#going somewhere that has the scenic views

[pedgito]

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐒 ╳ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter One: Decisions

[strangers to friends to lovers, age gap (56/mid 20s), forced proximity, no outbreak]

(Series) Content Warning: a very, very lonely joel miller. copious amounts of lusting, tension, joel is an excellent cook (food, alcohol, ect), hot tubs, impromptu snowball fights, awkward situations, deep talks and tragic backstories (specified within chapter warnings, deeply depraved smut/sexcapades and the inappropriate use of a dining table (also specified within chapter warnings), nicknames of endearment (no use of y/n)

Chapter Summary: The night of your arrival is anything but what you expected, realizing that not only was your cabin double-booked but the unexpected guest is more than willing to leave you stranded to savor his peace. A handful of stubborn talks and a big decision later, you realize that Joel might not be that much of a stranger at all.

Chapter Warnings: (7.2k) no outbreak, grumpy!Joel, fem!reader, weapons of convenience, reader being mesmerized but how handsome Joel is, copious amount of lusting, book talks, age gap, Joel has secrets, reader has a difficult relationship with family, two beds (but that won't last)

You should feel terrible about this. Distraught. Riddled with a crippling sadness over a lie that grew from your own selfishness. But, there’s nothing but tremendous relief as you shove your things into the trunk of your Uber and crawl into the backseat, starting the three hour drive into the deep Piney Woods of Texas. 

You should feel horrible.

But, the silence is nice. You’re especially thankful that your driver wasn’t a people person at all, pointedly avoiding any communication outside of a greeting. It feels business-like, transactional. You couldn’t be bothered with the niceties and cheerfulness that surrounded the holidays. It made you sick to your stomach, chewing on your bottom lip without a thought in your mind as you inch closer. A three hour drive turns into two, falling asleep somewhere along the way, only waking up fifteen minutes away, somewhere along a rocky drive down a scenic, winding road that pulls a beautiful cabin into view. 

It was lit up, decorated like a fucking christmas tree.

You grimaced slightly, but despite that, it was still everything you expected. It wasn’t too large or spacious, you wouldn’t feel so alone out here for the few weeks you were planning to stay and it wasn’t too cramped either. You felt if you uttered the word perfect it would turn into a jinx, so you kept yourself together and dragged yourself out into the cold, frigid air when the car pulled to a stop. The driver helped you with your bags, you remember to leave him with a big, gracious tip that left him more than satisfied, and he was on his way without a word.

You took a big breath, expanding your lungs and breathing in the fresh air. You didn’t feel suffocated here, something you noticed immediately. It wasn’t because of the lack of city pollution. Dragging your bags up the steps are a challenge, but you manage even with the rickety wheel that snags on a chipped piece of brick, unlocking your phone to remember the code that the owner had sent you earlier that morning, fumbling until your fingers came to life and pressed the code into the lock, a satisfying click of relief in the mechanism and you turned the doorknob.

Finally.

-

The heat blasts your face like a furnace, thawing out your limbs as you move quickly, efficiently and with too much urgency to escape the nighttime cold. You don’t notice much at first, among the amenities that came with the cabin, a fresh bottle of wine on the table and a note tucked under, something you would guzzle down sometime later. There was a fire going, low and crackling—seems unsafe, but what the hell did you know? It had to be the owners, assuming they came out earlier in the day in preparation for your arrival.

There’s blankets littered throughout, draped over the back of a couch, dark and covered in an unseemly plaid pattern, another stack of smaller blankets placed on a nearby cushion. Freezing to death seemed to be their immediate concern, obviously. You wandered aimlessly in the dark, scoping out both a light switch and the kitchen, noticing the stock of food, things that wouldn’t perish easily, probably for emergencies, but things are even more interesting as you approach the fridge, bathed in the fluorescent light as you look at the also stocked fridge, not fully, more sparsely, like someone who couldn’t decide on what to eat or maybe only cooked one meal a day. It’s then when a thought dawns on you that feels impossible, a lingering suspicious as your eyebrows pull into a taut line, fanning over the marble slab of counter-space, eyes landing on the window that hung over the kitchen sink behind a wretchedly patterned curtain, spotting the old truck parked outside the back of the cabin.

Your mind filters through a thousand and one reasons on why it would be there, but whatever is there in your mind is quickly snuffed out by the creaks of rickety floorboards and a hall light flickering on in the distance behind you—you reach and ultimately fumble for anything nearby to use as a weapon, landing on the single-most deadly thing in your line of sight that you can grasp quickly. There’s a knife block a few feet away and it’s the only plausible thing your brain can think of in a panic, unsheathing and turning on your heels to the person standing several feet away.

He is large, you can tell as much. Still mostly covered by the shadow of darkness that blanketed the rest of the cabin, you could make out the scruff of some facial hair, his tall stature, and the axe he gripped by the neck.

A fucking axe. 

You were, no doubt, about to be murdered. It was the only thought on your mind, because despite the hard grip on the handle of the knife, you were no match.

But, then he speaks.

“Got about ten seconds to start explain’ what the hell you’re doin’ in this cabin.” As expected, his voice left little room to argue—but you had paid to be here. Fucking paid. You had every right.

Fuck this guy.

You grip the knife a tighter, knuckle-white grip as you raise it in a feeble attempt to seem threatening, “I booked this place for a month, I’ve got the front door code—who the fuck are you?” 

You’re surprised that it works, but the rigidness in the stranger’s shoulder relaxes slightly and the butt of the axe hits the floor as he rests against an adjoining wall.

“Don’t think none of that matters,” He replies with a reverence of annoyance as he flicks on a nearby light and illuminates the living area of the cabin—shit, that’s where it was? Part of you was glad you hadn’t found it, wondering if he had been waiting in the shadows since you stepped inside the cabin, “you need to drive back into town and explain the mix up.”

Drive back? A fucking mix up?

“No.” It’s a steady answer, no quiver in your voice. You lower the knife, but it’s still held tightly at your side. And as the stranger steps into clearer view, you can’t help but memorize his face.

You know, in the case that you might need to describe it to the police if you weren’t already dead by then.

It’s almost unfair how threatening he looks without trying and yet somehow, irreverently handsome. It feels like a silly thought to have, but you weren’t blind. He’s older, much older than yourself. Hardened features, a sharp jawline covered with a thicker beard kept trimmed but still patchy in spots, face worn with worry. He was undoubtedly human and vulnerable, just like you. You can’t see much about his stature beside his height and tanned skin, muddled out by his pajamas, though he seems like he probably does some heavy lifting. 

And meanwhile, your staring is noticed. He remains several feet of distance but his eyebrow quirks upwards slightly, arms crossing over his chest and—oh. He is the last person you would want to spar in a fight, biceps pulling taut and bulging slightly.

“Sure you didn’t book the other cabin down the way?” He sounds like he’s questioning a child, such a ridiculous mistake to make.

Oh, how could you be so stupid? 

There was no mistaking which cabin you booked, because obviously, the other one was already booked out. This one wasn’t.

At least, it wasn’t supposed to be.

“Look,” The knife clatters against the counter and his eyes track it before averting back to you, “I get that you probably think this is some mistake on my part and whatever grumpy attitude you have, I also get it,” You really fucking did, feeling the beginnings of your blood boil with frustration, “I booked this trip two months ago, I triple checked the address, the owners sent me the door code yesterday morning. There is no way I booked the other cabin.”

He doesn’t even flinch, not a muscle. He’s unconvinced, unamused, and rearing on the edge of throwing your bags out himself just to get you out of here.

“Jesus, fuck—” You rip your phone from your coat pocket and flip through your apps until you land on the email full of information, booking address, dates, and all, and slide the phone across the counter, because despite his willingness to kick you out on your ass, the murderous aspect subsided the moment he dropped the axe.

Now, he just seemed like an asshole.

He approaches slowly, eyeing the phone skeptically before making it seem diminutive in his grip, squinting moderately as he brought the phone closer and looked, expression dropping by the millisecond as the realization settled in. And you start to feel triumphant, like you might’ve actually won the argument. There was still one problem at hand.

He was still here. You were still here.

And neither of you were going anywhere.

So, instead of trying to compromise, he doubles down.

“I was here first.”

“You’re fucking kidding me?” In a world of assholes, he was their all triumphant leader, “It’s below freezing, I Uber’d three hours to get out here, and I have no service. I’m not leaving.”

This, ultimately, had to be your worst nightmare. Double-booking? In the middle of the woods with a complete stranger who obviously had some murderous tendencies if his first instinct was to grab a goddamn axe? And no service?

“You didn’t drive here?” It’s the only thing he asks, bypassing everything else.

“You know, I think I just said I didn’t.”

“You had someone drive you three hours out in the woods with no way of transportation anywhere for,” He takes a second glance at your phone, noting the booking dates, “four weeks?”

Admittedly, it was done on a whim. You hadn’t thought out the fine details, but you knew there was a small store a few miles north that was run by a nice old lady that provided to some of the people who did live out in these woods year round. It was the one thing the owners had added as an addition to the obvious plus of the cabin being so secluded. Plus, the cabin was stocked with some food, or at least, it was.

You wanted no contact. But, obviously you weren’t going to get that.

“Kinda part of the whole getting away for the holidays memo,” You reply sarcastically, “I would’ve managed, mind you.”

Maybe. You would’ve figured it out eventually, but that didn’t matter. Things weren’t going as planned now. You interject again, crossing your arms to match his stance briefly before throwing your arm out flippantly as you waved a hand toward the untraversed hallway.

“This place has two bedrooms, doesn’t it?”

A two bed, one bath cabin. You remembered that much.

He clears his throat, “Yeah.” He sounds so foreboding it makes you ache with an anxiety you had tried so hard to escape from.

“And seein’ as you’re here alone,” You didn’t need to make any assumption otherwise, he seemed like the lonely type, “and I’m here alone—I’m staying.”

“For the night.” He corrects, “Then I can drive you into town tomorrow morning and you can get your refund and find a ride home.”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, snatching your phone off the counter and stowing it away in your pocket again, finally taking the steps to bypass him and reach for your bags. 

The thing was—you weren’t leaving. If there was anything to be learned about you, it was how undoubtedly stubborn you could be. This cabin was just as rightfully yours as it would be anyone else who paid for the time. It was money you had worked to save up, money you had shoveled out to secure yourself a relaxing holiday and it wasn’t about to be ruined.

His voice startles you as he, somehow, had moved closer without you noticing. He was reaching for your bags too, because despite his grumpiness, he was still that guy—of course.

“Don’t. Touch.” You glance at him with a warning, which he takes, thankfully. He retracts and lingers briefly as he snuffs out the fire before he returns to his own room, you can only assume.

And even if you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, you still barricade your door that night, suitcase stacked on suitcase, bag on bag, and you’re almost sure he can hear it if he’s still awake. You hope he does.

But, when your head hits the pillow, all tucked away in the bed that would become yours for the next month, you immediately fall asleep despite the lingering threat outside your door.

-

It all feels like a horrible dream until your eyes open the next morning and again, you’re here. 

Then there’s a lingering smell of bacon, breakfast cooking in the distance and the house is warm, inviting, welcoming. Damn.

Fine. You were curious. Still annoyed, but not as much after a night of sleep. You could approach this at a different angle, with a better attitude and maybe work something out with the stranger outside of your bedroom.

You stretch your limbs until the protest and steady on your feet, wrapping one of the spare blankets at the end of the bed over your shoulders and around your body as you trudge toward the living area, connected kitchen off to the side as you round the corner of the hallway.

Your eyes settle on his back first, thankful he doesn’t immediately lock eyes with you when you enter—his muscles stretch as he fiddles with something on the stove, shoulder blades pulling inwards as he shakes the pan gripped in his right hand, still dressed in his clothes from the night before and his hair mussed up in the back from sleep and it feels odd to admire him for a moment, but you really can’t help it. 

There was a time when you’d scold yourself, but a lifetime of horrible boyfriends and even worse hook-ups, you knew that you had needs and feelings and you weren’t the type to ignore them or make excuses. Whoever he was, whatever his name may be, he was handsome. It was the first thing you thought about last night, despite the presence of possible murder, and it was the only immediate thing on your mind at the moment.

It had been months. You were giving up a little lee-way to feel bad for yourself.

But, then he’s speaking and it startles you to near death.

“Mornin’.” He greets with a reverence you are not expecting. He sounds relaxed.

The fucker sounds relaxed. Like he hadn’t tried to kick you out on your ass the night before. Your face pulls up in a disgruntled scrunch and you have the gamble to look confused. Because, yeah. This was not the person you met last night—given you were technically an intruder in his mind.

Maybe he wasn’t a complete asshole after all—No. Nope. You barely know him.

“You gonna keep starin’ or eat some breakfast?” He asks a little less polite, but it’s rude enough to elicit a response. Because, yes—you were starving. 

So, stare and eat. 

You take a seat at the barstool tucked under the island and assess the field, a mix of simple breakfast items: pancakes, eggs, bacon, toasts with varying levels of char, and a small bowl of mixed berries.

This feels…a little too much. But, you dig in with a ferocity that stomps out any current concern.

“Look–” He starts after a long bout of silence, having turned off the burner and beginning to assemble his own plate.

“If this is an apology breakfast for being a complete asshole,” You shake your head, cheeks puffed with the fluffiness of a pancake, slathered and drowned in syrup a few berries swimming in the pooled up sugary mess as you forked them and stuffed them in alongside, “apology accepted. Forgiven. Whatever.”

You couldn’t be bothered to care at that moment. You’d stood your ground, you weren’t leaving.

“It’s…not.” He eventually manages to say, interrupted by your schpiel, cutting his way through his eggs before forking a piece into his mouth, chewing slowly, “Look, I didn’t want send you off with an empty stomach, might not be great at this,” He waves a vagrant hand—Oh, so…talking to people, being accommodating, this last could drag on and on and—”but it’s not your fault, I guess.”

“It’s not,” You quickly retorted, the space between your brow scrunched into a permanent scowl at this point, “are you—You’re still trying to kick me out? No….no.”

“I was here—”

“First, yeah. I heard you last night.”

And part of you hears the echoing of your mother, that pestering and insisting tone she carried.

“Try new things, sweetheart. Meet someone. You never know what will happen.”

Of course, that didn’t apply to complete strangers. She meant it in the context of: find a nice boy, date him, marry him, and give her grand-babies. You were never going to be that person. 

You tried. Hard. Dated for a year, then two, and that ended in a mess of tears. You hated thinking about the effort you attempted to put into a relationship that was doomed from the beginning. You both ended up at different colleges and it was all for naught. And through college, you swore off boyfriends, slept around, and it was easier. But, it was less than exciting. 

In fact, it was boring. 

But regardless, the sentiment stuck around. You weren’t trying to trick this man into falling in love with you, but you weren’t going to let him displace you on a holiday vacation.

Screw this guy.

“This cabin has two bedrooms and plenty of space. I booked this place until the end of the month and I’m not giving it up,” You state matter-of fact, “You’re not driving me back into town and you’re not going to boss me around like you have some authority over me. I don’t even know you.”

The man seems speechless for a moment, chewing silently at his breakfast.

That was exactly what he assumed would happen—that he could, basically, command you into leaving. Thankfully, you didn’t do well with authority.

“Actually, how do I know you aren’t some squatter?” You ask suddenly, fork clanking against the plate as it falls, “Why don’t you show some proof that you paid to be here?”

It shouldn’t surprise you when he reaches for his own phone, taking his sweet, sweet time to scroll until he finds the proof and slots the phone your way. It doesn’t surprise you. You only wanted the proof. 

But, you can’t help the way your eyes bug out when you read the dates, matching up almost perfectly with your own, give or take a few days—which is why he arrived before you. He was here until the day after Christmas, just like you.

Your luck, of course.

You slid the phone back toward him and pushed your plate aside, thankfully full up on breakfast, but still frustrated. Things weren’t supposed to go this way. It was supposed to be a month away, a month of seclusion. But, that obstacle was standing opposite of you.

You sigh heavily, shrinking under your blanket and burying your head into cupped hands, digging the heels of your palms in until you see stars, coming up for air only after the plates start to clink against each other from movement.

“Okay,” You take a breath, lifting your head slowly, “I’m guessing you came out here to be alone,” It’s only an assumption, but it seems glaringly obvious, “so did I. So, how about we just do our best to avoid each other?”

“Seems kinda hard,” He argues, “seeing as we’re under one roof.”

“Well, we eat together. Or we don’t at all. I don’t need you cooking meals for me—but outside of that or just some occasional passing by, we don’t have to talk.”

It wasn’t a well-thought-out plan, but…

You’ve had enough roommates to have mastered this skill by now. Just because you were under the same roof as someone didn’t mean you had to get along, though it was ideal. It was a month. You could manage.

Keep your things locked away, doors locked too, always keep your guard up, live the entire vacation with the lingering thought that maybe he might have underlying murderous tendencies—and guessing by the even blanker look on his face as he examines you, your mind really starts to wonder.

“Fine.” He agrees.

Wait.

“You’re serious?”

“Doesn’t seem like you’re givin' me much of a choice.”

You smile triumphantly, a little too eager to gloat.

“Unfair, isn’t it?”

You couldn’t resist. And you brace for a rigid retort, some grumble under his breath. But, it never comes.

Instead, he chuckles. It’s so slight you almost miss it, but his chest shakes with a silent laughter before he’s returning to his neutral state and shaking his head in disbelief.

“Must be used to gettin’ your way.” He’s eyes flick up, hands buried into the dishwater he’s managed to start up under the rumble of conversation—there’s definitely something there, a glint in his eyes.

You feel like you’re imagining things. You definitely were.

“Not at all, actually.” You contradict, tapping a lone finger against the countertop, “So—can I ask your name? Seein’ how we’re going to be around each other for the next…month.” It feels unreal as it rolls off your tongue.

A month with a total stranger. Perfect idea.

“Joel.” He answers simply. You have to take his word for it. But, you don’t sense a lie. You respond with a polite utterance of your own name and that closes the conversation out. 

You watch in silence as Joel cleans, his pointed wandering around the kitchen, a purpose behind his steps as he moves. He’s so…broad. So large.

Much larger than any man you’ve come to know, or seen, really. You blame it on the fact that college boys were just that…boys. They weren’t men. Not like Joel.

He carried it in his voice, his demeanor, the age on his face that worked—and so well, at that. You never had a reason to look at men, older men. The type that would complain about you being half their age, how you reminded them of their own daughter. You would wretch away in disgust and flee a million miles in the other direction. 

But, Joel. He wasn’t like that at all. He hadn’t given you a reason to think otherwise—and here you were, lusting over someone you knew nothing about. Pathetic.

“Starin’ ain’t polite,” He chides, no malice in his tone but it pulls you away from your quickly fleeting, depraved thoughts, “parents never teach you that?”

“I never listened much,” You shrug, but there’s an urge to apologize given the close quarters and conditions you were agreeing to live under for the next few weeks, “and it’s a bad habit, sorry.” It feels a little less than sincere, but Joel takes it with no issue. 

But, there’s a sight you don’t catch as you retreat back to your own room.

Because Joel—his eyes follow you the entire way, wondering just how much of a mess he wrapped himself up in when he agreed.

—

Your eyes dry up with how long you’ve stared at your phone screen, staring at the small letters that spell out No Service and huffing out a small sigh as you rolled over in bed, shifted to find a comfortable spot…nothing.

You shift again, still not good enough.

This was going to be a nightmare if you secluded yourself in the bedroom, cooped up on a bed that, while decent, wasn’t your own.

Maybe booking this trip was a terrible idea.

You shouldn’t have lied to your parents about your reasoning for a spur of the moment trip to the deep woods of Texas—even though you had booked it out weeks in advance. 

And that you were taking the trip with a boy that didn’t exist, which was a bigger lie to add to the already rapidly growing web you’d weaved. 

“You don’t know him,” You’d told her, “I’m not ready to introduce him.”

Because, really—how the fuck were you supposed to introduce someone who didn’t exist?

You sit with a defeated jolt and reach for one of your bags, the only one filled with things that weren’t absolute necessities. Mostly books, a music player, stuff that would, hopefully, keep you busy if you got bored while you were here alone.

Alone was a foreign concept now. 

Somewhere in the fog of thoughts you find a book, covered tattered from years of wear, years and years of rereads that never got old. 

You could make yourself disappear somewhere on the couch in the living room, but not stuffed into a corner in a bedroom when you had an entire house at your expense.

Joel wouldn’t even know you were there.

—

Joel wasn’t even here.

When you step out into the hall, floorboards creaking underneath your weight, the silence otherwise is deafening. You traverse further, his bedroom door shut tight.

Well, maybe he had the same idea you originally did, tucking yourself away into your room. You shrug to yourself and continue the path to the couch, noting that Joel had started another fire. The cabin was well-insulated but it was a nice touch, the soft crackling of the burning wood and kindling, the feel—it was very…appropriate.

You settle into the cushion and finally feel that little slice of comfort you were searching for, feet curled up somewhere beside you with a blanket draped over your lap, book flipped open to the beginning. 

This felt perfect. Or close to it. You tried to ignore the fact that you weren’t alone, not at all. But, it was damn near close. 

And the peace lasts, for an hour, that is. 

Turns out, Joel did leave.

To where? No clue. But, he comes in with snow covered boots and a heavy winter coat, cheeks flushed pink and the ghost of his breath appearing in front of him as he stomps his feet out on the doormat. He closes the door before you can offer a protest his way, removing his winter gear layer by layer…

You force your eyes away, rereading the paragraph you were on a few times before you find your place again and continue through the story, face buried in the book as you raise it slightly, left arm slung over the back of the couch as you lick the index finger on your right hand, flipping the page. 

Ignore him. It was easy.

But somewhere along the way, Joel appears closer.

“Lord of the Flies?” He looks bemused, puzzled, shocked. Like an expression of—Really? You?

You return the look, even stranger as you tilt the book away from him, noticing the way his hand grips his winter gloves in a tight grasp, eyes shooting up to his face.

“Yeah.” It’s a simple answer, nothing to elaborate about.

He could read—fucking fantastic. 

His eyebrows raise in disbelief, but it doesn’t feel antagonizing. “Remember readin’ that when I was young,” He comments, “still holds up?”

“I’d say so,” You respond, offering him the attention he wasn’t inadvertently asking for, “why?”

Joel seems so…lonely. From a glance, at least. He’s got a sadness around his eyes that you never noticed until he had approached you so closely. He was only a few inches away from the back of the couch, just out of reach, and he sways a little on his feet like he favors one leg over the other and he hangs his head ever so slightly.

You weren’t here to question him or even attempt to know him, really—but you can’t help it. 

“Just curious,” He settles on, “can’t remember the last time I sat down and read a book, really. Don’t think I’d have the patience for it now either, but y’know…”

You didn’t.

He looks like he wants to say more, but he settles for silence. And, it doesn’t feel weird this time. He retreats a moment later, footsteps echoing throughout the cabin before the question comes to mind, retching itself out of your mouth before you have the consciousness to stop it.

“Wait, how old are you?” You ask curiously, attempting the math on your fingers, back and forth, eyes squinting in confusion as the book falls over your lap and your turn to catch a final glimpse of him.

“Kid, you’re gonna hurt yourself thinkin’ that hard.” Joel jokes lightly, something you haven’t seen before, but then he answers simply, “Fifty-six.”

Oh. Huh.

You nod slowly in response before turning away, burying your head back into the book in an attempt to avoid whatever look comes your way. The click of a door is a sigh of relief as you stop reading entirely, resting the book against your lap as you take a moment.

The snow was falling heavily, blanketing the ground with inches of fluffy white. It beckons the question of why Joel would even traverse out in this weather—or why he would’ve subjected you to this had he forced you back into town and back in a car to the city. 

He must’ve liked his loneliness too and here you were, wrecking those plans like he had wrecked yours. 

But, maybe this was a good thing. 

Maybe you had saved Joel from his own loneliness, unknowingly.

And maybe he had saved you too. 

—

As the night winds down, separate dinners aside after Joel allowed you free pickings of whatever was in the kitchen that he brought along with him, you find that the bottle of wine still remained unopened, the note addressed to no one in particular. 

Not you or Joel. It was fair game and you’d won. 

By now, the sun is long gone and the only light that came through the windows were the twinkling bright lights that hung outside and the flush, orange glow of the never waning fire, like a constant reminder of Joel’s presence in the house. He refreshed it every few hours and you watched as he did so, hunched over as he knelt, sleeves bunched up around his elbows and sometimes shifting completely onto his knees as he replaced the logs or waded up some extra paper to toss in. 

You eye the bottle curiously—it was nothing special. A store bought Chardonnay that tasted good enough to enjoy, but it wasn’t something to brag about. If it could get you drunk, it was worth a million bucks. 

You rummage around the kitchen until you find an appropriate glass—something wide, deep, and refillable. The tip of the bottle clinks against the glass as you pour, teeth biting as the inside of your cheeks as you decide that…mmm, no, just a little more.

“Bottle ain’t runnin’ from ya.” Joel comments, again to your surprise and it makes you jump, hard. Hard enough that a splash of spirits dampens the front of your shirt and you scowl in the older man’s direction.

“Stop doing that,” You're more than serious, deadly serious. At least, you try to be. 

Unfortunately, you’re not at all as threatening as you think you appear to be. And Joel has a glass dangling from his own fingertips, only a sip left of dark brown liquid and you surmise that he had the same idea. A nightcap before bed.

Or, in your case, half a bottle of Chardonnay. 

Joel deposits the glass into the sink silently, ignoring how you aggressively dab the front of your shirt with a hand towel to soak up some of the alcohol, like it wasn’t his fault. Inadvertently. 

“Are you always that jumpy?” Joel asks after a minute or so, lingering around the edge of the island, tired eyes and even more tired pull of his lips, not quite a smile, not much of a scowl either. 

“Forgive me for being a little on edge,” You retort with a sass that, quite frankly, is unwarranted. But, you’re feeling snarky and the moment calls for it, “I’m rooming with a strange man who greeted me with an axe.”

“If I recall, you pointed a knife at me all the same,” Valid point, pointless argument to make against you, though. “And weren’t you the one who put your foot down about stayin’ here?”

Yes, you did.

There’s too long of a silence because, really, you aren’t sure how to cut the tension—and maybe it was one-sided, but you couldn’t help but still retain some anger, some jealousy that you weren’t here alone.

“Alright, so maybe we can’t ignore each other like you want,” Joel explains, in reality it does seem impossible, but you had been hopeful, “doesn’t mean you have to scamper like a cat when you see me.”

Your bottom lip pulls in between your teeth before you’re pressing the glass to your lips and taking a hearty sip, steadfast in your silence.

Joel face contorts in thought, like he’s trying to think out his next few words careful, rubbing a hand through his scruff, speckled with patches of gray throughout, a particular spot just below his ear that his thumb reaches, just at the hinge of his jaw and he rubs.

And, you’re staring again. 

Joel doesn’t say anything this time if he does clock it.

“I came out here same as you, enjoyin’ my time alone.” Joel explains, feeling the deep timbre of his voice as he speaks, “I don’t have any intention of tryin’ to hurt you, nothin’ like that. Let’s just…be cordial.”

Even if that meant faking it.

Though, there’s a sincerity to Joel when he speaks that strikes, not often found with the people you’ve met in your life. And you know why you’re being so bitter, so abrasive and biting, but that resolves softens slightly,

Maybe it was the Chardonnay. 

When had you finished off the glass? 

“Cordial?” You repeat, echoing the sentiment.

“Yeah,” Joel nods, trying to offer up a different definition, “Friendly, polite.”

It’s clear that even despite his aura of loneliness, he seemed to deal with strangers often. You were a stranger to him. It wasn’t the first thing that struck you, so worried about your own safety that you had snuck into his idea of his own territory, now that territory was being shared. 

“No, I know what cordial means,” You reply flippantly, a little jaded by the gesture that he felt he needed to explain, “—I just, I was gonna offer you a drink then.”

Even though he very obviously already had his fill of what you can only surmise was bourbon, noting a bottle shoved away on a nearby alcohol designated shelf.

“A gesture,” You lay the sweetness on thick and Joel rolls his eyes half-heartedly, seeing right through you, “of—good faith, I guess. We can forget we were ready to murder each other last night and start fresh.”

“Darlin’, m’not much of a wine man.” 

Darlin’. That was new. 

You start to realize that when the sun goes down, his regional accent thickens up, forced out by exhaustion but it’s nice, comforting almost. It reminds you of back home, despite your lack of enthusiasm of being around your family, it gives you the hope that maybe you and Joel aren’t all that different from each other.

“Then, just sit.” You shrug, nodding toward the small table for two squished in the corner of the alcove, right beside a cushioned seat buried in the shape of the hexagonal wall, window view as far as your eyes could reach, distance buried in a thick bush of trees but if you squint hard enough, you can see another cabin off in the distance. The cabin you should’ve booked, but couldn’t. 

Maybe this was your own personal reckoning.

Much to your surprise, Joel does take a seat.

When you’re both finally seated, comfortable, you ask the first question:

“Where are you from?” You ask curiously.

Forward, that’s for sure. Joel could respect it, but still has a reaction to remain taken aback.

“Come on, you can lie and I wouldn’t know any better,” You remind him, “fine, I’m from Austin, born and raised.”

Joel’s chin hits his sternum as he chuckles, looking away briefly off into the distance and you laugh a little in response, confused.

“What? Is that funny or something?” 

“No, no—I’m…I’m also from Austin,” He admits, the likelihood not impossible but it is surely a fucking coincidence, “lived there my whole life.”

Well, maybe you’ve crossed paths before, but Austin was a big city and it seemed unlikely.

Your eyes narrow, attempting to read him. It’s more of a gag at your expense, watching as he looks just as skeptical of you, brown eyes examining your face as intently as he could. You have to ignore the feeling to shrink under his gaze, intense and all-encompassing, it feels suffocating, but not in a way that makes you want to escape. 

It wasn’t like that at all. In fact, it was welcoming. Like a safety blanket. He blinks once, twice, speaks when things grow awkward—

“I’m not…lyin’,” Joel admits, “that isn’t a lie.”

“You’re not supposed to tell me, Joel.”

Joel cracks a half-smile, wrestling with the aching joints in his hands as he squeezes his hands together, hands that have been through things, surely: hard work, years of labor, covered with small scars from burns and scrapes, you can only assume. 

“The whole idea is that…we don’t know each other. We aren’t going to see each other after this,” You tell him, curled up in the chair, wine glass resting on your knee and a fist nudged up under your chin, “you could tell me your deepest, darkest secrets and it wouldn’t matter because I’m not supposed to know if you’re lying or not.”

“So, if I ask you what someone like you is doin’ out here during the holidays instead of where you should be—with family or kids your age, what’ll you tell me?” Joel asks curiously, taking the bait and returning it with a challenge. 

You have no reason to tell the truth. But, you also don’t have a reason to lie.

“My family is suffocating.” You shrug indifferently, “They helicopter my life and I didn’t want to face it this Christmas, so I fed them some story and booked a trip out here for the month.”

His eyes soften and you have to hide your reaction behind a sip of your wine, knowing that any sympathy sent your way was not welcomed. You didn’t want it or need it.

“Am I allowed to ask about the story?” Joel questions.

It’s almost surprising, seeing him suddenly interested in your game.

You giggle quietly to yourself, lips pressed against the wine glass before you pull it away briefly.

“They think I’m out here with a super secret boyfriend that I refuse to introduce to them.”

He can see how cheeky you’re being about the whole thing, seemingly relishing in the enjoyment of torturing your parents. You’ve got your eyes on him too, staring at him again. He’s noticed it one too many times. 

Dangerous. It’s dangerous. Again, he doesn’t stop you.

His breathing is calm, solid—he’s settled in his seat and relaxed, something you haven’t had the chance to witness. Joel is so…normal. It reminds you that in any other circumstance, if you had met him at a store or somewhere in town, that you wouldn’t spare him a second glance. He’s handsome, sickeningly so. But, you would’ve passed him up without a thought. He would’ve done the same. 

For…different reasons, perhaps. 

But, these were special circumstances. 

You note how his hair is probably a little outgrown, curling around his ears and a deep, deep brown. Almost black but not quite. He doesn’t seem like a guy who styles his hair, allows it to lay how it pleases and doesn’t fuss much over his looks. But, the longer you look, the more mesmerizing he becomes. There’s a tan line on his wrist from what you can only assume is a watch, but he isn’t wearing it now—he must work in the sun, noting the way he’s sunkissed on just about every other part of his exposed body, up to the beginnings of scruff that starts below his chin, near his neck. His toned arms that could definitely swing an axe without a problem. You don’t linger on his legs for even a second, knowing that even for you it would be too far. But, he crosses them at the thought, like a cue—or a tease. Was he….

No. 

You continue idly, trying to mask yourself like you were lost in thought, tracing a finger around the lip of the wine glass, “If they knew the truth, they’d shit themselves all the same.”

Joel chuckles softly, a low grumble that is barely audible.

“Spendin’ your Christmas with an old man, half your age. I’m sure that’ll comfort ‘em well.”

He never asked, only assumed. But, basing it off your evident naivety, he couldn’t be far off.

“Eh..give or take a couple years.” You shrug, resting the glass on the table and crossing your arms. “They’ve always treated me like a kid, always questioning my decisions. I just wanted one holiday without it. Without…anything, really.”

Joel looks away, like the thought of that stings him, burrows at him in a different way. You want to ask, but refrain, no matter how strong the urge.

“Sorry ‘bout that, darlin’.”

And there it was again. 

You can’t fight the small smile that works its way onto your face despite yourself.

Joel doesn’t understand, looking at you inquisitively, something he’s become used to around you in the short time he’s been here, “What?”

“Darlin’.” You mock his southern draw playfully, echoing his deep voice despite your differing pitches, “Reminds me of home.”

“Jus’ slips out from time to time,” Joel admits, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” You assure him with a more welcoming smile, “I don’t mind.”

Joel shakes his head in tired amusement, rubbing his fingertips against the worry lines in his forehead before they shift down his face and you can see the exhaustion in his face. He doesn’t look well-rested at all, not even on a vacation meant for that exact reason. You feel guilty now, keeping him up into the late hours of the night for your own entertainment. He looks away again, off toward something that your eyes don’t follow. 

You moved rather silently as you stood, picking up your mess and stowing the bottle away in the fridge returning to bid a goodnight to Joel, who was no longer much of a stranger anymore. But, he’s already asleep—somewhere between the time it took you to clean up and put away the alcohol, he had passed out. 

He’d stayed up for you, noting how soundlessly he slept now. 

You don’t have the heart to wake him up, quickly assess your surroundings and find the thick hand-woven blanket resting over the back of the couch and pick it up, draping it over him carefully. He doesn’t shift an inch, cheek resting against a close fist, the other hand closed just as tight where it rests in his lap, seeming like he was always on guard, even in his sleep. You’ve never been more intrigued by a stranger, even if this was fleeting and foolish, you wanted to understand him. And as much as Joel was trying to fight it, he wanted to understand you too.

Thank you for reading this to the end! If you enjoyed please extend a like or reblog (with a comment if you'd like, i love reading them <3) to support writers, it helps a ton!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x fem!reader #pedro pascal characters #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #MMITW #my writing #pedrostories

[scribespirare]

If you're still open to flowerfang requests can you give us some more a/b/o with courting? Thanks so much. 🫶

baby i am ALWAYS open for flowerfang requests gimme gimme

So there's this guy.

Well, a villain actually, and he's slippery as hell and keeps wriggling his way out of Miles' grasp (seriously, there's an entire eel theme going on and quite frankly he doesn't really wanna talk about it) every time they meet. And since Miles is dealing with finals right now, he really can't spend that much time trying to chase this dude down. It's just not at the top of his priority list, ya know? Especially since he can usually stop the attempted crimes and send eel guy back to whatever rock he crawled out of. Or...swam. Whatever.

The point is, Miles gets the shock of his damn life when eel guy lands at his feet, trussed up like a present but without the bow one fine weekend afternoon.

Miles, in costume and having previously been enjoying the scenic view of the city from atop one of his many haunts, stares down at eel guy in pure shock.

"You're welcome," Miguel says from somewhere to his right, and Miles whips towards the sound.

"Huh?"

But the Alpha is stepping into a yellow portal, back turned, and Miles can only gape after him. "What the fuck?" he mutters, mostly to himself.

The man on the ground responds anyways. "Man, I have no goddamn clue. He came outta nowhere, said something about Omegas, and then clocked me."

Omegas!? If this is some dumb ass Alpha power flex then Miles is going to skin that man alive. Even if Miguel has at least a foot of height, a decade's worth of experience, and probably a hundred pounds on him. And also there's the fact that he's extremely hot. Like. Wildly fucking hot.

Whatever.

Fucking Alphas. Thinking they're hot shit just because they have chiseled jaws and biceps bigger than his head and amazing scents...

Miles spends the entire time he's taking eel guy to the police station grumbling about them.

Eel guy wisely stays quiet.

oOo

School lets out and the summer is sweltering where it gets trapped in all the concrete and gleaming metal of New York. Miles is given (mostly) free reign to do as he pleases and he does. There's nothing quite like swinging around the city to cool off.

There's just one problem.

Fucking. Miguel.

He keeps swooping in and taking down Miles' bad guys for one, even the tiny pipsqueak ones. And to make matters worse he's leaving shit in Miles' bedroom too. Money, some new Jordans, a spiderman suit that Miles will never admit looks way cooler than his current one and that he stuffed deep into his closet never to be seen again because fuck that guy.

Seriously, what the fuck is Miguel's problem? He hadn't thought Miles' being an Omega was that big a deal when he'd sicced hundreds of spider-people on him. Hadn't held back when he'd slammed Miles into the side of that train, all barred teeth and rage.

But now, all of sudden, Miles apparently can't wipe his own ass without an Alpha's help.

It's just his luck (which is to say, good) that when he decides he's done with Miguel's shit and is going to rip him a new one, Miguel drops a villain at Miles' feet and actually deigns to stop for a moment and chat.

Somehow the man laying between them is eel guy again. They both ignore him.

"What the actual fuck do you think-" Miles starts, at the exact same second Miguel says, "I wasn't sure if we should talk to your parents-".

Both of them stop, clearly confused by the other. Miles gets over his surprise first, shaking his head. "My parents? What the hell do you want with my parents?"

Miguel blinks down at him, face unreadable. "Well, the next stage of courtship usually involves speaking with the Omegas's-"

"Courtship!?" Miles' voice comes out so high and squeaky he feels like he's hit puberty all over again.

Another blink. This time Miguel's features tighten a little, and if Miles didn't know better he'd think the Alpha looked nervous.

Good thing he knows better.

"I...yes? I've been courting you since the start of summer," Miguel says. "I thought..." he trails off, brow knitting in manly angst that very much is not attractive on him, not at all.

Miles for his part just flaps his jaw in disbelief. Everything clicks together for him then: all the bad guys (fucking gift wrapped!), the shit Miguel kept leaving in his bedroom, the way he'd linger sometimes as if to catch Miles' reaction but ultimately still fucked off back to whatever universe he popped out of. Traditionally Alphas aren't meant to interact much with an Omega until they've declared their intention to the parents or guardian of said Omega. This is preceded by gift giving to see if the Omega is even amenable to being courted at all.

Here's the problem. A: that shit was common like a hundred fucking years ago. Nobody courts like that today unless they're richer than god and have been for generations. Old money are just weird like that.

B. Miles never gave any indication of being amenable.

...did he?

"Fuck you're old," is the first thing that pops out of Miles' mouth, because he'd rather talk shit than think about how he feels about Miguel trying to court him.

Miguel immediately tenses all over and takes a step back. "I'm sorry, I thought the age gap-"

"What?" Miles cuts him off, because he recognizes the look of a man about to run. "No, I meant you're old as hell for trying to court me traditionally."

The age gap is most definitely not a problem the Omega in Miles says. He ignores it.

"Oh," says Miguel, but he doesn't relax.

"Nobody does that shit anymore," Miles continues, "so I didn't recognize what was happening. On top of that, you didn't fucking say anything so how the hell was I supposed to know!?"

"I wrote you letters," Miguel argues back. Then, a little softer like now he's unsure of himself, "Written correspondence is an important part of a courtship."

"Did you leave them in my room, like the other stuff?"

"Yes?"

"Well there's your problem. You've seen my room, do the math. Bits of paper aren't gonna stand out."

Miguel runs a hand through his hair and sighs, shoulders slumping. "So you're telling me that I've been trying to make romantic overtures for over a month now, and not a single clear message has gotten through?"

Miles' heart does something weird and uncomfortable in his chest at the words romantic overtures. But he just nods. "Looks like."

Looking skyward as if for patience, Miguel mutters something under his breath and then huffs, puts his hands on his hips, and makes direct eye contact.

"Dios mio, fine. Clearly my preferred way of doing this isn't working. So let's try this instead. Miles, can I take you on a date?" The words are said so matter of factly and with such little emotion that they take a moment to process. When they do Miles immediately feels his face heat.

"Uh," he says intelligently.

Yes says both his dick and his inner Omega.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," are the words that actually come out of his mouth. Miguel looks pained though and Miles winces. "I mean...I'd love to? I think. I dunno, I'm kind of in shock right now. I have no clue what's happening."

That finally has Miguel relaxing and a ghost of smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Of course that look is just as stupidly hot on him as all the others. God, who did Miguel have to kill to get cheekbones like that?

Any and all thoughts of Alpha attractiveness scatter from Miles' brain when Miguel steps closer, right up into Miles' personal space. He smells...well, fucking amazing. Wild and sharp, like steel and ozone before a lightning strike. And he's leaning closer, tilting Miles' chin up with one finger.

"What's happening," Miguel says lowly into the space between them, "is that I'm interested in you, Miles. And I'd like the chance to show you exactly how interested."

Miles swallows hard and his knees nearly buckle under him. "Y-yeah, okay," he says, trying to ignore the heat of Miguel's body, how good it feels to be pinned in by his bulk and strength. He's failing.

"Good," Miguel replies, ruining all chances Miles had of trying to keep his cool because the Alpha leans down and kisses him.

It's not Miles' first kiss, but it is his first with someone who actually knows what they're doing. Miguel's mouth is hot and confident, nearly bruising in its intensity as he guides Miles' into parting his lips so that Miguel can sweep his tongue inside. Miles makes a surprised, pleased sound that immediately embarrasses him because it's so incredibly Omegean.

Miguel laughs against him, more felt than heard, and finally pulls away. "I've been wanting to do that for a while, cariño. Sabes tan dulce como te ves."

Miles yanks him back down into another kiss before he can say anything stupid.

"Uh, guys?" says eel guy from somewhere on the ground. "Hello?"

oOo

They don't end up talking to Miles' parents by mutual agreement. Miles isn't even sure why Miguel would want to considering Miles is still fifteen, but over the course of the conversation he starts to realize...

Miguel is a hopeless romantic. That's why he'd gone for traditional courting. Soft, gooey hearted, marshmallow fluff romantic.

Miles laughs until his sides hurt. He only stops when Miguel pins him down and kisses him until Miles can barely breathe.

It's really fucking great.

...Miles still forces Miguel to promise not to fight anymore of his bad guys though.

#asks #flowerfang #LOVED this thank u so much #flowerfang and a/b/o are just such a perfect combo *chefs kiss* #requests

[strawberryfairi]

Spending New Years With Mitsuya | Headcanons

Content: Fluff, BF Takashi Mitsuya X Black Fem Reader🤎, Happy New Year everyone!!!

🩵 He'd take you out for a really nice evening together for SURE:

~I feel like he'd take you out to a really nice restaurant. Low lighting, nice fusion cuisine, and you already know he be dressed DEEOWN honey, fit on point!

~He'd pick you up, bouquet of red roses ready, trying to really make an experience for you.

~He'd talk about how much you guys have been through good and bad throughout the year and how he's so grateful to have you in his life.

~I think he'd for sure share the goals he has for the coming year (career, relationship, everything).

~After the dinner, he'd take you somewhere really scenic with a nice, open view of the sky for when the fireworks go off.

~He'd try to time it perfectly, waiting for the time to hit 12am to give you a sweet, passionate new years kiss.

~He'd promise to continue to be the best boyfriend ever and even better next year.

#mitsuya x reader #mitsuya takashi #takashi mitsuya x reader #tokyo rev #black fem reader #black female reader #mitsuya fluff #tokyo revengers x black reader

[microwave-core]

Would You Still Love Me if I Was a Worm?

Zelda x Fem! Reader

Restoring Hyrule after the Great Calamity was seriously taking a toll on its princess. Thankfully, you have a plan to lift her spirits.

(hey this has a sequel now)

An incredibly important task has been dropped in your lap by none other than the princess’s personal guard: Distract Zelda from her work.

Both you and Link are well aware that, as the princess of the kingdom, it is Zelda’s responsibility to restore the land, a task that would obviously be immensely stressful. But a person can only endure so much stress before the quality of their work begins to falter.

Link, your trusty wingman who helped you get with Zelda in the first place, entrusted the role of taking her mind off of things to you, knowing that the princess would eventually cave to your whims if you were persistent enough.

You lean against the exterior wall of the Hateno School. Her love for both learning and children made her a natural teacher, one that the kids simply adored. It was only natural that she would lend a hand to Symin whenever possible.

The kids themselves were let out hours ago, as the sun had already begun to fall beneath the horizon, painting the sky with bright orange and blissful reds. The wait was worth it for the view, and it would make the little walk you had planned to take all the more scenic. 

“Ah! There you are!” The second she steps out of the building, you approaching her, hand extended to take her own.

“Oh, I didn’t expect to see you here, love. What brings you out here so late?” She graciously takes your extended hand, laughing softly.

“You, obviously. Now come on, I’ve got somewhere I wanna take you.”

“I appreciate that but… I really should get going. There’s still work that I need to get done before the day is over. I need to brief details with Hudson, and organize a meeting with King Doraphan, and Purah want-” “And you need a break. And none of those people are going to be mad at you for taking a little time to decompress. Not when you do so much…” 

“I don’t have time for a break. I understand your concern, but the sooner these things get done, the sooner Hyrule can be at peace.” “Nothing is going to get done if you throw yourself into work while already stressed out of your mind. It’s bad both for you and for progress.”

She looks you in the eyes, as you can see the fighting words on her tongue die. These little spats with her were nothing new. She was just so devoted to helping her kingdom that she barely spared any thought for herself. 

“There’s no Calamity happening. There’s no impending time limit. Obviously, you have a responsibility to Hyrule and her people, but that doesn’t mean you can’t take care of yourself. Now, come on, while the sun is still setting.”

“... There’s no winning with you, is there?” Her laugh is gentle, sweet as she relents to your pleas. She gives your hand a light squeeze. “Now, where did you want to take me?”

“You’ll see when we get there, for now, let’s just walk.” You begin to lead her back to the main path of the village, passing through the shops and townsfolk on your way out of the small town, with idol conversation flowing throughout, both intricate and small.

As always, Zelda talks about all of the responsibilities on her plate, continuing off of the long list from before, while you bring up small, unimportant things to keep her mind off of them, about the town drama and new shop inventory. 

You pass through the village entrance and through the woods, mindful to avoid the Bokoblins hunting for food and travelers, before veering off of the path towards Nirvata lake, settling at the edge of the water.

“You should have seen the kids the other day. The pictures they drew of me were wonderful. They even put you and Link in some of them!” She smiles brightly at you, leaning into your shoulder. Her mood, the tension in her shoulder, has seemingly improved dramatically, and all it took was stepping away from pen and paper for a short period of time.

“Aww, I’m sure their pictures of Ms. Zelda were simply darling.”

“They were! You need to come into the building some day to see them. I all but begged Symon to hang them up.” Laughter finally pours from her lips, as she was unable to hold it back for much longer.

The comfortable silence files between you as her laughter dies down, a smile still plastered on her face. You stare into the sky above, taking in the brilliance of the (now) night sky, the twinkling stars across a deep ocean canvas.

“...Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

“What?” She snorts, both amused and taken aback, but ultimately confused.

“You know, like one of those dragons. Would you still love me if I were one of them?” You look down at her, playful smile etched onto your lips.

“I guess I would? Why wouldn’t I?”

“We would never be able to live together, for starters. I would be far too busy flying around Hyrule.”

“Then I would build a house in the sky, just for you. And we could travel all over the land without any issues.”

“But what if I wasn’t the same as I once was? I wouldn’t be able to talk to you at all.”

“I would love you even if you were a completely different person. You're too important to me to just let go like that.” She smiles brightly, looking up at you while leaning further into your shoulder. “And when Link inevitably shoots you for parts, I’d wipe away your tears with all the gentleness I can muster… You know, it seems like you don’t want me to love worm you.”

“Of course I would want you to love me still, but becoming a big old dragon would be a big commitment, a big change.” Your tone remains playful, but with an edge of seriousness. “I need you to be ready to accept worm me in spite of those changes, just as I would accept worm you.”

You bring her hand to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to each knuckle, before gracelessly flopping back into the grass, patting the open grass next to you for her to follow, which she does, albeit much more gracefully. 

“What even brought this up?” Her voice is hushed, as if afraid to break the calm stillness of the night air now that all has gone quiet.

“Saw Naydra flying over the mountains on my way to wait for you, and thought about how weird it would be to, well, be like that. All long and worm like.”

She shakes her head at you, before snuggling into your side. In the moment, it was as if the entire world revolved around you two, sitting out away from a small village in the chill of the night. As if everything was right in the world for once.

Zelda knew that was not the case. She knew of the strange happenings beginning to plague the world, mainly the presence of a malice-like substance, which she would likely need to help investigate at some point. 

But for now, she didn’t need to worry about that. All she needed to focus on was you, knowing that work would inevitably resume come daybreak.

#loz x reader #botw x reader #totk x reader #zelda x reader #fem reader #thats a lot of tags #not me pulling up the interactive map for this #link would be a great wingman #is it really one of my banners if it doesn't have a little crust on it? #im not fucking okay why did totk do this to me

[lensdeer]

No I can't fucking be normal about the Morrowind intro

After you start the game, Jiub says he "heard [the guards] say you've reached Morrowind", but in the cutscene Azura says they took you out of the Imperial City Prison "first by carriage and now by boat", so what the fuck sort of route did you take that the people driving the boat set sail from somewhere outside Morrowind and only "reached" it near Seyda Neen.

I'm extremely autistic about The Elder Scrolls lore, so I have obsessed about this issue for years: Jiub clearly meant you reached "Vvardenfell" the island within "Morrowind" the Province. I get it; from a marketing point of view, it makes sense to namedrop the name in the game's box right as you start playing, but bear with me here (why they didn't name the game "TES III: Vvardenfell" instead still escapes me; Daggerfall isn't named "High Rock" or "Hammerfell" anyways, so it doesn't have to be a province name! "TES II: Iliac Bay" would've been a significantly worse if more accurate name for that one anyways, but I digress).

With the beautiful amount of care Morrowind's team of writers put into even the most mundane details of the game's lore this detail has always struck me as weird, and since TES canon has an in-universe explanation for even the most minor gameplay mechanics like Oblivion not having levitation spells, I can't stop fucking thinking about it.

See, it's pretty easy to see that this is the optimal/fastest (and therefore most likely) route the guards used to move you from the Imperial City Prison to Seyda Neen:

Out of the Prison through the Imperial City itself, over Lake Rumare through the Talos Bridge, around the Red Ring Road and then the Blue Road, maybe stopping for the night in Cheydinhal, entering Morrowind through some frontier pass in the Velothi Mountains, traveling through the Stonefalls region for a bit, and finally boarding a ship on Old Ebonheart to take you to Seyda Neen.

In this case, you entered Morrowind WAY before even getting on the ship! It makes absolutely no sense that they would say you "reached Morrowind" if you traveled through this, the only sensible route.

So what the hell kind of route did they take you through?

If, for some reason, the guards didn't want you to set foot in Morrowind-The-Province until Seyda Neen and Seyda Neen only, they would've had to have taken you through a laughably inefficient route:

It starts the same as the previous route, but they would've had to split off the Blue Road before reaching Cheydinhal, crossed the significantly colder and more dangerous Jerall Mountains to enter Skyrim somewhere around Riften (rest stop?), wasted a bunch of time navigating through The Rift and Eastmarch, boarded a ship on Windhelm, navigated through icebergs in the Sea of Ghosts, and wasted a even more time navigating all the way through the Inner Sea to get to Seyda Neen (why not drop you off at Gnisis or somewhere else in north Vvardenfell at that point?).

If you were being taken to Morrowind with any degree of urgency it makes absolutely no sense to waste this much time and resources navigating through Skyrim's significantly less hospitable geography. And, even then, wouldn't the guards have said you "reached Morrowind" around the time the ship went into the Inner Sea anyways???

Thing is, that's literally the only other justifiable option. If they didn't want you to touch Morrowind OR Skyrim before getting dropped off at Seyda Neen, the only remaining option is the even more stupid Plan C:

Maybe they wanted to take you for the scenic route! The Nerevarine prophecy can get fulfilled fucking whenever, who cares:

Go down the Green Road through Bravil and board a ship in Leyawiin (maybe the Khajiit heard you're Azura(h)'s champion and let you through the Tenmar Jungle so you board it in Senchal instead?), and strap the FUCK in for the voyage of a lifetime through the Nepal Sea and sail the Padomaic Ocean aaaaaaaaall the fucking way around Black Marsh and mainland Morrowind, dodge a couple icebergs in the Sea of Ghosts, and navigate the Inner Sea to finally get to Seyda Neen (because fuck Tel Mora, Vivec and Ebonheart; we're determined here), like, at this point multiple years after leaving the Imperial City. Hope you packed enough provisions, because these guys are determined to not "reach Morrowind" until the Bitter Coast!

Alternatively: at this point, why didn't they just commit to the bit and just get some weirdo at the Arcane University to teleport you directly to Vvardenfell?

Condense multiple days of travel into a quick afternoon stroll through the Imperial City! Maybe the guards can do some shopping, watch a quick match in the Arena or chill for a bit in the Arboretum on their way back from dropping you off. Why not. Perfection.

Anyways. I like Morrowind, and I obsess over this topic every time I think about it. Hope I passed on my brainworms to y'all.

#tes #tes lore #the elder scrolls #the elder scrolls lore #morrowind #deerbleats #look I have been thinking about this for literally 10 years I think I get to be weird about it

[julessworldd]

Valentine’s Day with GOT/HOTD babes modern

A/N: A quick idea for you guys and my present for saying thank you for the support of my writing. It’s been amazing writing for a new fandom and getting new mots y’all are the best! So happy Valentine’s Day from me :) I love you guys 💓 @daenerysapologist @valeskafics

Warnings: grammar/spelling errors, implied smut, marriage proposals, romantic shit

Robb: Okay man is a simp all year round, but Valentine’s Day and your birthday he goes all out each year. Breakfast in bed with your favorite breakfast foods and drinks. Dinner at the restaurant you had your first date at. He’s a sentimental man, like his daddy. Buys you an outfit and takes you out on the town, a walk after dinner. Then takes you back home and you have a nice night in the backyard under blankets looking at the stars. You definitely know how much you are loved with Robb

Theon: A romantic but loves an excuse to buy you stuff without you telling him he’s wasting his money. Wakes you up by kissing you all over and whispering sweet words of love in your ear. Definitely messes with you the whole day, making out in bed, on the counter, where ever he can get you. Gets you a pretty necklace, a nice outfit, a pink lingerie set from Victoria’s Secret (reference to bels cam girl series 💀💖) a good ole fashioned wine and dine with Theon

Jon: Loves Valentine’s Day he gets to show you how much he loves you on that day and your birthday. Jon makes you breakfast in bed, makes the bed, draws you a bath with nice soaps, bath bombs, roses in the water, candles around the tube. Still gets nervous about asking you if he can join the tub. Of course you let him, he lets you lay your back on his chest. Washes your hair and body while kissing you and laughing enjoying the time with you. Would be a guy to propose on that day. I don’t think he would make it a restaurant proposal, more of a scenic view type. Where you two go on walks and relax in nature, he had Sansa and Arya make it all cute with candles, fair lights and pictures.

Jaime: Jaime loves spoiling you no matter what day it is, but is like Robb two days out of the year he goes all out. Wakes you up being under the covers messing with you. Afterwards, he carries you to the kitchen for a breakfast. Tells you to get ready because he’s taking you out for the whole day. Takes you to your favorite places, a little shopping, a cute lunch date at your favorite restaurant, flowers. Then dinner he takes you to a fancy restaurant, gifts you a necklace that has his name. Later on you notice the wait staff is watching you guys. Soon as you ask him what’s going on, you seen him on one knee and a velvet box in hand. He takes you to the place he first said he loved you and tells you how much you mean to him and how he still loves you.

Aegon: Aegon is definitely someone that shows his money off even to you. You love him for him not his family’s money, but that’s his love language. A huge shopping spree, a fancy lunch and dinner, sends you money to get your nails done but request you to get something he wants for the special day.

Aemond: A secret hopeless romantic for his partner all year but valentines is one day he shows it off. Him and Jaime would do the same thing, take you shopping, a nice lunch just the whole day is about you and just you. Aemond would hand write you a poem and would mean every word. Definitely would think about proposing to you that night but wants it to be the perfect moment.

Cregan: My boy is a simp like Robb! Plans this day out after your birthday so it’s a ways a bit from that he plans it out big. Takes you somewhere nice and warm like Hawaii, Costa Rica, Bahamas the week before. A romantic getaway for you two, would definitely propose on the beach at sunset. A nice dinner that’s outside a private beach. tells you how much he loves you and wants to be with you forever. Cregan and Gomez Addams give the same vibes for their partners. Starks are simps in my book

#hotd x reader #hotd x y/n #got x reader #robb stark x y/n #jon snow x reader #theon greyjoy x reader #aemond x reader #aegon x reader #modern hotd #modern got #cregan stark x reader

[epigstolary]

A New Home

TW: Medical fatphobia and discussion of health issues, sadistic caregiver, immobility

I catch myself nervously fingering the sides of my belly, at the far extent of my reach, wishing I could be anywhere but here. Anywhere but having this skinny doctor, standing at the foot of my bed — one of those reinforced bariatric jobs, which I couldn’t leave without the help of a couple of strong orderlies, even if I could muster the will to try — very clearly disgusted by the sight of me, and lecturing me about what I would have to do if I wanted to salvage my health.

“You realize you’ve gotten yourself into a very dangerous situation, don’t you?” he says, palpating the flesh bulging from my thighs and underbelly, studying the darkening skin spreading from the folds. “You have allowed yourself to become extremely morbidly obese. I can see from the notes on your chart yesterday that you’re not able to lift yourself, not able to reposition yourself without assistance, you become very short of breath from any movement. And your lab numbers are very bad. Your cholesterol is very high, your blood pressure is consistently in the danger zone, and you’re ridiculously diabetic. That’s a very big hole you’re going to have to dig yourself out of.”

I had to scrutinize his expression to see if the double-meaning was intended — no sign of a smirk on that businesslike face, looking at the notes he was jotting on his tablet — but even so, I knew there was more truth in it than just what he meant. Just thinking about my situation was enough to make my blood run cold.

Today is the first day I’ve gotten to rest since I had to leave home. I say “had to,” when what I really mean is that I was made to. The power of attorney my feeder had made me sign — along with the gaining contract, the life insurance policy, and a bunch of other paperwork — had seemed so thrilling at the time, when we were just starting to fatten me up. Now, I wish I’d thought a little more carefully about it. Once I’d passed the half-ton mark, and my feeder had to start spending more time sponging my rolls than getting off to them, my days at home were numbered. I’m surprised he made it almost the full year. But he was well over it by then, and that little piece of paper was all he needed to sign me up for a one-way ambulance ride to this nursing home hellhole, and my bare room with a scenic view of the parking lot.

The ambulance was backed up to our house first thing in the morning two days ago. The first I knew about it was my feeder shaking my belly to wake me up, moments before two burly men in scrubs marched in and pulled off my bedsheets, one of them giving an involuntary whistle at the sight of my body filling the mattress before he recollected himself. I was still out of it, disoriented, and my oxygen wasn’t on yet, but I remember my feeder whispering in my ear that these men were here to help him, that I was going somewhere they could take better care of me, and that he was going to be right behind them. I didn’t even have a chance to protest before they started rolling me around, trying to maneuver some kind of tarp under me and strap a series of harnesses around my body. My bones and joints were sore and aching, and I was winded and out of breath just from the movement of all my weight, by the time they finished with me, trussed up like a Christmas turkey and totally unable to move.

Then a troupe of even more men joined them, the group having to exert all their effort just to slide me a couple of inches at a time, slowly working me closer and closer to the front door, with a heave and a plop each time. The whole thing was mortifying — I knew I was big, of course, but I had no idea I was so heavy that I could barely be moved by a half-dozen men exerting all their effort. I’ve never wanted to disappear more than when one young fireman, red-faced and muscles dewy with perspiration, let out a “Goddamn, that’s heavy” on the sixth or seventh heave through the living room. Nobody had to say it, but I knew they were all thinking about me that way, the person not much older than him who’d gorged themselves up to a quadruple-digit weight and beyond like it was their job.

Which it was; but they didn’t know that, and my feeder was doing his best impression of the dutiful but overwhelmed caretaker to leave them none the wiser. I was big when we met, he said, but not this big; he’d always tried to keep me to a healthy diet; I always found ways to fall off the wagon; eventually he had to give in and just help manage the fallout; I’d finally eaten myself too big for him to take care of me anymore, and he just didn’t know what he’d do without outside help. The lead paramedic was nodding sympathetically, saying obesity cases like mine happen more often than you’d think, eating up the entire sob story. If only he could have seen my feeder literally cramming eclairs down my throat the night before. The hypocrite.

It took the better part of the day getting me hauled out of the house, hoisted onto a reinforced gurney, maneuvered into the back of the ambulance, driven several cities over, rolled out at the nursing home, and hoisted onto my permanent bed. At one point, before the drive, they left me laying just outside the front door, having to watch the crowd of neighbors and other onlookers gawking at me, over 1,300 pounds of helpless flab, all bundled up for transport and barely able to wriggle my hands around. The embarrassment would have been obvious on my face if I wasn’t already beet red from just trying to keep my body from jiggling too wildly every time the team tried to move me. By the time I was settled in and able to catch my breath, it was already close to dusk.

The next day was no less hectic, but this time it was a series of doctors’ visits and tests to measure just how fat and out of shape I was. It took the nurse longer than I care to admit to find a vein he could use for blood testing, giving up on my flabby excuse for an elbow before struggling almost as badly on my fat-puffed hands. A seemingly endless rotation of doctors and nurses came to poke and prod me, doing nerve conduction tests on my feet and hands, taking more blood sugar readings, lifting every roll and checking every crevice for signs of lymphedema or other skin ailments. By the afternoon, I was ready to pass out from the combination of activity, the relentless nagging about needing to take better care of myself, and the (for me) complete lack of food their three conventionally-sized meals constituted.

After everyone left, I could hear the nurses talking about me in the hall, although they didn’t realize it.

“…chill for a couple minutes before we go turn them? Even with the winch, they’re heavy as fuck.”

“You get a feel for it after a while. How to maneuver around and everything.”

“How often do they actually get, you know, the really big ones back walking again? ‘Cause they have to lose, like, hundreds and hundreds of pounds to even get there, right?”

“I haven’t known but a couple who actually lost enough weight to discharge them. At least, not here. Most of the time, they can’t get over the food addiction. Like, you wouldn’t think someone the size of a house who can’t get out of bed could find a way to get food in here, but they always do.”

“Jeez. Really?”

“Yeah. It used to take a little bit of effort, before they could order whatever they want from their phones. But now a lot of them’ll just keep getting garbage delivered and putting it away until they have the big one.”

“Damn. Why doesn’t anyone stop them?”

“Do you have time to check everyone who walks through here, when two people don’t show for their shifts and you’ve got fifty beds to do? Bitch, please. Come on, I want a smoke before we go in.”

It was then that my feeder made his appearance. I saw him slip something to the nurse who showed him to my room. He looked at whatever it was in his palm and smiled before pocketing it, leaving the room, and locking the door behind him. Then I felt something warm land on my bare chest: a huge paper bag — heavy, stained with grease, and bearing the logo of my favorite fast food stop. From its weight, I knew it must contain almost a day’s worth of junk; and from the gleam in my feeder’s eye, I knew every bit of that junk would be going down my throat as quickly as my feeder could get it into my mouth.

“You must be starving, sweetheart, after having nothing but hospital fare for the last day or so. I hope you didn’t think I was actually going to make you start slimming down?” he said with a mocking solicitude. “No, I’m going to do everything I can to make sure you keep gaining, no matter what your doctors may do to try to rehabilitate you. You’re mine, my half-ton prize pig, and I’m making sure you stay that way until the very end.”

It took him the better part of two hours, but he made sure I ate every bite of food I’d usually eat in a full day, accepting no complaints and giving no comfort. He stared gleefully into my eyes as he gently but relentlessly pressed bite after bite into my overworked mouth. After my feeding was over and he’d cleaned the grease and crumbs off my face, I was panting and sweating, barely able to breathe even with oxygen from the pressure of all the food. It was then that he unlocked the door and summoned the two nurses who were outside earlier, telling them I looked really uncomfortable and asking if they could reposition me. He stood in the corner as they rigged up the bariatric hoist, sneaking videos and watching them work my wobbling body, overwhelmed by blubber, into the harness so it could slowly rotate me onto my belly. I could tell he was enjoying every second of seeing me manhandled, moved around more like some particularly bulky freight or livestock than a person. When the nurses finally finished after what seemed like an eternity and left the room, he followed, taking a handful of my chubby jowl and giving it a squeeze. “Same time tomorrow, slim? I guess I know where to find you, haha.”

I was left alone with my thoughts for what was really the first time since the move. I could feel my cheeks burning with shame, a pit of anxiety and embarrassment growing into a widening chasm in my overfull belly. Getting this fat had always been the goal; needing bariatric care was the apex for every extreme gainer and every encourager who tracked their progress. But now that I was here, and it was an actual fact — now that I really was too fat to move on my own, and had no choice but to submit to strangers for even the simplest tasks, no matter how private — the reality was horrifying. I had wrecked my body beyond the point of no return because my feeder and a bunch of random people on the internet that I would never meet found it hot. I had been proud of my gains, greedy for more, and I never really considered the ramifications of the end game. Now my body was choked with fat, pinned to this reinforced bed, with no hope of slimming down and every prospect of being made to balloon even more, all because some strangers wanted to get off. How could they do this to a person? To me?

“But you’re letting yourself off the hook by blaming them,” my conscience chimed in. “You wanted an easy life just as much as they wanted you to gain, if not more. You wanted to be able to graze and gorge, and to have nothing more to think about than your next meal. And you got exactly what you asked for; you got to kick back and compress a lifetime worth of calories into a few short years. It’s nobody’s fault but your own that you only get to enjoy that life for a couple more years, at the outside. Deal with it, fatass.”

And today here I am, getting harangued by an utterly unsympathetic doctor. Being run through the parade of horribles that will happen if I don’t commit to an ordinary diet, apply myself to an exercise routine designed to recover my mobility, attend to a medication regimen. In the back of my mind, I know this is all a waste of time. That I’m going to be pumped full of greasy burgers and fattening pastas and melted ice cream every day while the nurses are turning a blind eye. That my bloated legs and fat-laden arms and belly the size of a mattress aren’t going anywhere. That I’m ending my days here, probably at a weight closer to a ton than not, depending on how long I can hold out.

The fluorescent lights buzz incessantly above me. I can feel the waves of chilling air driven by the ceiling fan wafting across the expanse of my flab. My body wobbles slowly back and forth with each breath, machines trying to drive enough oxygen into me to keep me going. Outside, I can see one of the elderly residents shuffling by, braced against a tennis ball-bedecked metal walker. Slow. Ancient. And far more mobile than my youthful, three-quarter-ton blob body ever will be again. I fucked up big time. I’m too fat to fix it, and my feeder’s going to make sure I stay that way.

I’m never getting out of here.

Thanks to @gaining-at-all-times for suggesting the idea for this one, and providing a lot of the source material

#feeder fiction #gainerfiction #gaining #ssbhm #weight gain fiction #wg fiction #extreme weight gain #wg story #weight gain story #gainer stories

[ithinkabouttzu]

I need more BoB content! You're the best!

Pls write proposals ideas!

And pls include Speirs ❤️

Easy Co. Proposing to you!

Genre! Romance; fluff

Warnings! Language, suggestive

Description! How the men of easy would propose to you (gn!)

(This is a little christmas gift from me to all of you!! Also this is my first bday on this account and I wanted to treat you guys :) Love you all!! - Mac 💗)

Dick Winters: Him proposing to you would be the most sweet and genuine thing ever. He would spend months just trying to figure out what would be the right way to ask you. He would buy you the prettiest ring ever, I think several months before he would ask you what type of ring like the best and get whichever ring you said you liked. He would wait extra long to propose after asking though just to make sure it’s a complete surprise to you. He definitely is proposing to you somewhere intimate and quiet where you guys can just enjoy each other afterwards. Maybe a quiet spot near the lake, or a pretty hiking trail with gorgeous views. It’s the sweetest thing when he gets down on one knee though, he’s so nervous but still manages to ask you.

Lewis Nixon: I feel like he’s the complete opposite. He doesn’t even realize it himself that he’s proposing to you until like a week before. You guys were sitting on the rooftop just enjoying your time with each other when he finally knew he wanted to marry you. The next day he goes and buys the best shiny ring he can find, one he’s sure that you’ll love. He would be a little nervous but at the end of the day he would just be so excited to surprise you with this. Before proposing to you he would invite your whole family over to the mountain top view that he was going to do it at. Setting out rose petals, and getting a photographer. When you get home from work he’d tell you to get dress as nice as possible, that you guys were going to an amazing dinner. You would be so confused when you guys finally got there. Seeing your loved ones and rose petals all around the scenic view. He goes a bit over the top but it’s adorable nonetheless.

Carwood Lipton: I just know he would come up with such a unique and wonderful idea when it comes to proposing to you. First thing he has to do though is ask your parents for permission before he does. When he gets their blessing is when he can really start planning though. He’d pick out a simple but beautiful ring for you, just a diamond with the band but still it’s gorgeous. The hardest part for him though is trying to pick out where and when to propose to you. He’s not exactly sure if it should be private or public and when would be the best time to actually propose to you. He finally decides to do it during the holiday season while taking you to see all of the pretty lights in the park. At the end of your guys walk to the lights he would take you to a gazebo with lights wrapped all around it with rose pedals (that he set out and planned hours earlier) in the gazebo is when he finally proposes to you.

Joe Toye: He knows for sure that he wants to marry you, but he has absolutely no idea how he’s going to propose. The thought of him having to set up an idea for his proposal is honestly terrifying and stressful. He doesn’t trust himself have as much as he should. So his has the idea to call one of your loved ones for advice on how to do set it all up. When he finally gets their help it’s so much easier, he decides to take you on a little getaway in the mountains and propose to you there. He waits until the last day to propose to you, just because he was so scared you were gonna say no. You could tell that something was up the way he was being so nervous and jittery the entire trip. When he does finally propose it’s perfect. He’s got tears in his eyes at the end of his speech, he honestly didn’t even think he’d get so emotional, but he’s full of love for you and when you said yes it was amazing. He finally knew that he’d have you as his forever and ever 😭

Joe Liebgott: He’d be nervous as shit trying to decide how to propose to you. He makes SURE to keep the ring in his back pocket no matter what. 1st reason being because he doesn’t want you finding it or someone stealing. 2nd reason is because in the back of his mind he definitely would pop the question at any time if he felt the time was right. The proposal would be a little spontaneous, it would be just after a nice dinner date and now you guys were walking around outside where the huge garden was, the sun was setting, the scene was right, it just felt perfect to him so that’s when he popped the question. Honestly it was so cute you could hear the trembling in his voice because of how nervous he was “I love ya’ to death, please marry me” :(

Bill Guarnere: I honestly think it wouldn’t take him that long to figure out that he wanted to marry you. He wanted to marry you right after he met you tbh, so when you bring up the topic a couple months later on marriage and how good you would look with a diamond on your finger he almost immediately buys you a ring. He’s so ready to finally propose to you but it seems like he could never find the right time, it’s like every time that he tries to, something gets in the way. That’s when he just settles for a private proposal at your guys’ place. He makes sure to go extreme though, putting up balloons and rose pedals everywhere WITH and extra bouquet just to give to you, candles lit, music playing softly in the background, with some amazing Italian food. Either way it’s perfect and he couldn’t thank you enough for saying yes.

Eugene Roe: Him proposing would be the best thing ever. He’s so kind and considerate and I know he would makes sure to have everything planned out and decided on when he’d propose and how he’d do it. Of course he’d ask your parents or loved ones for permission to marry you before he goes through with it though and asks if they would want to join in with the surprise. He would want to propose somewhere that’s really pretty and I think it would be somewhere special. A place that both of you really like to go to or hangout at. Maybe somewhere like the beach, or a mountain side that you guys like to go to in y’all’s free time. The ring would also have a nice meaning to it, maybe your and his birthstone on the wedding band and the diamond ring to go along with it or maybe ring that’s been passed down.

George Luz: He really tries to figure out an idea that’s special and creative for you and him but also not too over the top. If you like skiing or snowboarding maybe sometime during that trip, like at the bottom of a run? or maybe even right after you get off the lift, if you’ve never been skiing or snowboarding before he will be glad to show you the ropes lol, either way it would be super cute. I think for a ring he would want to give you something that you really like, before getting the idea to propose to you he would ask you little questions here and there (that you didn’t catch on to thank goodness) about rings and what type of rings you would really like. Before proposing he would be sooo nervous but excited? ughhh he just loves you so much and is ready to spend the rest of his life with you. He’s kinda scared you’ll say no, but when you say yes he gets so happy and excited it’s the cutest thing ever 🥹

Bull Randleman: I think he would propose to you in a very classic way but also very planned and thought out. Maybe after a nice dinner? Like he would talk to the restaurant about setting up a special room there with just you and him and letting the workers know before that he was planning on proposing so he could have the best wine and food possibly (followed with extra candles and roses in the room for the aesthetic) He would be nervous but only a little bit. In the back of his mind he knows that you and him are in love with each other so he’s not so worried that you’ll say no. He makes sure to ask you parents, siblings, any of your loved ones for permission to propose to you first. He’s very family oriented so it’s very important to them to get their approval. The ring would probably be a classic but beautiful diamond ring, one that’s timeless really (like you ;) anyway, his proposal is so sweet and romantic it’s just the best ever.

Floyd Talbert: Okay cute idea: You. Him. At the end of a beautiful hiking trail. One that’s obviously not very hard or strenuous bc he doesn’t want his honey getting sweaty or hurt on the trail before he actually proposes. Makes sure to scope out the area weeks before and finds the perfect area that he wants to propose to you at. Even goes the length of hiding a photographer in the bushes ahead of time. The plan was to get to the very top, and then when you guys got there he would stop because “he wasn’t feeling good” (which is such an obvious lie) and when he’s about to fall down he ends up on one knee and that’s when he pulls out the ring and proposes. It would actually be such a cute and funny idea and the way he planned everything out was so sweet too. Only problem was that the photographer actually scared the crap out of you so bad that you accidentally hit the ring and you guys lost it for like 30 mins 😭 (it’s okay you guys found it afterwards )

Don Malarkey: Okay this sweet boy would be SUPER nervous to propose to you. Like he’s dead set on spending the rest of his life with you but also has no idea how tell you that. He honestly puts so much thought into how he wants to propose to you, when and where. He finally settles for doing something fun, a scavenger hunt around the city. At first when you get there you think it’s just a cute little date idea for your guys’ anniversary. He would make sure to involve your friends and family or anyone you were close to that would be in the scavenger hunt throughout giving you clues and such. When you finally find him he’d be waiting in town square with lights, roses and music playing. Oh and of course the special ring he picked out just for you. He would be so jittery trying to get all of his words out, but he eventually pops the question. It’s adorable and afterwards you guys and your loved ones all celebrate together.

Skip Muck: Tell me why I think him proposing to you would be super random?!? Like just imagine, you and him walking around together, smoking and talking (or just him smoking if you don’t ofc) but just getting into a whole bunch of deep conversations about anything and everything, and when he’s about to take you home he just asks you straight up, “You wanna get married?” It would take you by complete shock but also not? He’s very spontaneous so this isn’t very unusual but, like, he just proposed to you?? When you said yes he’d be surprised, like you actually said yes??? The very next day he would buy you a gorgeous ring and propose to you the right way, making sure that it was official that you and him were engaged. It’s okay though he makes sure to plan out the wedding and honeymoon nicely though.

Shifty Powers: When he realizes he wants to propose to you, his first idea is taking you to the beach and taking a small little trip with you and proposing to you there. He starts setting everything up months in advance, finding the right resort, the right beach, making sure everything is absolutely perfect so that you don’t have to worry at all during the trip. The ring would be so gorgeous, if there’s any specific type of ring you really like he would make SURE to get that one for you, he just loves you so much and wants you to have an amazing proposal. Finally, during the last days on the trip he would take you out to the beach right when the sun was setting, the perfect view to propose. Before hand he would draw out letters in the sand that would say, “Marry me?” When you guys finally get to that spot is when he’d get down on one knee. Honestly the cutest idea ever.

Babe Heffron: It all happens during a simple talk over dinner. Both of you, sitting at home laughing and enjoying time with each other. You guys eating dinner until you made the joke “You know, we should get married” His whole face goes blank right when you said that, turning more serious. Did you somehow know he was going to propose to you later that week? Had you found the ring the he was hiding? “Are you okay? Why are you looking at me like that?” You said, a little worried why his expression turned more seriously. “We should” He said, “I’m serious.” That’s when your eye’s completely widen bc what? He was proposing now? “Okay, let’s get married” You reply back happily. Not even realizing he was gonna surprise you with the ring, roses and a proper proposal later the next morning.

Frank Perconte: His proposal to you is simple, cute and sweet. He’d ask one of the shops downtown if he could borrow their rooftop to propose to you at. He’d set up twinkle lights out there for the scenery and rose pedals everywhere beforehand. When the day comes, he would ask you to meet him up at that exact rooftop at the perfect time when the sun started to set. Not telling you why to meet him there but to dress up nicely. You had just assumed maybe it’d be for a small event with friends that he didn’t tell you about? When you get there you’d see him, all nice and dressed up, on one knee with a big ring in his hand. It was absolutely shocking. The ring would be gorgeous, he would make sure to find you the best fashionable ring ever. One that he knows would look perfect on your pretty hand. “What do you say, y/n. I wanna be with you forever. Will you marry me?”

Ronald Speirs: It was so nice. He had taken you out for the day around the city. Going around to different shops together and looking around at all the entertainment from the busy weekend. “Stop here” He’d say, pulling you aside by the prettiest part in town. “What are you doing?” You’d ask him nervously, wondering why people were throwing looks at you and him, until you look back at him and he is on one knee, Opening the small box with the ring in it. “Marry me”, he said in a loud voice, catching attention from people around. You tried pulling him up to stand, anxious by all the people watching you guys now. “Please” He looked up at you. You wanted to say something but you got nervous by everyone staring. All you could do was nod shyly. Being crowded with cheers and applause’s afterwards.

Johnny Martin: Okay he goes a little crazy but I mean who’s he kidding, you’re the love of his life and will be sure to let you know it with his proposal! Calls the Botanical Gardens in the nearest city and asks if they can have the place shut down for just you and him for part of the day (mans is determined for everything to be perfect) Decides he’s going to propose to you by all of the gorgeous tulips. Streamers? check. Ring? Check. A big neon light that says “Marry me”? Check. He’s got it all set up and planned. Luckily the tulips are the end of the walk around the gardens so when you guys are finishing up the trip he can pop the question right there where everything is set up. It’s gorgeous. It’s perfect. It’s beautiful. Honestly you would think that a wedding planner designed and set it up by how nice it looks. Even the ring is somehow perfect just how you’d want it? By the end of the night you are sure this man can completely read your mind by how great everything was. (The cutest thing is - you guys get married in the same spot in the Botanical Gardens where he proposed 😭)

Skinny Sisk: He has the hardest time trying to pick where exactly he should propose. Whenever he does the most casual things he’ll just look around and think, “This would be a great place to propose to Y/N at” it’s so cute how much he thinks of you even in the most simplest places. He takes you on a small trip to a beautiful lake house in the summer time with beautiful window views so you can see the lake from the living room anytime. It would be so fun (personally speaking) riding jet-skis and going on the boat, just sun bathing around and enjoying time with each other. The ring he would pick would be so beautiful too. One with sparkle and light but also one that specifically reminds him of you. He would propose to you on the pier in the early morning after breakfast, the sun lightly shining across the lake water making it look so beautiful, you just had to say yes!

David Webster: He makes sure to incorporate art and culture into his proposal to you. I think he would write it in a sweet, simple poem that would put you to tears, genuinely the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard. He’s so romantic to you. Taking you out to do all of your favorite things, beforehand asking you to make sure that whatever you want to do, you guys do it! He would ask the question later in the day though, at the end of the night just in case you said no. The ring he’d pick out for you would be gorgeous, with small diamonds surrounding the whole band and one huge ring in the middle. And amazingly, he’d propose somewhere crazy, a freakin’ hot air balloon over looking the sunset city. “It would be horrible if you said no right now, but would you give me the biggest blessing, and marry me?”

Chuck Grant: He gets so excited at the thought of being able to marry you. He gets a little over his head like, he just bought a ring and he’s already thinking about what you’d look like in a wedding dress. It’s such a cute and simple idea but he’d definitely go for a picnic proposal. All the food you can eat with wine and beer, and of course, the shiny ring in his back pocket. He would set up the nicest picnics ever. Bringing everything you guys would need (utensils, napkins, blanket if it gets cold, if you want it there’s a 90% chance he’s got it somewhere in the basket) It would be on a beautiful beach looking over the ocean, the wind completely stopping when you guys got there. The weather was amazing too, it’s like everything was almost perfect for your special day. “I’ll love you til’ i’m dead, Y/N, marry me?”

Buck Compton: His proposal happens during a very random domesticated moment between you and him. He always had the idea of proposing to you when it was just you and him. Getting to enjoy you in the privacy of just your home instead of out in the public eye, but he didn’t really expect for him to full out ask you for your hand in marriage while flipping pancakes during breakfast. He didn’t mean to either. He kept the ring in his back pocket at all times (bad choice, we’ve learned) and when he was putting up dishes, the ring feel out of his pocket, and right onto your feet. Of course you picked it up and he has to explain to you who the ring’s for and why, and by then end of explaining and rambling he’s pretty much proposing to you at that point. “Do you like the ring? If you marry me you might just get to keep it ;)”

Thank you for your request!! You’re the best too! Much love to all of you guys, this is my first birthday post on here! 🩷 If you liked this, make sure to like or reblog! 🤍🤍🤍

#ithinkabouttzu #band of brothers #hbo war #dick winters #lewis nixon #carwood lipton #joe toye #joe liebgott #bill guarnere #george luz #eugene roe #bull randleman #floyd talbert #skip muck #don malarkey #shifty powers #babe heffron #frank perconte #ronald speirs #johnny martin #chuck grant #skinny sisk #buck compton #band of brothers headcanons #band of brothers reaction

[sirianasims]

Paul and Julia please!

How often do they argue/disagree?

Is head ever in the equation? If so, who is better at performing it?

What is their favourite non-sexual activity?

Who snores? If both do, who snores the loudest?

Who rakes in the highest income?

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying?

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere?

Do they enjoy their surroundings?

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times?

Hannah! Thank you so much for these ily! 🥰❤️

They never really argued until the breakup. They had minor disagreements, such as how to handle being in the public eye, and they're kinda both wrong there. But they'll learn...

Paul definitely knows how to treat a woman and considers this an essential part of the act! Julia gladly reciprocates but she has much less experience. She gets points for enthusiasm and willingness to learn, though! 🫣

Watching old movies. They both have a soft spot for B-movies and shitty monster or superhero movies, but you can't take them anywhere because they will comment loudly and make jokes the entire time to make each other laugh.

Paul definitely snores the loudest. Julia may snore a little sometimes, but Paul would never tell her that.

Paul, definitely. He comes from a large and pretty wealthy family in Tartosa, and he could retire and just live off the money he's made on the Llama Man franchise. He only keeps working because he likes it and wouldn't know what else to do with his time.

Julia once managed to burn noodles. Don't ask. Paul, on the other hand, grew up in the kitchen with his grandmother and is the kind of person who insists on making the pasta from scratch. He definitely has at least one secret family sauce recipe.

Julia might forget things if she gets distracted by something shiny, whereas Paul has excellent memory, probably from memorising all those lines.

Both Paul and Julia are very visual people who appreciate beauty and finer things in life. They're equally likely to stop in a particular scenic spot to take in the view. You can tell that Julia isn't feeling like herself when she gets messy, whereas Paul tends to get minimalistic under pressure to reduce visual clutter.

Julia is very fashion-aware and tends to be pretty stylish. Paul is less interested in fashion and tends to stick to safe, classical menswear like shirts and suits, but Julia is probably itching to update his wardrobe a tiny bit.

#ask game

[silverefflux]

The First Meet

Chapter 1 of my new König x Fem!OC fic, Rush

See Chapter List

Photo by Fred Austin Photography

Summary: A private jet pilot flies her boss to Austria and hangs around for three weeks. She gains a new friend during a hike. You already know what's next.

Warning/s: A bit of explicit language; König has an established real name here; pretty much a self-indulgent (yes, self-insert) fic, so sorry in advance

. . .

Back to You // Lost Frequencies, Elley Duhé, X Ambassadors

Bobbing her head to the steady four-on-the-floor beats echoing inside her helmet, Kate rode her motorbike across the winding roads of the Austrian Alps. The cold morning breeze worked against her music though, subtly reminding her that she could be sound asleep at this hour, if not for the long ride to the hiking spot in her itinerary.

Nevertheless, she loved every second. In fact, it was all she could ask for at the moment—cruising at your own pace and singing without a care while the snow-capped mountains keep you company. She passed a couple of rock tunnels and couldn’t be more grateful likening herself to a speck of dust amidst the mass of the earth, one with the nature she is traversing.

A while after, a loud car horn awoke her from the trance of a blissful groove. She glanced sideways at the open window of an SUV matching her speed. A little boy was waving at her. She revved her bike and waved back, her heart warmed by the small interaction. Afterwards, the car zoomed away.

All this on a Wednesday? This is the fucking life, she thought.

Soon, she reached her destination. She slowed to a stop at a parking lot, scanning for a spot, preferably one that keeps her bike from hitting someone else’s car should it be knocked down. That was an easy find though; there weren’t a lot of tourists on a weekday morning. If there was anything she truly worried about, it was her bike’s noise drawing unnecessary attention in a quiet place like Tyrol. As soon as she set the kickstand down and stowed away her riding gear, she began her hike.

Choosing the scenic way up, she marched up a multitude of stone steps for two hours in a continuous steep climb, alternating between walking and stopping by to take pictures of the view.

Eventually, her stops became her excuses to rest. Every step she took grew heavier, as was her breathing. The air gradually thinned and she soon realized that as active as she was, the hike wasn’t going as perfectly as she had hoped.

Maybe it’s the ride? Should I have spent the night somewhere halfway? She reckoned that she must’ve overestimated herself. Flaws of the confident, I guess, she shrugged.

Giving herself a second to breathe, she powered back through—only to stop again.

Nope, not happening, she relented as her exhaustion got the best of her. She slumped over with her hands on her knees, took a deep breath, and exhaled with a yell to try and get herself back up. Some feet ahead of the trail, two men looked back at her and started whispering.

“Verzeihung!” she squeaked, flinching and raising her hand apologetically. One of the men said something to the other with a cheeky smile, and the other responded with a slap on the former’s shoulder.

Her eyes widened and her cheeks glowed red. God, who else heard that? She decided to turn away and stand by a ledge to spare herself from feeling any more like that one obnoxious tourist. She ate a granola bar from her bag to occupy herself and took redundant photos as she waited for the longest 5 minutes of her life.

“Hallo, sprechen Sie Englisch?” asked a voice from behind.

She looked towards the voice to find that it belonged to one of the men up the trail. A tall Asian guy who looked to be in his late thirties. He wore a teal hiking backpack with an all-black outfit of running shorts and a plain dri-fit shirt that fit his form well. To top it off, he didn’t look tired at all, which gave Kate the impression that he was highly athletic—or simply not a novice hiker.

“Yeah, hi,” she responded.

“Nice, my friend over there just got a little concerned,” he said with a tiny smirk, gesturing to his companion who stood quite a ways up and staring off elsewhere. Kate noticed that the man didn’t have an Austrian accent, which somehow soothed her unease over her seeming ignorance.

She cringed at herself. “Oh…gosh, I’m sorry about the noise,” she said with nervous laughter. As nice as their concern was, it just confirmed to her that she was an obvious newbie.

The man chuckled. “Don't be. Care to join us?”

Welp, company would definitely make this easier, save for the fact that they were the ones who giggled at you earlier. “Sure,” she beamed anyway.

Kate tagged behind the man as they walked towards his buddy. “This route’s a little more challenging, yeah?” he spoke lightheartedly.

“Uh huh. First hike.” she faltered.

“Not a bad choice. The view makes up for the long climb,” he replied with a stern voice.

As they closed in on his buddy, her immediate impression was that as tall as the first man was, the second one? Even more so. A fair-skinned man whom she guessed must’ve been around 7 feet tall, if not close. Contrary to the “concern” that the first man mentioned, his buddy met them with a straight face, concealed by a gray face mask. “This is my friend, Dominik,” he introduced him. “Kate”, she responded back, offering to shake Dominik’s hand. He accepted and nodded, albeit his eyes narrowing and his hand being a little cold, which she brushed off as due to the weather.

“Ah–and I’m Hong-jin,” he chimed in, enunciating his name as if to make sure she got it right.

“Nice meeting you both,” Kate said as she shook Hong-jin’s hand, “Thanks for taking me with you guys.”

“Sure,” Hong-jin answered, then directed his gaze to Dominik. “It’s her first hike,” he remarked. His eyes lingered at Dominik for a couple seconds longer, as if to cue him to say something.

“Olpererhütte for your first hike? Who told you this was a beginner trail?” Dominik looked down at Kate.

“No one…?” she lilted, “I just asked my Airbnb host for the prettiest one around.” She shrugged, “Though this really is one for the books for me. Even on the ride here.”

Dominik only raised his brows slightly before looking straight ahead. For the rest of the climb, that would be the longest couple of sentences he ever spoke, choosing to keep on with his hands tucked inside the pockets of his cargo pants. It was mostly Hong-jin chatting with Kate. If Dominik ever said anything, they were mere one or two-word replies. For the time being, as she shared some menial details about herself, she was able to figure out that Hong-jin is a Korean, and Dominik a German who spent his childhood in a nearby Austrian town, and that the two had a brotherly dynamic about them.

“How long before we reach the hut?” she asked the two of them.

“Maybe a couple more hours,” Hong-jin replied.

Kate hissed, tucking her water bottle in and adjusting her backpack. “Whew, long way.”

“Just tell us if you need a break, all right?” Hong-jin reassured her.

“Yeah thanks,” she answered curtly.

“Wait,” Dominik said under his breath, stopping to stand still. He took his face mask off and clutched it while his hand rested on his waist. He kept his head down and his eyes darted towards the ground, fully concentrated on getting back some much needed air. Beads of sweat began to drip down the side of his forehead.

Hong-jin’s expression shifted from calm to worried. “You good?” he asked. Dominik’s eyes did not leave his shoes as he swung his free hand, as if to shoo the other two away. Kate twirled the strap of her backpack around her finger and looked to Hong-jin, unsure of what to do.

“Okay, we’ll go ahead.” Hong-jin uttered. “He’ll be fine,” he told Kate with a shake of his head as they walked on, but not too far as to leave Dominik behind.

When they were a good amount of steps away, Kate cast a glance at Dominik. “You sure he’s fine?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved off, “By the way, weren’t you the one with the GS earlier?”

“Uhh…yes,” she drawled, eyeing towards her left and pulling a downward grin, “Was it that loud?”

“Oh no, no,” he croaked, leaning away slightly, “Nik and I saw you parking when we started.”

“Ah. Okay,” she trailed off. “ ‘Cause I was honestly worried it was too noisy,” she continued, wrinkling her nose at the thought, “I asked the bike rental for one that wasn’t bothersome in Tyrol but good enough to ride from Vienna.”

That earned his fascination. “Whoa, you rode from Vienna?” he asked her.

“Mmhm,” she nodded proudly, “Had to go pretty early, but fun stuff! I didn’t get tired much because I was just vibing with everything.” Not tired, sure, but maybe I shouldn’t have ridden five hours to hike for another four.

“Cool,” he said in awe. “I’m saving up to buy my own actually.”

“Ooh, what bike are you picking?” she asked in delight.

“Kawasaki Ninja,” he said, “I like the sporty look.”

“The 1000?” she asked, head tilted in anticipation.

“Yeah.”

“Aw hell yeah. I still ride a Beemer back in the Philippines. RnineT.”

“Nice,” he high-fived her in approval, “Wait, where’s—König!” he called out to Dominik below, but cut himself off for some reason. Meanwhile, his friend looked back at them from standing before the mountain view cross-armed, letting out an exhale before trudging towards them. “Aish, i mossol…” Hong-jin sighed to himself.

Dominik wore his mask again after he caught up with them, wordlessly as before. Eventually, the three reached their first destination: a two-storey mountain hut made of burnt-colored bricks and wood, a place where all the hikers gathered.

A look of fulfillment painted Kate’s face as she intertwined her fingers behind her head and took a deep breath. “Finally,” she sighed. The trio walked into the place and Kate’s first thought was to go to the bathroom. She excused herself and told the two men that they could go ahead to the hanging bridge that was a short walk away from the hut. Almost immediately after she was out of earshot, Hong-jin turned to Dominik.

“She rides bikes and flies planes,” he implored, stressing his point with his hands.

“Oh wow, danke! Du bist der Hammer!” he derided, “For fuck’s sake, Jin, stop playing matchmaker.”

“What? Why not? You said she was ‘easy on the eyes’,” he quipped back, sounding mildly offended.

“She doesn’t look bad, that’s what I meant,” Dominik groaned, “You know, if you like her so much, just ask her out.”

“One, I’m out of the market right now—”

“So am I—”

“And two, you’re the one for sale.”

“Ugh.”

The two walked out of the hut and on to the bridge, still continuing their banter. As persistent as Hong-jin was, he couldn’t afford to push his friend past his boundaries, so he arrived at a compromise.

“Okay, at least talk to her so you have something new to tell your therapist?” he fretted.

Dominik stared blankly at his friend and took a second to think. “Eh…no,” he said dryly, hiking briskly ahead to gain some alone time at the hanging bridge. Hong-jin could only scratch his head, but what else could he do? He strolled elsewhere to sit and take in the view, overlooking the vast valley that embraced a turquoise lake.

Kate made her way up to the bridge after some time, passing Hong-jin in his little spot. “Hey there,” she chirped.

“Hi,” Hong-jin greeted back, “Nik’s over at the bridge.”

She looked over to see Dominik standing by himself at the bridge, this time without his face mask. Before Dominik knew, she was making her way towards him.

Oh no. Please go back to Jin, his mind attempted to tell her telepathically, but clearly in vain.

“Hi?” she said, peeking at his eyes to see if he was pissed at her presence, “Mind if I share the bridge?”

The mask.

His hand fidgeted with his pocket to fish out his face mask, but something in his head told him to try and push himself this time. 

“Sure,” he replied in a seemingly offhanded tone.

She stood beside him and brought out her phone to take pictures of the lake. “View’s lovely.”

“Mmhm.”

“Would you believe I was taking pictures earlier as an excuse to not look like a total noob?” she giggled, “I mean I was struggling to keep up but that was so weird of me. What the hell was I thinking there?”

“Pictures or not, you don’t have to worry because almost everyone here’s not local.”

“I see.”

Silence.

“Have you been here before?” she asked him.

“Ja.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s nice.”

More silence that she felt compelled to break.

“Anyhoo, are we allowed to sit here?”

“Yeah.”

She settled herself near one of the ropes that held the wooden planks up, legs dangling over the bridge. Dominik stayed still. “Yeah the height gap is very apparent right now,” said Kate, smiling up at him. He took the cue and sat down beside her. Gaining a closer look at his face, she noticed a large pale scar extending from his right temple, down his cheek, then above the corner of his lip, ending somewhere on his chin. There definitely was a major reason behind it, she pondered, one that was likely too heavy to ask. She shifted the topic in her head.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you and Hong-jin know each other?”

“Uhh…” he looked to Horangi for respite, but he was still far off in his zone taking selfies, not even sparing a moment to check outside his bubble. No backup now. “We met at work a few times. Been friends ever since,” he responded.

“Hmm, so you guys go a long way. What do you guys do anyway?”

Another pause. “Military.”

“Cool,” she remarked. That explained the matching crew cuts. She guessed from his hesitation that she shouldn’t ask for any more what’s or when’s. Quick, ask something else. “I’m guessing military life gets pretty crazy. Pays to take breaks like this one. From all the noise. If machines get to have a break, why can’t we?”

I appreciate the attempt to talk to me, but this strikes a chord—perhaps too hard, he thought. “Unless the job asks for you to really act like a machine, sometimes you have to be like one.”

“But then take a break, like a….machine would?” she replied.

He hummed. “Sure. Then take a break.”

Something in Kate felt triumphant in making him say something other than one-word replies. She rested her hands on the horizontal rope in front of her face and swung her legs absentmindedly. “Yeah. We’re just people. Gotta cope how you need to,” she began to ramble, “Whether that’s peace and quiet, or some good old adrenaline rush. There’s some of that in flying too, which I liked at first, but then the pressure of the job sinks in after a while. It’s like with yo—”

She stopped herself, it felt wrong to complain about her work pressures in front of a literal soldier. She continued, “Okay not really military life-or-death type, of course, but the amount of hard work you need to make it look easy. The smallest scratch on a plane, big incident. Then the first thing the board always points fingers at is the guys in front, know what I mean? Guess because it’s legally the easiest way out?”

Dominik only looked at her and took a short gasp of air, wanting to say something.

Nope. Might breach an NDA.

So he held himself back. Silence was once again shared between the two. But it was a more comfortable one this time, being filled in by the mountain breeze and rustles of greenery.

Suddenly, he spoke. “Adrenaline rush, huh? I supposed the motorbike matched your style.”

“Did it now? Yeah, I like the rush you get from that sorta stuff. A healthy kind of scare. Heck, I’d bungee jump from here right now if I could.” He moved to peek below the bridge. It was fairly far down, but it was layered with rocks from the stream and was too shallow to “bungee jump” from. “That doesn’t sound very healthy,” commented Dominik.

It earned him a snicker from her. “I’m kidding. But—dude,” she swung her head to look him persuasively in the eyes. “Bungee’s fun.”

“A guy my size—I’m probably safer jumping without a rope,” he replied, a smirk shyly peeking into the corners of his mouth. Kate observed that the man had a rather sweet smile. His lips pressed into a thin line, but his cheeks rose ever so slightly.

Her eyes secretly enjoyed lingering on his, admiring the soulful blue of his irises. She realized she may have misjudged him. He wasn’t as cold as she thought; only reserved, but nevertheless, a friendly guy with a long list of experiences that came with his work.

As much as she liked this man’s face, perhaps what she found more interesting was the warmth and tranquility of the moment. No crazy jitters, as if she was just talking to a friend.

Breaking her thoughts from spiraling mid-conversation, she opted to keep the ball rolling, scavenging for names of other extreme sports that involved jumping but had nothing to do with laying your life on a piece of rope. “Hmm, what about cliff diving? Wait, you ever done a jump like that before?”

“I’ve jumped out of a plane.”

Her interest in what he had to say grew, so she sat up straight and leaned a little towards him, “Ooooh, skydiving?” His eyes slightly widened. “Well—yeah skydiving.”

She furrowed her brows at that, then laughed in bewilderment. “Whoa there, why is something telling me it wasn’t just that? Oh my god, what did you do?”

He chuckled at her, flattered upon seeing her interest in what he can do. “I can’t tell. Although skydiving, rappelling down an aircraft…it’s part of the job.”

She hummed with a pout and planted her arms back on the wooden planks. “Wild. I like your style.”

“It’s the rush.”

“Right?” she replied. Man, this guy is cool. “Okay one more photo from here.” She snaps one last photo of the lake, before delicately tucking away her phone in a zipped pocket in her pants. “And yeah let’s keep that, don’t want my phone to fall.”

“You’re terrified of your phone falling but you’ll dive off this bridge?” he questioned her.

“My phone is incapable of saving itself. Though yeah I’m telling you, I’d freakin’ parkour here or something.” she teased, leaning slowly toward the ropes then watching for Dominik’s reaction. Only a face that reads, I’d like to see you try. She faked falling over the rope with a mocking shiver. Still nothing from him but mild amusement. “Tough guy,” she said slyly. His eyes narrowed.

“Ah, look at the time!” he exclaimed as he slapped his hands down on his thighs so aggressively that it made the whole bridge wobble. “Is Hong-jin done yet?” he grinned at her, pretending to be oblivious to her squealing and wrapping her legs around the vertical rope.

“Gago, Dominik!” she shrieked,” hands gripping tighter on the rope and laughing in defeat at his fairly scary retort.

He shook his head. “Okay, I’m sorry, bad joke,” he stood up, offering a hand to her.

She took his hand. “S’alright, it was actually pretty ironic, so touché.”

They walked out of the bridge and back to Hong-jin. “For someone who likes peace and quiet,” he pointed out, “you’re rather loud.”

“Dominik,” she glared up at him in disbelief, “You shook the damn bridge, what do you expect?”

“No, even during the climb. I could hear you even when you and Jin went ahead.”

“Oops. Should I be sorry?” her gaze fixated on the rocks they were walking on.

“Nah,” he drawled, “The energy’s nice. And call me Nik by the way.”

Hong-jin’s attention turned from his phone towards them at the sound of footsteps over the rocks. He got up, gave his friend a subtle glance then acknowledged Kate. Asking the two how the bridge view was, he read that both were now fairly at ease around each other. The three returned to the hut for some beer. They sat side-by-side at a long table overlooking the mountains. It was close to noon and a good amount of fog had dissipated.

Kate took a swig of her drink. “So you guys are heading back to Germany after this?” she asked, looking at Hong-jin who was next to her, then to Dominik.

Hong-jin responded, “Yeah. You?”

“Overnight here.”

“Oh. Enjoy your stay, then,”

“I will.”

She caught Dominik looking away and taking a huge drink from his mug.

They exchanged more stories and shared some laughs as they finished their drinks. Soon enough, Dominik and Hong-jin said they had to be on their way. They bid each other goodbye.

As she watched the two men walk away, she realized it was now or never, else she might not see them again.

“Them”? Please, it’s mostly Tall Boy you’re worried about, she told herself, You’re a tourist. Nobody knows you here. Go for it. What could go wrong?

“Wait!” she called their attention. They turned around and saw her briskly walking to them with her phone in her hand. Despite the fact that she was addressing both people, she looked mainly at Dominik as she spoke. “If you don’t mind, maybe we’ll catch up again, guess I could have your socials or something?” She quickly realized her eyes might incriminate herself and immediately looked at Hong-jin. “Or yours. Anyone, really, if we’re all hanging out next time.”

Dominik only stood, hesitant to take her phone as she offered it. “I don’t really have social media. But I suppose I can give you my number.”

Perhaps it was a good thing that neither of them saw Hong-jin twist his face in wry amusement over what Dominik just said.

She opened the phone app and handed her phone to Dominik, who typed in his number. She gestured to Hong-jin to type in his social media handles, which she followed right after.

“All right,” she said gleefully after pocketing her phone, “Guess we’ll chat around when we can. It was nice meeting you both.”

The other two nodded and smiled in agreement before saying goodbye to her again.

She bought lunch soon after, then after a hearty meal, she settled her things on the bed, and opened her phone to look at one of the newly saved contacts.

Dominik Brunner.

Pretty name, she mused. As odd as it felt for her to fixate on the details of someone she just met, she admitted that she liked how he seemed pretty outgoing underneath the timid front. She allowed the soft, warm glow slowly to creep up on her cheeks, silently savoring that small win she had for the day.

. . .

Also posted on Ao3. Hope you liked this fic!

Translations:

Verzeihung! - Excuse me!/Sorry! Hallo, sprechen Sie Englisch? - Hello, do you speak English? Aish, i mossol… - Aish [interjection for frustration or slight anger], this mossol [slang, someone who has never had a boyfriend or girlfriend] Oh wow, danke! Du bist der Hammer! - Oh wow, thanks! You're the best! Gago - [offensive], jerk/bastard

#könig x oc #könig #cod könig #cod mw22 #cod modern warfare #könig modern warfare #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #konig mw2 #konig x oc

[karatekels]

I am so happy I found your blog! Your writing is amazing! Could you write a story about CK Terry meeting reader but she's in LA only for the summer vacation so he only has a couple of weeks to convince her to stay with him?

I’m glad you found your way here too! This one really took my imagination for a ride, so thank you for the prompt. I hope you enjoy, and sorry for the wait! (I'm imagining this will be in 5 or 6 parts, and I'll update with links at the bottom as I go!)

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(Note: Reader is in L.A. for 2 weeks, and meets Terry on Day 4, so the fic will take place across Days 4-14 of her trip!)

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Fresh Start

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Day 4

You’ve come to the conclusion that you are, in fact, a very boring person.

It’s only your third full day of a two week trip to L.A. and you are already out of ideas of how to spend your time. You’d come here for a vacation, for time away from everything. You were between jobs, you had ended a long-term relationship somewhat amicably, and you needed time away from your well-meaning but extremely overbearing mother who had been more hurt by your recent break-up than both you and your ex combined. No, you supposed you likely wouldn’t marry before 30. Why exactly was this her problem?

The idea was to come here, relax in the sun, see the ocean and, most importantly, not think about the mess you had left at home. However, after taking the first day to get settled and relax after your flight, and then two days of wandering around boardwalks, you had spent the morning doing nothing but dwell on your problems. What was wrong with you? What twentysomething got bored while on vacation in LA?

You suppose it’s just because you were here alone. You didn’t have any friends here, and you weren’t exactly the person who went out clubbing, especially with people you’d just met. Of course your thoughts are driving you crazy.

Your eyes flit over to the stack of books that you had brought with you; you could never go anywhere without something to read. Perhaps reading, getting lost in another world, would help your mind escape your problems the way your trip had allowed you to physically escape the tensions of being at home. This vacation was the closest thing you were going to get to a fresh start, and you were going to do whatever made you happy, even if that meant doing something you would likely do at home. Still, you suppose you should at least go find somewhere scenic to read. Throwing a few of your books into your favourite tote bag along with a blanket, sunscreen, and a change of clothes in case the day turned cold, you change into your bikini and a floral sarong and hop into your rental car, making your way to the beach.

---

You’d been at it for a couple of hours, walking from one end of the beach to the other, but couldn’t find a comfortable spot to read for more than twenty minutes. You couldn’t begrudge the people laughing, splashing around, having fun, but you did wish there was a spot where one could enjoy the view in relative quiet.

You approach a treeline at the far end of the beach where fewer people are gathered, peeking through the foliage to see an oasis of private sand perhaps a hundred feet away. Perfect. Stepping through the sun-dappled grass and trees, you approach your destination with a dreamy smile. You could already see yourself coming here again and again during the rest of your stay…

“Freeze.”

Disobeying the order, you whirl around in surprise. A large man, broad-shouldered and mean-looking, stood ten feet away from you with a severe expression, judging by what you could see of his face around his tinted sunglasses. You don’t miss the holster at his hip.

“This is private property, Miss.”

You exhale in relief before the anger sets in. The man’s intensity was completely mismatched for the situation; he had you thinking you were walking into a minefield, or a wildcat’s cave or something.

“Oh, jeez, I thought there was an actual problem for a moment,” you reply sarcastically, already moving to go back the way you came. You didn’t need the headache this conversation was likely to bring forth.

“I’m going to need to check that bag.”

“You can’t be serious!” you say incredulously, laughingly. The man starts to close the distance between you, and you push your sunglasses to the top of your head, leveling him with a glare. “I haven’t done anything but wander into the wrong place! There wasn’t even a fence or a sign or anything!” you argue, backing away from him, but he’s much faster, snatching one strap of the bag from off your shoulder. Your grip tightens on the other strap, refusing to let go.

“Let go!”

“You can’t leave here until I check your bag,” he insists, grabbing your upper arm.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you snarl, trying to wrench your arm and your bag out of his grip.

“Is there a problem here?”

You both freeze, heads turning to the source of the voice intruding on your struggle. The speaker is a tall, older man, though he looked incredibly strong for his age. His hair was long and slightly curly, and a gorgeous shade of silver that shone in the sun. His blue eyes are calculating behind his tinted sunglasses as he takes in the situation. You are briefly taken aback by how breathtaking the man is; this place must be exclusive if it had security guards and guests who were clearly insanely wealthy, if his clothing was anything to go by. You suddenly feel very underdressed, and like you’re showing far too much skin.

“No, Sir,” you reply, trying to yank your bag out of the security guard’s grip, but he holds fast. “Will you let go already?!”

“I caught her trespassing, Mr. Silver,” tattles the security guard. What kind of adult did this sort of thing? “I have to check her bag, per your policy.”

“Don’t you think if I had anything dangerous in it that I would’ve used it to get rid of you by now? Just let me leave!” you snarl, both of you pulling the bag with all your might. There is a tearing sound that echoes through the trees, and your bag is torn right down the middle, your books and things falling to the ground. With a cry of frustration you drop to your knees, picking up your things. That asshole guard had gotten his way and seen the contents of your bag; time to grab your stuff and get the hell out of here.

A pair of polished shoes that undoubtedly cost a fortune appear a few feet in front of you, and a large hand decorated with rings reaches down and picks up one of the remaining books. Your neck snaps up to look at him – he had moved so quickly, and so silently – and he’s looking down at you, one hand extended towards you. Your anger evaporates under his gaze, and you reach up and accept his hand, feeling him pull you to your feet so easily. What did a man this strong need a security guard for, anyway? You withdraw your hand from his after a long moment, backing up a step or two, and he follows you with his eyes, his head cocked slightly to one side.

“You were right, Victor,” the man says, looking at the security guard. “We have a veritable assassin on our hands here.” He looks back to you and gives you a wink, and you bite your lip to stifle your laugh.

“But, Mr. Silver, I –”

“You were supposed to be monitoring this side until we had the new fence installed,” the man continues, dressing the man down in front of you and giving you a strange sense of vindictive pleasure. “It is hardly this young lady’s fault for wandering in here right under your nose.”

“I was just –”

“No excuses, please. Go find a bag for her things.”

The guard leaves quickly, giving you one last look of pure malice, and you let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding.

“I truly apologize for my employee’s actions, Miss. Are you alright?” he asks, sounding like a character from one of your books. Was it his age or his money that had him sounding like the picture of chivalry?

“Oh yes, I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me or anything, just pissed me off!” you half-joke, and the man’s lips quirk in a small smile.

“I am sorry though, Mr. …Silver?” you apologize, hoping that you’ve at least remembered his name properly.

“Please, call me Terry,” he insists, holding out his hand again, this time to shake yours.

“I’m Y/N,” you take his hand, enjoying the feel of it once again. “And I am sorry – I really didn’t mean to trespass or anything. I was just looking for a quiet place to read…”

“Quite the collection you have here, Y/N: Dostoevsky, Dumas, Hesse… not exactly casual read-on-the-beach material, huh?” he jokes, smiling at you and handing your worn copy of Crime and Punishment back to you. Of course he would have read the classics; you imagine everyone as wealthy as he seemed to be would have a traditional education.

“Yeah, well I always find reading about someone else’s problems makes it easier to not think about my own,” you say, before pausing and letting out a self-deprecating laugh. “Wow, that sounded really pretentious of me. Listen, don’t worry about the bag, I can carry my stuff to my car; I’ve taken up enough of your time, and I’m sure you need to get back to everyone else.”

“Everyone else?” Terry asks, cocking his head at you again. You look up to the large estate he had come from.

“Yeah, isn’t this some swanky resort or something?”

Terry laughs, though not unkindly. “No, Y/N, this is my home!”

“It’s just you?!” you exclaim, before you realize how presumptuous and judgemental you sound. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean –”

“It’s alright, it’s alright!” he says placatingly. “I hope that Victor didn’t give us a bad reputation; you can relax here.” He gives you a charming grin. “In fact, I have no issue with you staying here and reading if you’d like. It’s the least I can do after everything!”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t want to intrude more than I already have!”

“Intrude? Please. As you have pointed out, there is more than enough space here for one person,” he says, smiling wryly at you, and you have the grace to blush. “I insist, at least until Victor returns with a bag for your things. Go and read, and if you need anything, I’ll be up on the balcony, alright?” He shoos you towards the beach with both hands, his rings glinting in the sunlight, and leaves without another word.

Slightly dumbfounded, you watch him walk away, confused by the rollercoaster of events that have taken place since you stepped onto his property. Turning, you head down to the spot of the beach you’d had your eye on, though it seems a lot less interesting to you now.

Spreading out your blanket, you lay down and try to read, but after half an hour or so you find yourself unable to focus on the page. It had felt so nice to just talk to someone, even as awkwardly as you had with Terry. Would it be horribly rude of you to go see if you could strike up a conversation? At the very least, you could say you were just checking up on the bag and that you needed to go – having an excuse to leave if you embarrassed yourself seemed like a good idea.

You decide to change before going up to see him, feeling self-conscious being around him in nothing more than a bikini. You throw on a light flannel shirt, rolling the sleeves up to your elbows and buttoning up enough that you didn’t feel too exposed, and swap your sarong for a pair of shorts.

Bundling up the rest of your things in your blanket, you wander up the path from the beach to the flight of stairs leading to the balcony. Quietly, you climb up the stairs, hoping that you aren’t interrupting the man doing anything important. As you approach the top of the stairs, the patio comes into view. You see Terry signing some papers before handing them to a woman who seemed to be a housekeeper, and catch the end of their conversation.

“– see where Victor has run off to. He was supposed to find a bag for – for you!” he says, spotting you and giving you a pleased smile. You smile back shyly, and he dismisses the other woman with a “Thank you, Karla,” before turning his attention fully to you. “Hello again, Y/N. Is there something you need?”

“Oh, I was just coming to check and see if you’d found a bag, but I can see you’re already on the case, so I –”

“I’m sure he’ll be back shortly. In the meantime, why don’t you join me?” he asks, gesturing to a comfortable-looking patio chair across from him. You bite your lip nervously.

“You’re sure I’m not interrupting anything?”

“You know, you’re starting to make me feel quite boring, sitting around my own home without something better to do,” Terry replies, giving you an amused look.

“I just assumed that entertaining trespassers isn’t likely to be at the top of your priority list,” you reply, setting your things on the ground beside the chair before taking a seat.

“Well, you’re the first one to make it past the snipers,” Terry quips, smiling at your laughter. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Oh no, I’m fine, really –”

“What will it take for you to stop feeling like you’re bothering me?” he asks seriously, arching an eyebrow at you. The woman from before, Karla, reappears with a large tote bag. I guess Victor scares easy, you think to yourself with a smirk, missing Terry ask the woman to bring out a bottle of white wine and two glasses. He takes in your smug expression as you put your things in the new bag, one corner of his mouth curling up in a smile.

“You’ve scared away my head of security,” he comments, and your eyes flit back to his. Had you been that obvious? “Proud of yourself?”

You laugh softly. “I may just have a teensy issue with authority and the way people like to abuse it.”

“Is that why you’re in town? Are you a wanted woman?” he jokes, taking the bottle of wine Karla has returned with and pouring two glasses, handing yours to you. You smile over the rim of your glass.

“Nothing that exciting, I’m afraid. I just needed some time away to clear my head,” you explain, taking a sip of your beverage. Somehow, you feel like you can taste how expensive it is.

“Ah yes, you mentioned that’s why you were carrying the existential library with you.” He seems visibly pleased that you’re no longer trying to flee at every opportunity, even after Karla returning with the tote. “So, work or personal life? What’s giving you trouble?”

“Would you believe me if I said both?” you reply, groaning for emphasis. “I just wanted to get away for awhile and not have to think about things, but I’ve only been here for a few days and I’m already going stir-crazy with my thoughts.”

Terry doesn’t press you on your problems back home, picking up on your reluctance to talk about them. “There are countless things to do in Los Angeles if you’re looking for distraction. What have you tried so far?”

You briefly summarize the few events from the past couple of days over your glass of wine. Terry asks a couple of follow up questions, and recommends a few museums and gardens he thinks you should see. You’re grateful for his efforts, but mostly you’re just happy to actually be talking to someone for the first time in days. Eventually though, your glass runs empty.

“I should really get going; plus, I have to drive,” you insist, snatching your glass off the table quickly as he goes to refill it. He pauses with the bottle in hand, seemingly surprised by your reflexes, before offering a resigned smile and setting it back down. You stand, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“Thank you for the drink, and for not letting your security guard eviscerate me,” you say graciously, smiling a bit wickedly as you extend your hand towards his. “I’m very glad I trespassed, Terry.”

“Thank you for keeping an old man company, Y/N” he replies, shaking your hand perhaps a little longer than necessary. “I hope you find something of interest during the rest of your time here.”

“Well if I don’t, I know whose door to knock on!” you tease, grinning up at him. “Bye, Terry.”

“Have a good evening, Y/N,” he replies quietly after you as you walk down the stairs towards the public beach.

“Tell Victor goodbye from me!” you call over your shoulder, smiling at him. You hear his laughter echo through the trees, slowing your pace so that you can appreciate the sound for a moment longer.

Day 5: Terry’s POV

There is a knock on the back door of the estate, and Terry walks through the ground floor to answer it, the staff seeming to have disappeared somewhere for the moment. It was later in the evening, but still too early for them to have gone home yet. Something feels off, like there is a strange tension in the air, but Terry carries on towards the door, unperturbed by the energy.

He opens the door without checking the security feed on his phone – he hadn’t done that in years – and throws it open.

There you stand, in a lovely summer dress, looking up at him with tears sparkling in your big, beautiful eyes.

“Y/N? What are you doing here? What’s wrong?” he asks, immediately concerned.

“I don’t know what it is, Terry, but the further away from here I drove, the worse I felt,” you hiccup through the explanation, your tears spilling over. “Does that make any sense?”

He closes the distance between you, tilting your chin up to face him with a hand on your cheek. “It makes all the sense in the world, my dear,” he whispers, bending his head down towards you. When was the last time he had felt his heart skip a beat, the way it was now? Your lips are just a hair’s-breadth apart, and he watches your eyes flutter closed in anticipation…

There is a faint thudding noise in the distance that makes him pause before kissing you, and he feels his adrenaline spike immediately, the military instinct to jump into action still within him even decades later. At least now he has something worth protecting, he thinks to himself, taking your small hand in his and pulling you into his home.

“Mr. Silver?” a voice calls, the thudding getting louder. The voice sounded familiar, but why couldn’t he place it?

“Mr. Silver!”

Terry jumps, sitting up in his bed as he wakes up suddenly, body still tense with adrenaline from the dream. You hadn’t shown up at his door, then.

The banging on his bedroom door continues, and he growls, throwing the blankets off and his red silk robe on before answering the door.

“WHAT?!” he snarls, throwing the door open and scowling down at the person that had interrupted what would likely have been a very enjoyable dream.

“Apologies for waking you, Mr. Silver,” says the man meekly, unable to even attempt to look him in the eye. When did he start hiring cowards, anyway?

“Then why did you?” he asks impatiently, his fist clenched behind the door. He hadn’t snapped at anyone like this in longer than he could remember. He forces himself to loosen his fist, taking a deep, calming breath.

“Andrew found something in the garden that he says you should see, Sir.”

“Fine. Let me get ready and tell him I’ll meet him on the patio,” he says dismissively, waiting for the man to turn before closing the door abruptly. He discards his robe, walking naked into his closet to dress for the day. As he does, his thoughts turn back to his dream and to you.

Terry Silver had largely given up on love and long-term commitments, finding the occasional woman to warm his bed. The last had been Cheyenne, and their relationship (if you could call it that – Terry wouldn’t) had gone on for several months before he’d let it peter out. Not once had his casual lover appeared in his dreams in all the time they’d been together or since they’d drifted apart. So why, after talking to you for less than an hour yesterday, had you featured in his dreams?

It wasn’t just that you were a young, pretty thing; L.A. was full to bursting with women that fit that description, especially in his circles. It was more than that; it was the fire in your eyes as you struggled against Victor, a man he had personally vetted before hiring him, despite your clear lack of fighting experience. It was your shy, self-deprecating attitude, and your strange decision to fly across the country for a vacation and not know what to with yourself now that you were here. It was your choice of "light" reading material and yes, it was your beauty. All of it, all of you, had gotten under his skin so quickly it had made his head spin, and he couldn’t fathom why.

After you had left the afternoon before, Terry had spent his evening trying to relax. When that didn’t work, he had tried to review contracts for upcoming acquisitions; retirement hadn’t suited him and he still needed to feel involved in his businesses. Still, his thoughts kept circling back to how he could have convinced you to stay longer, and even in his sleep you had come back of your own accord in his dreams.

Terry sighs as he buttons his shirt. He needed to stop dwelling on you; there was no point in thinking about what could have been when your paths would likely never cross again. He’d dealt with disappointment in relationships before, and he could do so again.

He finishes getting ready for the morning, walking out onto the patio looking the picture of ease, his anger in check once more.

“Yes Andrew, what is the big, groundbreaking discovery you have for me?” he asks with a wry smile.

“I found this near the path to the beachfront this morning, Mr. Silver. Is this a security issue? Should I report it to the police?”

Terry had stopped listening to the gardener the moment his eyes took in the object in the man’s hand. He had never been one to believe in fate, kismet, whatever you wanted to call it, but as he spots your wallet in the palm of Andrew’s hand, presented to him like Cinderella’s slipper on that velvet cushion, he finds himself briefly reconsidering.

“None of that will be necessary,” he interrupts the man, snatching your possession out of the man’s hand, savouring the texture of your billfold against his palm. “Thank you, Andrew.”

He quickly turns on his heel and walks back into his home, heading down to the cellar where he wouldn’t be disturbed and waving off Karla’s question about his breakfast. Closing the door behind him, Terry exhales deeply before grinning widely, feeling like a child that had just successfully stolen a cookie from the cookie jar. He opens your wallet, thumbing through the ID cards and crumpled bills eagerly. He pulls out your driver’s license, quickly snapping a photo of it with his phone. This was serendipity, this was perfect, this was a chance to see you again while putting him in the best possible light (who didn’t appreciate a Good Samaritan?). And if it allowed him access into more of your personal life, then that was just a pleasant bonus.

He returns to the ground floor of the house a few minutes later, trying to appear casual.

“Karla, I’ll take breakfast in my office today, thank you. I have a few calls to make and don’t want to be disturbed.”

The woman nods, already heading to the kitchen, and Terry heads down the hall to his office with a spring in his step.

You had been surprised yesterday that he hadn’t had anything going on; if you only knew how much he was planning on filling his schedule up over the next few days. Not very long to make an impression, he supposes, but then Terry Silver was known for his ability to impress.

--- Day 6 | Day 7 | Days 8 & 9 | Days 10 & 11 | Day 12-A | Day 12-B | Day 13-A | Day 13-B | Day 13-C | Day 14-A | Day 14-B | Day 14-C

#terry silver #thomas ian griffith #terry silver x reader #cobra kai #eventual smut #fresh start

[electronicwitchcollection]

my take on Shunsui headcannons~ human AU driving

~Shunsui loves driving. Will automatically open the passenger door for you before walking round to his own. Doesn't particularly care for cars/models themselves. Just loves the freedom. 

~windows down, wind blowing through both your hair when it's hot is preferred to the AC

~sings along loudly to the music you've both put on your shared playlist, will tap his hand on the wheel in time with the beat 

~never gets road rage but will find it amusing if he witnesses others

~takes the scenic route nearly everywhere you go, mostly through choice, sometimes because he has gotten lost/taken the wrong road

~hates traffic, avoids driving in the city when he can

~will sometimes just drive randomly, to see where it takes you. If you find a nice view, he'll park up for you both to enjoy. 

~ puts his arm around your seat to look back when reversing 

~rests his hand on your thigh when not changing gears

~loves the sound of heavy rain beating down on the metal roof. Will turn off the radio to listen to it when driving or if he isn't in a rush will park up to listen for a while.

~parking up somewhere dark and secluded to kiss like teenagers in the backseat is one of his favourite dates. Put off from having car sex, tried it once and he's just too big for the small space to work his magic. Might revisit if he ever gets a bigger car

~if he's picking you up from work and sees you waiting on a busy side walk, he will roll down the window and with a playful grin ask loudly "excuse me love, I'm looking for some company tonight, how much?"  You would think you would be used to it by now. But every time you blush furiously, get in quickly and hit him on the arm. He'll chuckle dirtily before giving you a  "sorry love, couldn't help it"  knowing he would definitely be doing it again just to see your blush

~never drinks and drives, which means he never drives as much as he would like. 

~awful at directions. Can't remember them, reads the wrong parts of the signs, will read a map upside down with complete certainty.  Too distracted figuring out where he supposed to be turning, he will unintentionally not hear your verbal directions "turning is coming up. Next left . This left. Shunsui, left! Never mind. You missed it" 

~keeps his car clean and organised, nothing like what he is like at work, or even at home. The car is cleaned weakly, trunk is organised with essentials you may need for a breakdown or an impromptu date. Glove box has your favourite candy stashed away.

#bleach #shunsui kyoraku #bleach headcanons #bleach au

[as-above-rp]

M & U for Kairi!

M   :   MOONLIGHT.   what is your muse’s ideal date? where / who with / etc?

Kairi would love to go somewhere with a lot of nature. Maybe a national park, or a botanical garden, or anywhere with a really pretty scenic view. If possible, she'd love to have a picnic or a meal in one of those places with that her date-mate, and ideally it would be alone, or at least private.

U   :   UNREQUITED.   has your muse had their heart broken?

Oh, plenty of times! Being bisexual, Kairi has fallen for plenty of girls who were straight, or worse, queer-phobic. She's gotten a lot of prejudice growing up; whether it was for her looks, her oni heritage, her accent, her quirks, or her bisexuality. It hurt a lot growing up, and she became really guarded with her heart as a result. She's getting better about giving her heart to people while also keeping it safe, though!

#headcannons #answered ask #the scarecrow (save slot a kairi)

[ridiasfangirlings]

Munakata and Fushimi on a long train ride together in their own private car. What do they talk about? Reisaru would be lovely, thank you!

I bet Munakata would enjoy a nice private train ride, maybe they have to go somewhere for a work mission and Munakata thinks this would be better than flying. There’s like some conference at a resort up in the mountains and Munakata asks Fushimi to accompany him (not at all so they can relax together and have a small vacation). Fushimi complains about all the work that won’t get done but he agrees to go, he’s surprised when Munakata has them driven just to a train station rather than the airport or taking the vans all the way. Munakata says it’s a scenic area and he thought perhaps taking this route would be calming. Fushimi shrugs and says he doesn’t like trains, looking distastefully at the crowds around them, and Munakata assures him that he’s rented them a private car.

When they get into their private room Fushimi has to admit it isn’t that bad, at least there’s plenty of room and no one around to bother them. Munakata says they have a long ride and Fushimi should settle in. As he’s speaking Munakata pulls out a puzzle from his luggage and starts laying out all the pieces in a pile on the floor, Fushimi looks all disbelieving like you’re really going to do a puzzle on this trip Captain. Munakata says he was hoping to find something to pass the time, Fushimi rolls his eyes like most people bring a book you know. Munakata chuckles all ‘is that so’ and focuses on his puzzle.

Fushimi tries to play on his PDA but he’s distracted by Munakata there on the floor carefully putting the puzzle together. Finally he can’t hold it in and Fushimi asks what Munakata’s making this time. Munakata says it is a special puzzle he has commissioned, of S4 headquarters. Fushimi leans his chin on his hands as he says no picture then, since Captain has the building layout memorized. Munakata laughs and says correct, Fushimi rolls his eyes and quietly mutters that at least it isn’t his face this time. Munakata asks if Fushimi wants to join him, Fushimi says wasn’t Munakata the one talking about the view, he’s not going to see any of it if he’s doing his puzzle the whole time. Munakata wonders if Fushimi’s worried about him missing the sights and Fushimi denies it, leaning back and looking out the window himself.

The seat dips momentarily as Munakata sits down beside him and Fushimi looks over, wondering about the puzzle. Munakata says Fushimi was correct, it wouldn’t do to ignore the view for the entire trip, and the puzzle can wait. Fushimi mutters that he didn’t mean Munakata had to come over here now and Munakata wonders if Fushimi is bothered by his presence, Fushimi denies it. As they get deeper into the mountains Munakata starts pointing out various landmarks and explaining the history behind the area, Fushimi acts like he’s not listening but he’ll occasionally ask a question and Munakata just beams as he answers. Eventually I imagine Fushimi dozing off against Munakata and Munakata leans back to stroke his hair, thinking that it seems he won’t finish his puzzle on this trip after all but he doesn’t really mind that at all. 

#Reisaru #Talking K #Munakata will get to his puzzle on the way home :) #some people bring books he brings puzzles #but then he gets to see the sights with Fushimi-kun #I imagine if there are lots of landmarks he points them out #or explaining local history

[jacky-rubou]

I have a little prompt I thought of the other day, and I’m not exactly the best at writing so I thought I’d hand this over to you to see what you’d think :) I really enjoy all of your work, please don’t feel obligated to write this I just thought I’d share it.

Stan and the kids driving around somewhere, and Stan gets lost. He’s just like “we’re not lost” even though he knows they damn well are and Dipper keeps on nagging him on looking at the map that Stan has with him, but Stan refuses to use it. Dipper eventually gets handed the map just so he shuts up. ( not in like a mean way, just exasperated ) Mabel’s just goofing off in the back and teasing Dipper about it while simultaneously nagging Stan too.

Okay thank you I hope you have a nice day/night wherever you are!

"Are we there yet?"

The question was one that had interrupted intermittently, one that Stan was tuning out. This drive was doomed to be a long one, one that would be only worsened if he kept entertaining his niece's nagging question. How could anyone drive with that sort of distraction? Stan was about to give his regular snarky response when his nephew popped in.

"Grunkle Stan, are we lost?" Dipper asked, pointing at something in Stan's pocket just out of view from the road. Then gesturing at some of the street signs with unfamiliar names on them. Stan rolled his eyes. Sure the trees were thickening and the road was getting windier, but that was just how it was out here.

"Nope, we're just..." Stan's eyes flitted to a picturesque view of Oregon's mountains, "Sightseeing... on our way there, yeah. Taking the old scenic route!"

"Uh-huh... you know Great Uncle Ford's waiting for us, right?" DIpper reminded, frustratingly like the one they were meeting up with, "You know he doesn't like it when we're late, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, my brother's sooo particular about that, I know," Stan sighed, "It won't kill him to wait a few... minutes."

"Why can't you just get a peek at where we're going?" Dipper prodded, gesturing at the paper sticking out of his pocket yet again, the unused map. "Just in case. We don't want to get even more lost than we probably are..."

"We're not lost! I just need to take this turn and then..." Stan turned the car into the side road, not even bothering with a turn signal. Only to find just more trees and names of campsites that surely weren't where their destination was. "We're still not lost, I know where I'm going."

"Then why can't we see the correct site? Why is it a dead end?" Dipper pointed at the red sign saying such with a small frustrated yell. Stan put on the brakes as the road ended as promised. Ford's vehicle wasn't parked anywhere here.

"Fine, kid, if you're so knowledgeable on the way we're supposed to go for this stupid campsite Ford's so fixated on meeting up at, take the map for all I care," Stan ripped the folded map out of his pocket so fast it cracked like a whip. Dipper hesitated before snatching it, like an animal taking food from a strange human. Mabel laughed from the backseat, prompting a small scowl from Dipper.

"Didn't know the map was so important for you, Dipper! Almost thought you were a Gremloblin there for a second!" Mabel teased, tossing a peanut from her trail mix onto his hat.

"Now let's see where we're supposed to be going..." Dipper opened the map and scanned it, ignoring Mabel's teasing. Stan didn't stay in this dead end long enough to wait for Dipper to orient himself to where they were, pulling off a wild three-point turn that would make a stunt driver blush, and drove back the way they came.

The intervening minutes were full of Dipper offering suggestions of which direction to take and Mabel jabbing teases with a piece of trail mix as a way of punctuating the jokes, while Stan tried to keep some shred of sanity as he drove.

He didn't take Dipper's advice until they found themselves constantly finding dead ends. And even then, it was reluctant. One could've said they were lost in a labyrinth the way things were looking on the navigational front. Constant bickering and teasing did not help their cause. Stan was about ready to give up, though he wouldn't admit it.

Until Stan saw a familiar vehicle coming towards them, the driver a smug but friendly face. Stan shrunk within his seat as Ford slowed down on the empty road and rolled his window down. His vehicle was a new one purchased as soon as they had gotten enough money. Stan's protests that the Stanmobile was enough for both of them were met with logical reasoning of situations where Ford wanted to go somewhere Stan wasn't going and Stan gave in after finding a decently priced and decently running one.

"You lost there, stranger?" Ford asked with a smile on his lips and a laugh barely caught. Stan scowled but Dipper reached over Stan to give a thumbs up. "I should have figured. Come on, I'll lead you to our plot."

Stan watched with an exasperated sigh as Ford drove past them to find a place to turn around, pulling off to the side to allow a random unaffiliated car to go by. It wasn't like it was that big of a deal if they were lost, but Stan was getting tired of the kids' shenanigans and Ford's rescue was the welcome escape he needed. Though he'd never outright admit it to Ford's face or anyone else's for that matter.

"We were lost, weren't we?" Dipper asked with a teasing tone Stan would've expected to come from Mabel in his voice. Stan rolled his eyes and gave the biggest sigh he could've felt as Ford drove past from behind and led them to the campsite.

"Yes... Dipper, we were lost..." Stan admitted finally, following Ford's taillights as they took a turn into a road Stan would never have seen through the foliage, "But now we're not."

"And it's all thanks to Grunkle Ford! Booyah!" Mabel cheered from the backseat, tossing a bag's worth of glitter in the air and causing the other occupants to cough. Stan smiled when the cloud dissipated into every crevice of his car, not even minding the inevitable work to clean it when they got back from this trip.

They arrived without getting too lost and that was what mattered.

#AskJacky #gravity falls #stan pines #dipper pines #mabel pines #ford pines #fic prompt #my fic requests are technically closed #but i couldn't help but write this out #so thanks for the prompt anyway haha #hope you like it!

[bloodxhound]

        For weeks he’s been on her trail, watching her from afar, sticking to crowds, corners, the shadows. To her, he should be no more than the backdrop of a life she’s borrowed. A passing face in the mall, a customer in a café, a man going about his life like any other. He exists somewhere on the periphery of her awareness, only drawing close enough to keep a good eye on her, this beautiful, terrible woman, who has returned from beyond the grave. It’s as if he entered a ghost story; one he cannot quite call his own, one he’s determined to exorcise her from all the same. He’s been tasked to, though personal reasons played just as big a role in accepting this peculiar case, if not more.

          All this while he’s been waiting for an opportunity to confront her. A time when she’s alone—unable to cause a scene, unable to drag anyone else into harm’s way. Like a hound after its game, he’s stalked her into the outskirts of town. All greenery, all scenic. Once again, he watches at a distance, before deciding to make himself known.   “Photography,”   his voice arrives, loud and bold, as he comes into view from behind a tree’s shadow.   “I thought the dead had more excitin’ ways to pass time. Rattlin’ furniture, spookin’ pets an’ kids... plottin’ revenge. What’re you doin’ here, Miss Hawthorne?” / @bloodthirstyflower

#bloodthirstyflower #tbt. #he has so many questions but first he gotta be annoying ofc ^_^