gone, only to see the room still a blurry mess. She could make out, in the haze of blobs and crimson tint, Bobbie’s body slumped to the floor, a dark puddle seeping into the rug as those long arms tugged her out of the room. She only then looked down to her hands where she had rubbed her face and she caught the same claret plasma coating her fingers, her white shirt, her pants, her arms. It covered her head to toe.

It was in her eyes, she realised when she saw the ichor coating her fingertips. It was blocking her vision, turning the world a vivid wine colour, and she thinks she whimpered, or perhaps it was a moan of horror seeing the puddle beneath Bobbie’s body growing larger by the second.

“I don’t understand,” She said out loud, her head spinning, and she brought her fingertips up to her eyes again, maybe to get the blood out, god there was so much blood on her face, or maybe because she hoped to everything out there that she would clear her sight and find it all a terrible hallucination, the product of one too many nights of sleepless tossing.

But when she rubbed her lids again, this time seeing the scene a little better, Bobbie was still dead. She had still been too late.

“You’re in shock, you need to breathe,” A voice instructed her over her shoulder, and it was from the same person who had their hands around her waist, pulling her away from the crime scene, as CSI filed in from behind them.

She tried pushing the arms off her, weak because she couldn’t feel anything that wasn’t the horror in her stomach, and it took her a second before she listened to their words and realised she was holding a breath in her chest, the way a toddler does when they’re overwhelmed.

“I don’t-” She gasped, the air rushing through her lungs, so fast it made her cough, “I don’t understand, I was going to help him- I don’t understand- why?”

“I know, just breathe for me, sweetheart,” Spencer. She only just realised it was Spencer speaking, because he had never called her that and the gentle tone he’d taken was nothing like his usual, civil cadence. He had been dropping a few jokes the past few weeks since she’d driven him home, had been more touchy feely with correcting her form when she was at the shooting range, had delicately touched the small of her back when they were navigating a crowd together. He was slowly cracking from his statuesque expression that hadn’t left his face since he’d gotten out of prison, but the softness with which he held her waist was entirely new.

“Spencer, I don’t- I don’t get it,” She said, her voice bubbling into a sob as she allowed herself to be pulled away with no fight left in her. He took her into the hallway, turning her body from the sight of his hand lifeless on the floor with little to no effort. She was damn near limp in his arms, “Spencer, I don’t under-understand, I was going to h-help him, why would h-he do that-”

“Shhh, you need to breathe,” He murmured into her hair, trying to lead her out the front of the building and far away from where she’d just been front row seats to a messy suicide, “Come on, just breathe for me, baby, and then we can talk,”

But she wasn’t listening, and he wasn’t offended. Spencer knew it was the shock. He knew the symptoms by how her respiratory system had picked up in a matter of seconds and it was like she had gone from zero to a hundred. She let out a long whine, tears collecting the blood on her lash line and her chest seized into action, gulping down air, too short to do anything for her lungs, and her legs began to buckle beneath the two of them.

Spencer stopped in the hallway, realising she was in more shock than he must have thought. He knew she was sensitive, hell it was one of his favourite things about her. He knew she felt everything so deeply, burned too easily, like a daisy wilting in a dry heat, or candyfloss melting in his mouth. Spencer knew, as awful as watching death up close was for any agent, it would hit her hardest of all of them.

He moved around to her front, his hands migrating from her waist up to her shoulders, brushing over her upper arms soothingly. But her body felt numb, her head felt heavy, and her eyes were glazed over, down a rabbit hole entirely away from him, even when one of his hands cupped her wetted cheek gently.

“Just breathe, hey, look at me,” He tried a firmer tone, and she bent to his will too easily. It was a punch in the gut seeing everything shining and pretty leached out of her eyes, as if she had become soulless in a matter of minutes, as if she had lost all hope in the world the second Bobbie pulled that trigger. She looked like hell, blood still fresh on her cheeks, in her hair, smeared around her eye sockets where she had scrubbed so hard to get it off her skin, “You need to calm down, you’re going to faint if you don’t breathe,”

She nodded, or something close to it, her eyes falling down to the floor, and she seemed to wrestle for control over her chest then. But what came after was worse, Spencer thought. Her brows screwed together, her eyes welling up with more of those fat tears, and her lips dropping into a devastated pout, her eyes trailing over the mess on her uniform, on her hands.

“Spencer, I don’t understand, I tried to help him, I wanted to help him,” She sobbed, sniffling to herself miserably, and he barely even thought about it when he pulled her into his chest, not caring that her skin would dirty his shirt.

His hand wound into her hair, stroking her sweetly as she buried her wails into his vest. He used his other arm to pull her close to him, which she seemed to have zero qualms about as she clawed at his back to keep him close, as if she didn’t want to face what was going to happen when they left that building.

Spencer regretted ever thinking her sunshine was too bright for him.

–

She hadn’t smiled in a whole week. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She had given Penny a very forced smile when she had fussed over the younger woman the first day she got back, had said thankyou with downcast eyes and a fragile grin when the blonde presented her with a framed picture of a puppy to keep on her desk ‘incase she needed something nice to think about,’

She hadn’t looked at it once, because they both knew it wouldn’t do anything, no matter how much she pretended for Penelope’s sake that she would put it to good use.

He had taken her out for coffee on him that first day, but by the time they had got to the front of the queue, he had been doing almost all of the talking, which had become rare nowadays since he had come home from Mexico. Usually, it had been her filling the silences, because he knew in her right mind she hated the sound of static nothingness, she found it awkward and unnecessary when she could talk to anyone without thinking about it too hard.

They had got to the desk, the barista smiling up at him as he ordered his usual, before he turned to look at her as the woman serving asked her what she would like. But she wasn’t listening, she was watching out the window, nothing particularly invigorating beside a bird cleaning its feathers on top of a stop sign.

He said her name, putting his hand on her back and her head whipped around, her eyes empty as they looked up at him expectantly, “What do you want to drink?”

She blinked, waking herself from a stupor, and looked at the barista with an embarrassed expression, “Hot chocolate, please,”

And that was all she really had to say until lunch rolled around, and she excused herself to head home early. Emily smiled at her reassuringly, her eyes wary as she watched their happy-go-lucky rookie head for the elevators with a desolate look in her eyes.

Spencer hoped she would come around on her own, or maybe even be brave enough to talk to someone about the thoughts rattling around that head of hers, but she just didn’t. She stayed as silent as possible, only ever speaking when spoken to, asking Emily if she could finish off her reports at home, to which the Prentiss woman never protested.

But Spencer had had enough. He’d worried himself sick over her, and where all thoughts of how endearing and lovely and charming she was had sat in his head before, now it was all just ways he could think to make her smile again.

It was the following Tuesday by the time he braved action. She had gone home after their midday briefing, apologising to Emily with tired eyes that seemed to be growing more and more heavy by the day, like she hadn’t slept a wink in a fortnight. Which Spencer thought was entirely possible.

He pulled up to the house Penelope had not so discreetly told him was hers, definitely not because he’d asked, and definitely, definitely not breaching any human resource policies about distributing fellow workers information (meaning Spencer had almost certainly not begged Penelope for the address with those puppy eyes of his he knew could bag him anything).

The peonies in the window bays were wilting but her house was something out of a fairytale. He wasn’t sure why he was really so surprised. It screamed her, everything about it, from the toadstool post box to the little green, cast iron bench that sat in the garden, the metal forged to look like florets of ivy holding the sitter upright.

He rapped the brass knocker, the metal cold under his long fingers. Brushing invisible dirt off his shirt, he hoped she would answer as the present squirmed at his feet.

“Just a second,” He hushed, and as if she heard him, the front door swung open to reveal her bare face he hadn’t seen since he’d helped her wipe the blood from her skin in the back of the ambulance.

She looked at him with furrowed brows, before they quickly shot to the floor, to her cobbled pathway that had clicked under his shoes, and her face washed with a shock.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She crouched to her knees, a slobbery lick immediately meeting her cheek as the Spaniel rubbed his wet nose up to her ear, sniffing her unique smell, as if it was a bag of Class A’s, “I never knew you had a dog,”

“I don’t,” He replied, kneeling with her to ruffle the soft fur behind the canine’s ear, “This is Ace. He retired from the Bomb Unit a month ago and Penelope sent me his handler’s number. They said he’s the happiest dog in the world,”

“I would be too if I stopped so many people from blowing up,” She said, but before he could ask what she meant exactly by that, Ace had jumped up and attacked her entire face with kisses as if he too thought that statement was worth silencing.

And she laughed. She laughed louder than she had in days, weeks, her eyes crinkling in joy as the little pink tongue stole away her sorrow, tickled away the traces of the blood that had tainted her skin.

Spencer smiled, his eyes watching her face scrunch in a squeal, hands eventually coming up to the elderly dog’s jowls to gently push him down.

“Oh, you are the sweetest guy,” She said, and the words had him tugging at the leash to lick her all over again, “Yes you are, you’re the sweetest little guy around, huh?”

She chuckled, scratching down the mutt’s neck, and her eyes flicked back up to Spencer, who watched her with more intent than she’d realised.

“Petting and receiving affection from pets causes spikes in serotonin in our brain and reduces anxiety, did you know that?” Spencer said, Ace pushing his muzzle into the palm of her hand to prove a point.

Her smile wavered slightly, and she looked at his hazel hues that seemed to see right through her, “Look, I’m sorry I’ve been so off lately, I just can’t sleep at the moment-”

“Don’t apologise,” He cut in, though his tone was kind, and the two of them stood back up to their full height, “What happened was horrifying, even some of the longest serving agents I know would struggle seeing that,”

She scoffed, unusually pessimistic coming out of her mouth, “You wouldn’t,”

His head tilted, not quite understanding what she meant, because she hadn’t sounded cruel when she said it. Then again, he didn’t think she was actually capable of that emotion.

She looked at him, a flash of something vulnerable in her eyes, something like that day he’d held her in the hallway; too fast he almost missed it.

“You’re so brave, Spencer, you’re like invincible. I mean, you survived prison and your mom getting kidnapped and you bounced straight back to work like it was nothing. I can’t even watch a murderer die without spiralling out of control,” She huffed, rubbing the bridge of her nose and before he could respond on just how wrong she was, before he could tell her that that was exactly the opposite of what had happened because he had damn near changed every inch of himself in prison to stop himself from breaking, he caught her murmuring and he thought he might just have been punched all over again, “I wish I was like you,”

His jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowing into a frown as he stepped towards her, and her head shot to him, worried she may have said the wrong thing by mentioning everything that had happened, everything Pen had specifically said was a touchy subject, and she opened her mouth to apologise.

“Do you know how unbelievably glad I am that you are nothing like me?” Spencer said, his voice bordering on furious and her fumbled for a reply, worried she had truly pissed him off.

She wouldn’t blame him for hating her. She’d always worried, until perhaps that day they’d gotten into her car and she’d driven him home, that her very essence annoyed him.

“I’m sorry-” She started, but he shook his head.

“Stop apologising,” He said, his hand reaching up to grab where her fingers tugged together nervously, his hold featherlike, his face softening when he saw her expression, “I don’t want you to be anything like me. I like you just how you are,”

She sighed, eyes doe like with emotion as she looked at him, “Really?”

He smiled, a rare and genuine smile as she seemed to glow under his words, “Yes, really.” Spencer allowed himself to enjoy the way that the twinkle returned to her expression when he smiled at her with something almost like the old Spencer in him, before he cleared his throat, “We all like you. Everyone on the team likes how you are,”

She paused, nodding to herself as if knocking herself out of a silly daze, and Ace bounced on his hind legs trying to get her attention again.

“You don’t think I’m too sensitive?” She asked, holding her palm out for the dog to nuzzle at with that wet nose of his.

Spencer shook his head, “Sensitive is good. It means you feel something. Means you feel the good things deeper too,”

Her smile was blinding, because she’d never thought of it that way before, and she looked like her old self again. Spencer wasn’t stupid enough to think she was never going to think about Bobbie again, he still thought about that first UnSub he’d tried to save. He still thought about Tobias Hankel. He thought about them all.

But he was going to make sure she never turned into him. He didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself if she did. He’d protect her sunlight even if it burned him to know he could never have her the way he wanted. Because she was everything good, and he was him.

She looked down at Ace, the life returning to her as she stood aside for the two of them to enter her house, “Tea?”

Yep. Spencer felt something run hot knowing she would always be out of reach. Didn’t stop him from thinking about it, though.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #Post Prison!Spencer Reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #matthew grey gubler x reader

1K notes · View notes

tgcg · 4 months

Text

candid detail. my biggest project so far

hey happy new year

CG: DAVE?

TG: yeah?

CG: SOMETHING’S KIND OF FUCKING ME UP RIGHT NOW AND I NEED TO TELL YOU SPECIFICALLY ABOUT IT IN CANDID DETAIL.

TG: oh shit

===

TG: yeah whats up

TG: not too often i get to be the sole audience to karkats grievances

CG: PFF, BULLSHIT. YOU'RE PRIVY TO WAY MORE ABOUT MY GRIEVANCES THAN BASICALLY ANY OF MY SURVIVING AND PRESENT FRIENDS, BY A SIGNIFICANT MARGIN, AND YOU KNOW IT.

TG: yeah and im boutta add another im like broses up on that hill bundled up in a long ass list of things that make the homies upset

TG: lay it on me

===

CG: OKAY. SO.

…

CG: I’M KIND OF THINKING ABOUT JUST. US AND OUR BRO-DOM.

===

TG: oh

CG: LET ME FINISH.

CG: ALL THIS TIME I’VE BEEN FUCKING FORCED TO SPEND IN THE DREAM BUBBLES MADE ME REALISE SOMETHING, AND THAT’S THAT…

===

CG: THIS IS KIND OF RARE, RIGHT?

TG: what

TG: us

CG: YEAH! LIKE… THERE’S SO MANY THANKFULLY DEAD KARKATS I’VE HAD THE INSURMOUNTABLE GODDAMN DISPLEASURE OF FAILING TO AVOID THAT DON’T LIKE YOU, BARELY MET YOU, OR EVEN JUST DON’T CARE ABOUT YOU.

===

CG: IT’S THE RARE AMBIVALENCE THAT REALLY GETS TO ME. I ABSOLUTELY UNDERSTAND A TIMELINE’S KARKAT FIRMLY DECIDING THAT THEY HATE YOUR ASS. NON-ROMANTICALLY I MEAN. THAT HAS BEEN ME, FOR FUCK’S SAKE. BUT THERE WAS NEVER, EVER!!! A POINT WHERE I JUST FELT NOTHING ABOUT YOU AT ALL.

CG: EVEN WHEN I INITIALLY HAD THE MISFORTUNE OF SEEING YOUR DOUCHEBAG SPECTACLES YOU GOT FROM YOUR BRO ON THE SCREEN, I AT LEAST HAD A STARTER DISH OF SKEWERED CONTEMPT TO WHET MY APPETITE. IT’S IMPOSSIBLE TO IMAGINE NOT FEELING ONE WAY OR ANOTHER ABOUT YOU.

===

CG: ONE TIME I MENTIONED YOU IN THE MIDDLE OF A THREE-WAY ARGUMENT AND ONE OF THE OTHER KARKATS SAID "WHO?"

CG: "WHO?"!!!!

TG: now thats fucked up

CG: IT IS! AND THAT'S WHAT MADE ME FIRST REALISE THAT NOT EVERY KARKAT IS GETTING TO HANG OUT WITH EVERY DAVE, AND VICE VERSA. AND THIS IS GOING TO SOUND LAME AS SHIT IN A WAY THAT I’LL NEVER EVER LIVE DOWN, BUT. I FEEL BAD FOR THEM ABOUT IT! YOU KNOW?

===

TG: well you always feel bad about around and towards other yous so thats

TG: wait

TG: is or is not the nature of this moment of self-pity fuelled by malice anger disgust or any similar terms slash phrases

CG: I MEAN, FOR ONCE? DON’T GET ME WRONG, THE MALICE ANGER DISGUST ET CETERA IS STILL THOROUGHLY PERMEATING THE WHOLE ORDEAL. THE DAY I LOSE CONTEMPT FOR MY ALTERNATE SELVES IS THE DAY I GET TAKEN OUT BACK AND PUT DOWN LIKE THE LAME HOOFBEAST I’VE ALWAYS DREAMT OF BEING. BUT…

CG: I ACTUALLY JUST FEEL SAD FOR THEM, STRAIGHT UP. INDEPENDENT FROM TERMS PREVIOUSLY MENTIONED.

===

TG: damn

CG: AND THAT FEELS INCREDIBLY WEIRD TOO. I CAN’T EVEN ARGUE WITH THEM ABOUT IT, IT JUST MAKES ME FEEL THIS SHITTY, SHOCKINGLY QUIET… GRIEF? ALMOST? FOR THEM. GENERAL NON-TROLLIAN FEELINGS. AND EXCEPTIONALLY NON-STANDARD IN A KARKAT-TO-KARKAT CONVERSATION, AS YOU MIGHT HAVE GUESSED.

CG: BUT I KNOW IF I TOLD ANY OTHER EMOTIONALLY CONSTIPATED REFLECTION OF MY OWN FECULENT INNER FILTH TO TALK TO YOU, OR EVEN JUST LOOK AT YOU ONE TIME, THEY’D ONLY SEE IT AS ANOTHER PERSONAL AFFRONT. LIKE I JUST TOLD THEM "HEY, SHIT ALL OVER YOUR FROND AND SNIFF IT, IT’LL BE AMAZING JUST TRUST ME, ABSOLUTELY ZERO REASON NOT TO."

===

TG: you come up with the most potent mental images man youre the wordmeister of viscerally gross as hell vocab

CG: THANK YOU.

===

CG: AND LIKE… SHIT, I DEFINITELY WOULD’VE FELT THAT WAY BEFORE I GOT TO KNOW YOU! I UNDERSTAND THE INNER MACHINATIONS OF THOSE IMBECILIC NOOKSTAINS BETTER THAN ANYONE EVER COULD, DESPITE MY BEST EFFORTS.

CG: KARKATS UNIVERSALLY DECIDING THAT THEY JUST CANNOT LIKE YOU ON PRINCIPLE IS A CRISIS OF SHIT HAPPENSTANCES. THE HAPPENINGS ARE ALL OUT OF WACK, COSMICALLY.

CG: LIKE EVERY ME WRITHED OUR WAY OUT OF THE BROODING CAVERNS AND THE FIRST CONSTELLATION WE SAW PEELING THROUGH THE EXOSPHERE, TWINKLING IN THE REFLECTION OF OUR HUGE RED GANDERBULBS, WAS A PAIR OF SHADES GETTING COVERED IN GASOLINE, FOLLOWED BY A CONSTELLATION OF A LIT MATCH.

CG: A SIMPLE EQUATION WITH A VERY SIMPLE SOLUTION.

CG: A SYSTEMIC EPIDEMIC, IF YOU’LL PARDON MY BULLSHIT.

===

TG: it is a goddamn catastrophe sweeping the karkat population

TG: presidents on the headlines trying to get karkats everywhere to stop quarantining their asses and have a real heart to heart among themselves about the issue but they keep isolating anyways

CG: I STILL DON’T KNOW WHAT THE HELL A PRESIDENT IS. YOU’VE FAILED TO DESCRIBE IT AS ANYTHING MORE THAN A POORLY-SELECTED "DUDE CONDESCE" WHO DOES NOTHING PRODUCTIVE AND THEN EITHER DIES OR RUINS EVERYTHING, OR SOME CHAOTIC COMBINATION OF THE TWO.

TG: well that is exactly what it is but wait good point

===

TG: tragedy strikes as the karkat population reveals it doesnt generally know what a president even is so it means jack shit to them that this dude is trying to get their attention

TG: and mr president he is getting voted the fuck out of office over this blunder just an embarrassing display

TG: the public trust has plummeted off the fucking chart and cratered the damn ground like a meteor

TG: or he could be the tenth to die in office yknow there was a pretty big stretch of no in-office deaths til 2009 so maybe some catchup would be good for everyone

CG: ARE YOU TELLING ME YOU WANT TO MAKE ANOTHER PRESIDENT, AND THEN KILL HIM?

TG: not me personally i just wanna be there and see it also is that dream bubble fucking huge or what

TG: must be the size of

===

TG: jupiter

===

TG: look all im saying is the end of the world coincided pretty notably with a dry spell in the presidential kill:death ratio

TG: i was tragically too busy not dying to see obama die live on television when an errant meteor hit the white house that was my one chance

CG: PFFFT.

TG: i want to keep a comically aloof finger on the pulse of the shit but i do not want to be among the shit

TG: but anyways guess its my turn on the pedestal

CG: BE MY FUCKING GUEST.

===

TG: yknow uh im not gonna lie if present me went back to me age thirteen sippin my dubious aj in my pre-apocalyptic layer of hell that was texas and told me

TG: hey that gray text dude is probably gonna be your best friend if you give him a shot yall could be sweet bros in real life itll be awesome

TG: i mean disregarding the fact i already doomed that guy because i dont remember that happening to me

TG: id probably be casting some wicked aspersions on that shit

===

TG: our whole friendship feels like a plot twist to my damn life story

CG: I HEAR YOU.

TG: its like our narratives bumped into each other hard on the street and decided yknow what yeah this pavement is pretty cosy lets talk about your dad

TG: but

===

TG: dont get your think pans too wrapped up in that different timeline stuff

CG: IT’S THINK PAN. SINGULAR. NOBODY HAS MORE THAN ONE THINK PAN, EVER. IT IS A SINGULAR ORGAN. IF YOU WOULD LET ME READ A TROLL BIOLOGY BOOK TO YOU ONE TIME WE’D STOP BUMPING INTO THIS ISSUE.

TG: gotcha and no

CG: OBVIOUSLY.

TG: but anyways dude look

===

TG: i am literally a time dude and i can tell you right now with all the sage wisdome of my knightitudes

TG: not a good way of looking at it

TG: ive met daves that didnt like you either it doesnt affect jack or shit because those daves arent me

TG: like they are in a way but

TG: me and all those other guys spent the whole game honing down these doomed timelines to a fine point and that point has obviously involved a whole lot of hanging out with you

CG: …

===

TG: so

TG: maybe they just missed the point while you and me were on the breaking edge of that shit

TG: we got to the bottom line of it so it doesnt matter yknow

CG: HUH.

===

TG: and i mean plus

===

TG: ive seen a handful of alternate daves and karkats who get along uh great apparently so

TG: yknow

===

CG: WHAT?

TG: you know what i fucking mean im not saying it

CG: ROLLING YOUR SHOULDERS AND SAYING "yknow" GENERALLY DOESN’T CONVEY FUCKING ANYTHING MEANINGFUL IN A CONVERSATION, DAVE.

CG: I’M NOT A PSYCHIC. YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE TO TELL ME WHAT YOU MEAN. IN CANDID DETAIL.

TG: its besides the point anyways

===

TG: the point is its you right here that matters overall and you right here is chilling with me so thats gotta mean at least one or two things

CG: OKAY, OKAY, YEAH… I GET WHAT YOU’RE SAYING. I REALLY DIDN’T THINK ABOUT IT LIKE THAT.

CG: YOU HAVE TO UNDERSTAND BY NOW HOW IT’D BE REALLY FUCKING DIFFICULT FOR ME TO WRAP MY THINK PAN AROUND THE CONCEPT OF ME BEING THE RIGHT VERSION OF ANYTHING.

CG: BUT I FEEL LIKE THE AMOUNT OF TIME WE'VE SPENT TOGETHER CUMULATIVELY IN THIS TIMELINE MAKES UP FOR THE AMOUNT OF DAVES AND KARKATS WHO NEVER SPENT ANY AT ALL, BY AT LEAST TENFOLD.

===

TG: heh yeah

HAHAH.

===

CG: GOD. WHO WOULD’VE GUESSED THAT KARKAT VANTAS WOULD GET TOO FAR INTO HIS OWN THINK PAN ABOUT THIS BULLSHIT, RIGHT?

TG: stop repeating the words think and pan i get it already

CG: ARE YOU SURE? TOTALLY SURE? ABSOLUTELY ASSFUCK CERTAIN OF YOURSELF?

TG: yes dude

CG: ALRIGHT. KEEP IN MIND THIS WILL BE ON THE TEST LATER.

TG: im acing that shit i swear to god youre gonna eat your damn foot

CG: STRUT POD

TG: when i pass that shit to oblivion

TG: youre gonna regret doubting me

CG: OKAY, DAVE. THEN EXPLAIN TO ME WITH ALL YOUR SAGE WISDOME: WHAT IS A "LUMPSQUIRT"? AND REALLY, TAKE YOUR TIME THINKING ABOUT THIS. GOD KNOWS WE'VE GOT MOMENTS A-FUCKING-PLENTY TO SPARE.

TG: as the literal god of time in your local area i sure as hell do

CG: GO ON THEN.

===

TG: …

TG: pass

CG: EXACTLY.

CG: ANYWAYS, I’M STILL GOING TO GO AROUND FEELING ANOTHER LAYER OF PITY FOR THOSE GRAY BULGEMUNCHERS THAT DON’T GET TO BE FRIENDS WITH YOU. NOT THAT ANYTHING ANY KARKAT COULD FUCKING DO WOULD EVER MAKE THEM DESERVING OF IT, BUT THAT’S ANOTHER CAN OF DIRT NOODLES ENTIRELY.

TG: yeah i feel bad for anyone who isnt buddy-buddy with the david stri too

CG: OF COURSE YOU DO. I’M GLAD WE’RE ON THE SAME PAGE HERE.

===

TG: but also

TG: any dave who missed out on a slice of the realest homes in paradox space is a tragedy in my eyes

CG: Y--

TG: let me finish

TG: i just dont let it get to me so much cus… first of all ive been having to not let time shit get to me this whole damn game but also

TG: i know i have you here and thats whats important

TG: ok not "have" just

TG: how the fuck do i phrase that

TG: i know whatever is happening with other "us"es whatever shits goin down

TG: i can wake up and watch movies with you or hell i can even hang with you in there if i bump into you and thats what matters to me in this bro-dom thats what i wanna do

TG: and thats some real shit i just said feel free to co-sign it

CG: …

===

TG: karkat i meant it

CG: … THANKS.

TG: no problem

#davekat #dave strider #karkat vantas #homestuck #this is literally at the image cap i hope you all like it #comix #candid detail

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bigsoupspoon · 8 months

Text

A Safe Respite

Summary: You take Astarion on a private evening date to a bath house inside of Baldurs Gate.

Pairing: Astarion x Afab Reader

Warnings: Fluff, smut, minor angst, bathing,

Word Count: 2300 approx.

Rating: 18+ - If you are under 18 please do not read.

The day had been difficult and dangerous, multiple citizens abruptly transforming into mindflayers and the Absolute cultists posing a threat everywhere they go, not to mention attempts to infiltrate Baldur’s Gate for leads to destroy the Elder Brain. By the time sunset came, you and your companions were all accounted for back at camp, and decided to start the night with a celebration of the victories earned thus far.

“I think we all deserve a little fun after today’s tiresome events, there’s a tavern close by I used to visit from time to time. They make the best honeyed mead in the Gate.” Wyll promptly suggests.

“Aye, I second that suggestion.” Agreed Halsin, already nearly finishing a bottle of wine.

“Are you coming?” Shadowheart nudges, hoping you would join.

“Although that does sound fun, I actually have something else for the two of us planned for the evening,” You reply, now looking at Astarion, “Unless you’d prefer the tavern of course?”

“A private rendezvous planned by my lover? How could I ever say no.” Astarion gushed coyly.

The group collectively threw you several looks that implied “Have fun,” and with that, you took Astarion’s hand and walked up towards the bustling streets of the city.

* * * * * * * * * *

You make your way to the local bath house, one you had seen earlier in the week and decided to pay a visit to soon. The same clerk is working who recognises you from your interaction just hours before.

“Everything you had requested has been organised, I hope the room is to your liking.” They smile, and lead you around the corner to a private room.

The scent of the lavender oil bath embraces your noses as you walk into the room. It is dimly lit, containing multiple candles surrounding a circular wooden tub in the centre, filled with freshly drawn warm water. Leafy vines have grown to obscure the windows and further around the roof and sides of the room, some of the smaller fronds hanging down with flowering buds beginning to grow. Your specific request of wine and fruits was dutifully fulfilled, as they sit on a small table placed next to the tub for easy reaching.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” Astarion says.

“I wanted some space just for us, someplace where we could take it easy for the night.” You reply.

“Well, how thoughtful of you, my dear.”

You take Astarion’s hand, and lead him into the room, and begin the remove your clothes and then his. He seems pleasantly surprised by your offer to remove his clothes for him, but lets you do so anyway. He helps you into the tub first, supporting you as you take your first step into the water, and he follows a second after. You’re sat next to him, getting used to the warmth of the water for a few moments. You then begin to pour two goblets of wine when you feel his eyes watching you.

“Come here, my sweet.” Astarion invites, as his hands find your hips and pull you towards the front of him, so you are placed on his lap, your inner thighs caressing the outsides of his.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I would think you’re trying to seduce me with all of this.” he teases.

“There’s actually something I’d like to do first, if that’s alright.” You poke back.

“Is it alright if I touch you?” You ask, eyes searching his for consent.

“Darling,” he coos, “I thought you’d never ask.”

You lean into Astarion closely, chests warmly pressed together, feeling his nose gently scrape the side of your neck, your arm outstretched to grab the cloth on the small table behind him, and dip it in the warm water of the tub. Once it is soaked through, you gently wipe it across his collarbones, swiping away any grime and blood brought on by the earlier events of the day. You tenderly move down his body, cleansing his chest and stomach, then proceeding to his arms and hands.

Astarion stares at you with a small, soft smile across his lips, watching you clean him, take care of him. His eyes softly caress your face, carefully taking in the moment of peace and safety, something that he wasn’t familiar with, but had longingly ached for.

Resting the cloth on the side of the tub, you check in with him again.

“How does this feel, my love?” you ask Astarion.

He initially smiles at you, but then his face becomes serious, it takes but a second for him to search his memories for a time where he was able to feel this kind of security.

“I can’t remember a time where I felt this kind of….intimacy. Its nice.” He answers honestly.

“Close your eyes, alright?” You ask.

You pick up the cloth again, gently swiping across his face, removing the last of the dirt and blood. Astarion’s eyes are softly closed, he basks in the moment as he can feel his skin being cleaned. He tenses in the beginning, his forehead creasing ever so slightly, he’s not used to this kind of gentle touch, but after a minute or so his breathing slows and deepens, relaxing into your touch as the safety of you embraces him fully.

Once his face has been cleansed, you place a small and delicate kiss on his cheek. Astarion turns his face towards you until his lips graze yours, staying in this moment for just a minute more. His hand caresses the back of your neck, prompting you to stay there. He kisses you slowly and deeply, and for those few seconds, everything else in the world fades away.

Your head spins lightly when you eventually pull away, cheeks warm and rosy, it seems Astarion feels the same way too. He rests his forehead against yours and places his hands on the small of your back.

It’s a peaceful and pure moment between the two of you, simply enjoying the quiet company of each other, a brief respite. The only sounds are your soft breaths and faint music from a tavern playing off in the distance.

“Allow me,” he gently takes the cloth and douses it in the tub, and returns your actions of cleaning him down. Astarion is careful to brush over the healing marks on your neck from his fangs the night before. He leans in and gingerly kisses the area of your neck where he last tasted you.

Your breath hitches as his teeth gently graze the sensitive area on your neck. Taking advantage of your small moment of bliss, Astarion begins to swipe the cloth across your chest and breasts, cradling them in his hands as he continues to clean you.

“This was supposed to be a night for me to take care of you, not the other way around,” you breathily confess.

“Seems like you enjoy being taken care of this way too, don’t you think, darling?” he smugly asks.

You push away his hands and place them back on your waist as you begin to trail small kisses from his shoulder up to his neck, gently massaging his chest while you do so.

Astarion lets out a small moan into your ear, quiet enough you barely hear it. Your planned priority was his sole pleasure and security, allowing him to feel safety and love as he deserves.

You pause for a moment and begin to work your way to the other side, giving equal attention to the other side of his neck. He firmly places his hands around your lower back, giving into his growing enjoyment.

“Love, although I’m loving this attention from you, we can take care of each other, you know. This doesn’t have to be about just me.” He takes your chin softly so you’re looking directly at him, and pulls you into another deep kiss. You can feel his smirk as you give into him, allowing him to kiss you more passionately than before, as his arms caress around your back, one hand nestled in your hair. He gently tugs at your scalp, pulling you out of the kiss for just a moment.

“I love you.” He whispers delicately, his pupils blown and cheeks lightly flushed.

“And I love you.” You return. He pulls you into a passionate kiss again, growing hungrier the more time passes by. You can begin to feel him grow between your thighs, so you take one hand and caress him ever so gently, encouraging him further.

Astarion lets out another small moan, more audible this time, and places his hands on your breasts again, gently swiping each nipple with this thumbs, making you moan in return. His expert fingers graze you ever so softly, then applies a gentle pressure, causing you grow aroused along with him.

His hands slither down your stomach and around your waist, firmly squeezing your behind before one hand comes back around the front to touch you more intimately. He drags his thumb slowly up your slit, even underwater he can feel your wetness starting to grow. He swipes up again, causing you to moan into the kiss, he reciprocates the moan as you rub your thumb across the top of his hardening member. You stroke him more firmly now, as he does unto you, eliciting filthy sounds from one another.

“I want more,” You breathily request.

“Only if you say ‘please’, my love.” He cheekily demands.

“Please,” You urge him. Satisfied with your instant compliance, Astarion gently pushes one finger inside of you, and begins to rhythmically pump his hand, while the other holds your waist still. You both spend several minutes like this, exploring each other’s body, teasing one another while yours and his lips remain deliciously connected.

Astarion reaches under your thighs, lifting you slightly out of water and gently onto your knees. Your cunt grazes his tip lightly, you balance yourself with your arms placed across his shoulders, crossing them over behind his neck.

“Are you sure want this, love?” Astarion asks, his lips barely leaving yours.

“Of course, baby.” You reply, your mouth leaves his for just a second.

As you slowly sink down onto him, both expelling a series of lustful sounds, you take a moment to adjust to his size. Astarion’s arms curl around your body, holding you as close to him as possible, his kisses grow more intense as he starts to tenderly thrust up into you. Wanting to reciprocate the movement, you lightly bounce on him, causing the tub water to steadily ripple.

You quickly become lost in one another, feeling nothing else but pure pleasure, love filling you both to the brim. He fits you so exquisitely, and he knows it, delicately and lovingly ruining you, over and over again.

The water begins to splash slightly over the edge of the tub the more you both continue, although neither of you notice, as the two of you are entangled with one another, as one connected entity.

The warm tingle in your stomach climbs higher, and your head swings back in reaction. Astarion takes advantage of the exposed flesh of your neck and kisses it, periodically sucking the skin leaving you sure there will be love marks come morning.

“Feed on me, please, I want you to bite me.” You beg, one hand entangled in his hair while the other grips his bicep.

“Are you sure, darling? It’ll hurt for just a second.” Astarion’s lips barely leave your neck as he speaks.

“Mhmm,” Pulling your hair to the side to expose more of your neck to him, granting him full access. Astarion needs no further encouragement, as he sinks his teeth into you, penetrating you for the second time.

It stings deliciously, the opposing mixture of the cold numbness shooting through your body, combining itself with the warmth of the fire between your thighs, you are overwhelmed by the simultaneous different sensations, causing your head to feel dizzy and your body to constrict.

Astarion removes his fangs and presses his forehead into your neck, no longer able to focus on drinking your blood and instead chasing his climax. His stifled moans exhilarate you, and you bounce a little harder, and a little faster, gripping his shoulders as you do so, feeling yourself about to come undone onto him.

His thrusts become sharp and jagged as he reaches his end, his hands gripping your waist so tight they’re bound to leave small round bruises where his fingertips applied so much pressure. The desperate noises Astarion makes are so sweet to yours ears, and are alone enough to bring you to the edge. You come undone around him, squeezing him tight as you ride out the waves of your orgasm. The sensation of you reaching climax around him sends shockwaves through his body a second time, rendering him utterly speechless, his brain only knowing the feeling of pleasure for that brief moment.

It takes a minute for you both to recover, the both of you have your arms coiled around the other. Astarion leans his head back as you rest yours on his shoulder, both you unevenly puffing, trying to catch your breath. He softly grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger, pulling you into a small kiss. After a moment, you pull away slightly, caressing his face and staring into his eyes. Astarion smiles back at you, he looks both relaxed and beautifully disheveled.

“My sweet, did you reserve this room just for the hour?” Astarion questions.

“No, I paid for the night.” You answer, breathing still uneven.

“Good,” He says softly, “Because I’m not quite finished with you yet, my love.”

#baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #astarion x female reader #astarion smut #astarion x fluff

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joelmillerisapunk · 1 month

Text

Greece 1.5 ~ S.O.S

Soft daddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Masterlist ♥︎ Soft Daddy Masterlist

Wordcount: 3,060

Summary: The one where you tell Joel you're pregnant

Warnings: 18+, mentions of pregnancy and pregnancy tests, anxiety, panic, Joel receiving this news and reacting

Notes: A filler between Greece and the next destination. Thank you to everyone who has read, commented, and/or reblogged this au. It was only ever meant to be a one-shot, but I am so grateful for the love it received. Writing this has been so very therapeutic for me and fun, and it's all because of you amazing peeps. Thank you, @saradika-graphics , for the dividers 🥰

As you go through the motions of packing your bags, your thoughts are in a tumultuous storm. You can hardly believe the result of the pregnancy test you took this morning, a tiny stick that holds the power to change your life forever. The two pink lines staring back at you confirmed your worst fears and ignited a whirlwind of emotions within you. Fear, excitement, and uncertainty all battle for dominance in your heart, and you can't shake the feeling that everything is about to change. You'd hoped it was a false positive. But here you are. You're pregnant. The news hits you like a ton of bricks, and you're not sure what to do next. You consider waiting to tell Joel until after your trip is over, but you know that's not fair to him. He has a right to know, and you want to be honest with him.

You picture Joel's face when you tell him the news, the shock and disbelief that will surely follow. You wonder how he'll react, whether he'll be happy or scared, angry or confused. You imagine him wanting to take control of the situation, to take care of you and the baby, and the thought warms your heart. But you also fear his rejection, the possibility that he might not want to be a father, or worse, that he might not want to be with you after this. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts. You need to talk to Joel, to tell him what's going on and see what he thinks. Maybe this is a good thing, a sign that your relationship is meant to be.

As you take one last, lingering look around the room, you can't help but feel a pang of nostalgia. The memories you've made here with Joel have been nothing short of extraordinary - filled with love, laughter, and a sense of adventure that has left you both breathless and exhilarated. You take a mental snapshot of the room as it is now - the rumpled sheets on the bed, the scattered books and papers on the floor, the faint scent of coffee and citrus that seems to linger in the air.

As you make your way out to the balcony, you take a deep breath, savoring the salty tang of the ocean air and the gentle rustle of the palm fronds overhead. Joel is sitting there, his gaze fixed on the horizon, and for a moment, you simply watch him, taking in the strong line of his jaw and the way the sunlight glints off his hair. You hesitate for just a moment before approaching him, feeling nervous. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the conversation ahead.

"Hey," you say softly, taking a seat next to him.

He looks up, a smile on his face. "Hey, princess," he says, taking your hand in his.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. "Joel, there's something I need to tell you."

His smile fades, and he looks at you with concern. "What is it, darlin? What's wrong, are you okay?"

"I'm pregnant," you whisper.

His eyes widen, and he looks at you in shock. "What?"

You nod, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "I took a test last night, and this morning, both were positive.” As the words leave your lips, Joel's expression changes from one of joy to one of shock and disbelief. His face pales, and he stands up abruptly, as if he's been physically struck. You watch in confusion as he stumbles towards the door, mumbling something about needing some air. Before you can say or do anything, he's gone, leaving you sitting alone on the balcony.

The breeze rustles the palm leaves above you, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore below fills the air. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the enormity of what you've just revealed weighs heavily on your shoulders. You curl your legs up onto the chair, wrapping your arms around your knees, as you try to make sense of what just happened. You can't blame Joel for his reaction. You understand that he needs time to process the news, but it still stings to have him walk away without saying a word.

—

Joel paces back and forth on the beach, running his hands through his hair as he tries to process the news you just gave him. He mutters to himself, "Pregnant? How? I mean, I know how, but...what?" He stops and looks out at the sea, taking deep breaths as he tries to calm down. But his thoughts are racing, and he can't seem to focus on anything but the word pregnant repeating in his mind.

He starts pacing again, kicking at the sand as he goes. He's never been in this situation before, and he's not sure what to do. He doesn't want to be a father, not right now. He's already done that. But he knows that's not an option. You're carrying his child, and he can't just abandon you. He stops and looks at the sea again, feeling overwhelmed. He's not sure how he can be a good father, not after what happened to Sarah. He couldn't handle that again. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, trying to steady his nerves. He knows he needs to talk to you to tell you what he's feeling, but he's not sure how.

—

You wait for what seems like an eternity, but Joel doesn't come back. You start to worry, wondering if he's okay. You decide to go look for him, and when you do, you find him outside, sitting on a bench with his head in his hands. He looks up as you approach, and you can see the fear and uncertainty in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, darlin," he says, his voice shaking. "I didn't mean to leave like that. I just needed some time to think."

You nod, understanding his reaction. You sit down next to him, and he takes your hand in his, his thumb tracing circles on your skin. Joel takes a deep breath and looks at you, his eyes filled with fear and uncertainty. "I'm scared, darlin'. I'm scared of what this means for us, for our future. I'm scared of failin’ you and the baby."

"I'm scared too, Joel. But we'll figure it out."

Joel looks at you, his eyes searching yours for something, anything. "But what if I can't be a good father? What if all I'm good at is failing?”

The vulnerability in his voice takes you aback. You never imagined Joel, the strong and confident man you've come to know and love, could feel this way. You take his hand in both of yours, your eyes meeting his. "Joel, you are a good person. You have overcome so much in your life, and you have so much love to give. I believe in you, and I know that you will be an amazing father if you want, but if not,” You pause as more tears threaten to fall, “if not then we can end the trip here and go our separate ways. I'm giving you an out.” You look down at the sand as the tears pour from your face, and suddenly you're sobbing into your hands.

Joel gently takes your hands away from your face and places his there instead, holding you like you're the most delicate thing in the world. Looking into your eyes, he can see the fear and uncertainty in them, and it breaks his heart. He takes a deep breath, "Darlin', I love you. I have loved you from the moment I met you. And I want to be with you, always. I want to be there for you and our baby. I'm not gonna leave.”

You look up at him, tears still streaming down your face. "Really?”

He nods, a small smile on his face. "Yes, really. I want to be a family with you. I want to build a life with you. I want to be the father that our child deserves. I may not be perfect, but I'll do everything in my power to be there for you both.”

You feel a sense of relief wash over you. "Thank you, Joel. Thank you for being here for me, for us."

Joel smiles, his eyes softening. "Always, darlin'. Always."

You lean in and kiss him, feeling a sense of closeness and connection that you've never felt before. When you pull away, you can see the love and adoration in his eyes, and you know that everything is going to be okay.

—

As your flight to France draws near, you take time to rest, feeling the fatigue from the emotional morning catch up to you. After your tearful conversation, Joel takes it upon himself to go out and buy you some essentials. He knows that you'll need all the support you can get during this pregnancy, and he wants to do everything in his power to help you. So he walks down the bustling streets of Greece, taking in the sights and sounds of the market. He heads to a florist first, picking out a beautiful bouquet of pink and white roses. The florist wraps them up carefully, and Joel can't help but smile as he takes them in his hands. He knows they'll just be left here when you leave, but he gets them anyway, hoping to brighten your mood.

Next, he heads to a small café, where he orders a box of pastries, a few sandwiches, and two cups of hot coffee. He knows that you've been feeling a bit nauseous, but he's hoping that the smell of fresh coffee will help perk you up. After that, he makes his way to a health food store, where he picks up some prenatal vitamins and other supplements. He's not entirely sure what you'll need, so he grabs one of anything that seems helpful.

As he walks back to the villa, Joel can't help but feel a sense of anticipation. He knows that this pregnancy is going to be a challenge and change his life forever. He wants to be there for you every step of the way, providing you with the love and support that you need, more than ever, but he can't help feeling a sense of doubt in himself.

Could he really do this all over again without failing?

—

The villa is quiet and peaceful, the only sound being the soft rhythm of your breathing as you sleep. Joel enters the room, his footsteps light on the plush carpet. He looks at you with a soft smile on his face as he watches you sleep. You look so beautiful, so peaceful that he feels a pang in his heart, wondering how you must be feeling. He quietly sets up a little display for you, with the flowers in a vase, the food, and the vitamins, all laid out on the table. With everything in place, Joel grabs his cup of coffee and takes a seat at the table, his eyes never leaving you.

As time passes, Joel decides to step out onto the balcony overlooking the sea. The view is breathtaking, the endless expanse of blue water stretching out before him. He takes a deep breath, feeling the salty air fill his lungs and pulls out the box with the engagement ring he's picked out for you from his pocket, and the delicate gem gleams in the sunlight. He knows now more than ever that this is the right decision, that his plans to propose in France will definitely go forward. He wants to spend the rest of his life with you, to build a family and a future together.

—

You slowly open your eyes, the sleep still lingering in your limbs. As you sit up, you're greeted by the mouth-watering aroma of freshly brewed coffee and buttery pastries. Your eyes widen in surprise as you take in the beautiful display Joel has set up on the table. A vase filled with an array of bright and colorful flowers sits prominently in the center, surrounded by an assortment of foods, vitamins, and prenatal supplements. “Joel what is all this?”

"Thought you might need some stuff to help you through the pregnancy. I wasn't sure if you're allowed coffee, but I figured one cup won't hurt."

You smile, feeling a sense of gratitude and love for Joel. He's been so supportive and kind, and you know that he's going to be an amazing father. You take a sip of the coffee, feeling the warmth spread through your body.

—

As the two of you make your way to the airport, you can't help but feel a sense of anxiety. This trip has already been a whirlwind, and the news of your pregnancy has only added to the drama. As you board the plane, Joel notices a familiar face in first class. It's a woman he used to know back when he was married, a wealthy socialite who always seemed to have her sights set on him. She sees him as well, and a sly smile spreads across her face. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Joel Miller," she purrs. "And who is this little thing by your side? Certainly not the sort of woman I'd expect to see with a man like you." She eyes you up and down.

You feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment, but Joel just smiles. "Now, now, Elizabeth, there's no need to be rude. This is my partner, and she's pregnant with my child. I'd appreciate it if you'd show her some respect."

Elizabeth raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised. "Pregnant? Well, congratulations, I suppose. I never took you for the family type, Joel, not after what happened to - whatever her name was. But I guess we all have our secrets, don't we?"

You can feel your anger rising, but Joel just shakes his head. "Elizabeth, please. We're just trying to enjoy our trip."

Elizabeth sighs, clearly disappointed. "Fine, Joel. I'll leave you to your...family. But don't expect me to roll out the red carpet for your little ragamuffin here. She's not exactly the type of person I'd expect to see in first class." With that, she turns on her heel and walks away, leaving you and Joel sitting there in shock.

"I'm so sorry, I had no idea she'd be on this flight. She's always had a bit of a mean streak."

You sigh, leaning into his embrace. "It's okay, Joel. I know she was just trying to get a reaction out of you. But you didn't have to announce that I'm pregnant, I mean, we just found out, why'd you tell her?”

Joel looks at you with a sheepish expression. "I'm sorry, princess. I didn't mean to blurt it out like that. I guess I just wanted to prove to her that I'm not the same man I used to be, that I've changed and grown. I wanted her to know that I'm happy, that I'm in love. I wanted her to see that I'm not alone, that I have you and the baby, and that I don't need her or anyone else from that damn circle."

"I know, Joel. And I'm proud of you, I really am. It's just a lot to take in, that's all.” You sigh

The rest of the flight is tense and heavy, with both of you lost in your own thoughts. You can't shake off the encounter with Elizabeth, and you can tell that Joel is still feeling guilty for blurting out your pregnancy. But despite the awkwardness, you find comfort in Joel's presence, his warm hand holds yours as the plane begins its descent. You feel a sudden surge of excitement. You've never been to France before, and you can't wait to explore the city of love with Joel.

“You wanna watch a movie? It'll help pass the time.” Joel offers, and you agree.

As the two of you settle into your seats and the movie begins, Joel can't help but feel a sense of guilt and unease. He keeps replaying the encounter with Elizabeth in his mind, wondering if he made a mistake by revealing your pregnancy to her. He knows that he only did it to prove a point, but he can't shake off the feeling that he's failed you in some way.

He looks over at you halfway through the movie to find you sleeping peacefully next to him. He can't help but feel overwhelmed by the weight of his past, by the memories of his failed marriage and the loss of his firstborn child. His mind drifts to the future and all the challenges that it may bring. He knows that he's made mistakes in the past, but he's determined to do better this time around. He looks over at you again, your face illuminated by the soft glow of the movie screen, and he feels a sense of peace wash over him. Maybe he can do this.

As the movie comes to an end, Joel takes your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. You open your eyes, looking up at him with a sleepy smile. "Hey princess" he says, his voice soft.

"Hey," you reply, yawning. "What time is it?"

"We're about to land."

You look out the window as the plane descends, watching as the green fields and rolling hills of the countryside give way to the bustling cityscape of Paris. The Eiffel Tower looms in the distance, a symbol of love and romance that seems to promise a brighter future.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller fic

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naffeclipse · 5 months

Note

Have you seen anything about Lethal Company? The idea of your cryptid lads watching over and protecting y/n while y/n looks for scrap in their territory makes me smile. They always make sure Y/n meets their quota to avoid any repercussions with The Company

I have seen so much about Lethal Company and this ask makes me go crazy because AUGH I've been chewing on a sort of AU with the DCA in a Bracken-esque role but, perhaps, a bit more interested in Y/N than a monster otherwise would be.

You're just a measly intern. That's all too clear with how the company sends you the utmost dangerous moons searching for loot and scrap. The hauntingly empty facilities and lifeless manors hold the keys to fulfilling your quota for the week, but you're not alone.

On the occasions when you get separated from your crew or find yourself left behind, you feel the hair on the back of your neck rise, aware of something—someone watching you. You carry a piece of scrap that most likely isn't worth the effort (but how could you return empty-handed?) The sinking feeling that, as much as you dread isolation, it would be safer than the near-silent footsteps following just behind you.

Your mouth grows dry. The pulse in your ears begins drowning the metallic echo of your picked-up pace, and then panic takes hold. You burst into a run, racing for the door, and when you frantically grab the handle, a cold, long-fingered touch seizes the cloth at the back of your neck before you throw yourself outside.

In the dusty air of the moon, you turn back to the door, now slammed shut. You drop the scrap to touch the back of your neck—the orange jumpsuit is torn into ribbons just below your helmet. Claws, you think. Claws so close to grabbing your neck and never letting go.

The next day, with only your flashlight and a walkie-talkie, one of your fellow interns abruptly cuts off mid-sentence (was that a scream or just the static crackling?) Left without even a voice for the company, your skin prickles with full-body goosebumps under the eerie weight of eyes watching you.

You turn slowly to look up the stairway you had just descended. The air in your lungs freezes. You clutch the flashlight tighter. Your helmet system blinks across your vision.

New creature data sent to terminal!

In the darkness engulfing the upper platform stands a dark figure with two piercing, white eyes. You whip up your flashlight and beam it on the terrifying being, catching strange frond-like petals of yellow surrounding a flat, disk-like face. Rooted to the floor in terror, you stare. It tilts its head, petals ruffled, in a snap of agitation. It grumbles low in warning.

You drop the walkie-walkie and run deeper into the darkness, your flashlight beam swinging over the walls with the pounding of your steps echoing horrendously through the deep belly of the facility. The primal instincts of your mind take hold, impulses firing to stay alive.

You come to a dead end. A lone light flickers along the ceiling. Cornered, your palms slamming against the bricked wall as if you could push it down, you start to tremble. You turn back, back pressed against the wall, your helmet softly clanking against the stone.

The beam of your flashlight cuts off. You drop that, too. A whimper of fear escapes you when a shadow moves at the end of the long hallway. Though darkly swathed, pale eyes pinning you in place, the figure crouches, creeping forward on hands and knees. The petals about its face have shifted, dropping to the back of the head and swinging down like a tapered tail. You can't look away. The creature tips its head to one side, the appendage trailing over its shoulder like a nightcap. It grumbles low, displeased.

You turn your head away, pressing deeper against the wall. Your every heartbeat is a swing of a sledgehammer chipping away at your ribcage. Bile rises in the back of your throat.

Then silence.

You clench your hands. Slowly, you carefully lift your eyes and gaze at the end of the hallway.

It's gone. The sunflower face and now nightcap head creature vanish like a bad dream in the morning.

You don't move for several seconds, and when you finally straighten and hug your shaking self, you carefully make your way through the darkness. The sinister awareness of being watched doesn't leave. It never does. You find an emergency exit. A chance to live yet. You feel something cold and heavy standing at your back.

You reach for the door when a large hand grabs the back of your neck. A scream jams itself in your throat. Breathless, frozen, you stand very still. It squeezes lightly as if testing the bones of your spine. Its shadow falls over you. Its other hand enters the corner of your vision, reaching for your face as if to smother you through the helmet. It begins tugging on your throat, pulling you away from the door.

"Stay... friend..." it rasps near-silently.

The flashlight in your grip is heavy. Before the creature captures your head, you throw it back at the beast. Light flares when the plastic hits, sparking with one drop of juice still left, and then you rip yourself free. A quiet grunt of pain echoed under the flash. You throw yourself outside, only turning back to slam the door and unwittingly catch a glimpse of the creature clutching its face. Petals twist and writhe around and behind its head in a clash of its early appearances. Between its long fingers, a face, half yellow and half dark with a static grin peeking out at the corners, twists in shock.

The resounding shut of the door reverberates in your head. You escaped. You gasp and clutch your chest. Somehow, your heart is still within you, fluttering like an injured bird in front of a cat. Your system sent new information to the bestiary catalog.

You keep breathing and unsteadily make your way back to the ship, carrying the searing imprint of the monster's hand on the back of your neck.

#bracken!sun #bracken!moon #bracken!eclipse #lethal company au #definitely wasn't tempted to break your neck the first time no siree #he wasn't going to drag you into the darkness never to be seen again ha ha ha!#ha...#lethal company y/n at any given point: bruh how am i an essential worker

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zepskies · 1 year

Text

Break Me Down - Part 5

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: Get ready, there be some surprises in store for this one…

Word Count: 5,100 Warnings: 18+ only. Smut (m. receiving oral and implied smut), SB’s attempts at flirting lol.

Part 5: Morning, Night & Day

Now that you were allowed to roam the mansion freely, you were able to confirm that it was huge. And it was beautiful…if a bit dusty.

The house boasted Spanish style arches and textured walls, cherry wood furniture and rod iron lamps and wall sconces, not to mention various art pieces on the walls that looked well-curated. No doubt Soldier Boy had hired an excellent interior designer.

You were more interested in the garden outside. It was tucked away behind the pool, in the shade of large palm fronds and bigger trees. Peeking through them was a lovely view of the mountains.

Though it reminded you of the damn cliff where you fell, Soldier Boy saving you, and of course, being an arrogant asshole about it.

Your lips pursed in annoyance. What a dick.

Expelling a heavy sigh, you shook the thought of him out of your head as best you could, and tilted your head up to the sunshine. You’d found a nice stone bench to just sit and be, and try not to think about why you were here.

“Lunch time,” Frank said, encroaching on your solitude. He wasn’t a chatty man, always one to hand off your meal and leave. Escort you back to your room and leave.

You were bored enough (and perhaps lonely enough) to attempt a conversation.

“You seem to be the brains of the operation,” you remarked. “Yet he’s got you babysitting me. My condolences.”

Frank gave you a bland look. He wasn’t a hothead like Tony, but he was starting to look annoyed as he was still holding out the plate to you. It looked like a roast beef sandwich on rye with some mixed fruit on the side. At least they were trying to keep you healthy.

“I’m not a fan of rye bread,” you admitted. “Tastes like sour cardboard.”

But you took the plate anyway.

“Want to sit?” you offered a place next to you on the bench, before Frank could scurry off. “I doubt doing Soldier Boy’s bidding is more fun than ignoring me for a few minutes.”

You could tell he was about to leave anyway. So you tried one more thing.

“He’d probably want you to watch me,” you pointed out. “Make sure I don’t choke on a grape or something.”

Frank’s mouth twitched, though it wasn’t quite a smile. After a moment of indecision, he surprised you by sitting down with you. You’d been trying to get Frank to talk to you for days, but he was definitely the strong and silent type. The good soldier, following his orders.

You were a curious person by nature, but more than that, you wanted to know what kind of men your captors were. You weren’t just learning Soldier Boy. You had to learn his team too.

So you offered Frank a grape. He met you with a raised brow, but he didn’t take it. You shrugged and popped it into your mouth.

“So,” you started, tucking into your sandwich next. “Ex-military, turned private sector?”

Frank shot you another look. He was older than you, though not quite old enough to be your father. He could have been around M.M.’s age.

“You carry yourself like an military man. Marine maybe,” you guessed.

Frank sighed and gave a short nod. “Good guess.”

“My father was a Marine,” you said. And that was the truth. Military men ran in your family—from your father to your grandfather, though you’d never met the latter. He’d died of liver and kidney failure, thanks to good old-fashioned alcoholism.

Frank snorted. “My condolences.”

You eyed him with a small smile. “You got a family? Wife and kids?”

He hesitated, casting his gaze ahead. You sensed it was a question with a potentially loaded answer, so you let it be.

“Yeah,” you said. “I know the feeling, being married to your job. Harder to quit than heroin.”

When you offered him another grape, this time, he actually took one.

Being able to tell between night and day somehow told your body that the night was no longer for sleeping. So your wandering continued that night.

Moonlight poured through the tall windows outlooking the garden, but most of the mansion was dark and eerie and all but silent, except for some quiet rain pattering outside.

It’s like an episode of Scooby Doo in here, you thought with a shiver. The long halls were empty and mostly dark, with just a few dim wall lights along the way. Still, you’d rather be alone than run into one of Soldier Boy’s goons, or even the man himself.

But you wanted to rejoice when you found the kitchen. Finally, you could put together a meal for yourself that wasn’t a damn sandwich.

Both the pantry and fridge were fully stocked with expensive-looking ingredients. At the moment though, you weren’t so hungry for a heavy meal as you were for a snack. Maybe something for your incurable sweet tooth.

You rifled through and found something you recognized: a family-sized tray of Chips Ahoy.

Ooh, success! With a grin, you ripped open the top and rifled through the cupboards for a glass.

“The hell’re you doing?”

You jumped with a yelp at the voice that startled you. You looked over your shoulder and frowned in annoyance when you noted Soldier Boy in the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame. A snappish retort was on your tongue, but at the last moment, you held onto the threads of your temper.

Don’t be difficult, you reminded yourself, however much the thought grated.

“Midnight snack,” you replied, nodding to the open parcel of cookies. “Want some?”

You took out two glasses without looking at him, but you could hear him approach. When you went to the fridge to look for some milk, you noticed him take a seat at the kitchen island in front of you, where there were three stools.

“What’re you, a fucking eight-year-old?” he remarked. You raised a brow at him and took no less than five cookies from the tray.

“You’re never too old for milk and cookies,” you said sagely. You were a proud dunker, and you did so until your cookie was half-soggy with milk. You shoved an entire one into your mouth and looked him in the eyes when you did it.

His lips tugged upwards, dryly amused, while his gaze not-so-subtly raked over your form. You almost rolled your eyes, but you resisted. He could take in your oversized shirt and sweats all he wanted.

“‘S that a man’s shirt?” he asked.

“Yeah. Not a lot to pick from here at the Holiday Inn,” you quipped. You were running out of clean items that would actually fit you, and you weren’t about to run around here in some of the slutty shit you’d found.

“Can’t sleep?” You distracted him with the question, then slid a glass of milk in front of him. Regardless of what he said, he’d glanced at those cookies twice.

This was an opportunity, you thought. A chance to get into his head, see what the fuck made him tick.

Soldier Boy eyed the milk, then you. After a moment, he grabbed a cookie and took a bite. He didn’t answer your question, and instead asked one of his own.

“How’d you get caught up with Butcher?” he asked.

You smiled behind your glass. It seemed he was curious about you too.

“I work at Supe Affairs.” That was easy enough for you to admit. And if he was smart, he would’ve had Frank run a background check on you.

Soldier Boy snorted. “Yeah, I figured that fucking much. Doesn’t answer my fucking question.”

So damn rude. You wanted to sigh.

“I help run surveillance,” you said. But before he could ask his next predictable question, you continued, “Grace Mallory recruited me because I was a private investigator…and like you, I worked at Vought for a while.”

His attention piqued at that.

“Though your tenure was a bit before my time,” you couldn’t help a light jab.

His lips curved again. “Why’d you take a job you couldn’t hope to win? You got some vendetta against me, like Butcher?”

You arched a brow, watching him shove another cookie into his mouth. If anyone had a vendetta against him it was M.M., but trust Soldier Boy to conveniently forget murdering the man’s grandfather.

“You’re asking if I’m obsessed with you? I think not,” you said with a genuine chuckle, then sipped at your milk with some decency. Unlike your companion, who already had a pile of soggy crumbs on the counter beneath him.

Soldier Boy shot you a frown, and his eyes said he didn’t believe you. He sat back in his chair, his jean-clad legs falling open casually. His gaze on you, however, was anything but. You wouldn’t admit it, but it made heat creep up the back of your neck.

“Really?” he said. “‘Cause I gotta tell ya, sweetheart. During your slutty little seduction act, you were pretty fucking responsive.”

He rubbed his palms slow down his thighs, like he could still feel yours wrapped around his hips and grinding your hot core against his slacks.

You stared back at him as your lips pressed together.

Soldier Boy tilted his head at you, his smile turning smug. “The filthy sounds I was getting outta you…”

You set down your glass on the counter. Reaching for another cookie, you rested your elbows on the counter and leveled him with a teasing smile of your own.

“Unlike you, Ben, I’m a good actor,” you replied.

His brow twitched at that, however subtle. You couldn’t tell if using his real name annoyed him, or if it just added to the game you two were playing. But it felt right, stripping him of at least that façade.

He wasn’t a soldier. He wasn’t even a superhero, really. He was just a man.

Albeit, a super fucking strong one with an ego the size of Empire State. But a man. The same kind you’d dealt with all your life.

And he crossed his arms, like he was starting to lose his patience with you.

“Then why’d you come out here?”

Munching on a dry chocolate chip, you answered, “To get paid. Why else?”

Again, it didn’t look like he believed you.

“You don’t look the type,” he said.

“Don’t I?” you said. He seemed to know you were holding something back, but not willing to admit he wanted to know it.

And you weren’t willing to give it to him. He didn’t need to know that you’d taken this job to support your family. Because what the hell would he know about family?

…But at the same time, his curiosity just made it all the clearer: in whatever small way, you’d piqued his interest. He wanted to figure you out.

And maybe that was the real reason you were still alive.

It started to happen like that more often.

Midnight snacks, as you’d continued to call it in your head. When you couldn’t take being alone with your thoughts (or being alone at all), if you made your way to the kitchen you often found Ben.

Whatever was keeping him awake, he seemed to crave the company as you rifled through the pantry. From alfajores, macarons, and chips, to the entire leftover ham from dinner, he often smoked a large blunt and ate whatever you found.

You’d taken a hit once when he offered, but the shit was so strong than you abstained afterwards. You wanted to be in your fully right mind around him.

And you talked—about the old-ass TV shows he never got to see the end of, and the new music he hated. You’d enjoyed (gently) teasing him about being an old man who didn’t understand Cardi B when you played it on his phone. You suspected he didn’t quite understand how all the bells and whistles worked on an iPhone yet. (But he’d taken it back from you before you could text anyone.)

“In my day, there was a little more fucking class,” he’d said. “Sinatra. Nat King Cole. Christ, the fucking Beatles.”

You’d rolled your eyes at that. You liked all those guys too, actually. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t bang out all the words to “Bodak Yellow” and “Please Me.”

You also talked about the movies he missed out on. The ones you thought he’d probably enjoy, like the Terminator sequels and Liam Neeson’s Taken (if only for the sheer irony). And all the while, he asked you probing questions he likely thought were subtle.

“What did you do at Vought?” he asked over chips and salsa.

You thought the salsa was a bit too spicy, but he was lapping it up. It both amused and disgusted you.

Until he licked some of it off his fingers. Catching your gaze, his became mischievous. He slid his fingers out of his mouth with an obscene noise. All the while, his deep green eyes held yours.

You would never admit to being turned on, but you felt your cheeks warming up as you fought not to react, watching the juices drip down his fingers.

“I ran down criminals for the supes to ‘catch’ them,” you managed to reply. “They just got to do the sweeping in part.”

“Lazy shits,” he remarked, licking off the remaining salsa from his hand. You tried not to focus on the sight of his tongue. Afterwards, he gave you reprieve by wiping his hands on a paper towel.

What the fuck is wrong with me? You inwardly shook your head at yourself.

“Back in my day, we actually ran down our own leads,” he said. “Sure, we got tips every now and then, but we did our own busts.”

You didn’t know how much of that you could believe, considering he’d never even fought in World War II, despite his numerous claims of pounding Nazis up the ass.

“How’d you end up there, anyway?” he asked.

“Vought paid more than private practice,” you wryly replied.

He eyed you then. “And before?”

Before? Was he just bored, or did he genuinely want to know about your life?

Still, this was starting to veer into things you’d rather not talk about.

“Worked for my dad’s P.I. firm,” you said, making an effort to untighten your spine. “I learned what I know from him.”

That much was the truth, though you hadn’t spoken to him in over a year.

Ben chortled, making you frown. “‘A’ for fucking effort there, sweetheart.”

You huffed. Yes, you did realize the irony of being kidnapped by the man you’d hunted down (sort of). Didn’t mean he had to be such an asshole about it.

“He must be fucking proud,” he added. Your gaze sharpened with irritation.

“Like your dad was proud of you?” out came your pointed reply, before you could stop yourself.

His amusement faded, likely as he stared back at you and saw that you knew for a fact what he’d told Butcher.

A fucking disappointment.

He didn’t bother lying, but his lip curled into a sneer.

“Be careful, sweetheart,” he warned. You heard the underlying threat in his voice. You forced yourself to keep your mouth shut, lowering your eyes. The act was grating on you, boiling your blood.

But it seemed to mollify him enough. He let out a low chuckle.

“I’ll let that one go,” he said. “Next time, I might not be so fucking nice.”

You believed him.

It was a week of this, before you finally found out the hard way where Ben’s room was.

You were wandering down a long hallway on the second floor, over in the west wing of the house. Your room was in the east, so you really hadn’t seen this side of the mansion before. The problem was, all these halls were looking the same to you.

And now you had no idea how to get back to the main hall, where by now you could navigate downstairs to the kitchen, the back garden, the pool hall, a study room (with several shelves of books), a gym, and even an indoor movie theater.

Suddenly, you thought you heard a woman’s voice, high and giggly. What the hell?

Your natural curiosity led you farther down the hall, where you could see light and movement beneath the closed door. Whatever (and whoever) was in there, you really should just let it be.

You’d been able to successfully avoid Ben for the past few days, and you didn’t feel like dealing with the headache of another encounter with him—for as long as you could manage it.

So you were just about to turn back and keep on your merry way.

But when you heard a slap, followed by a feminine cry of pain, you halted in your step. With your brows crunching in concern, you couldn’t help but approach the door again. You leaned in to listen.

Another slap, another pained mewling from the girl. Your mouth turned down in an angry frown of alarm.

What the fuck is going on? You didn’t know what kind of sick shit he was into, but if he was hurting some poor girl for his own entertainment, you knew you couldn’t just walk away.

After one more second of hesitation, you gripped the door handle and shoved it open.

What you found seared your eyes.

In unblinking shock, you took in the shambled state of Ben’s room. Clothes strewn haphazardly about, remnants of lines of coke on the coffee table, plates of half-eaten delicacies left on a wheeled in buffet, bottles of liquor, half-empty glasses and shots rolling around.

And a California king bed occupied the center, where the sheets and pillows had fallen off while Soldier Boy fucked no less than five prostitutes. All looked to be of various ethnicities and a wide age range. The oldest of them looked saggy enough to be in her seventies, but she was working as hard and skillfully as the rest of them.

One of the younger ones, maybe around your age, was getting spanked by one of his large hands while another girl’s head bobbed over his lap with gusto. The other three were finding things to do, whether on the man himself, or to each other in front of him on the bed.

In reality, you probably took all this in for just a few seconds.

But a gasp fell unbidden from your lips, along with a “Jesus fucking Christ!”

Ben looked like he had been working up a mild sweat. Broken from his concentration though, he glanced up at you. And then the broadest, Cheshire cat fucking grin spread across his face.

“Hey, baby doll,” he greeted mischievously. “You here to join in? Here, tag in for, uh…what’s your name again, sweetheart?”

He looked down and grabbed the shoulder of the girl in his lap. She released his cock out of her mouth for a second to answer, “Jasmine.”

“Sure,” he said with a nod. Then he frowned and gestured to his still rock-hard dick. Your eyes widened in shock—both at the audacity, and at the size of it. You blushed hotly.

“But don’t fucking stop now, Jesus,” he said to the girl. And he looked over at you with a raised brow. “Unless you wanna jump in…but seriously, don’t make me wait all fuckin’ day here.”

Your face contorted in disgust.

“There’s not enough fucking therapy for this,” you muttered.

Then you fled the room, slamming the door behind you so hard that it rattled. It still didn’t muffle his laughter behind the door.

Your face, neck, and the tips of your ears were on fire as you hastened down the hall.

By the time you got to the kitchen, you could even hear your rapid heartbeat in your ears. You set a hand over your chest and felt the thump, thump, thumping under your palm.

Images continued to flash through your mind—naked flesh, bouncing tits, shockingly adept wrinkled hands. And then the man’s chiseled bare form, planes of tanned skin over muscle, and strong-looking hands.

Fucking hell. You shook your head to try and rid yourself of your brain’s ongoing loop, but it was a losing battle. With a long and frustrated sigh, you reached into the fridge and grabbed all the ingredients you needed to make a damn sandwich.

You knew Ben had hired a personal chef (Simone, you thought her name was), but you were pretty sure she was currently part of the service the supe entourage today.

You slapped together a turkey and provolone sandwich with some lettuce, mayo, and a pickle for added “razzle dazzle.”

Though on second thought, you put the pickle back.

With an aggravated huff, you stood at the counter and tore into your dinner (you were too angry to sit at this point). You devoured half of it and nearly a whole bag of Doritos by the time that cocky bastard strolled in like the cat that got the cream, and clearly, more than once.

He looked freshly showered, and finally clothed in casual pants and a buttoned down shirt, rolled up on the sleeves.

Ben eyed you with a smirk. You raised a brow at him.

“That was fast,” you remarked. “I expected you to be in that fuck dungeon all night.”

“I wouldn’t call it a dungeon,” he said, leaning on the other side of the counter opposite you. “More like a cellar of fine delectables.”

You snorted. “All right, Hugh Hefner. I want to scrub my eyes with bleach.”

“Didn’t look that way from where I was sitting, doll face,” he quipped. His brow rose at you with a salacious, curling smile. You leveled him with a look.

“At the very least, you would’ve ended that little dry spell of yours,” he added playfully.

Your gaze sharpened at that. You dropped your sandwich on the plate to glare at him. “Excuse me?”

“What’s it been?” he asked, leaning closer into your personal space with a more knowing grin. “Don’t really fucking tell me it’s been three years since somebody’s laid you out right.”

Despite your outrage at his audacity, your mouth fell open the slightest bit.

“What…”

Again, he eyed your form, and not subtly at that. Today you’d found a pair of jeans that you’d managed to squeeze into. The polo shirt clinging to your waist and ribs and tight across your breasts wasn’t helping you either.

But you were honestly surprised he could still be looking at you like that when he’d just been doing some Olympic-level fucking.

Your spine tightened nervously when he straightened to his full height, walking around the kitchen counter towards you. His hand slid across the surface, his head tilting at you in amusement.

“It’s amazing what you can hear on shitty hotel roofs,” he said.

Your eyes widened when you understood what he was getting at. When you were on the phone with your sister…

“Maybe then you’ll—and let me not shock you here—meet someone,” Louisa had said. “And finally put an end to that three-year goddamn dry spell.”

And that prickly feeling you’d felt then, licking up your spine and raising the hairs on the back of your neck…

“You were watching me,” you realized.

Ben just looked down on you with a deepening smirk. His green eyes were alight with mischief, and yeah, probably lust too.

“You fucking creep,” you said, with both a sigh and a roll of your eyes (despite your growing blush).

He chuckled and raised a hand to lightly grip your chin. “That’s not very nice.”

You glared up at him, too angry and stubborn to remember to mind your temper. He seemed to like it though, working you up. He teased and prodded you enough, almost like a little boy trying to get a girl’s attention. Except this one was the most powerful supe alive.

So why does he like it so much, this stupid cat and mouse thing?

Not for the first time, you wondered why he decided to keep you around. And you had a feeling it wasn’t just to bait your friends. Maybe he just liked toying with you, seeing how far he could push until you snapped.

And then what? you wondered.

Though if you were honest with yourself…you were just as into this little game as he was, albeit for different reasons. You wanted to understand him.

At first, it was the job. Know the man you’re after.

But now, it was more. Knowing Soldier Boy, getting to know Ben would be the key to making it out of this situation alive. You just knew it…if only he didn’t make it so damn frustrating.

“Seriously, tell me,” he said, still with a deceptively light grip on your chin. The pad of his thumb brushed your full lower lip, making your breath hitch. He glanced down at your mouth, then back into your eyes.

“How fucking long’s it been since that pretty pussy’s been touched?” he asked. “‘Cause in my opinion, that’s a crying shame.”

For a moment, your breath got stuck in your throat. You felt a hot blush rising in your cheeks, down your neck…and maybe warmth between your legs at the mere suggestion.

You inwardly steeled yourself, clamping down on your anger and your embarrassment. Instead, you leveled him with a cool smile.

“Not forty years, I’ll tell you that,” you said.

While he raised a brow, he let you slowly push his hand away. You left him in the kitchen soon after, but he watched you go. Whether you meant to or not, the sway in your hips and your delectable ass in those tight fucking jeans made his dick twitch.

Figures, he thought, that you’d get all fucking huffy. He shrugged and picked up half the sandwich you left behind.

You found nothing else for your frustration but to head outside.

With a sigh, you sat down at the edge of the massive pool and just dipped your legs in. You didn’t have a swimsuit, and you didn’t want to take any chances by getting your clothes wet around here. Or even worse, stripping down to your bra and underwear.

You blushed at the memory of Ben’s proximity, his touch, his rich, teasing voice that dripped with lustful promise. And that just reminded you of the scenes from his room, which flashed in your mind every so often like a bad porno.

Shit. You absently bit at one of your nails. Ben had also heard that entire conversation with your sister. That meant he knew about her, and that gave you no small amount of anxiety.

But he already had you. He hadn’t tried to extort you for anything (yet). You knew though, that if he threatened Luisa, or tried to use her to manipulate you in any way, there wasn’t much you could do but play along, like everything else.

Right now, anyway…

You noticed a dark shape out of the corner of your eye, and for a moment you were annoyed, ready to tell Ben to give you a moment’s peace.

But it wasn’t him. It was Tony standing near the end of the pool. He must’ve been freed from desk duty, or whatever Ben had him doing while he presumably recovered from his injuries.

“What up, Tony?” you greeted, unable to resist a teasing smile when you noticed the large boot for his broken foot. Now plus a few extra bruises from your last tussle. They were dark, but yellowing around the edges.

His lips twitched at a cold smile. “They’re letting the little mouse out of her room now?”

You shrugged, smirking.

“You look good,” you replied. “How’re the balls though? Still broken?”

Tony expression tightened into a glare. “You better watch it, bitch.”

“Or what?” you challenged.

There was enough distance between you and him across the pool for you to feel comfortable, but really, you weren’t too afraid of Tony.

Yeah, he was a dick. But you’d taken him down before. You could literally break his balls again if he needed more encouragement to fuck off.

Tony just smirked back at you, deciding to leave you alone for now. You watched him head back into the house with sharp eyes. He wouldn’t take you by surprise again.

Frank was waiting for you when you got back to your room. You were more relieved to see him than you’d like to admit, and you greeted him with a genuine smile, before you noticed the shopping bags in his hands.

“What’s this?” you asked. Frank dutifully handed you the bags, and inside you found new clothes. They actually seemed to be your size.

You looked up at Frank, both shocked and grateful. “You got me clothes?”

“Boss’s orders,” he revealed. Your brows rose high at that.

“He told you to do this?”

Frank expelled a breath through his nose, hesitating, like he was debating how to frame his reply.

“He provided them,” he said. It felt like a confession, one that made your eyes widen at the implication.

Soldier Boy bought you new clothes?

You didn’t know how to compute on this one, honestly. But you still answered with a tentative, “Oh. Well…thanks.”

He nodded, and soon left you with your thoughts and your spoils. You went into your room and dumped the bags onto the bed so you could examine their contents.

There were casual shirts and yoga pants, a couple pairs of jeans, some sneakers, thank God. All the bras and panties, however, were lacey and expensive.

You shook your head with a smile, eyeing the labels. This man really went to Victoria’s Secret to buy you new underwear.

It was both kind and somewhat sleazy, knowing he was going to be imagining you in the sexy, but admittedly tasteful lingerie.

The “kind” part took you by surprise though. The clothes overall weren’t revealing or obnoxious. Even the underwear and bras were in styles you’d probably wear, under normal circumstances.

So you put together an outfit out of one of the shirts and a pair of jeans, breathing a sigh of relief when you could peel the old ones off.

This was a far cry from bullying and annoying you, and generally being an arrogant son of a bitch.

The truth was, Ben was confusing you.

Perhaps now more than ever.

AN: 🤭 Well, one would argue that she saw more sides of Ben than she thought she would (or wanted to). 😜

Let me know what you thought of this chapter! Things are definitely going to ramp up in the next one...

Keep Reading: PART 6

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List:

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @pallographsunspot @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @syrma-sensei @muhahaha303 @123passwort @xoxovienna @magnificentnightmarehadi @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @yvonneeeee @fckinel @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @waters-2567 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow @buckybarnes-1917 @secretdreamlandmentality @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @karnellius @kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine

#Morning night and day #soldier boy #the boys #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys season 3 #soldier boy/ben x reader #the boys au #enemies to lovers #frenemies to lovers #private investigator!reader #the boys amazon #soldier boy fic #soldier boy smut #break me down #Part 5 #zepskies writes

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zwhoreo · 9 months

Note

getting high with luffy?

ok so i have never been intoxicated or done any substances in my life so this may be extremely inaccurate, but idc it turned out cute

intoxication - luffy x gn!reader

fluff

summary: while exploring an island, you and luffy accidentally eat a fruit that gives you a mild high

contains: as the name suggests, intoxication (no actual drugs), reader gets some anxiety symptoms at the end

words: 1.3k

________________________

A warm breeze flutters your hair as you follow Luffy through the jungle brush, palm fronds waving above you as you begin your exploration. You have to tell Luffy to slow down, a few times actually, he’s so excited about this lush world you have yet to discover that he’s running and tripping over his feet and you don’t want to lose him.

But he keeps looking over his shoulder in an are you seeing this? and a c’mon, we don’t have all day! sort of smile because he really wants to share this with you.

It’s over waterfalls you go, wading through streams, birds crying overhead. You’re really in such a beautiful place, set loose in the jungle to play as the crew stays back on the beach. The sun is warm and white against your skin and everything feels peaceful but alive.

Luffy has taken to grabbing your hand and dragging you behind him because you’re going too slow. He swings between cliffs from tree limbs with you wrapped in his arms, he’s been loud and you don’t think he’s even blinked in a while because he’s just so excited to look at all the new things around him.

But eventually he starts to whine into your neck that he’s getting hungry. You’re far away from the ship and Luffy seems like he needs to eat something right then or he’ll be uncomfortable, and although you’re usually good at remembering snacks you just didn’t have time to pack them today.

Luffy seems eager to catch one of the wild pigs you’ve seen running through the underbrush but you tell him you’d be better off finding some fruit to eat, there’s a grove next to the waterfall you just crossed.

The wild fruit is the size of the palm of your hand and electric pale blue like a sky through clear water. Luffy climbs the tree immediately and begins to pick them, sitting on a branch precariously, eating messily, but he drops a couple down to you as you stand below.

“These’re real good, [name!]” he chirps, looking at you happily.

“C’mon! Come down and sit by me!” You open your arms for a hug, and Luffy falls from the tree right on top of you, shoving you down into the soft grass.

He sits there on you, still eating his fruit, every so often sticking it down in your face so you can get a bite.

And you’re both happy and content for a few minutes, basking in the sun and the mist of the waterfall and each other’s warmth and closeness.

He begins to feel heavier on you after a few minutes, or maybe, as you soon suspect, it’s just that you’re becoming more aware of your own senses, because everything is brighter and louder and more there. But yet the sky seems to swim so calmly above you, you’re entranced. You feel Luffy’s fingers lazily running up and down your cheek. His face is close to yours now, breath heavy, you’re relaxed and joyful and Luffy’s eyes seem to sparkle even more right now, dark and deep but shining like sunlight piercing an ocean trench. You get lost in him, mouth open and unable to speak. Those eyes get more hooded the longer you stare, glazing over, pupils taking over the iris completely.

He begins to giggle in short, breathy gasps and falls right onto your shoulder, rolling off of you. The pain of the impact itself is strangely dull although the warmth ricochets throughout you. He drones a soft “c’meree…” as drools seeps from the corner of his mouth and he reaches out for you.

Suddenly feeling so clingy you follow his arms immediately, not caring about the dirt on your clothes. His laughter is warm on your face. He gets close enough to nip your cheek which seems to electrify your every limb from the ground up. A dreamlike filter falls on the world around you, Luffy swims in mosaics of the clouds behind him.

Inhibition leaves you and you feel one with Luffy all of a sudden, laughter and joy matching one another, squirming on the ground into each other’s arms, his salty, musky scent becomes so raw and wonderful against your nose all of a sudden. You both want to just fly away.

You can’t really tell what he’s saying but he sounds like the only person in the world. And the birds sound like dinosaurs and the waterfall sounds like a thunderstorm and Luffy’s arms lift you a million light years above the earth, he holds you as he wavers in place, still seeming fascinated by your eyes and your lips like he’s never seen them before, a finger tracing every outline of your face.

“Hehe… pretty…” he slurs, headbutting your neck in slow affection. You grab onto his hair and give his ear a gentle little bite.

So for what seems like a thousand years but also just half an instant you lay there in peace, true relaxation wrapping you in a blanket of muted euphoria. But threads of unease begin to spear at your mind. You don’t really know where you are anymore, all of a sudden. Luffy’s arms feel farther and farther away.

You start to crave the stable reality that’s slipping away.

“Hey… Luffy… I wanna get down…” You begin to wriggle feebly in his embrace and Luffy complains with a sound of drawn out frustration because he really doesn’t want to let go of you.

It’s only when your distress clearly shows in your face that Luffy’s daze is broken. He sets you down and becomes alarmed as he feels your heart pounding beneath his hands. He isn’t able to find any words, though. His mind feels so blank.

You’re getting anxious and your mind, unlike Luffy’s, is so full with every thought you could imagine. You find everything you can to be paranoid about, all at once.

“Luffy? Do you think we’re lost? Do you think the others are looking for us?” You murmur, feeling like your whole world is glass about to shatter.

“Nah, we’re fine, [name!] C’monnn… don’t worry…” Luffy tilts his head and stumbles a bit, trying to take you into his arms again.

You stand very still and close your eyes. The world sings around you but you stay still and breathe very, very slowly. You ground yourself in only the dirt that supports your feet, in the warm breeze that raises hairs on your skin. And Luffy knows that this is important right now, although he doesn’t know exactly why, so he sits down and plucks at the grass nervously and watches you in a wordless silence.

You’re ready and you reach for his hand.

The high is still there, a pleasant hum through your veins and a cloudy mist covering the world, you’re still very aware, but you’re feeling better. You’re more here again. Luffy’s hand is firm and warm in your grasp, he rubs his thumb over your palm. He’s still giving you small kisses every few minutes, unable to hold himself back right now. You link your arm in his at some point as you walk to the ship, needing security, needing something so you won’t float away again, and Luffy holds you eagerly like an anchor in the sea of your dream-filled mind.

And you wonder if maybe you’ll tell Sanji about the fruit, just for future reference.

#luffy x reader #one piece #luffy #one piece x reader #luffy fluff #luffy x reader fluff #one piece fanfiction #luffy x you #luffy x y/n

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vickysaurus · 4 months

Text

Happy New Year!

Let's imagine it was the Earth itself that was going into its 2024th year. That is to say, we're compressing the entire history of the Earth into just the past 2023 years. What events would have happened when?

Well, not too much is certain about the first couple decades after our planet formed, until around 50 CE when we were hit by another proto-planet, Theia, and the debris formed the Moon. After a couple years of the planet cooling down again, the oceans formed out of boiling rain. The timing of the origin of life is very uncertain, but there are chemical signs it may very well have happened as early as the second century. Around 200 CE, the gas giants did a big funky orbit-swapping dance, and in the process inflicted the Late Heavy Bombardment on the rest of the solar system, meaning the Earth was suffering a ton of meteorite strikes for the entire third century.

The first indisputable evidence of life is from around 330, and the first stromatolites appear around 470. Those are basically the first fossils, stones created by layer upon layer of oxygen-producing cyanobacteria living and dying on top of one another. But even with oxygen producers evolving, it would take many centuries before oxygen became a major part of the atmosphere: not until the Great Oxygenation Event, which happened during the ninth and tenth centuries. That's also about the time the first complex, eukaryotic cells evolved through a symbiosis between an anaerobic archaean and an oxygen-breathing bacterium. The bacterium became more and more focused on just the oxygen-breathing task inside the larger cell, until its descendants were mitochondria, which as you all know are the powerhouse of the cell. The next seven centuries passed by with only slow, gradual changes, and life continuing to be unicellular and difficult to find in the fossil record.

(1735's Snowball Earth, by me)

From 1704 to 1730, the entire planet froze over. After merely two years of thaw, it happened again, this time lasting from 1732 to 1742. But these snowball Earth episodes set the stage for the evolution of animals that began right after. Across the mid-18th century, the bizarre Ediacaran biota, with its strange symmetries, fronds, and fractal-like pattern filled the oceans. In the early 1780s they went extinct, possibly due to a temporary drop in oxygen-levels, only to be replaced by a great variety of quite different creatures in the Cambrian Explosion.

(Class of 1799, by me)

Starting in 1784 and running for a few decades, the Cambrian period saw the origin of most of the modern animal phyla, reaching its most famous form in the Burgess Shale fauna of 1799. During this time, most animals still lived on the sea floor, either attached or crawling, with relatively few actually swimming creatures. Plants started tentatively moving onto land around 1817, and in 1825, the rising of the great Appalachian mountains caused a severe drop in global CO2 and thus temperatures, leading to the Late Ordovician mass extinction.

(Horseshoe crabs and sea scorpions on a beach in 1834, by me)

Bony fish first showed up during the 1830s, and around the same time plants were getting serious about inhabiting the land, evolving roots and vascular tissues so they could properly grow there. Millipedes and the ancestors of spiders were the first animals to follow them onto land. Our own fishy ancestors did not take their first step until 1857, by which point the arthropods were well established there and the plants had figured out how to become trees. The Late Devonian extinction, partially caused by the evolution of said trees and partially by the south pole freezing, played out in two pulses over the late 1850s and early 1860s.

(Swamp prominently featuring Meganeura and Mazothairos in 1889, by me)

Arthropods and vertebrates continued to gain adaptations to life on land. The insects became the first creatures ever to fly in 1878, and the high-oxygen atmosphere of the time would be especially good to them. Around 1884, a group of vertebrates called the amniotes, after the membrane that kept water inside their eggs so they could lay them on land without them drying out, split into two groups: the reptiles and the synapsids (which we mammals descend from). The next few decades would see the synapsids in particular being extremely successful as the supercontinent Pangaea formed. Until 1912, when a massive episode of volcanism caused the worst mass extinction of all time, the Great Dying, scouring the Earth of a huge portion of its life.

(A 1930 scene featuring the three branches of archosaur: dinosaur, pterosaur, and pseudosuchian, by me)

The 1910s were a period of slow recovery during which strange new forms of animal evolved. Many different, unrelated reptiles, such as the ichtyosaurs and plesiosaurs, went to sea, where they would continue to provide some of the most impressive creatures for most of the 20th century. On land, the dinosaurs first appeared in 1920, though for the next decade or so they'd live in the shadow of their pseudosuchian (crocodile-line) cousins. In 1934, Pangaea began to break up, resulting in another terrible pulse of volcanism that caused a lot of extinctions and left particularly the feathered and furry survivors with a lot of empty niches to fill, allowing the dinosaurs and mammals to diversify greatly. The last common ancestor of all modern mammals lived in the early 1940s, and by 1957 the dinosaurs had figured out flight, with Archaeopteryx usually being considered the first bird. Other dinosaurs took on an incredible variety of sizes, shapes, and forms. Some of the most famous ones include Dilophosaurus (1942), Diplodocus and Stegosaurus (1955), Iguanodon (1969), Velociraptor (1991), and Tyrannosaurus rex (1994).

(A tropical lakeside in the year 2000, by me)

In 1995, the world was struck by a meteorite, wiping out many groups, including the marine reptiles, pterosaurs, and ammonites. The surviving mammals and dinosaurs went on to diversify across the next couple of years and had formed thriving new ecosystems in the tropical world of the turn of the millennium. The first known bat lived in 2001, and the whales returned to the oceans next year. Around 2009, the world's climates turned colder and dryer. Antarctica froze over and grasslands spread widely. Our last common ancestor with the chimpanzees and bonobos lived in 2021, and by new year 2023, our ancestors were getting brainier and more proficient with tools. That's also when the north pole froze and the Quaternary ice age cycle began. The first known members of Homo sapiens lived on 10 November 2023. The latest ice age started on 14 December, and ended at 2 AM on 30 December. The great pyramid of Giza was built at 6 AM on 31 December and On The Origin Of Species was published at 23:22 PM.

#palaeoblr #happy new year #2024 #geologic timescale #vicky's vritings #one year is 2.244 million years if you're curious #and yes i did exclude both year 0 and 2024 #since 0 doesn't exist and 2024 hasn't happened yet #my art #i rather enjoy having an extensive collection of my art to illustrate my paleorambles nowadays #incidentally the big bang occurred in 4121 bce at this scale #which is curiously close to the date of creation creationists made up #if only they would follow through and insist humanity itself was seven weeks old too

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emilybeemartin · 7 months

Text

Inktober Days 19-21

Day 19: "Plump"

Fat! Bear! Week! It’s perhaps the most beloved modern tradition to come out of a national park, when enthusiasts around the globe tune in to the Katmai webcams to see the results of a summer of brown bears gorging on salmon. We root them on, following their progress as they go from springtime skin and bones to mega-autumn chonk in just a few months. Watching these immense bears prowling Brooks Falls for leaping fish is so captivating that at some parks, during slow moments in the visitor centers, we would switch on the webcam feeds at the information desk. Rangers come from all different backgrounds, with all different affiliations and alma maters, but few things bring us all together like cheering on a wild bear eating wild salmon.

Day 20: "Frost"

One of the privileges of working in northern mountain parks is the early coming of cool weather. Born and raised in South Carolina, few things make me feel more alive than a brush of autumn in August. I remember that first welcome moment in Glacier, when I climbed out of the government truck at Logan Pass for my shift in the high country. There was frost on the mountain slopes and a snap in the air. My breath fogged in front of my face, and the wind whipped through my park green sweater and jacket. Back at home, it was ninety-five degrees and humid, but on that morning, I swapped my flat hat for my fleece cap and spent the day bundled up on the Highline Trail, noting the huckleberries taking on their first tinge of crimson. I remember coming back to the tiny ranger station to find the woodburning stove crackling away, and I thought this must be what paradise was like.

Day 21: "Chains"

My first thought for this prompt was a chain of islands, but as I brushed up on Channel Islands, I realized it fits even better thanks to the chain of life that stretches from sea to land to air. Underwater terrain creates huge upwellings of nutrients that form the base of a food chain in the kelp forests, where vivid orange garibaldi and massive seabass swim among the waving fronds. Seals and sea lions spin and dive before hauling out onto beaches in noisy rookeries. Above them on the headlands, rare island foxes—only found on six of these islands and nowhere else in the world—scamper after mice and insects, occasionally coming to the shoreline for crabs. And in the skies, bald eagles, storm-petrels, and cormorants swoop down to pluck fish and other meals from the sea. And so life goes around and around on this scrappy cluster of islands.

Like these? Want extra illustrations and national park travel tips straight from the ranger's mouth? You can preorder Thirty-One Days of Inktober: The Artbook! It's a limited run--- snag yours now before they're gone!

Incidentally, I'm trying to keep international shipping down by eating a bit of the cost myself, so I hope folks outside the US don't feel left out!

#31 days of national parks #national parks #katmai #glacier #channel islands

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rachoxpotato · 1 year

Photo

🦕 Commander Mills x female reader 🔞 NSFW ⚠️ CW // skinny dipping, praise, waterfall sex ✏️ 2.8k words

Between securing shelter, exploring your surroundings, and running from creatures you still can’t believe exist in this world, it has been an endlessly stressful, restless three days since the crash.

"This way," Commander Mills says. He marks another tree as you both turn right down a semi-clear path lined on either side in trees, palms, shrubs. You follow and walk together for another half-mile or so.

You hear it before he does.

"Oh my god," you gasp, reaching for his wrist.

Mills steps in front of you, gun ready. "What?"

His instinct to protect you makes your body vibrate. A warmth spreads throughout you that you haven't felt in years prior to crashing in this god-forsaken place. You know it's wildly inappropriate fantasizing about a man who spends every second of every day and night protecting you and trying to get you home...

"Through here," he says, using his corded forearm to push a palm frond out of the way for you.

...but then his eyes do that thing when they look at you, and then that sexy strand of hair falls into his eye, and his hands are just so /so/ big.

"Mills," you gasp, but he's already a step ahead, slipping out of his gun strap, and dropping it to the ground.

Before you... is paradise.

It's a blue lagoon shaded by a canopy of palm leaves and lush, greenery. It's crystal-clear water and ample protection provided by the mountain behind. It's several thin streams of rushing water cascading from the cliffs above and into the pool below. It's...

Mills's chiseled back as he strips his shirt while approaching the water.

He falls to his knees at the shore and cups water into both of his massive hands, then lifts them to his mouth.

"It's fresh," he announces, looking over his shoulder. "I think it’s a cold spring."

He turns back to the oasis and you take the opportunity to drop your own pack, your gun, your knife.

He must hear you unzip your pants because he turns to look, but stops himself.

"S-sorry," he mutters, his attention returning to what he can gather in his paws and slurp down. (It's a lot).

"Don't mention it," you say, shucking your shirt and padding toward the water in just your bra and panties... the same ones you'd been wearing since the crash.

And you know a bra is impractical in a post-apocalyptic, dinosaur infested, Jumanji-land, but... surely he'd notice that despite the heat, humidity, and relative discomfort of this location, your nipples are consistently as hard as diamonds.

"How is it?" he asks as you wade deeper into the lagoon.

You turn, just as your breasts disappear beneath the cool water, and clench when you realize his eyes are mid-snap from your chest to your face. Despite the naturally cool spring, you're warm all over again.

"It's perfect," you moan, dunking your head under.

"I'll keep watch," he says when you resurface. "Enjoy."

"No, come in!"

He clearly wants to. A bud of hope blooms inside of you that the cool water isn't the only reason he's considering joining. "I can go after you're done."

You frown and without warning, slap your hand across the water to splash him.

Mills feigns offense as you do it again and he wastes no time in unzipping his own pants.

You squeeze your legs together like you do when you talk yourself out of letting your hand wander at night. When it's his turn to sleep and you're taking watch. When his soft snores consume your thoughts and make you wish you were lying next to him, against him, with his arm caging you in, keeping you safe.

His black boxer-briefs and happy trail disappear beneath the water as he wades closer. You float onto your back, close your eyes, and attempt to picture anything over than the definition and contour between each abdominal muscle.

"Please tell me you remember how to get here," you say, dropping your feet to find the sandy bottom. It's a bit shallower than you remember, and standing upright, the water only reaches your ribs.

Mills's eyes drop and his jaw clenches when he takes in your soaked bra, water droplets racing over the swells of the tops of your breasts, and getting trapped in the lace at the top.

All things considered, if you were doomed to one bra for an apocalyptic eternity, at least you're wearing a cute, lacy black one.

He clears his throat and looks at your face. "Yes, I remember."

His voice is low, eyes dark. You don't hide beneath the water.

The closest waterfall is just off to the right and as much as you'd love to stand there and have the sexiest man you've ever seen ogle your t!ts, a natural waterfall might be just what you need to truly cool you down.

"Where are you going?" he asks as you swim away.

"To check this out!" you reply, reaching the cascading water and giggling as it beats down on your head. The sandy bottom supports your feet as you tip your head back and let it pull your hair away from your face.

He smiles and makes his way over before placing his hand beneath the cascading water to catch it in his palm. Then, he ducks his head under, groaning as it beats down on his head, neck, and back.

You practically watch his tension melt away as his shoulders drop away from his ears.

You swim a little closer.

You crouch down until the water reaches your neck and take some into your mouth, maintaining eye contact as you spit it out. He watches you intently but must not notice your arm bent behind your back because as soon as the cups of your bra float to the surface, his eyes widen.

"Is this okay?" you ask, removing the straps from both arms. "I'm just sick of it."

"Yeah," he says immediately. "I get it. I mean... I don't but... fine. 's fine."

His voice breaks when he says 'fine,' for the second time and you begin to wonder what he thinks of you.

Admittedly, when you fling your bra onto a nearby rock, you hope he thinks you have nice tits.

Mills clears his throat. "Any chance you're sick of your panties?" He jokes.

"Now that you mention it," you say, already working the elastic around your hips.

He notices your arms shifting. He says your name. His gorgeous mouth over-pronounces every syllable. "I was kidding, I... it was a joke. I never want to make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't," you assure him, kicking your legs free.

You lift your panties out of the water with one finger before tossing them to the side. The tiny garment clops loudly against the rock and he clears his throat.

"They're pretty wet."

"Yeah, well," you start. "The lagoon is only partially to blame."

That's all he needs.

Suddenly, you find yourself wrapped around him as he grabs your hips with both hands and pulls you close. His body is so hard, so solid.

"Commander!" you say with a smirk.

Mills growls, pressing his face to your sternum, his nose preventing his lips from reaching your skin.

"Tell me. What else has you so wet?" he asks as you lock your ankles around his lower back.

"I think you know," you whisper.

"Say it." It's a command.

You swallow and look into his eyes. "You."

Mills groans and lifts his head to kiss your lips.

You can't help it. A moan immediately escapes from deep in your throat as your body processes what's happening:

Mills's big body holding yours secure, his plush lips working yours open so his tongue can find yours, his hands digging into your hips and pressing you down so your bare pxssy rubs against the bulge you'd spotted earlier.

"Please, Mills," you beg into his mouth, shaking from how desperately you need him, as you pull away.

You dip down to capture his mouth in another kiss and his hands immediately roam to your ass, making you whimper as he squeezes you, holds you steady with one hand, and lets the opposite wander up your torso to cup your breast.

His mouth catches your moans as he massages your flesh and gently pinches your nipple. You're helpless as you grind your center against him, desperate for some semblance of friction to ease the incessant ache that shouldn't even be there considering you've been fighting for your life the past three days...

But there's something about him.

"Mills," you gasp as he releases the hold on your breast and shifts down to rub between your legs.

"You're fucking soaked," he says, fingers slip-sliding through your folds.

"Uh huh," you agree, grinding down onto him.

"Who did this to you?" he demands.

"You."

"Did I?" He smirks. “I only kissed you, Baby.”

"Thinking of you," you amend.

"Thinking of what?" A finger grazes your entrance and you gasp as you attempt to line yourself up. He manages to pull away, his teasing finger shifting to trace the crease where your thigh meets your hip.

"Your hands."

"My hands?"

"They're so big and strong," you admit. "And your fingers are so thick. Makes me wonder what they're capable of. And how they'd feel..."

"Where?"

"On me. In- inside me."

He hums thoughtfully as a finger finds your entrance once more, barely applying pressure.

You moan. He smirks.

"These fingers?" Mills confirms. "Here?"

"Yes!" you gasp.

"Fuck," he groans into the crook of your neck as he slides a fingertip inside. "So tight, Baby. Not sure how we're gonna get my cock in this tight little pxssy. But we'll make it fit."

It's embarrassing how close you are, considering he's barely touched you and only has half of a finger inside of you. But between the stress, the chaos, and the inappropriate pining, your body is so /so/ ready to feel good.

"Please, more," you moan.

A second finger joins the first beneath the water and you gasp, moan, and cry out all at once when he pulls them back and thrusts them inside.

He keeps his rhythm consistent as he kisses your neck, your collar bone, your breasts. You've more or less surrendered your entire body to whatever he wants to do to it, so you're grateful he's holding you tight.

"Come for me, Baby," he coos when you start grinding against his hand. "I can feel you're close... squeezing my fingers with this perfect, hot, tight pxssy. Fuck, Baby. My c0ck is so jealous right now."

That does it.

"Ohh!" you cry out as his fingers curl forward toward your front wall and the heel of his hand rubs your c|it just right. Desperate to keep the angle, you lean into him, grinding down on him, moaning, panting, heart racing, as your orgasm tears through you, sending pleasure into every last bit of you.

Mills slows his hand but keeps moving, bringing you down from your high as your head falls back and he takes the opportunity to wrap his hot mouth around a nipple, sucking at it and injecting more pleasure into your already convulsing, overwhelmed body.

"Atta girl," Mills coos against your breast, lifting his eyes to look up at you. "Think you're even wetter after that. Wish I could taste ya, Baby."

"Later," you say hurriedly as you reach between you for his underwear. He shucks them down one-handed as best he can and as soon as your hand wraps around his thick, hard, ready c0ck, you gasp.

"I told you we're gonna have to make it fit," he says with a smirk.

And something about this talented, protective, humble man admitting he knows he's got a huge d!ck just… does something to you.

"Please fuck me," you purr in his ear, letting him shift your pelvis back so he can line up his length. “Commander.”

He growls when you nip at his earlobe and the tip slides inside of you.

"Fuck, Baby. I'm gonna split you in two," he says, taking a bracing step backwards.

Suddenly, you find yourselves beneath the cascading waterfall, clinging to his shoulders, and giggling as he kisses you, pressing in a bit more.

He stops to look around briefly and ultimately decides to carry you up onto the shore at the backside of the waterfall. You groan as he slips out of you and he chuckles. "Gimme one second, Baby. I gotcha."

Carefully, he lays you down in the sand and crawls between your legs, planting a hand on each knee to spread you wide. Instinctively, you want to close them. He's staring so intently, you almost feel self-conscious, but then he presses his thumb to your slick flesh and swallows as his eyes scan your body.

"You're beautiful," Mills tells you. "Fucking gorgeous, I'm... I can't believe you're letting me touch you like this."

Your back arches and the sand collecting in your hair will be well-worth it.

"You can touch me anywhere," you tell him. "Everywhere."

He slides his middle finger inside of you and it feels thicker, longer than it had in the water. When he pulls it out, it's covered in your slick, and he makes eye contact with you while popping it into his mouth.

He savors it while you remain laid out in front of him, your own gaze locked on his huge, hard c0ck bobbing, teasing.

"So sweet, Baby," he says.

Then, he's wrapping his arms around your spread thighs and yanking you closer. His massive hands support your ass as he lifts you to line your entrance up with his c0ck.

"Ohh, god. Yes," you pant as your walls struggle to contain him.

The stretch as he bottoms out is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.

It’s a tight fit, especially when he plants a hand on your lower abdomen and allows you to truly feel the pressure of every movement.

"Don't stop," you tell him as he picks up the pace, both of you keeping an eye on the bulge in your lower abdomen. "Do this to me forever."

He chuckles as he readjusts, planting one hand on the sand next to you and keeping the opposite on your ass so he can pull your body in every time he thrusts.

He's hitting you so deep, you're not convinced he isn't hitting your lungs. At least, it feels that way, with the way he's forcing air out of you.

"So good, you... you feel so good, Commander," you purr and he seemingly loses his mind at that.

Mills's eyes darken as seemingly every muscle in his body bulges simultaneously. His fingers dig into your ass cheek as he thrusts harder into you. Spray from the nearby waterfall mists you both as his body pleasures yours, leaving a shiny sheen across your skin.

"You feel fucking incredible," he grunts as the sand beneath you caresses your body.

You can tell his rhythm is faltering a bit as he picks up the pace.

"Can you come again?" he asks, panting.

"Uh huh."

"Do it," he commands. "Touch yourself, Baby. Come on my c0ck."

Mills gaze is focused, intently zoned in on his c0ck as it slides in and out of you, and your fingers drawing circles into your swollen, throbbing c|it.

"That's it, Baby. Doing so good. You feel perfect.... I'm close, Baby. I'm close. Come for me..."

With his encouragement and deeper-than-ever thrusts while he chases his own release, you soon find yourself barreling over the cliff of pleasure as your orgasm crescendos. Your intimate walls squeeze his c0ck tight as he fights to stay inside of you, uses every ounce of strength within him as his face turns red, his jaw falls open, and the veins in his neck bulge over you.

"Yes!" he roars, accentuating each word with a deep thrust. "Fuck... Baby... god... so... fucking... good... UNGHHHHH."

You moan as his hips fuse to yours and hardly pull back before pushing deeper, deeper, deeper. The pressure is insurmountable but your waiting c*nt takes all of his warm cum as deeply as possible until he collapses over you in a hot, glistening, panting heap.

"Mmmm, Commander," you purr. "That was-"

"Yeah," he agrees, still out of breath, but suddenly more desperate than ever to kiss you.

"Aren't you glad you joined me instead of taking watch?" you tease, dragging your nails up and down his back.

He chuckles against your sweaty neck and presses a kiss there, too.

“So glad, Baby,” he coos, nudging his nose against yours. “I’ll be joining you every time.”

#commander mills #commander mills x you #commander mills x reader #commander mills x female reader #65 #adam driver #adcu #adcu writer #adcu fanfiction #adcu smut #adcu fic #rachwrites

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hearts-hunger · 1 year

Text

sweet peach || sam kiszka x reader

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: Sometimes, you want special attention from Sam. He reminds you that all you have to do is ask.

Pairings: Sam Kiszka x Reader | Genres: fluff, angst, emotional hurt/comfort | Word Count: 3k | Chapter Warnings: none, I think?

A/N: This is, like, Hollow To The Touch's fluffier sister fic. Idk why Sam conjures these angsty stories in me, but I sure do like writing them! I hope you like it too! ♡

“Look! Here it comes.”

You pointed to the model train that wove its way through swaths of flowers and low-hanging palms, a delighted smile on your face as it passed you by and chugged up to the miniature bridge suspended overhead. You followed it until it came back down to steam through a scale-model town complete with shops and a train station.

“You sure do like that train, don’t you?”

You looked behind you and grinned at your boyfriend. “How could you guess?”

He chuckled, watching with you as the train continued to another part of the greenhouse. Sam had surprised you yesterday with a weekend getaway trip to the Biltmore, and you’d been telling him excitedly about the model train exhibit in the greenhouse since you’d gotten in the car.

“Isn’t it gorgeous in here?” you asked, looking at a display of lovely pink and orange orchids.

He hummed in agreement. “Hey,” he said, gesturing to the small sign in the display. “These are your special orchids, honey.”

You smiled, seeing that the sign read peach dendrobium orchid. Sam had called you “peach” since your first date where you’d worn a soft pink dress, and the nickname had stuck.

“They are my special orchids, aren’t they?” you said happily. You glanced at the camera that rested against his chest, wondering if he’d offer to take a picture of you with the orchids, but he gave the flowers one last look and headed on to look at a different display.

You bit the inside of your cheek. You knew it wasn’t fair, but you didn’t want to have to ask him to take your picture; you wanted him to do it because he wanted to do it.

Pushing the thought aside, you joined him at the model greenhouse.

“There’s us,” he said. He looked over your shoulder. “And I think your train’s coming back.”

You watched the little tunnel to your right until the train came through.

“That’s my dream job, I think,” you said.

He smiled. “What, model trains?”

“Yeah,” you said, following the train through the flowers to the next exhibit. “It would be so fun to build all this stuff and set the track up, don’t you think?”

“I think it would drive me crazy to set up all this little stuff,” he said, but he wasn’t unkind. “I’m glad you like it, though. We should get a model train for your Christmas village this year.”

You smiled up at him. “Could we?”

He shrugged. “Sure. You’ll just have to keep Josh from staging train robberies with all your little village people.”

You laughed and went to take his hand. Just as your fingers glanced his, though, he took his camera and snapped a few pictures of the greenhouse roof through a spray of palm fronds.

You swallowed another pang of hurt and put your hands in your dress pockets, following him as he continued down the brick path through the greenhouse that led out to the garden.

Sam wasn’t the most overtly lovey-dovey boyfriend, that much was just a fact. You’d known it going in, and you’d convinced yourself it wasn’t that big of a deal. Most of the time, it wasn’t — you knew that he loved you, and he showed you as much as he told you. He was patient and kind and gentle with you all the time. He remembered little things you told him, things even you’d forgotten you’d mentioned to him. He was forever finding little ways to serve you, from carrying your bags to getting you coffee to everything in between, and he was the Olympic world champion of writing little love notes and leaving them where you’d be sure to find them throughout the day. He loved you, and there was no way you could ever doubt it.

But, as far as public displays of affection went, they just weren’t his thing. He preferred not to kiss in public, and hand-holding was usually met with a sort of willing indifference. He didn’t really think to take pictures of you when you were out and about, and you always had a tough time getting him to dance with you at parties. You’d learned to be okay without those things; besides, when you were home and you gave him even the slightest bit of prompting, he’d shower you with kisses and affectionate touches and spontaneous dance parties until you thought your heart would break.

But every once in a while, when you wanted it when you weren’t at home and you wanted him to start it, it would hurt. You guessed today was one of those days.

You trailed behind him out in the garden, watching the butterflies drift from flower to flower. In the shade of the long, vine-covered pergola a few paces away, a couple giggled and took a selfie as he kissed her cheek.

“Hey, peach.”

You tore your gaze away from the couple, trying to ignore the jealousy gnawing at you. “Yes?”

Sam beckoned you over, and your heart jumped for a moment; you practically skipped to his side and waited for him to take your hand or put his arm around your shoulder or something.

He nodded to the huge, wine-colored tulip amid a few pink ones.

“Can you hold that purple one closer to the pink ones?” he asked, hunkering down and getting his camera ready.

Your heart dropped to your shoes, again. “Oh. Uh, sure.”

You did as he said, holding the flower just so in order for him to get the perfect picture. Photography had become a hobby of his lately, especially with his fancy new film camera, and you usually enjoyed indulging his desire to get a very specific shot. Today, though, you felt embarrassed to be standing awkwardly, holding a flower for your boyfriend who didn’t even care about you.

You grimaced. That last thought had been uncharitable, and you knew it wasn’t true. Still, you couldn’t ignore the bitterness and hurt that was welling inside you with an alarming quickness.

“Perfect,” he said, grinning up at you. “Thanks, peach.”

You managed a tight smile. “You’re welcome, honey.”

Sam tried to engage you in conversation as you meandered through the garden, but you couldn’t quite muster up any enthusiasm for talking.

“It’s a great day for strolling through a garden, huh?”

“Mmh.”

“I’m glad I’m spending this beautiful sunny day with you.”

“Right.”

“I think we should buy the Biltmore and have a baby for every bedroom, what do you think?”

“Okay.” You registered what he’d said a second too late. “Wait, what?”

He gave you a slightly worried smile, cocking his head at you as if looking at you from a different angle would reveal something.

“You okay, peach?” he asked gently.

You wilted, knowing you were being rude. “Yes. I’m sorry I wasn’t listening.”

“That’s alright, honey.” He held the waist-high gate open for you as you walked to another part of the grounds. “We can go back to the hotel for a power nap or something. Or go do that wine tasting thing in the village if you’re tired of just walking around.”

“I don’t care what we do,” you said, and you smiled to soften it. “Really. I’ll do whatever you want to do.”

He frowned. “But it’s your vacation.” He ducked under a low-hanging willow branch. “You’re supposed to be the one calling the shots.”

You sighed. If that was true, Sam would be smothering you in kisses and telling every person you walked by how much he loved you and how beautiful you were.

“I hear you sighing, peach,” he said. He unfolded his map of the grounds and tried to figure out where you were. “Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong, or do I have to twenty-questions it out of you?”

“Not twenty questions,” you said, embarrassed.

“No?” He peered over the map and through the winding shrub garden. “Glad to hear it. So, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lied. “Sometimes I just like sighing.” You sighed again to prove your point.

He laughed. “Okay.” He put his map away and looked back at you.

“Would you like to go to the azalea garden or the Italian garden?” he asked. “Or somewhere else, keeping in mind that I am perfectly happy to go anywhere you want?”

You felt a sharp sting of guilt at how petulant you’d been acting. Sam didn’t deserve for you to be moody, especially not on a trip he’d planned for you, and certainly not when he’d never set the expectations you were upset with him for not meeting.

“I’d like to go to the Italian gardens,” you said meekly. “Please.”

He smiled and gave a grand, theatrical gesture to his left. “Right this way, my lady.”

You walked close to each other as you set a leisurely pace for the Italian garden, and you twisted your fingers together to keep from reaching out and taking his hand. You didn't think he wouldn’t mind if you did, but you didn't like to want things from him that he didn't want from you. You twisted the worn pearl ring he’d gotten you at an antique store forever ago around and around on your finger.

You came through the opening in the hedgerow to the long stretch of ponds lush with water lilies. Little statues were interspersed between the ponds, and you took your time wandering around to see the flowers and the koi fish that swam among their roots.

When you came near to the house, Sam stopped at a statue of a woman and a child dancing with flowers in their hair. The woman was nude from the waist up, one hand extended upwards in her dance, the other holding on to the child’s hand.

“It’s called ‘The Dancing Lesson’,” Sam told you. “Very ‘Flower Power’, don’t you think?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, I’m sure your song is what the artist had in mind.”

He smiled, pleased he’d amused you with his joke. He raised his camera and took his time getting the picture he wanted.

“She’s beautiful,” he said, and your heart twisted with foolish jealousy. When he reached out to touch the statue, you turned and walked up the steps to the library terrace a few feet away.

“Peach, wait!”

You ignored him. You didn’t want to turn back and see him touching the statue and taking pictures of it and saying how beautiful it was. You didn’t want to feel jealous over a stupid statue, of all things.

“Peach, honey, hold on.”

Sam caught up to you and took your wrist in a gentle grip to make you stop. You felt a full-body shiver of delight at his touch that only made you feel worse.

“Let go,” you said, pulling out of his grip. He released you without protest.

“I’m sorry for grabbing you,” he said, thinking he’d upset you with his touch instead of his lack of it. “I wasn’t trying to be a jerk.”

Neither of you said anything for a moment. You started to twist your ring uncomfortably again.

“What’s going on, honey?” he asked. “Are you sick?”

You shook your head.

“Okay,” he said. “Are you hungry?”

Again, you shook your head. It seemed like he was having to do twenty-questions with you after all, but you hated to tell him what had gotten you so upset when it wasn’t really his fault.

He started to say something else, but a tour group came out of the double doors that led from the library out to the shaded terrace. He gently steered you out of their way and found a bench in the far corner, pulling you to sit with him.

“Let’s just sit here a minute and cool off, okay?” he said.

You nodded.

“And when you’re ready,” he said, “I’d really like for you to tell me what’s going on.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “There’s nothing going on.”

“Peach,” he said, gentle. “I don’t lie to you, so I don’t want you to lie to me. Alright?”

You nodded, but you didn’t say anything. He put his hand over yours after a moment, and you wished it hadn’t been a crisis that had drawn him to hold your hand.

“I want to fix it, honey,” he said, and you knew he meant it. “I didn’t plan this trip so we could sit here and be upset with each other. Help me figure out how to get my sweet peach back to her usual chirpy self.”

You felt the sting of tears. “Your sweet peach?”

“You are, aren’t you?” He squeezed your hand. “Come on, my sweet peach. Tell me what’s bothering you so much.”

“I want you to hold my hand,” you said, almost in a whisper.

He held your hand tighter, the one he was already holding. “Okay. What else?”

You didn’t say anything for a moment. You knew he deserved the truth, and he was being so patient with you; you looked up and met his eyes even though you wanted to run and hide.

“I want you to hold my hand in the garden,” you said, and your voice was wobbly. “When we walk together. I want you to hold my hand.”

He nodded after a moment. “Okay. I will. Have you... have you wanted me to this whole time?”

A tear rolled down your cheek, and before you could reach up and try to hide it, Sam had touched his fingers to your cheek and brushed it away.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said quietly. He tucked your hair behind your ear. “That makes me sad, peach. I wish you would have asked. You know I would have loved to hold your hand if you asked me to.”

“I know,” you said, and you hated yourself for how bitter you still felt. You raised his hand to your face; he splayed his fingers and cradled your cheek.

“So why didn’t you, honey?” he asked.

You met his eyes, desperate to make him understand.

“I don’t want to make you do it if you don’t want to,” you said, the words spilling out of you now. “I always feel like I’m asking for things you don’t want to give, and then something like this happens and you say you’ll hold my hand and take pictures of me and whatever else I want, but isn’t it just because I asked you to do it and not because you want to do it?”

You stood, agitated and ashamed at your behavior.

“I don’t ask because I don’t want to be needy and clingy, but...” You gave a helpless laugh and wrapped your arms around yourself. “I guess that ship has already sailed.”

He didn’t answer right away. You couldn’t bear the silence, and you walked over to the terrace railing and looked out over the mountains in the distance.

You heard him join you, and you let out a shaky breath when he brushed his thumb over the strap of your dress.

“I forgot to tell you how pretty you are in this dress,” he said. “I think you’re prettier than any of the flowers in the garden, peach.”

Your throat felt tight. “So why didn’t you take a picture of me?”

He sighed. “You know I’m not good at that kind of stuff, honey. It’s not that I don’t want to, it just... doesn’t occur to me. You have to ask.”

He tugged gently on a lock of your hair. “And I know you don’t want to have to ask. I understand that. But it doesn’t make you clingy to ask, and it doesn’t mean I don’t love you because I don’t think to do those things for you. I’m trying to be better about it, to be more... aware of it. But it’s not going to happen overnight, sweetheart.”

The guilt in his voice tore at you. You turned to face him.

“Do you have something you want to ask me?” he said, tender and sweet.

“Can you hold my hand?” you asked quietly.

A smile flickered across his face. “Of course I can.”

He took your hand in his and squeezed it gently.

“Can I...” You wavered, even though he’d said you could ask. His smile was soft.

“Does my sweet peach want a... kiss?” he asked.

You blushed and gave a bashful nod.

“A kiss for my sweet peach, then,” he said, and gave you a gentle, chaste kiss. “See how easy it is? You don't ever have to worry that you're asking for something I won't give, honey. I promise.”

You leaned your head against his chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t just ask, Sam. I'm sorry about... all of this. It’s not fair of me to expect you to read my mind.”

“No, it isn’t,” he agreed. “But I understand why you were upset. Thank you for apologizing.”

You looked up at him. “Will you forgive me?”

“Already done.” He kissed your temple. “I promise to pay better attention and try my best to initiate more. You’ll just have to take it easy on me, okay?”

You cherished the way his touch lingered. “Okay.”

You walked together, hand in hand, back to the greenhouse and around to the azalea garden. The shrubs were in full bloom in every shade of pink, purple, and white, and birds flitted to and fro as they sang.

“Sam, look!”

Your voice was hushed as you walked carefully, quietly over to a bird’s nest in a cradle of pink flowers.

“Look how pretty they are,” you said, looking over the fragile little eggs inside.

“Peach.”

You looked over your shoulder at his voice, a smile on your face, and heard the camera shutter before you saw he was taking a picture.

“Sam,” you chided, bashful even though you were happy he’d done it.

“It’s a beautiful picture, honey,” he said. “Stay just like that.”

You did as he said, and you felt a rush of eager butterflies when he lowered the camera after he’d taken another picture. The way he was looking at you spoke more than any words, and you twined your fingers with his as you came close to him again.

“Sam?”

“Hm?”

“Will you give me a kiss?”

He grinned and did as you said, quick and sweet and gentle. “I like it when you ask me for what you want, peach. I always love to give it to you.”

You brushed his soft hair behind his ear. “I love you very much, Sam.”

He smiled, sunshine-soft and full of tenderness.

“My sweet peach,” he said gently. “I love you very much too.”

sam taglist: @lil-twilight-glow @dannythedog

gvf taglist: @malany-gvf @spark-my-nature @eearevee @madneedshelp @demonrat444 @josh-iamyour-mama

@gvfrry @ohhey1293 @the-chaotic-cow @mountain-in-springtime @xserenax-13 @stardustjtk @brooke-gvf @weightofdreams-gvf @jakeydoesit @gretasmokerising @hayley1623 @doodle417 @finestoflines @brokenbellz @bowievanfleet @s0livagant @strugglingtodoshit @s-u-t @kay-jordan @gretavanfleas @jakeyboiiiiiii @gretavansteph @gretavanbitches @myownparadise96 @luverleaver @weightofdreamz @greatervanfleet @maedesculpaeusoubi @jakekiszkasbestie @pineapple-photographer @baguettejuliette @alexxavicry @levi-wants-ur-bones @carlybubs @cowboysamkiszka @dannyandthekiszkas @jordierama @slutforsteve @starshine-wagner

sorry if tumblr didn’t tag you — it’s stupid sometimes. but i’m real thankful for you, sweet peaches! and if you’re a new bestie and would like to be added to my taglist, check out the form right here!

#let me know what you think! <3 #sam kiszka x reader #sam kiszka fanfiction #sam kiszka fluff #greta van fleet fanfiction #gvf fanfiction #maddie writes stuff!

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asylumdream · 1 year

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Finally finished this sketch page Ive been working on for so long- comentary under the cut. This will include spoilers for the depths

Link's right arm is infected by gloom, makeing me think it is difficult to impossible for him to move it. I have some ideas for gloom abilities for him but those are gonna be costly and not his perfered method of anything save for emergencies. Since hes effectively one armed now I needed him to have more mobility options- this includes

Korok frond- reward for saveing the great deku tree, lifts him up a fixed hight and allows him to glide gently down in any direction

Stalhorse- exactly what it says on the tin, with the added bonus of following link around while he isnt rideing it for easier resource collection and remounting.

In a second sketch page I'll also be adding the clawshot and pegasus boots from previous games and working out how hed get a hold of those to give him more vertical mobility since climbing one armed without a rope is super hard.

When link is attacked by gloom he also loses all but 3 hearts and 1 stamina wheele, makeing combat Incredibly Risky. He also only has one arm, makeing stronger 2 handed weapons unable to be weilded. He can't draw a bow and though he can shoot a crossbow reloading it would require him brace it against the ground, makeing it a time costly item. Instead of any of that I've given him

A sling- he fashions this out of rope he spins with fibers he finds and scraps of fabric from his clothes. With it he can launch various chu jellys, bomb flowers muddle buds and puffshrooms, as well as any old pebble he finds lying around. A refrennce to the slingshot which is a familiar key item from other games.

An atlatl- somewhere between a throughing spear and an arrow lye the darts of an atlatl. He carves it from wood found in the depths and can fashion the darts from lone thin sticks, tying the feathered leaves to the back and lodgeing a sharp stone to the end. This is something of an upgrade to the sling since it has longer reach and higher damage, but darts are costly to make and tying add ons to them must be done before combat because link doesn't have the fuse ability

Im also planning on a return of the power bracelets to allow him to weild two handed weapons one handed, among other things, and the beetle from skyward sword to give more vertical exploration and control in bombing enemies.

Furthermore I have plans for both zelda and rauru, as well as the yiga clan, so stay tuned for when I end up comiting them to paper! Im planing on makeing this something similar to a proper RoleSwap!AU once I work out the kinks- sorry that this is kind of growing past the original prompt =w='

#tears of the kingdom #totk spoilers #my art #Ill come up with an interesting name for this story I swear #Since itll be written from zeldas pov as a role swap im sure itll come to me while i design her #Planning 2 more pages for link #1 will be about returning key items #The other about his gloom hand and the yiga #Then ill be digging into how zelda and rauru will fit into this #I also have 2 other unrelated art pieces planned #And payed work to do #Oi now... so much work to do... please be patient with me...

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o-craven-canto · 2 months

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Evolution Langdon Smith (1858-1908)

When you were a tadpole and I was a fish In the Paleozoic time, And side by side on the ebbing tide We sprawled through the ooze and slime, Or skittered with many a caudal flip Through the depths of the Cambrian fen, My heart was rife with the joy of life, For I loved you even then. Mindless we lived and mindless we loved And mindless at last we died; And deep in the rift of the Caradoc drift We slumbered side by side. The world turned on in the lathe of time, The hot lands heaved amain, Till we caught our breath from the womb of death And crept into life again. We were amphibians, scaled and tailed, And drab as a dead man's hand; We coiled at ease 'neath the dripping trees Or trailed through the mud and sand. Croaking and blind, with our three-clawed feet Writing a language dumb, With never a spark in the empty dark To hint at a life to come. Yet happy we lived and happy we loved, And happy we died once more; Our forms were rolled in the clinging mold Of a Neocomian shore. The eons came and the eons fled And the sleep that wrapped us fast Was riven away in a newer day And the night of death was passed. Then light and swift through the jungle trees We swung in our airy flights, Or breathed in the balms of the fronded palms In the hush of the moonless nights; And oh! what beautiful years were there When our hearts clung each to each; When life was filled and our senses thrilled In the first faint dawn of speech. Thus life by life and love by love We passed through the cycles strange, And breath by breath and death by death We followed the chain of change. Till there came a time in the law of life When over the nursing sod The shadows broke and the soul awoke In a strange, dim dream of God. I was thewed like an Auroch bull And tusked like the great cave bear; And you, my sweet, from head to feet Were gowned in your glorious hair. Deep in the gloom of a fireless cave, When the night fell o'er the plain And the moon hung red o'er the river bed We mumbled the bones of the slain. I flaked a flint to a cutting edge And shaped it with brutish craft; I broke a shank from the woodland lank And fitted it, head and haft; Than I hid me close to the reedy tarn, Where the mammoth came to drink; Through the brawn and bone I drove the stone And slew him upon the brink. Loud I howled through the moonlit wastes, Loud answered our kith and kin; From west to east to the crimson feast The clan came tramping in. O'er joint and gristle and padded hoof We fought and clawed and tore, And cheek by jowl with many a growl We talked the marvel o'er. I carved that fight on a reindeer bone With rude and hairy hand; I pictured his fall on the cavern wall That men might understand. For we lived by blood and the right of might Ere human laws were drawn, And the age of sin did not begin Til our brutal tusks were gone. And that was a million years ago In a time that no man knows; Yet here tonight in the mellow light We sit at Delmonico's. Your eyes are deep as the Devon springs, Your hair is dark as jet, Your years are few, your life is new, Your soul untried, and yet -- Our trail is on the Kimmeridge clay And the scarp of the Purbeck flags; We have left our bones in the Bagshot stones And deep in the Coralline crags; Our love is old, our lives are old, And death shall come amain; Should it come today, what man may say We shall not live again? God wrought our souls from the Tremadoc beds And furnish’d them wings to fly; He sowed our spawn in the world's dim dawn, And I know that it shall not die, Though cities have sprung above the graves Where the crook-bone men made war And the ox-wain creaks o'er the buried caves Where the mummied mammoths are. Then as we linger at luncheon here O'er many a dainty dish, Let us drink anew to the time when you Were a tadpole and I was a fish.

#poetry #quotes #evolution #prehistory #stuff I like

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startrekfangirl2233-writes · 6 months

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Winter's Firstborne Snow

Dance Like We're Making Love Epilogue

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Description: It's been a year since you met Bradley Bradshaw. A year full of the most intense experiences you've ever felt. Who would have thought that one dance class could have led to all of this?

Disclaimers: Female! Reader, Dancing, Sexual Themes, Kissing, UST, Phone Sex

Warnings: This story does not start explicit but does get there. Minors do not interact. This story is 18+.

Word Count: 2874

A/N: Well, here we are. Another mini-series completed! I had so much fun writing the story of Roo and Tiny and I hope you all love it! It feels bittersweet, because I never expected my muse to take a meet-cute at a dance class of all things and turn it into this! For all of you who have joined me on this ride, thank you! And of course, I feel like I always have to thank @desert-fern, @horseshoegirl and @dakotakazansky for listening to me natter on about my stories!

AO3: Cross Posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross Posted Here!

My Masterlist

Previous Part | Series Masterlist

You wake up to the heat up high and Christmas Carols playing grainily over the radio. The hissing rattle roar of the snow under the car's tires nearly drowns them out, the soft susurrations hypnotic. You're dozing, trapped in that sweet spot between asleep and awake for a while longer. But you perk up just a little more when you see a sign proclaiming that you're only 25 miles to Winter Park, Colorado. It feels like there is something you're forgetting. But then, all of a sudden there are snowflakes lazily floating down, each fat crystal prismatic in the weak winter sunlight. Soon after you notice the trees, the thick, lush conifers on either side, the green of their fronds extra vibrant against the cold white surrounding them. You snuggle in further, tugging the soft tartan print blanket over your shoulders, and yawn. That movement is followed soon after by a hand curling over your knee.

“You sleep well, Tiny?” His voice makes you feel even warmer than the heat in his gorgeous, wholly unforgettable canary blue Bronco.

“Yeah, Bradley. I did.” You sit up a little bit straighter. That's when you remember what you'd forgotten, mesmerized as you were by the winter vista. “Weren’t we supposed to switch every four hours? How long have I been asleep?”

“It’s only been like seven hours, sweetheart.” You turn to glare at him, but all he does is smile at you. “You just looked so cute sleeping like that, gorgeous. I didn’t have the heart to wake you up.”

“We’re almost to Winter Park anyways, Tiny.” You intertwine your fingers with his, kissing the signet ring on his right index finger as you turn partially in the broad bucket seat.

“And?” You raise an eyebrow, looking out over the neverending trees and snow in front of your eyes. “We agreed to trade off on driving, mister! That was the deal for driving to Colorado instead of just flying here!”

You’re sure you have more to say, but the road clears on one side and the vista takes your breath away.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” You can only nod in response. “It’s almost as beautiful as you are.”

You’re even more thankful for the fact that you’ve had over a year of practice handling Bradley Bradshaw’s flirting. Where earlier his words would have had you melting into a puddle of goo, now all you do is kiss his cheek.

“I can’t believe we’re here!” There’s excitement coursing through your veins. When you moved to California, you thought you’d never miss the snow. But there are certain things, like making a fire, curling up under a pile of blankets and kissing under the snowfall that you’ve missed. The fact that Bradley listened to your ramblings that first winter and internalized them enough to surprise you with a snowy winter vacation is more proof that despite the struggles between the two of you, this relationship might just work out.

Of course, it hasn’t been easy. Your relationship had started explosively and then it seems, ended just as. Getting back to that place of instant connection and trust had been torturous, for both of you. Why the hell did you maintain a take it easy policy the second time? It was three months before you let Bradley into your bed again. The first thing you did the next morning was throw away your toys. He is better than any toy you could purchase. Of course, a month afterwards, you’d opened a package and found that he’d bought a custom toy in the shape of him, so you have someone to keep you company on the long nights he’s away.

That led right to the ever-present Navy adjacent problem of deployments and the pain involved in them. That first deployment had ripped your heart out of your chest, and dragged it to pieces. You’re not sure you slept a wink during those excruciating months. If it helped anything, Sophie wasn’t sleeping either, but that was more due to the morning sickness, which as you know now, is more like all-day, if not all the time, sickness, than worry. But you’d weathered that. It’s just that this relationship isn’t what you’d ever expected. Never in a million years would you have expected the force that is Bradley Bradshaw.

Of course, as the first three months of knowing Bradley showed you, you can’t go anywhere with Bradley without accepting every part of his history. Abby showed up again, like a bad penny intent on extorting money out of your boyfriend. You’d shut the door in her face the first day. You’d relished in the shock on her face when she saw you there rather than Bradley. She’d then proceeded to throw a hissy fit standing in your front yard every day for the next week. You weren’t aware it was possible for stewardesses for a major airline to take so much vacation and scream about not having enough money on their ex-husband’s lawn. A couple of phone calls to the police and one to Bradley’s lawyer later and you both had not only restraining orders, but a standard cease and desist in place. It had felt like divine retribution seeing Abby get shoved into a police car wearing handcuffs.

The resort is, in a word, breathtaking. You’re surrounded by the snow, thick green conifers and the mountain rising up surrounding it. It feels like a winter wonderland, lights strung between the trees and the buildings festooned with greenery and garlands. There’s Christmas music piping tinnily through the speakers and the air is crisp and clear. Your small cottage is even more breathtaking, from the colossal wood burning fireplace to the outdoors hot tub. You could have some fun there, both of you could. But Bradley’s being awfully cagey about his plans for the rest of the day, intent on getting you out of your little cottage and down the mountain for a reason you can’t get out of him. You would worry, but he looks so happy, so relaxed that you don’t have the heart to confront him. After that initial fight over Abby, he doesn’t keep important secrets from you, not anymore.

As you walk down the mountain, relishing in the crisp clear mountain air of the resort you’re going to be spending the next two weeks at, you can't help but be glad. Glad you found Bradley, glad that the fallout between him, Abby and you wasn’t worse. But above all you’re glad you trust him, wholeheartedly and completely. Would you be going on vacation or living with him if you didn’t? But that's a rhetorical question. Right now, you're just content to tramp through the perfectly fluffy powder.

It's still snowing and the sight is so beautiful that you stop walking after a few moments, staring up at the heavy gray clouds, enthralled by the flakes landing on your upturned face. You're not wearing gloves, which you're sure is a mistake, but you can't resist watching the crystals land on your skin until they finally stop melting away. It’s the tramp of boots through the snow that tears your gaze from the cascading snow.

"Tiny, baby, c'mere." You curl right into Bradley’s arms, slipping your icy fingers under the hem of his jacket and against his hot back. It doesn’t even bother you that there is something hard and plastic under his jacket that pokes into your skin. "Shit, your fingers are ice. Where're your gloves?"

You just shrug. "I guess I forgot them in my bags, Roo."

His grumble of discomfort at your icy digits is more playful than genuine, though he does tug you closer. His lips meet yours in a sweet kiss, the heat of which is enough to warm you in ways that few other things can. Your arms curl around his neck as you melt into the kiss. It makes you pout when he pulls away way too soon afterwards.

His chuckle is light as he reaches into his pocket. "Wait, honey. I’m going to kiss you again. I have to show you something first. You looked so beautiful like that, I had to take a picture." When he pulls the picture out, you're not expecting a polaroid. It's beautiful, and you say so to him, smiling at the sheepish grin on his face. You can see the wonder and pure joy in your profile. You're not sure how he did it but you think you can see a snowflake balanced on the tip of your outstretched index finger.

"I know, you were probably expecting a picture on my phone.” He tugs his jacket aside and that’s when you see it. The object that was poking into you earlier is a camera, clunky and square. “This was my dad's polaroid camera. It just felt right to bring it with us on this trip." You trace your hand over the aged, yellowing plastic, smiling at the sticker on it.

"Did he take pictures of you and your mom with it?"

"All the time, sweetheart." He hands you the camera when you ask, smiling with his hands in his pockets as you lift it up. As you peer through the lens, you're taken aback.

Bradley's got his head thrown back, a few curls escaping out of the edges of his hat. The lens is a little scratched up and clouded, but with the snow falling around his face, he looks vintage and like always, wholly out of your league. The Ray Ban Caravans sitting stylishly on the bridge of his nose add to the mystique of his gaze, as does the half-smile quirking his mouth. Your tongue ties itself into knots as you carefully, breathlessly depress the shutter. It's silent for several moments as you hear the whir of the film spit the photo out. But you can’t bring yourself to look at it. It feels like your entire heart is visible as you snap picture after picture of your boyfriend and the surroundings.

“Hey, baby?” Your head jolts up so fast that you nearly give yourself whiplash. “Can I see the pictures you’ve been taking?”

You chuckle sheepishly as you hand him the pictures. “They’re probably not any good, at least not as good as the picture you took of me!”

His brow furrows, concentration parting his lips as he wets them with his tongue in a quick swipe. After a year, you’re fairly sure you could read any and all of Bradley’s facial expressions, but this one is new. He doesn’t say a word about the pictures, choosing to tuck them and the camera away into the tote bag he’s insisted you bring with you before taking your hand securely in his.

“C’mon, beautiful. Let’s keep going.” You’re confused, but you know that when he wants to talk about it, he will. It’s quiet as you follow him, but soon enough you start to hear laughter and music. The trees clear and at the base of the slope you can see figures gliding across the ice. Excitement takes over as you speed up unconsciously at the sight of the beautiful village at the base of the mountain. You can’t hope to do everything that the village has to offer, but you’re sure you can at least try. After all, what sounds better than being out in the snow all day followed by skinny-dipping in the lovely outdoor hot-tub afterwards?

There are so many sweet little shops and restaurants, all surrounding a gorgeous central square boasting the biggest Christmas tree you’ve ever seen. You have no idea what you want to do first, but unsurprisingly Bradley leads you through the town like he knows exactly where he’s going. A part of you can’t believe what you’re seeing, at least that is, until you’re watching Bradley walk up to the counter and lope back with two pairs of ice skates in his hands. He pulls his on at lightning-speed before he sets your pair, the smaller ones on the bench next to you. But just as you grab one to pull it on, he stops you. His hands are deliberate and so gentle as he tugs your boot off and slides your feet into each skate. He doesn’t even let you tie the skates on yourself. You cup his cheek in your hand, smiling as he kisses your palm.

“You know I can tie on skates myself right?”

“Mmm, I know, beautiful. But when you look so pretty, what’s a man gotta do to make sure his girl knows how amazing she is?” He tugs you up gently, balancing you with ease as you teeter in spot. He leads you carefully to the side of the rink and steps onto the ice without a care in the world. You follow him and nearly faceplant. As his laugh rings out, you know you look a sight, your legs akimbo as you clutch white-knuckled to the edge.

“How long has it been since you’ve been ice-skating, huh, Tiny?” You shrug as much as you can with your every muscle braced until they’re stiff.

“A while,” you murmur, squealing as he unwraps your hands from the edge and holds them securely in his own.

“It’s easy, gorgeous. Just slide one foot in front of the other. Slow and steady, like when we were learning how to tango.” You chuckle softly, trying your best to comply.

You feel a lot like a fawn learning how to walk at your first mincing strides around the rink. But as time passes, it gets easier and easier. You know there’s a flush to your cheeks and you feel good - honestly, genuinely good. There's a burn in your muscles and your lips and nose are chapped from the cold air. You’re not sure when, but you’re skating without Bradley’s hand keeping you upright. There isn’t much of a crowd at the rink, and it’s getting colder. You nearly fall when music starts playing around the rink. You’re so confused that you’re frozen when Bradley begins to skate up to you.

“Dance with me, Tiny?” You place your hand in his, gasping at the heat of his palms as he drags you close. It’s stumbling and slow, each step nearly overbalancing the two of you as you rock from side to side. It’s more your fault than his. Of the two of you, he’s far more dextrous on the thin blades than you’ll ever be. But you manage. Your path transitions from stumbling rocks from side to side to slow spirals the two of you sketch out along the ice.

Just like every time you've danced with Bradley since you started falling for him, it feels like the world has stopped and that time stood still. But it never seems to restart. Not when he lets you go, and not when he drops to one knee. A part of you can’t believe what you're seeing. He can't be doing this, not now.

“When we met a little over a year ago, I would have done anything to get your attention on me. Anything. Of course, as luck would have it, my showboating didn't attract you at all. I was so nervous, Tiny, that first partner dance class. All I wanted was to get the chance to dance with you. My heart was in my throat and I was sweating bullets when I invited you over to my place. It surprised me when you said yes, and offered to pick up dinner too.”

“Getting to talk to you, show you who I was, who I am those first few months? That had me falling in love with you. I know we've had some rough patches in our relationship and I know I swore I'd never get married again, but I think you're worth breaking that vow.”

You can’t breathe. Is he doing this? Is he really doing this when your eyes are sleep encrusted and you're wearing rumpled clothing after hours in the car? Could he be doing this in the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen?

“So,” You know he's serious because he says your name, your full name. “My Tiny Dancer, would you do me the honor of marrying me?”

You nearly fall as you slip your way towards him. In the end, you lose your balance and crash to your knees in front of him, anyways.

“A-are you serious?” He just smirks at you, nodding once and shows you the ring. If you start crying holding that ring, you're sure nobody can judge you overly much. Because the beautiful band with its oval cut garnet is Carole Bradshaw's. Even Abby didn't wear this ring.

It's not even a conscious thought as you nod rapidly. “Yes, yes, yes! Yes I'll marry you!”

There's applause in the rink when you both stand up. You're smiling from ear-to-ear for the rest of the day. You can't believe your luck. You can't believe that this is your life. You were just supposed to dance like you were making love, not fall in love. But you can't say you would have had it any other way. After all, sometimes you have to take a risk to get a reward.

Taglist:

@dingochef @mak-32 @atarmychick007 @chaoticassidy @kmc1989 @shanimallina87 @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @roosterforme @beyondthesefourwalls @cherrycola27 @thedroneranger

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #dance like we're making love #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader

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xxlunar-0988-xx · 2 years

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Kissing in the Moonlight | Tommyinnit pt1

Just got this idea from one bit in the song: can't remember to forget you, or whatever it's called, just found the audio on TikTok tbh

This is based off of the stream where tommy is in Paris with Dadza, Mumza and Wil, just you are added

Edit: i made a pt2 but i don't know how to set up links so you can go to my page and find it, or if some of you know how to please tell me how :')

Keywords: y/n - your name; e/c - eye colour

This is a Tommyinnit x gn!reader

Warnings: none, just fluff

Enjoy :)

(not my gif)

As the plane came to a stop, Phil, Kristin, Wil, Tommy and Y/n got of the plane, walking through the airport.

"you know France is the city of romance?" Tommy asked Wilbur, "yep." Wilbur said, "i sould meet the love of my life here." "France is the city?" "O could meet the love of my life in this-" "you won't." "Why not?" Tommy asked, "cuz you're never going to meet the love of your life, you're gonna die alone."... "Phil! You know i could meet the love of my life here!"

For the following time at the airport, Tommy asked Wil how to say things in French, Y/n was talking with Kristin, and Phil was just filming everything laughing behind camera.

When they finally got out of the airport the first place we went to was of course the Eiffel tower, Tommy bought himself a cup of coffee, all of it spilling in his hands, they started climbing up the Eiffel tower, making jokes here and there, and y/n cringed every time they looked to see how far up they were.

At some point Tommy got stuck between the bar's of the Eiffel tower that they had to shimmy his head out of the bars, and unlucky for them, Phil didn't film it.

They soon got off from the Eifel Tower to go to the museum, Phil nad Kristin stopped at a bakery, "oh look at the married couple." Tommy said pointing the camera to Phil and Kristin then to him to quote on quote 'spit on it' as a sign of disrespect

Tommy started to whine that he wanted to go home, and Phil and Wil posed in front of the Eiffel tower like a couple tommy on the side of the photo looking like a little child tht photo bombed someone

They found a small bug that they named Carl, and Tommy claimed that Carl was like the pokemon, yelling go Carlos

They entered the art gallery Tommy and Wilbur singing the Jurassic park theme song, Tommy drooled over a sculpture of a woman and her boob's as y/n looked around the gallery with fascination in her eyes, and Tommy frond himself staring in to y/n's e/c eyes

"hey you okay big man?" Wilbur asked as Tommy shook his head getting out of his thoughts, "yeah just zoned out." Tommy said chuckling awkwardly

After visiting the Mona Lisa painting they soon left the museum and just chilled around it, throwing water bottle's at Tommy, one of them nearly hitting a person, and they left to go to a restaurant to eat... Snails... And frog legs... Yeah

Phil was the first one to try and eat the snail, he slurped the insides and said that it tasted like osme type of garlic, the Kristin was the next one to try it, and she actually thought it was good!?! Tommy and i looked as Kristin with pure shock and disgust, "get a divorce." Tommy and i said in usion as Kristin and Phil laughed quietly

"Tommy, i will try a snail if you try one." I said looking at Tommy raising a hand for a handshake, "Deal." Tommy said shaking my head and we both took one snail and took it out of it's shell, we took a bite at the same time and both cringed at the taste, "here, have some wine." Wilbur said handing tommy a glass of wine as Kristin handed me a glass of water, "but y/n gets water! Why do I get wine?" Tommy asked, "it's because you whine a lot now you rather drink that or nothing." Wil answered and y/n chocked on water, Tommy took a sip of wine and gagged at the taste

"oh that's even worse!" Tommy whisper yelled

"how do you eat the frog?" Tommy asked as Phil took a bite of a slug, "go in Phil!" Wilbur cheered him on quietly, "Philza minecrafte eating slugs." Tommy singed, "oh i can taste the earth." Phil gagged, "frog kinda Pog." Tommy said looking at me then the camera as he continued eating the frog legs

Now we were skipping through town enjoying the night air, "we have to get to the apartment." Wilbur said rushing, and we followed him behind

---y/n's pov--- + time skip

I said goodnight to everyone and went to a room with Kristin, laying don't in my bed and getting in to my pj's i lied down on my bed, "goodnight Kristin." I said turning off the bedside lamp, "goodnight y/n." She said and turned off her bedside lamp.

After two hours or so i still couldn't fall asleep, i looked to my side to see Kristin sleeping peacefully, and i sighed quietly in anoyence, the door to our room slowly and quietly started to open and fear overtook me, i watched the door in fear to reveal... Tommy? "Tommy what are you doing here? It's like... Two in the morning." I whispered quietly, "shh! I'll explain later just get dressed and follow me." He whispered, i rolled my eyes and got out of bed as i opened my backpack and took a plain white shirt, baggy jeans and under ware, (if you are female that includes a bra.), I quietly got dressed and picked up my backpack, taking my phone from the bedside table and off the charger, i left the room slowly closing the door as quietly as possible as to not wake up Kristin, "okay so what do you want Tommy." I whispered, "Wanna go to the city?" He asked and i sighed, "but what about telling Phil, Kristin and Wilbur?" I asked ,"oh who cares let's just go, get the late night Paris air, aye?" He said, i sighed, "fine let's go." I said grabbing the spare keys to the apartment that Tommy was holding.

We left the apartment keys at the front desk and walked around town, "wanna go to the Eiffel tower? I think it glows at night." Tommy said, "just look to your left dimwit, you're gonna see it glowing." I said pointing ot the Eiffel tower, Tommy chuckled in embarrassesment, "oh yeah... Anyway you still wanna go?" He asked, "sure, it'll be pretty up close." I said, "not as pretty as you." Tommy said quietly, "what was that?" I asked, "o-oh nothing!" He said tensing up.

We were just sitting at a bench in front of the Eiffel tower, admiring it's beauty, "it's peaceful." I said smiling, "yeah i know." Tommy said as i felt a pair of eyes on me, i looked towards tommy to see that he was looking at me, "are you trying to flirt with me? Is the Tommyinnit, trying to flirt with a peasant girl like me?" I asked, "No! You're not a peasant girl." Tommy said, "but you didn't deny you trying to flirty with me." I smirked at him, "so what if i was." Tommy said looking at me with a huge smirk on his face, "whatever." I said looking away flustered.

"anyway Tommy." I said, tommy hummed in response, "do you... like anyone?" I asked, Tommy chocked on air, "w-what?" He asked, "do you like anyone?" I asked, "i mean- no- do you?" He asked, i was a little disappointed by his answer, "i do actually." I said, "o-oh yeah? Who is it?" Tommy asked, and i could have swore i heard disappointed in his voice, but i brushed it off

"well I'm not going to tell you." I said, "then tell me what he's like, or wait she's like- they're like?" I said and i giggled, "well he's, kind, loud, energetic, kind of goofy and overall very sweet, he always manages to make my day, and I'm always happy when i talk to him, he has blond-ish hair and he's tall, and he has a deep British accent." I said, basically explaining to Tommy, the space between us filled with silence, the only things that could be heard are the rustling of leaves nad occasional car's passing by

"I lied." Tommy said, "what?" I turned towards him with a confused look on my face, "i lied, i do like someone." He said still looking forward, "who is it?" I asked

"you."

He said, finally looking at me, my eyes widened, "me?" I asked, "yes and i understand that you like someone else, i just- i just wanted you to know." Tommy said as his eyes started to tear up, "oh Tommy." I said as tears filled my eyes,

"I do like you." I said, "what." He said, "im saying i like you too dingus." I said laughing a little wiping my tear's, "but who were you descri- oh now i get it." I said, i started to laugh and Tommy started to laugh with me, "i literally described you! How did you not notice!" I said in between laughs, "i don't know." He said laughing

As our laughs slowly died down, and then, silence.

"so what do we do now?" I said breaking the silence looking at Tommy, and he looked at me at me same time

He extends his hand and he grabbed my cheek gently, as he slowly started to lean in he stopped before our lips could connect, "may i?" He asked, "of course dumbass." I said giggling lightly, Tommy slowly connected our lips together

The kiss felt like hours, even though it lasted a couple of seconds, but as soon as we separated for air i missed the feeling

We looked in each other's eyes, lost in the moment untill...

The phone started to ring

"Shit!" Tommy yelled grabbing his phone, "Where the FUCK are you two!" You hear Wilbur yell from the other end, "Were at the Eiffel tower." Tommy said, "Get your asses back home before go to the Eiffel tower myself and kick both of your asses!" He yelled and hung up

"Well we fucked up." I said, "we sould probably go." Tommy said standing up, "wait! One last thing before we go." I said, "what is tha-" before tommy could finish his sentence i pecked his lips, "okay now we can go." I said skipping away, Tommy stood in his spot frozen, but he shook his head quickly and followed me.

"We're fucked."

That is all, i kind of rushed the ending but i still like it.

Anyways hope ya liked it, Bye!!!

#paris #tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit x reader fluff #dsmp fluff #wilbur mcyt #philza #mumza my beloved #philza and mumza #y/n #kristin minecraft

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